Court Out

Chapter Thirteen





“Ryan Dean Hobbs”

“And you are how old please?”

“I’m thirty four,” he replies, looking confidently at the twelve faces staring up at him.

Quinn pauses before asking the next question in sombre tones.

“Now Mr. Hobbs, in a minute I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you about the circumstances leading up to your wife’s death, but before I do, I wonder if you could help the jury with a few preliminary matters?”

“Of course,” he replies, coolly

“When did you marry Marina?”

“February 14th, 2005.”

“Tell us about how you met.”

“Well, long story short, our eyes met across a crowded bar, we began to talk and the rest is history!”

There’s a pause as everyone in the courtroom remembers the far from fairytale ending to their courtship.

“How would you describe your relationship?”

Hobbs looks to the floor and takes a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice trembles and his eyes are shining.

“Perfect.”

“Now on Saturday 19th July 2008 a story broke about you in a number of national newspapers,” continues Quinn.

“Yes.”

“And a young lady accused you of impregnating her?”

“Yes.”

“Firstly, it’s right that you have never been made the subject of any criminal investigation about that allegation have you?”

“No, the police never even questioned me about it.”

“Did the girl carry the baby to full term?”

“No. I understand that she had the pregnancy terminated.”

“So you never had the chance to ask for a DNA test?”

He sighs heavily.

“No, I never got the chance to clear my name.”

“From that, can we assume you deny the affaire?” says Quinn theatrically.

“Yes, completely. I have never had any sort of relationship with Amanda Windsmore. I met her at her school but that was it. She’s just a troubled girl who obviously decided to blame her pregnancy on me in a bid to deflect the anger of her father away from her behaviour. That is, if she was ever pregnant.”

“So how did you feel when the story broke?”

“Devastated. I just couldn’t believe that someone could be that malicious.”

“Where were you when you became aware of the story?”

“On my way to the football stadium for pre-match training,” Hobbs replies.

“Did you know if Marina had seen it?”

“No. My phone had run out of battery so I hadn’t received any calls.”

“Now the jury have already heard about your performance on the pitch that day. You were eventually sent off due to an incident with another player. Why don’t you tell us about that?”

“All the lads from the team had been really supportive, they’re used to tarts selling stories about us, so they were really good about it, but the opposition were trying to use it against me, make me lose my focus. Kyle kept making comments about me being a ‘nonce’ so I snapped.”

“It must have been a sensitive subject?”

“It was, I was feeling really fragile. I just couldn’t take it any more.”

“Where did you go after the game?” asks Quinn.

“I drove to Ghost, I needed to unwind.”

“We’ve seen the CCTV, so why don’t you give us your version of events?”

“Well, I admit I got very drunk. I’d had a terrible day and I guess that made me behave in the way you’ve seen. I just got more upset as the night went on. People recognised me and tried to wind me up too. I left at about three AM with Andre.”

“And where did you go?”

“Just back to his. I crashed on the sofa and woke up at about eight on the Sunday morning.”

“Had you spoken to Marina at all?”

“No. I walked home to try and clear my head and saw that the house was surrounded by police. I panicked because I thought they were after me because of the Amanda thing.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went and hid in a nearby phone box.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Well I didn’t want to be arrested, did I! I hadn’t done anything wrong,” he exclaims.

“And we know an officer found you and arrested you.”

“Yes, I was taken to the police station.”

“Mr. Hobbs, did you kill your wife?”

There’s a dramatic pause. Everyone is waiting for his answer, although it would be totally inconceivable that Hobbs would suddenly confess at this stage.

“No Sir, I did not. I loved my wife dearly and hope that the police do finally find the person responsible for her death.”

Quinn sits down with a satisfied look on his face. The Judge looks at the clock and smiles at the assembled parties.

“I think we’ll take a break there. Mr. Hobbs you are under oath so please do not speak to anyone until you complete your evidence.”

Corr remains in his seat as everyone around him stands up. He’s bent over his desk, looking at his notes for cross-examination. If I didn’t know better I’d say he must have the butterflies now. I mean, he’s about to cross-examine someone and accuse them of murder! To the outside world, he looks as cool as a cucumber and is calmly sipping from a glass of water in front of me.

“Anything you need me to do?” I ask.

He looks thoughtfully at me.

“Was there anything arising from his evidence that you thought was useful?”

I stop and think.

“Obviously the fact he’s so blatantly glossed over everything won’t go down well with the jury. Plus, he’s been caught with his trousers down more times than that flasher you represented last year.”

Corr laughs. “I’d forgotten about him. Thanks, let’s see what we can get out of him. Keep your ears pricked, if you think I’ve missed something then pass me a note.”

“Sure,” I reply, before impulsively adding “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” he says, turning back to his papers.

Serena is watching proceedings from the back of the court. Lucinda’s returned from her trip and is firmly ensconced in the public gallery. I can see Serena throwing dirty looks her way; normally this wouldn’t concern me in the slightest, but I suspect her hatred of Lucinda is now nothing to do with their mutual dislike but everything to do with Rivers.

Lucinda isn’t engaging with Serena today, totally ignoring her mocking glances and bitchy comments aimed in her direction. Come to think about it, Lucinda isn’t looking her usual groomed self. Her hair looks rumpled and her shoes don’t match her outfit at all.

She keeps shooting anxious glances towards Rivers and I notice that her makeup appears to have been applied in the dark; her eyeliner is totally wobbly and her lipstick looks slightly clown-like. If I didn’t despise the girl then I think I might be tempted to feel slightly sorry for her.

The court usher brings Hobbs back into the court. He appears totally nonchalant about the whole process and doesn’t seem to care that he is about to be interrogated by one of the country’s finest advocates.

He resumes his place in the witness box and gazes around at the courtroom. His eyes rest on me and I shift uncomfortably in my seat, looking away. I look back a few seconds later and find that he is still staring at me. What is his problem? I try not to look at him, but can’t help it. He looks at me with an expression of contempt and I flinch. He gives a nasty smile as he notices my reaction. Creep. I sincerely hope Corr manages to wipe that expression off his face.

When Mr. Justice Wynne returns, the change in atmosphere is noticeable. Everyone is waiting to see what Corr is going to do. As he stands up to start his questioning I feel a funny sensation in my tummy. It’s like a mixture of fear and hope.

“You met Marina Fellows in a strip club didn’t you?” asks Corr, his voice quiet and measured.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” snaps Hobbs instantly.

“You paid her to dance for you,” he continues, standing tall and looking directly at him.

“So? It’s hardly a crime!” explodes Hobbs. He’s gone from calm to furious in a matter of seconds which I’d bet is exactly what Corr wants.

“So your initial relationship was, a business one, wasn’t it. A mere transaction?”

“No. She fell for me straight away,” he retorts.

“You had to pay her to enjoy your company though?”

“She married me!” howls Hobbs, banging his hands on the front of the jury box.

“Yes, and because of how you met, you always felt as though you owned her didn’t you?”

“What! That’s preposterous!” he splutters, visibly spitting in his reply.

“You though of her as one of your possessions. And far from having a ‘perfect’ relationship it’s well documented that you were unfaithful to her on a number of occasions.”

“That’s a load of rubbish!”

Corr opens a folder in front of him.

“Members of the jury perhaps you could turn to page 76 of the second bundle.” He waits for them to all find the relevant page. “Now Mr. Hobbs, you can see here many newspaper stories relating to different occasions where no less than fourteen girls sold stories of their illicit liaisons with you. Most of them are supported by independent, incontrovertible evidence.”

“They’re all money grabbing liars,” he snarls, barely looking at the pages.

“All liars?” asks Corr calmly. “Please turn to page 79.”

I follow his instructions and am confronted with a full-page colour photograph of Hobbs locked in a passionate tangle with a brunette. One of his hands is up her skirt. There’s a pause.

“Yeah ok, that was a one off,” he mumbles.

“Turn to page 82.”

This time it’s a picture of him with his head buried deep within the cleavage of a tarty looking blonde. Another topless blonde woman in black PVC shorts is kissing the back of his neck.

“Now please page 85,” says Corr in an almost singsong voice. This picture shows Hobbs zipping up his flies as he emerges from a toilet cubicle in a nightclub followed by a disheveled lady in a similar state of undress.

“I think we can safely conclude that you took your marriage vows as guidance and not absolute,” comments Corr. “If you want Mr. Hobbs, I can show the jury some more pictures?”

“No,” he mutters petulantly.

“Right, moving on then. Amanda Windsmore sold her story and it was splashed across every tabloid in the country the morning of the 19th of July. You were made aware of the scandal when you were on your way to training. That would have been at about midday wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. I’ve already told you that once,” he snaps.

“And you claim your battery had gone on your phone so you couldn’t call Marina?”

“That’s what happened,” he says in a bored voice, looking over at Quinn.

“Your Overfinch has an inbuilt charger though doesn’t it?”

“I was in such a state. It didn’t occur to me.”

“You didn’t use the club phone or ask to borrow a mobile to call her though, did you?”

“I couldn’t remember the number,” he protests.

“What? You didn’t know your own home phone number?” enquires Corr incredulously.

“No, of course I knew that. I didn’t know Marina’s mobile number.”

“But you didn’t try and call the house?” he presses.

“No. I didn’t think she would answer” Hobbs retorts.

“You presumably knew that this story would devastate her?”

“She would have known it was all lies.”

“She’d have been upset to have her husband accused of sleeping with a child though, surely?”

“Yes,” he concedes after a pause.

“And as a loving, doting husband, you'd have wanted to comfort her, reassure her that everything was okay?” he pushes.

“Of course!”

“But you didn’t do that. You went out drinking when you could have easily driven home to see her,” says Corr, turning to the jury to make his point.

“I needed to relax, to unwind.”

“You didn’t care about her at all. She’d stood by you through all of your previous infidelities so why would this time have been any different?”

“It wasn’t like that!” protests Hobbs.

“So when you came home and found her with her cases packed you went mad, didn’t you?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“You were so incensed that she was going to leave you, you attacked her.” says Corr, his voice rising slightly.

“No I didn’t!” shouts Hobbs, his tone a complete contrast to Corr.

“You used your trophy to beat her didn’t you? You hit her on the head with it a number of times.”

“That’s not true. Marina was killed by intruders.”

“No, Mr. Hobbs, she was killed by you. After you had beaten her senseless with the trophy you drowned her in your pool.”

“I’d never hurt her!”

“But you’ve got a violent temper, haven’t you?” says Corr coldly.

“Not at all!”

“Well Mr. Hobbs, only that afternoon you broke another man’s nose!”

“He called me a nonce!”

“So you think he deserved it?”

Hobbs falls silent before exclaiming happily.

“I couldn't have drowned her in the pool. You heard the police officer. My trousers were bone dry when they nicked me!”

Corr pauses and the court waits for his next move. Wait a minute, just wait a minute. I quickly scrawl a note on the reverse of one of the witness statements and yank the back of his gown. He turns around, takes it from me and reads it before placing it on top of his papers. There is a moment of pure silence.

“You’ve had that pool since you remodeled the house?”

“Yes,” Hobbs agrees uncertainly.

“And you use it regularly all year round?”

“It’s heated, so I normally swim in it every day. I have to stay fit,” he replies, patting his toned stomach with his hand.

“Presumably you pay someone to change the chemicals?” Corr enquires.

“Yes, they visit once a month”

“So when you have leaves in the pool I presume you remove them with the implement that we saw you use yesterday?”

“Er, yes”

“And that’s an item you’ve had for a while?”

Hobbs nods.

Corr goes in for the kill. “Did you use that pole to hold your wife underneath the water until she died?”

“My Lord!” interrupts Quinn, getting to his feet. “Mr. Corr has no evidence of that so the Defendant should not have to answer that question.”

For a split second, Mr. Justice Wynne looks troubled.

“Mr. Quinn, the members of the jury did all in fact see the Defendant cleaning his pool with such an item yesterday. In light of the evidence he has given, the jury may draw an inference about the death from this. He should answer the question.”

Hobbs looks discomforted before he replies.

“I didn’t kill her. I had nothing to do with it. I was with Andre.”

“So what about this?” asks Corr, handing around the enlarged, enhanced photograph of the broken champagne bottle. “It would appear that a bottle of the very rare champagne that you were drinking that night at Ghost also turned up at your house.”

“There was some of that in my cellar”

I’m ready for this one. I pass my second note forwards. Corr nods and makes a noise of assent.

“Again Mr. Hobbs, we saw your cellar yesterday. It was full of cheap, mass produced bottles.”

“Well I drank all of the good stuff.” he tries to explain.

“And do you have any receipts to support this claim?”

“No,” mutters Quinn.

“Sorry, what was that Mr. Hobbs? Please try and keep your voice up.”

“I said NO!” he yells.

“Because the truth is you bought that bottle home with you from Ghost didn’t you? You were drunk, you saw she was leaving you, you were angry and you attacked her.”

“No! For the hundredth time, I did not. I loved my wife!” shouts Hobbs

“No Mr. Hobbs you controlled your wife and when you lost control, you killed her.” he finishes.

As he sits down I feel an overwhelming sense of pride. He totally took him to pieces. I look at the jury and see that they look very uncomfortable, which hopefully means they’ve realised they’re sat in the same room as a murderer.

Quinn has gone very pale and has turned around in his seat to talk to Rivers. The pair of them are having an animated discussion in hushed tones and I’m dying to know what is being said.

Quinn gets to his feet. “The next witness for the defence is Andre Plushenko.”

Andre Plushenko is a very tall, slim dark haired man wearing a very expensive pale grey suit. He delivers the oath in a heavily accented voice and introduces himself to the court.

“My name is Andre Plushenko,” he says, rolling the ‘r’ in his first name.

Quinn takes him through how he knows Hobbs: they’ve been playing football together for the best part of six years. Predictably, Plushenko is telling the court about how Hobbs stayed with him for the night after they had left Ghost together.

“Ve vent back to my house. He stay on ze sofa. It vas no problem. When I get up at seven, he vas still asleep. I give him some coffee and he vent home about haff past eight. I know he not leave as I check on him at five to make sure he vas ok.”

Plushenko gave this evidence at the last trial and I remember when I read the transcript thinking that it was pretty convenient that he had a perfect alibi like this. The prosecution have looked into every angle as to why Plushenko would lie and have drawn a total blank. His salary as a footballer means that he’s rich enough already so it’s not like we can suggest that Hobbs is buying his support.

Further, there are no apparent skeletons in his closest to suspect that blackmail is involved, so no-one seems to have a clue why he’s supporting Hobbs in this cover-up. When Corr cross-examined him last time he didn’t really get anywhere as Plushenko stuck firmly to his guns. I can practically hear his brain working from here. Plushenko looks totally bored by his involvement in proceedings and is currently studying his nails with a slightly irritated look on his face.

“You and Mr. Hobbs have been very good friends for some six years now?”

“Yes. Vot is your point Mr. Corr? I vould not lie to protect him if zat is vot you are suggesting?”

Corr smiles at him.

“You know me too well Mr. Plushenko. When you left Ghost, the Defendant was very drunk wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but zat is no crime Mr. Corr.”

Corr continues, choosing to ignore the persistent use of his name.

“When the Defendant left the club he had something with him, didn’t he?”

“No, he did not haff any Krug Mr. Corr”

The court falls totally silent. You could hear a pin drop. I hardly dare to breathe.

“What was that Mr. Plushenko?” asks Corr, very, very quietly, reminding me of a tiger ready to pounce.

“Ze champagne. Ve drank all in ze bar. There vas none left ven ve leave”

“But I didn’t mention any champagne Mr. Plushenko. What makes you think I was going to ask you about a bottle of Krug?”

Plushenko looks concerned for a moment, but his face relaxes after a brief period of thought. He fingers one of the gold chains round his neck.

“You ask me about vis last time Mr. Corr. I tell you last time, there vas no champagne.”

“No, Mr. Plushenko. I did not ask you about this last time. We all have a transcript of what was said last time and when I asked questions of you, I did not mention any champagne. So tell me, how do you know about the Krug?”

“I do not know vat you mean,” he replies, sweating slightly. “I do not understand.”

“Well I’ll make it easy for you then. As I didn’t mention any champagne last time, let alone any any brand such as Krug, why did you bring it up? How did you know that was what I was asking you about?”

Plushenko has gone a really unattractive shade of red and is fidgeting with the bible in front of him. The whole courtroom is totally captivated, waiting for his answer. When none is forthcoming, the Judge intervenes.

“Please answer the question Mr. Plushenko.”

There’s about another minute of silence before he speaks.

“I, I guess. No-one tell me.”

Corr lets this answer sink in before resuming his attack.

“So you just guessed that a bottle of Krug is now a key piece of evidence in this trial?” he asks, with a small smile on his face. I can see a number of jurors shake their heads.

“Yes. I guess. I guess!”

“Mr. Plushenko, enough of the lies. You’ve obviously spoken to either the Defendant or one of his team about this trial, haven’t you?”

“No. I do not lie. I no speak to anyone.”

“Are you familiar with the terms ‘perjury’ and ‘conspiracy to pervert the course of justice’?” says Corr with a very serious expression on his weathered face.

“No,” says Plushenko sulkily.

“Well, you will be soon” slams Corr.

I feel like jumping up and whooping. That was absolutely amazing. I cannot believe it. He’s annihilated him, shown that there is a huge conspiracy to provide Hobbs with a defence. That was such an obvious lie, it’s totally unbelievable. Plushenko is spitting in the witness box, trying to make his protestations heard. Quinn rises to re-examine. He is trying to act unconcerned about what has just happened, but is failing miserably.

“Mr. Plushenko, are you lying to protect your friend?”

“No!”

“And have you been in discussion with anyone about this case?”

“No! I haff not!”

Quinn sits down and there is silence. Mr. Justice Wynne looks around the court slowly before speaking.

“Mr. Plushenko, you may leave the witness box. Mr. Quinn, is there any further evidence for the defence?”

“My Lord yes, some excellent written character references for Mr. Hobbs.”

“Well, we’ll hear those now then take a short break before Mr. Corr’ speech. Mr. Quinn, we’ll hear from you tomorrow then I’ll sum the case up.”



As Rivers reads out a small library worth of letters from people who claim that they have known Hobbs for many years and have never seen him raise his hand to anyone. I try to suppress a yawn; this evidence is somewhat diluted by the fact he’s already admitted breaking a man’s nose.

I listen to him speak and try to suppress any thoughts that he actually has a really sexy voice. Rivers is facing the jury, relaying the contents of his documents to them. Some of them are paying attention but most are making no secret of the fact they now consider the defence case a complete waste of their time.

I quickly glance behind my left shoulder and see that Serena has stopped typing and is looking somewhat ashen at the turn of events. Rivers finishes and sits down. When the Judge has retired, Corr turns to me with a huge smile on his face.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that,” he says in an amazed tone.

“Talk about third time lucky!” I reply.

I hear an audible tutting noise from behind me and turn in surprise to see Serena looking at me.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” I ask Corr.

“No. I think you’ve done enough already,” he remarks, noting something down on his papers with his fountain pen.

I try not to smile. “Well, if you think of anything you know where I am!”

His speech is sublime. He takes the jury through all of the key points of the evidence and totally goes to town on Hobbs and Plushenko.



“Members of the jury, I don’t want to insult your intelligence by going over Mr. Plushenko’s evidence with you; I know you will have seen straight through the facade of his words. There is only one way he could have known about what I was going to ask him; he must he been told about the new evidence in the case. Why? Well that’s easy. The Defendant knew he was in big trouble and needed his faithful friend to slightly amend his story to save him. He is just as much of a liar as Mr. Hobbs. I do not think for a second either of them will have come close to fooling you and I know you will recognise the reality of this case. You have before you an angry and abusive man, a man who freely cheated on his wife because he knew he could get away with it. A man who never expected his wife would attempt to leave him. A man who was drunk and armed with his player of the year trophy. You’ve heard a lot of speculation about intruders and I have no doubt that Mr. Quinn will address you in the morning and spin you some impressive tale about burglars. But ask yourself this, why would burglars commit murder to protect their identities and take nothing? You’ve all seen the property for yourself, you know the items of value contained inside. It makes no sense. The tragic truth is clear. Mrs Hobbs was leaving the Defendant and when challenged, was killed by her feckless husband.”

I faithfully type each word that Corr utters, marveling at his eloquent use of prose. He has the jury in the palm of his hand and I’m totally convinced that they’re all sure of his guilt. They have to be. There is no way there can be any doubt after what they have heard. When he sits down, just over an hour and a half later, I’m positive it’s in the bag.



Hobbs looks pretty shaken when he leaves the courtroom. He must know that his number is up. As soon as he gets outside the door and onto the concourse I can hear raised voices and the sound of a man shouting. It’s a pretty safe bet that it’s Hobbs having a go at his solicitors. Quinn walks out without making an attempt to speak to Corr; there are no jokes or attempts to engage him in any playful banter.

“Let’s go and have a debrief,” says Corr “Meet me back at your Chambers in ten minutes. It won’t take long”

“Sure. I’ll see you there” I reply, rearranging my papers and leaving them neatly on the bench.

Rivers stops next to me on his way out. “So, the champagne evidence was your idea?” he asks, leaning across me and picking up a stray biro. His arm brushes against me as he straightens up. I nod modestly.

“I guess the prosecution must be desperate to get this home then,” he continues “Last chance for them and all.”

“Well by the same standard, you and Quinn must be desperate to get him off!” I laugh.

He joins in. “Yeah, I suppose so. We’ll have to wait until next week though to find out though.”

“True, the Judge probably won’t send the jury out to deliberate now until Monday morning. Oh well, at least it keeps us out of trouble for a little bit longer! Right, I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” I grab my bag and hurry out.



It doesn’t take me long to walk back to Chambers and I sit and wait for Corr in one of the conference rooms on the first floor feeling like I’m waiting at the dentists, staring at the legal themed print hung on the yellow wall. He arrives after I’ve been alone for about a minute and sits in the chair opposite me. I wait for him to speak and he removes his glasses, putting them on the table between us.

“I just wanted to tell you how impressed I’ve been with your efforts in this case. Your intuition has really paid off.”

“Wow, thanks” I stutter. “It’s very kind of you to say that.”

“Nothing is ever certain with these thing but I’m confident that this trial has gone as well as it could have.”

We continue to talk about the trial and I’m amazed by how easily we can converse. He seems genuinely relaxed and happy about how things have developed. The conversation turns to other work and he tells me all about a murder trial he’s doing in a couple of weeks. We’re interrupted by the arrival of Roger who knocks on the door and enters. We both stand to greet him.

“Sir, Miss.” he acknowledges in his usual raspy voice. “Phone call for you Sir, your senior clerk.”

“Thank you Roger,” says Corr “I’ll see you in the morning Lauren. Again, good job.” He exits the room, leaving me alone with my clerk.

“So Miss, how have you found it working with the great man?” he asks, taking a deep draw on the ever-present cigarette.

“It’s been, well, amazing I guess!” I gush. “I’ve learned so much. I just hope the jury convict the bastard!”

Roger laughs, exhaling smoke.

“Remember Miss never to take these things personally. If you win you win, if not, then that’s just how it was meant to be.”

“I know” I sigh “But I just couldn’t bear it if they acquitted him. He’s so totally guilty!”

“That may be so Miss, but remember to leave the case here when you go home.” I nod, trying to look like I agree with him. If he had any idea how much time I’ve spent on this he might be a little concerned.

“Go home now Miss. Get ready for the drama of tomorrow.”

“Quinn’s speech?” I laugh, “It’s going to be epic!”

I bid him farewell. I can hardly wait.