‘You’re suggesting Gready deliberately chose the dates for when his wife would be out of the country?’ Roberts asked.
‘Yes.’
Meg felt deep, growing anxiety.
The former detective looked thoughtful. ‘That does make a lot of sense. These quantities of drugs and cash movements are enormous by any standard. If Gready was involved — indeed, the mastermind — then in the immediate hours and days following the arrivals of the shipments he would have been busy, probably around the clock, inundated with calls on burners. He might have had a problem explaining to his wife quite what the hell he was up to. Much better if she was conveniently out of the country.’
There was a palpable silence in the room.
Meg was thinking hard and fast. ‘It could simply be coincidence,’ she replied. But the moment she had spoken, she realized just how lame that sounded.
So, it seemed, from the change of atmosphere in the room, did everyone else.
‘Twenty-seven coincidences,’ Roberts said. ‘With respect, Meg, do you really think that is plausible?’
There was a long silence, during which Meg was struggling to come up with a response. Suddenly, from feeling in control, she was staring up at a seemingly impenetrable wall. ‘On the face of it, no,’ she was forced to admit. ‘But there may be another blindingly obvious explanation.’
‘Which is?’ said Harold Trout.
She felt her face reddening. Part with embarrassment and part in anger at the look of smug triumph on his face.
Pressing his perceived advantage, Trout said, in a condescending voice which angered her even further, ‘You have demonstrated that you are clearly a highly intelligent lady, Meg. Do you really expect any of us to accept that on each of the twenty-seven times that Mr Gready’s wife has been abroad, judging these competitions, it is entirely coincidental that major drug deals, allegedly by her husband, took place? Does that extraordinarily high number in any way fit the issue of innocence? I’m afraid it doesn’t for me.’
‘Nor me,’ said Mark Adams.
‘Doesn’t do it for me either,’ said Toby.
‘I’m afraid that much though I want to believe Mr Gready is indeed a nice man, this does change the landscape for me,’ Hari Singh said.
Edmond O’Reilly Hyland had been quiet for some while, but now chipped in. ‘As well as this, we need to remember the evidence found at Gready’s house and in the deposit box. In my opinion it’s inconceivable that Gready would have told anyone else about the hollowed-out bedpost. To me, his suggesting that Starr was behind this is total nonsense.’
Meg looked bleakly around the solemn faces and felt tears welling, but needed to be strong and not let it show. Only Hugo Pink met her eye, and he gave her a reluctant chin up grimace.
The jury continued with their deliberations until lunchtime, when it became apparent they would not be able to reach agreement. Meg turned to the jury bailiff. ‘Can we return to the court to let the judge know we are not close, or likely to be unanimous?’
A short time later, with all parties back in court, the judge turned to the jury. ‘I understand that you are unable to reach a unanimous verdict on the counts and that there is no likelihood of you doing so. As we are reduced to eleven members, I am able to accept a majority verdict of 10–1 or 9–2 from you. This is in accordance with section 17 (1) b Juries Act 1974.’
He then asked the jury bailiff, Jacobi Whyte, to take the jury back to their room to continue their discussions.
103
Thursday 30 May
Forty-five minutes later the jury followed their bailiff back into court and took their places in the box. Meg was shaking, her brain almost frozen by despair and terror. She could scarcely believe the events of the morning, just how quickly the panel had turned.
She looked around the court. There was utter silence. No one was moving. It was as if she had entered a tableau at Madame Tussauds. Terence Gready was seated, neatly dressed, staring dead ahead, as motionless as a statue. All the legal counsel in their grey wigs and dark garb were static, the public gallery filled with people as motionless as cardboard cut-outs and the full press gallery equally frozen.
Time had stopped.
She felt as if she might faint.
The imposing figure of Judge Richard Jupp dominated the courtroom. The clerk of court, Maureen Sapsed, stood and faced the jury. Looking directly at Meg, her tone friendly, but stiffer and more formal than previously, she said, ‘Will the foreperson please stand.’
Meg rose, trembling even more, gripping a sheet of paper. She was terrified she would throw up at any moment.
‘I understand you have reached your verdict.’
‘Yes.’ She stared, fearfully, back at the judge. Her voice was trapped inside her throat. She was conscious that every single pair of eyes in the court was focused on her. Utter silence. A drop of perspiration trickled down the back of her neck. She began to hear a drumming in her ears. The pounding of her heart.
Sapsed continued. ‘On the first count, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty of the charge?’
‘Guilty, Your Honour,’ she managed to say, finally.
There was an audible gasp throughout the court. A woman up in the public gallery shouted, ‘Oh my God, no!’
The judge looked up, with clear annoyance, and waited for silence. The court clerk addressed Meg again. ‘Is that the verdict of you all?’
She glanced at the sheet of paper for reassurance. ‘It is a majority verdict, Your Honour, 10–1.’
Meg continued to read the verdicts of the jury for the other five counts against Gready. Each verdict was guilty by a majority of 10–1.
Sapsed cast her eye over the entire jury. ‘Your verdict, by a 10–1 majority, is that the defendant is guilty on all counts.’ The jurors looked back at her, a couple nodding.
Meg shot a glance at the dock. Gready was still staring dead ahead, impassive.
The judge told Meg she could sit down, then turned to Gready. ‘Terence Gready, you have been found guilty on all the counts you faced. Tomorrow morning, I will sentence both you and your co-defendant, Michael Starr.’ He switched focus to the two guards behind him. ‘Please take the defendant down.’
After Gready was gone from the dock, Jupp turned again to the jury. ‘You have given diligent and dutiful service throughout what has been a challenging and at times extremely complex trial. I appreciate some of you will have suffered both inconvenience and financial loss due to the trial running into a third week. Tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. I will be sentencing both defendants. There is no obligation on you to attend, as your duties have now been discharged, but should you wish to attend, you will be most welcome.’ He paused before continuing.
‘It just remains for me to thank you for your service. You may like to know, if you do not already, that juries date back to the twelfth century, to Henry the Second, who set up a system to resolve land disputes. A jury of twelve free men were assigned to arbitrate in these disputes. Members of the jury, you will be pleased to know that juries have consisted of female and male jurors as far back as the thirteenth century. Ahead of their time maybe. In my opinion, they have served the model of justice, on which this country can rightly pride itself, well. I thank you for maintaining that tradition.’
‘All rise.’
104
Thursday 30 May
Throughout her train journey back to Hove, fighting off tears, Meg repeatedly tried to get in touch with Laura. No response.
A vortex of thoughts raged inside her head. What to do? What could she do? She had failed. What would she say to her tormentor when he called, as he undoubtedly would?