‘When you come back from your jury room, I want you to be very sure … very sure that you have made the right decision. I know that you will see the facts as they are and realise that Sebastian … is not guilty.
‘If you believe that Sebastian is innocent, you must acquit. If you believe that Sebastian is probably innocent you must acquit. Even if you think that Sebastian might be innocent, you must acquit.’
Irene gathered up her notes. ‘Thank you for listening.’
The judge’s summing up lasted all afternoon as expected and then the jury were excused to consider the verdict.
Daniel worked late at the office and then went to the Crown for last orders. He texted Irene when he was halfway through his pint: ‘Thinking about tomorrow. Not sure I am ready for it. Hope u r ok.’ There was no reply.
The next day was Friday, and Daniel worked through the morning before he got the call to say that the jury had reached a verdict.
In the courtroom, everyone assembled again: lawyers, family, journalists and public. Sebastian sat beside Daniel, waiting for the decision that would define the rest of his life.
Daniel looked around when court was in session. Minutes passed dizzily, a flutter of processes. He glanced down at the small boy beside him, noticing again the valiant tilt of his chin, the young green eyes expectant, wary.
He put a hand on Sebastian’s back. The little boy seemed so smart today in a fresh shirt that was too big on the collar and a striped tie. He looked up at Daniel and smiled.
Baron raised himself in his chair, and peered over his glasses at Sebastian and Daniel. ‘The child need not stand.’
The clerk stood up and addressed the jury. ‘Will the foreman please stand?’
The foreman was a woman. She rose to her feet and folded her hands in front of her.
‘Have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?’
‘Yes,’ said the woman, who was middle-aged, clearly spoken.
‘Do you find the defendant, Sebastian Croll, guilty or not guilty of the murder of Benjamin Stokes?’
Daniel couldn’t breathe. The air was thick. Each pair of eyes in the crowded court was focused on the woman’s lips, waiting for her to speak. Daniel could feel the tension emanating from the young boy beside him.
When Tyrel had been in the dock, Daniel had felt separate from him and powerless. Yet now it felt worse having Sebastian at his side, feeling the brush of the boy’s arm, watching the almost imperceptible rock of his body, smelling his clean hair. With his little client right beside him, he was no more able to protect Sebastian than he had been with Tyrel.
If Sebastian was convicted of murder, the judge would have no discretion and would have to sentence him to detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Even after sentencing, the length of Sebastian’s incarceration would be decided not by legal professionals but by the Home Secretary. The boy’s life would then be subject to political expediency, with the likelihood of the Home Secretary lengthening his sentence to assuage public and media outrage.
Daniel thought about the years the child would spend in secure units and then adult prisons; the drugs he would be introduced to, the relationships he would form and learn to lose; the estrangement he would feel from society and from the future itself. The future would always imply some kind of imprisonment. The foreman of the jury raised her eyes to look at the clerk who addressed her.
Sebastian exhaled and, at the same time, slipped his hand into Daniel’s. Daniel coursed his thumb across the back of the boy’s hand, as Minnie might have done. Daniel remembered the roughness of her thumb on his young skin. It was an instinct of care and, after all, she had taught him to care.
Irene’s spine was completely straight. Daniel wished he could take her hand too.
‘Not guilty.’
‘And is that the verdict of you all?’
‘Yes.’
There were no cries of rapture. The courtroom reeled in shock. There was a gulf of silence before the voices came, hushed and insistent, like a wave crashing on to the shore. A choke of sobs rose from the victim’s family, angry voices of protest.
Baron silenced the courtroom. ‘I will remind you that this is not a football ground.’
‘What does it mean?’ asked Sebastian when the jury had been excused, the judge had left and the gallery cleared. He was still holding on to Daniel’s hand.
‘It means you can come home, darling,’ said Charlotte, turning her son towards her. Her eyelids trembled as they rose above her large eyes. Sebastian leaned, weary and willowy, into his mother. She curled around him and tousled his hair.
The court began to clear. Daniel followed Irene and Mark out into the great hall of the Old Bailey.
As he made his way towards the exit, Daniel felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and turn him round. Before he could say a word Kenneth King Croll was shaking his hand and slapping him on the back. Kenneth then reached out to Mark and shook his hand before taking Irene by the shoulders, shaking her lightly and planting a kiss on each cheek.
Released from Kenneth’s grasp, Irene turned to Daniel and smiled. Daniel wanted to hold her, but felt inhibited with their clients nearby.
‘Where are you going now?’ Daniel said, looking down at her, trying to find her eyes.
‘Back to the office, I suppose. I don’t know. I’m exhausted. Go home, maybe. What about you? You’ll have to meet the Great British Press.’
‘Face the music.’
‘Shall I wait for you, then?’ she said.
‘Yeah, wait and we can go get a drink or something. I might be a little while. I’ll be done as soon as I can.’
*
When Irene left, Daniel turned back towards the court to see Ben Stokes’s parents leaving with the family liaison officer. He felt a sudden flush of empathy for them. Paul was holding Madeline by the shoulders. He seemed to be half carrying her. Her feet moved with tiny steps, her head down, hair over her face. Just before she reached Daniel she pushed her hair back and Daniel saw the red eyes and nose, the sunken cheeks. Her eyes flashed for a moment and she pulled away from her husband. Daniel stood back, sure that she was going to attack him. But it was Charlotte whom Madeline targeted. The vast hall echoed as Madeline screamed and reached out – fingers like claws – towards Charlotte’s shoulder.
‘He’s a monster,’ Madeline Stokes screamed. ‘He killed my little boy …’
Daniel was about to call security, but Paul Stokes pulled his wife away. As she passed she became passive again, allowing her husband to lead her away.
‘Are you all right, Charlotte?’ said Daniel.
Charlotte had opened up her handbag. She was searching through it fervently. Objects fell out on to the floor: a hairbrush, a vanity mirror, eyeliners and pens. Deftly, bending at the knees each time, Sebastian stooped to pick them up.
‘I need, I need …’ she said.
‘For God’s sake, woman, calm down,’ Kenneth hissed.
Daniel reached out to her, but it was too late. Charlotte’s knees buckled and she fell on to the floor, letting her handbag fall. The pills she had been searching for rolled out. Sebastian held them up to his father.
‘Here,’ the boy said, presenting them.
Kenneth’s face was almost purple, and Daniel was not sure if it was embarrassment or the strain as he helped Charlotte to her feet.
A security officer came up and asked them if they needed assistance.
‘Look, we’re fine,’ Croll boomed. He turned to Daniel. ‘Could I ask you to stay with Seb for a moment? I need to calm her down before we go out.’
Daniel nodded, watching them go. Sebastian looked up at him, hands by his side, chin tilted so that his entire round face was turned towards Daniel.