The Widow(Kate Waters #1)(51)
He wondered who felt worse—him with the case falling apart in front of him or her with the case piling up in front of her.
Fry was beginning to stutter now, and Sparkes silently willed him to pull himself together.
But Sanderson continued his attack: “You coerced Glen Taylor into making these remarks, didn’t you, Constable Fry? You acted as an agent provocateur by pretending to be a woman who wanted to have sex with him. You were determined to get him to make damning statements. You would do anything, even have Internet sex with him. Is this really police work? Where was the caution or the right to a lawyer?”
Sanderson, who was well into his stride, looked almost regretful when his victim finally stepped down from the witness box, diminished and exhausted.
The defense immediately called for an adjournment and, with the jurors safely tucked away in the jury room, made the case that the trial should be halted.
“This whole case rests on circumstantial evidence and an entrapment. It cannot continue,” Sanderson said. “The Goldilocks evidence must be ruled as inadmissible.”
The judge tapped her pencil impatiently as she listened to the prosecution’s response.
“The police acted entirely properly in every respect. They followed procedures to the letter. They believed they had proper cause, that this was the only way to get the final piece of evidence,” the prosecutor said, and sat down.
The judge put down her pencil and looked at her notes in silence. “I will retire,” she said finally, and the court rose as she walked back to her chambers.
Twenty minutes later, the clerk called, “All rise,” and the judge delivered her decision. She ruled the Goldilocks evidence out, criticizing Fry’s encouragement and prompting and the exposure of such a junior officer. “The evidence is unsafe and cannot be relied upon,” she said.
Sparkes knew it was simply a formality for the prosecution team to throw in the towel and offer no further evidence and began packing his briefcase.
In the dock, Taylor listened to the judge carefully, the reality slowly dawning on him that he was about to be freed. Below him, Jean Taylor looked stunned. “I wonder what she’s thinking,” Sparkes muttered to Matthews. “She’s got to go home with a porn addict who has cybersex with strangers dressed as children. And a child killer.”
Suddenly it was over. The judge ordered the jury to return formal verdicts of not guilty, and Taylor was taken down to the cells to prepare for freedom. In the courtroom, a press free-for-all began with Jean Taylor as the main prize.
She half stood, surrounded by reporters, white-faced and silent as Tom Payne tried to extricate her from the pew in the well of the court. Finally, the press parted, and she struggled sideways like a fleeing crab, her legs knocking against the bench in front and her bag strap catching on edges.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The Widow
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2008
She gives evidence, of course. Her big moment. She wears a black dress and a “Find Bella” badge. I try to avoid her stare, but she’s determined, and in the end our eyes meet. I feel hot, and the flush rises up my face, so I look away. It doesn’t happen again. She keeps staring at Glen, but he’s wise to her game and looks straight ahead.
I find my attention wandering as she tells the story I’ve read and heard a hundred times since she lost her baby—a nap, then playtime while she cooks tea, Bella laughing as she chases Timmy the cat out the front door and into the garden, then realizing she can’t hear her anymore. The silence.
The court goes completely quiet, too. We can all hear that silence. The moment when Bella vanished.
Then she sobs and has to sit down with a glass of water. Very effective. The jury looks worried, and one or two of the older women look like they might cry as well. It’s all going wrong. They must see this is all her fault. That’s what Glen and I think. She let her baby out of her sight. She didn’t care enough.
Glen sits quietly and lets it all wash over him, like it’s happening to someone else. When the mum is ready, the judge lets her stay sitting down to finish her evidence, and Glen cocks his head to listen to her story of running to neighbors, ringing the police, and waiting for news as the hunt went on.
The prosecutor uses this special tone of voice with her, treating her like she’s made of glass. “Thank you very much, Miss Elliott. You’ve been very brave.”
I want to shout, You’ve been a very bad mother. But I know I can’t, not here.
Our barrister, a scary old bloke who had shaken my hand firmly at each meeting but gave no other sign that he knew who I was, finally gets his turn.
The mother begins sobbing when the questions get hard, but our barrister doesn’t put on the understanding voice.
Dawn Elliott keeps saying her little girl was out of her sight for only a few minutes. But we all know now that she wasn’t.
The jury is beginning to look at her a bit harder now. About time.
“You believe that Bella is still alive, don’t you?” the barrister asks.
There is a rustle in the court, and the mum starts sniffling again. He points out that she’s been selling her story to the press and she looks really angry and says the money is for her campaign.
One of the reporters gets up and goes out quickly, clutching his notebook. “He’s going to file that line to his news desk,” Tom whispers, and winks.