Teacher's Dead (8 page)

He left school with lots of qualifications in all the right places and went to study philosophy at a university in the south of England. He didn’t like it there either. Nothing wrong with the south of England, nothing wrong with the university, it was just too far away from home again. One cold day, just before he left university, he was on campus when he met Mrs Joseph, or Mary Dowling as she was then. She was trespassing. Twice a week she would casually walk on to the campus and use the university gym. Just like a student. But she was never a student. Her education had ended after sixth form college and she had become a successful classical concert organiser. She made a lot of money and now considers herself semi-retired. In other words she said, ‘I’ll do a job if my heart’s in it, or if the money’s great.’

They got married just after Mr Joseph left
university, but soon after, tragedy struck. Mr Joseph’s mother was killed in a car crash. His father lived for another eight years but then he died after suffering a stroke. At the time of his father’s death Mr Joseph was working for a large management group. He had a fancy title but basically his job was to spy on other workers in the company. After the death of his father he decided that he wanted to do something meaningful, and so he went into teaching. From everything that Mrs Joseph told me, I could tell that they really did love each other, and he really loved teaching.

The next morning we did exactly as we did the previous day. I was picked up in a taxi by Mrs Joseph, the press were waiting at the court, and the same two strong men walked us in. Inside the courtroom were most of the people who were there the day before, most of them sitting in the same seats. The seats we chose were almost the same, and Mrs Martel was in exactly the same place, right behind me. Miss Ferrier had moved position and was now sitting next to Ramzi’s foster parents, right behind where the boys would be.

The judges came in, we stood up, they sat down, and we sat down. There was something about this ritual that I found amusing. Deep down I didn’t want to do it. I wondered what would happen if I did the opposite from everyone else. I was tempted to be rebellious, but I didn’t. There was something about the way it was done that made me automatically follow the crowd, I was a little disappointed with myself. The boys were brought in; their expressions
hadn’t changed from the day before, and again they didn’t look at anyone in the court except the three judges. Their parents and guardians were like mere spectators.

The female judge continued in her role as the main speaker. After once again confirming with the boys that they understood the court’s procedures she began her major speech.

‘Together you have taken the life of an innocent man, a hard-working, well-respected teacher, who was doing you no harm. We have before us many accounts of how you committed this most hideous crime, but we know not why. Your lack of cooperation when questioned, and your inability to show any remorse, leaves us in no doubt whatsoever that you would commit this, or a crime of a similar nature, in the future. My experience, and the experience of my colleagues here on the bench, tells us that those who kill without motive are those who are most likely to kill again. We have looked at the reports brought before us, which include social services reports, school reports, and police reports, and although much of your behaviour may be deemed odd, you are both of sound mind. In other words you knew exactly what you were doing. We are here to work in the interest of the public, and to protect the public from people like you. And that is what we must do when considering our sentence. Do you have anything that you
would like to say?’

The boys stayed silent. The judge repeated herself.

‘Do you have anything to say?’

The boys said nothing.

‘Lionel Ferrier. You have pleaded guilty to the murder of Mr Edgar Arnold Joseph. The sentence that I pass upon you is that you should be detained at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, in such a place and under such conditions as the Secretary of State may now decide. You will be securely detained until the Home Secretary is satisfied that you have matured and are fully rehabilitated. You will only be granted liberty when the Home Secretary believes that you are no longer a danger to the public. Do you understand the sentence?’

For the first time Lionel looked uneasy. He looked around the room as if looking for his mum, and then he looked back to the judge.

‘Yes. I know it means life, doesn’t it?’

The judge took her glasses off and placed them on the table in front of her. She leaned forward, and the tone of her voice changed. She sounded gentler.

‘Young man, you have to understand that this can be longer than life. A typical life sentence is in fact fifteen years; you could be detained for the rest of your natural life. It depends on your behaviour and the success or not of your rehabilitation. I suggest you talk to your legal representative, who will explain. But
be in no doubt, however you look at it, you are going to be away for a long time.’

She turned to Ramzi.

‘Ramzi Sanchin. You have pleaded guilty to conspiring to murder Mr Edgar Arnold Joseph. The sentence that I pass upon you is that you should be securely detained for ten years. Do you understand the sentence?’

‘Yes,’ replied Ramzi very quietly. ‘I do understand.’

The judge put her glasses back on and made some notes, then she looked up and addressed the people in the public gallery.

‘While this case has been going through the courts we have ordered that the names of these two young people be kept out of the public domain. This restriction was put in place in order to avoid any prejudgement by the press and others, and to respect the basic principle of law that states that every citizen is innocent until proven guilty. This principle is at the forefront of our minds when dealing with all cases, but even more so when dealing with juveniles in a case that has attracted a lot of media attention. We cannot allow our schools to become places of violence; young people must know that if they take dangerous weapons into schools they will be severely punished. And young people who kill innocent people should also know that the law will not protect them. And so this court will lift the restrictions on the
publication of the names of the two defendants.’

She turned to Ramzi and Lionel.

‘From here you will be taken to a secure unit to begin your sentences. I sincerely hope you are able to turn your lives around.’ She then turned to the court security. ‘Take them away.’

As we were leaving the courtroom Miss Ferrier walked past us at speed with her hands covering her face. I wanted to say something to her but it felt like the wrong time. Mrs Joseph was stopped by one of the solicitors representing the Crown. I could tell by the way they greeted each other that they had met before, and his smile and the tone of his voice told me that this was a man who was feeling victorious.

‘Mrs Joseph. We have had several requests from members of the press for a statement from you.’

‘No,’ replied Mrs Joseph. ‘I have nothing to say, and what good would it do, anyway?’

‘You only need to go up there, say a few words, and they all run away to get their stories in. At the very least it clears the pavement,’ the solicitor said smoothly.

I intervened. ‘I think you should do it, Mrs Joseph. It will get rid of them and stop them from making things up.’

‘But Jackson, what am I going to say to them?’

‘Look,’ said the solicitor. ‘All you have to do is go out there and say you’re glad it’s all over, and that you
just want to get on with your life. That’s all.’

She seeked reassurance. ‘Is that really all?’

‘That’s all,’ he said.

‘OK, I’ll do it.’

We headed out and when we got outside the press were standing in a semi-circle, as if waiting for her arrival.

‘Now, Mrs Joseph,’ said the solicitor. ‘Remember, say as little as you like, just don’t get pulled into answering their questions. Remember that all-important phrase, no comment.’

Mrs Joseph stood on the steps in front of the court and waited awkwardly for a while as the cameras flashed. Then she began to speak.

‘This has been a very difficult time for me, and it has been a difficult time for everyone at Marston Hall school. I can’t speak for everyone at the school, but I can say that I am glad this is over. I have never wanted revenge, and I have never made any personal judgements about anyone involved in this case. We are all victims of something. I know it won’t be easy, but as much as I can I would like to put this episode behind me and get on with the rest of my life without my much-loved husband, who I miss every day. Thank you.’

Someone shouted from the crowd, ‘In your opinion, how long do you think the murderers should serve?’

‘No comment,’ she replied.

Someone else shouted, ‘Do you think that schools should tighten their security? Would metal detectors be useful?’

‘No comment.’

Then someone else shouted, ‘Do you plan to remarry?’

Well, she didn’t like that.

‘How dare you ask me such a question at a time like this? How dare you ask me that question at all? If you want to cover this story that’s one thing, but you have no right at all to ask me questions of that nature. You should be ashamed of yourself, and if you’re not you should go back to your school of journalism and learn some manner and some ethics.’

I clapped, but I was the only one who did. The other reporters just turned and left, presumably to submit their articles.

Mrs Joseph and I left the court and went back to the restaurant in the park for lunch. We reviewed the morning’s events, our main topic of conversation being the lifting of the restrictions to name the boys and how this could make life harder for Miss Ferrier.

After we parted I went to the library where I went on the internet and skimmed through a few books, looking at this whole idea of being detained at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. I thought it was a strange use of the word pleasure, and a very strange sentence indeed. I found that some people who had received this sentence had been released in a year, whilst others had spent over twenty years inside. It was believed that there were some people who would never be released. I thought of it as a non-sentence. It was like saying, look, we have a bag of sentences, but we don’t know which one is for you, so we’ll just keep you locked up until we’ve worked it out. In the silence of that library I thought hard about Lionel or Ramzi,
and I couldn’t decide who I thought had received the worst sentence.

The media works quickly, that’s for sure. By the time I had arrived home my mum was sitting on the living-room floor reading the
City News
and some other evening newspapers. She handed me one.

‘Read that,’ she said.

I began to read the article. It started by explaining the sentences that were handed out but then focused on the speech that Mrs Joseph made outside the court. The article ended by saying, ‘After making the statement Mrs Joseph left with her son.’

The moment I’d finished reading my mum spoke her mischievous mind.

‘So, you’ve extended the family now. You didn’t tell me that you had another mother.’

‘Don’t believe everything you read in the papers,’ I replied.

‘So what was it like?’ she said very seriously.

I pointed to the newspapers.

‘It was probably nothing like it says in those. It was spooky. Lionel’s and Ramzi’s foster parents just held their heads down as if they were at a funeral, and Lionel and Ramzi hardly said a thing again, it was as if they were in another world. They were like zombies. And then on our way out this reporter asked Mrs Joseph if she planned to re-marry, and I’m telling
you Mum, she went ballistic. It’s the first time I’d ever seen her lose it like that. She was angry boy.’

‘I don’t mind, you know,’ my mother said as if to change the subject. I had no idea what she was on about.

‘You don’t mind what?’ I asked, trying to tease more out of her.

‘I don’t mind if you have another mother. You know me, open-minded, willing to try anything. So two mums it is, then?’

‘Yeah, two mums to make up for no dad.’

My mum looked at me awkwardly, then she looked down towards the floor.

‘Well, two mums are a lot better than two dads, I can tell you,’ she said.

‘Can you?’

‘Yes, for you anyway. If you had two dads you would have a house of three males and you’d just be another male. A younger one maybe, but still you’d be just another male. Now if you had two mums you’d be the only male, that would make you special. Think about it.’

It made a bit of sense, but only a bit.

‘Mum, that’s all well and good, but what would happen when something goes wrong?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, when something goes wrong and you start blaming men for everything, I’d get it all, and I’d
have no back up.’

‘But think of it, you could just sit back and be spoilt. We would only bother you if we needed some maintenance jobs around the house.’ She stood up quickly and headed for the kitchen. ‘That’s it. I’ve got an idea.’

‘Yeah, food. That’s a great idea,’ I said.

‘No. Why don’t you invite your other mother round for dinner or something?’

Now this was a surprise, my mother rarely invited people around for meals. I thought it was either a joke or she was up to something.

‘What, so you can gang up on me?

‘No, serious,’ she said seriously. ‘Invite her round. You keep going on about her, you spend so much time with her, and you say I shouldn’t believe what I read in the papers, so invite her round. I only spoke to her for a short time but she sounded nice on the phone.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘I will. But don’t blame me if it all goes wrong. And no fighting over me. Now, what’s for dinner?’

I liked the idea of having Mrs Joseph round for dinner, but then I also liked the idea of two mums. So for a couple of days I had mad thoughts about what two mums could mean. I also read all the newspapers my mother bought. Then it was Sunday – the day I planned to go and see Miss Ferrier.