Daniel’s well-being has to be the priority and he’ll be safest, I’m certain, where they’re taking him. Also,’ he added, ‘in view of the alleged offence, of the publicity surrounding the case . . . It is doubtful that an application would be granted, at any stage.’ More than doubtful: it was certain, though he did not say so.
‘The court visits,’ said Leo, shifting. ‘They will become a regular occurrence, I’m afraid – at least in the short term.’
Stephanie’s eyes drew wider and Leo raised a hand.
‘Things will settle down. There’ll not be the . . . trouble . . . there was last time. It’s just routine, I promise you. Part of the remand process, that’s all. And soon Daniel will be . . .’ committed, he was about to say ‘. . . referred to the Crown Court. He’ll be arraigned, formally, and depending on what plea we enter, the judge will set a trial date. For the autumn, I expect. Late summer at the earliest.’
‘That long?’ said Stephanie, her expression aggrieved once again. ‘Why so long?’
Leo made a face: there was nothing he could do. ‘We’ll push for sooner, naturally. It won’t be in anyone’s interests to drag this out.’
Daniel’s stepfather parked his hands on the surface of the table. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘A trial date, you said. As in, for a trial?’ He bent upright and jabbed a thumb towards his stepson. ‘He did it. He’s said he did it. What the hell do they need a trial for?’
Leo, for a moment, struggled with whether it should be necessary for him to answer. ‘ To present the case, Mr Blake. To allow us to mount our defence.’
Blake sniffed. ‘Sounds like a waste of money if you ask me: taxpayers’ money, my money. Sounds like a bloody publicity stunt too. They want a show trial, is that it? They want to string the boy up and make sure the newspapers are there to take pictures.’
‘Vince!’
‘Just tell them. Can’t you? He’s nuts, insane, Looney Tunes: whatever term you want to use. He did it but he didn’t mean it and he’s sorry. Case closed, just like you said.’
Leo was transfixed. He sensed Daniel squirming beside him. ‘That’s not what I . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Diminished responsibility. That’s the term, Mr Blake. And I can’t just tell them. The Crown, probably, will dispute any defence we present. If we argue for diminished responsibility, we would have to enter a plea of not guilty. And Daniel will need to be evaluated. He’ll need to talk to a psychiatrist and they, in turn, will—’
‘Wait a minute. You can stop right there. There’s no way Daniel’s talking to a shrink.’ Blake looked to his wife. Stephanie, at the prospect, seemed terrified, appalled – ashamed?
‘He would have to, Mr Blake. The psychiatrist’s findings would be the basis of the entire defence. Really, there’s no disgrace in it.’
‘I said, no.’ Again Blake turned to his wife and she gave a twitch of something like affirmation. ‘No means no, Curtice. End of discussion.’
‘With respect, Mr Blake, I’m afraid it’s not your decision to make. It would be up to Daniel.’
‘What? What are you talking about? I’m his stepfather. Steph’s his mother.’
‘And Daniel is my client. I work for him.’
Blake belched out a laugh. ‘He’s twelve years old!’
‘He is. You’re right. But he’s old enough to be charged with murder, which means the law considers him old enough to instruct his solicitor. If it is Daniel’s decision to plead not guilty, to argue for diminished responsibility, then the first step would be to—’
‘I’m not mental!’ The boy, all of a sudden, was on his feet. ‘I’m not and I’m not saying it!’ He slid behind his chair and backed away, dragging the seat with him as a ward. His eyes were blooded and his cheeks damp.
Blake saw Daniel’s hands on the chair and braced himself as though readying for it to swing. ‘What the hell do you think you’re . . . Put that
‘The court visits,’ said Leo, shifting. ‘They will become a regular occurrence, I’m afraid – at least in the short term.’
Stephanie’s eyes drew wider and Leo raised a hand.
‘Things will settle down. There’ll not be the . . . trouble . . . there was last time. It’s just routine, I promise you. Part of the remand process, that’s all. And soon Daniel will be . . .’ committed, he was about to say ‘. . . referred to the Crown Court. He’ll be arraigned, formally, and depending on what plea we enter, the judge will set a trial date. For the autumn, I expect. Late summer at the earliest.’
‘That long?’ said Stephanie, her expression aggrieved once again. ‘Why so long?’
Leo made a face: there was nothing he could do. ‘We’ll push for sooner, naturally. It won’t be in anyone’s interests to drag this out.’
Daniel’s stepfather parked his hands on the surface of the table. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘A trial date, you said. As in, for a trial?’ He bent upright and jabbed a thumb towards his stepson. ‘He did it. He’s said he did it. What the hell do they need a trial for?’
Leo, for a moment, struggled with whether it should be necessary for him to answer. ‘ To present the case, Mr Blake. To allow us to mount our defence.’
Blake sniffed. ‘Sounds like a waste of money if you ask me: taxpayers’ money, my money. Sounds like a bloody publicity stunt too. They want a show trial, is that it? They want to string the boy up and make sure the newspapers are there to take pictures.’
‘Vince!’
‘Just tell them. Can’t you? He’s nuts, insane, Looney Tunes: whatever term you want to use. He did it but he didn’t mean it and he’s sorry. Case closed, just like you said.’
Leo was transfixed. He sensed Daniel squirming beside him. ‘That’s not what I . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Diminished responsibility. That’s the term, Mr Blake. And I can’t just tell them. The Crown, probably, will dispute any defence we present. If we argue for diminished responsibility, we would have to enter a plea of not guilty. And Daniel will need to be evaluated. He’ll need to talk to a psychiatrist and they, in turn, will—’
‘Wait a minute. You can stop right there. There’s no way Daniel’s talking to a shrink.’ Blake looked to his wife. Stephanie, at the prospect, seemed terrified, appalled – ashamed?
‘He would have to, Mr Blake. The psychiatrist’s findings would be the basis of the entire defence. Really, there’s no disgrace in it.’
‘I said, no.’ Again Blake turned to his wife and she gave a twitch of something like affirmation. ‘No means no, Curtice. End of discussion.’
‘With respect, Mr Blake, I’m afraid it’s not your decision to make. It would be up to Daniel.’
‘What? What are you talking about? I’m his stepfather. Steph’s his mother.’
‘And Daniel is my client. I work for him.’
Blake belched out a laugh. ‘He’s twelve years old!’
‘He is. You’re right. But he’s old enough to be charged with murder, which means the law considers him old enough to instruct his solicitor. If it is Daniel’s decision to plead not guilty, to argue for diminished responsibility, then the first step would be to—’
‘I’m not mental!’ The boy, all of a sudden, was on his feet. ‘I’m not and I’m not saying it!’ He slid behind his chair and backed away, dragging the seat with him as a ward. His eyes were blooded and his cheeks damp.
Blake saw Daniel’s hands on the chair and braced himself as though readying for it to swing. ‘What the hell do you think you’re . . . Put that
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