Page 101 of Fe
Once Fen was inside the building, his crutch had to go on the conveyor belt to be scanned, along with his coat. Then he was allowed to make his way to Ripley’s courtroom. The building itself was amazing with stained glass windows, a huge staircase, dome, murals… Maybe he could go on a tour sometime but today, he wanted to watch Ripley.
Fen was the first person into the public gallery and sat at the front in the left-hand corner. When other people came in, he wondered if they were connected to the case or visitors like him. They were so fidgety he thought they were probably friends or relatives, but on whose side? Maybe they were wondering about him.
On the way there in the car, Ripley had told him this wasn’t a fraud case but murder. A young man was on trial for stabbing an older guy to death. Ripley was acting for the defence. Fen had never seen anyone holding a knife in the street but Ripley had told him there were over thirteen thousand stabbing incidents recorded in London last year. It was horrifying. Fen had sat quietly as Harry had driven them in and let Ripley get on with his work. Barristers had to retain a lot of information in their heads. Fen was pretty sure he’d fall at the first hurdle and forget everyone’s names within moments.
Neither of them had mentioned Alejandro. It was still unfinished business for Ripley, and Fen sort of wanted to help him. Well, not finish it, because the guy would never be forgotten but Ripley needed to get on with his life. Fen would wait for the right opportunity, assuming it ever came up. He’d googled Alejandro yesterday and found his full name, details of his funeral, and burial in Brompton. He wondered if Ripley ever went to his grave, whether he planned to go on Christmas Eve.
When the courtroom began to fill, Fen concentrated on what was happening. It was a bit like a play with actors taking their positions on stage ready for the entry of the most important person, the judge. Ripley looked stern in his wig and gown, though still handsome. Intimidating too, though not to Fen. When Ripley spotted Fen in the public gallery, his mouth twitched and Fen risked a smile. The judge wore a wig too and a fancy red robe with fur. Wire glasses were perched on his nose and he looked ancient. The jury were a mixed bunch, old and young, some wore smart clothes and others were dressed more casually. No unicorn onesies. The only person Fen knew who’d been picked for jury duty was Scott, though he’d not been selected to be in a trial.
The defendant was sandwiched between prison officers. He was in his twenties and his face was pale. Fen would have been scared too. Ripley hadn’t told him any details about the case so Fen had to pick it up as it went along. Sam, the defendant, had stabbed Gino, a man in his forties, in an alley in Brighton, and Gino had died.
Fen hadn’t heard all the evidence so it wasn’t fair to make a judgment but Ripley was trying to make it look like self-defence while the other side saw it as murder. Ripley had lost that intimidating air and seemed gentle now, persuasive and thoughtful. Everything seemed to be about behaviour and intent. Sam had been seen on CCTV coming towards the crime scene. Ripley pointed out he’d been relaxed and happy. Did that look like a young man setting out to kill someone? Sam was also seen running away in a panic after the incident. But Ripley had evidence Sam had approached the first person he came across and asked them to call the police because he had no phone.
By the time Fen was due to meet Ripley, he had no idea whether he was guilty or not. Ripley had been magnificent; composed, authoritative and honest. He methodically destroyed arguments and infused doubt, bent on getting the jury on his side. He was better at it than the other barrister, though Fen was biased.
Ripley came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Ready?”
“Starving.”
Ripley took them to a small café where he was greeted by name when they walked in. They sat at a table at the back, and food and glasses of water appeared in front of them without them even ordering.
“How did you manage that?” Fen asked.
“They know what I like and I never have much time. I put the same order in for you and texted an ETA. Have you found it interesting?”
Fen nodded. “It’s not only about the case details, is it? You’re actors. How you present it all is as important as the facts.”
Ripley smiled and bit into his sandwich.
“You probably have to change tactic to suit the occasion too,” Fen went on. “I can see how difficult it is to be remote from what happened and still get the jury on your side to make them empathise with your client.”
“Sam’s parents and sister were sitting a little way along from you.”
“His mum shredded a lot of tissues.”
“What else did you notice?”
Fen thought as he chewed. “The juror with big ears rolled his eyes a few times when you were talking.”
“Did he? Hmm.”
“It’s a pity there wasn’t CCTV in the alley where it happened.”
“True. I know you’ve not heard previous evidence but what do you think happened?”
“Sam stabbed him but he didn’t set out to stab him,” Fen whispered. “Maybe Gino propositioned him, got a bit pushy and Sam was scared. That’s what you’re going for right?”
Ripley nodded.
“So why did Sam carry a knife? If he was worried about trouble, why did the CCTV show him happy and unconcerned?”
“Because he hadn’t thought trouble lay around the next corner.”
“Then I’m back to why carry a knife? Had he been threatened in the past? Did he always carry one? Had he been warned someone was after him? Why didn’t he have his phone? Who goes out without a phone?”
“Is him carrying the knife the part that most concerns you?”
“Well, he killed someone. He might not have meant to, but he did. Maybe hedidmean to. Maybe he and Gino had been having a thing and Gino cheated on him. Maybe he cheated on Gino. Sam’s going to get found guilty of something, isn’t he? Maybe not murder but manslaughter if it’s self-defence? Did Gino have a knife? Maybe not then but usually? Did you ask his friends? And what about his phone?”
