Court Out

Chapter Twenty Nine





Six months later...



“Court Rise”

As I uncross my ankles, raise myself to my feet and take a low bow, I silently thank God that this Judge’s ferocious nicotine habit has kept his summing up mercifully short. I glance over my shoulder to check that Mr. Walsh is still awake in the dock. He is... just. After his last glorious acquittal of stealing knickers, he’s back.

This time, he’s supposed to have been on a shoplifting spree in Ann Summers. When the list of items they found on him was read out, even the Judge turned an alarming shade of red. I smile as it dawns on me that the descriptions of the various marital-aides were not mentioned in his review of the evidence.

True to form, Mr. Walsh is out of the dock like a greyhound from a trap. I sigh and am about to tail him onto the concourse of Farrington Crown Court when a familiar figure comes into the well of the court. She’s fully robed, carrying a pile of papers and is barking orders at a male barrister who is trying to keep up with her.

“If you think I’m agreeing that, then you’re wrong. You want it in, you call the evidence.”

The expression on her face makes it clear that she’s not going to take any nonsense from him. I bite my lip and try not to smile.

“Hi Cassie!” I call.

She spots me and smiles. “Hey Lauren. Have your jury gone out yet? I’m in the next trial.”

“Yep, they’ve literally just retired. I presume you’re defending?” I guess, in light of her comments to her opponent.

She nods. “It kills me! He took one look at me and obviously thought ‘Oh she’s new, I can pull a fast one’ Ha! I’ll show him.”

I laugh. “That’s the spirit. I’ll be floating around until my jury come back, so if you need me, don’t hesitate to ask. Good luck!”

As I walk out, I feel a rush of pride. Cassie has developed into a confident, ballsy barrister and I know she’ll go far. Since the move, she’s really come out of her shell and has shown herself to be a real asset to Chambers.

I wander onto the landing and half-heartedly scan the waiting masses for Mr. Walsh. To my surprise, he is sat, apparently well behaved on one of the plastic chairs outside of the courtroom. He sees me and nods. I smile and walk towards the cafe; if my jury comes back they’ll tannoy me.

I order my usual cappuccino and grab a seat in the barrister’s area. As I scan some papers for tomorrow, I’m startled when someone slides into the seat opposite me.

“Hello baby girl!” drawls a familiar voice.

I look up in delight to see the smiling face of Bill Wallsbury. I haven’t seen him in absolutely ages. To his credit, he was one of the members of my old Chambers who did leave me supportive messages when to everyone else, I was a pariah.

“Bill!” I exclaim “Great to see you! How’s things?”

“Oh same old with me dear, but surely you must be feeling a bit overwhelmed today?”

He’s staring at me with an odd look in his usually comical eyes. I have no clue what he’s on about. I say as much.

“Dear girl! Surely someone thought to tell you? Well this is serendipitous then!”

“Bill, tell me what?”

He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Well you of course know that our former colleague and her accomplice were both charged by the police? Along with their compliant juror and the depraved footballer?”

“Yes, yes,” I persist.

Serena was arrested shortly after the debacle at the altar and the police had more than enough evidence to bring charges against her, River, Hobbs and Stephen Walker. Everyone knows that, it’s common knowledge.

“Well they’re all in court today. It’s their plea hearing.”

I’m temporarily rendered speechless. I knew that this day was inevitable, that they would have to tell the world whether they are pleading innocence or guilt, but I presumed the case would have been moved off circuit, far away where no-one knows them.

Bill has obviously read my mind. “Of course, if they deny it and there is to be a trial they’re being shipped off to the East Midlands. Today however, they’re on home turf.”

I get to my feet. “Which court?”

He looks startled. “Surely you’re not? It wouldn’t be appropriate? You could be a witness?” He stops and gives a small smirk. “Court four, I’ll come too!”

By the time we get down to court four, there is a large group of people clustered around the entrance. Ironically I recognise a lot of them as the reporters who were camped outside my home. Before they can spot me, I push my wig as far down my forehead as I can, lower my face and hurry inside.

I grab a seat in the far right hand corner of the court and try to look inconspicuous. This would be somewhat easier if Bill didn’t keep calling “Yoo hoo!” at everyone and giving them camp waves. I really shouldn’t be here.

I have no idea who is representing Serena or Walker, but I’m not at all surprised to see Quinn strutting around amongst the advocates like he owns the place. He was never publicly implicated in the conspiracy, but I firmly believe he knew exactly what was going on and most likely benefitted from a lot of Hobb’s cash.

Irrespective of the new trouble he’s found himself in, Hobbs is going to stand trial again for the alleged murder of his wife. It’s unprecedented, but these are very extenuating circumstances. I hope he gets exactly what is coming to him.

There’s a commotion as the defendants are lead into the dock. Serena looks terrible. Her hair is lank against her face and she appears as though she hasn’t slept in months. Good. Despite her predicament she still has her usual look of defiance and has her chin held high as she walks through her former peers.

Just before she steps into the glass-fronted dock she spots me and falters. I can see fear, desperation and anger flick across her normally guarded face and in that instant, despite my resolve not to, I feel a tiny prick of sympathy for her. Luckily it passes as she scowls as me with a look of pure hatred. Bill spots it too and surreptitiously gives her the finger. I try not to laugh.

We sit in silence on our best behaviour and wait for the Judge to be brought in. He’s a friendly one, but today he looks particularly sombre which is to be expected given the case he is dealing with.

Rivers looks like crap too. He’s lost a lot of weight and hasn’t bothered to remove his designer stubble. Hobbs remains his usual arrogant, cocky self, appearing to those who haven’t met him like he hasn’t got a care in the world, but Walker is visibly wetting himself. Not literally of course, but he’s shaking like a leaf and is a curious shade of green.

The court clerk identifies all four and the charges are then put to them each in turn. I grab Bill’s hand and squeeze. This is it. Are they going to admit setting me up or are they going to lie?

I nearly black out when I hear Rivers.

“Guilty” he replies in a low voice.

He’s followed by Walker “Guilty!” he cries, his voice shaking with emotion. Hobbs’ turn comes next. He looks furious. I wonder if he knew that the others were going to drop him in it. Evidently not. Quinn rushes to the dock and they have a brief, muttered conference beneath the glass. Quinn returns to his seat and nods at the clerk. Again, the charge is read to him

“On this indictment you stand charged of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice,” she reads. She carries on to read out the particulars offence then asks, “To this charge do you plead guilty or not guilty?”

Hobbs is shaking his head.

“Mr. Hobbs you need to enter a plea,” interjects the Judge. In response, Hobbs gives an indecipherable reply.

“Speak up please Mr. Hobbs,” the Judge instructs.

“I said guilty!” he yells.

A wave of murmurs goes around the room. Bill yelps and I realise I’ve been squeezing him a bit too hard. I release my grip and he pats me on the knee. Three down, one to go.

My gaze is fixed firmly on Serena, who in turn, has her eyes only on the court clerk. Again, the charge is read to her. I hold my breath. She seems to take an age to reply to the allegation. When she does, my heart, my thoughts and time seems to stop.

“Guilty.”

As the Judge starts going through the formalities for setting a date for sentence, I feel a hand tap me on the shoulder. Shocked, I jump a mile in fright. As I regain my composure, I turn to see a friendly faced middle-aged lady in a short black gown staring back at me in bewilderment. It’s my court usher.

“Verdict,” she whispers.

Gosh, that was quick. I rise to my feet and try to make my way out as unobtrusively as possible. The only route is past the dock. I’m determined not to look at any of them, but as I pass, I find myself meeting the gaze of my former best friend. There is no hint of apology in her stony expression, if anything she’s looking at me like I’m the one in the wrong.

With a quick glimpse around to check no-one is watching I lean closer to the glass. I know I should be the bigger person here, but we’re so far past that it’s not funny.

“Enjoy prison,” I carefully mouth and walk out of the courtroom.

I hurry up the stairs, grab Mr. Walsh and wait for the jury to reconvene. I feel oddly light; I guess the proverbial weight has indeed now been lifted. Sebastian and I are going for dinner tonight and I suspect I’ll get through more than a few bottles, I mean glasses, of wine.

To his credit, Mr. Walsh hasn’t put up much by way of protest regarding the way I’ve manhandled him into court and I should say, for the record, that most barristers don’t usually physically assault their clients. In this instance, I’d like to think that given our history, we have transcended the usual bond between lawyer and Defendant, but in reality, I’m curious to see what is going to happen.

After depositing my Defendant in the dock I shuffle anxiously back into my seat, avoiding the stares of the waiting court staff and my opponent. The Judge enters and we go through the usual rigmarole as the jury return to their positions and the foreman is invited to get to his feet.

From the way the smartly dressed Asian man rises and confirms that they have reached a unanimous verdict I can safely surmise that he’s someone who clearly enjoys the spotlight. The charge is read to him and he is asked to record the verdict on which he and his eleven peers are all agreed.

There is a pause and I hold my breath, raising my pen poised above the already heavily endorsed brief. I can’t help it. I look up and meet the gaze of the foreman. To my amazement, he winks at me before speaking.



“Not guilty.”