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Authors: Frederick Forsyth
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defence all that it has got, while the defence can keep its strategy secret until the trial. Only the production by the defence of a sudden alibi which the police have no time to check is not allowed.
“Granted. Miss. Sundaran, you have a week to prepare your witnesses and bring them to court.”
DAY SIXTEEN
WEDNESDAY
Prabani Sundaran was in a panic and had taken her fears to a senior officer at the GPS.
“Sir, I need an experienced barrister to lead me next Tuesday. I can’t take on Vansittart.”
“Prabani, you’re going to have to,” said her department chief.
“Half my team are still away. It’s bloody August you know. Everyone else is up to their eyebrows.”
“But, sir, Vansittart. He’s going to grill the prosecution witnesses.”
“Look, it’s only a committal. A formality. He’s going for a high-risk strategy and it’s too high risk. The court record will give us his entire defence. Wonderful. I wish it happened every time.”
“But supposing Mr. Stein throws it out?”
“Now look, Prabani, you are going too far, but you have to keep your nerve. Stein won’t throw it out. He knows a strong case when he sees one. We’ve got the identifications by Mr. Patel and his rock-solid statement. If he stands up. Stein will send it to the Bailey. Without Patel we wouldn’t have a case, anyway. Now, just handle it.”
That afternoon it got worse. The Chief Clerk to the Magistrates came on. There had been a fall-through. The whole of Friday was free. Could she take it on then? Prabani Sundaran thought fast. Apart from witnesses, Mr. Patel and the dog-walker Mr. Whittaker, all on her side were professionals. They would have to make the time. She asked for an hour and phoned around. At four she phoned the Clerk to agree.
James Vansittart took the call at five. He, too, agreed. Pentonville Jail was informed. Friday, ten a.m. Court No. One. Mr. Jonathan Stein presiding.
DAY EIGHTEEN
FRIDAY
The Crown had eleven witnesses and they began with the first constable to reach the scene. He testified that he had been with a colleague in a parked squad car just after two p.m. on that Tuesday when a call came from the control room requiring them to attend an assault victim on the pavement at Paradise Way. This they had done, arriving four minutes after the call. He had tended to the man on the pavement as best he could while his partner called for back-up. Within five more minutes an ambulance had arrived and removed the victim to hospital. In fifteen further minutes a uniformed inspector had arrived and taken control.
James Vansittart smiled at the young man.
“No questions,” he said and the relieved constable took his place at the back of the court.
The second witness was the uniformed inspector. He, too, was led by Ms. Sundaran through his statement. At the end, Vansittart rose.
“Inspector, at the time of your arrival on the scene, had some spectators gathered in the street?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you have other police officers with you?”
“Yes, sir. There were, in all, ten in attendance.”
“Did you instruct them to interview everyone present with a view to finding any possible eyewitnesses of the assault?”
“I did, sir.”
“Did you also have your ten colleagues visit every flat and house that could possibly have overlooked the scene, with the same aim in mind?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Penetrating the estate itself, down the passage through which the attackers had escaped, did your colleagues continue enquiries to try to find an eyewitness?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In all, how many hours were spent on this exercise?”
“I called the team off as dusk fell, about eight o’clock.”
“So, your ten men were intercepting pedestrians in the estate and knocking on doors for nearly six hours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In that time, did they come up with one single eyewitness who either saw the attack or saw two men answering the description of my clients running through the
“Granted. Miss. Sundaran, you have a week to prepare your witnesses and bring them to court.”
DAY SIXTEEN
WEDNESDAY
Prabani Sundaran was in a panic and had taken her fears to a senior officer at the GPS.
“Sir, I need an experienced barrister to lead me next Tuesday. I can’t take on Vansittart.”
“Prabani, you’re going to have to,” said her department chief.
“Half my team are still away. It’s bloody August you know. Everyone else is up to their eyebrows.”
“But, sir, Vansittart. He’s going to grill the prosecution witnesses.”
“Look, it’s only a committal. A formality. He’s going for a high-risk strategy and it’s too high risk. The court record will give us his entire defence. Wonderful. I wish it happened every time.”
“But supposing Mr. Stein throws it out?”
“Now look, Prabani, you are going too far, but you have to keep your nerve. Stein won’t throw it out. He knows a strong case when he sees one. We’ve got the identifications by Mr. Patel and his rock-solid statement. If he stands up. Stein will send it to the Bailey. Without Patel we wouldn’t have a case, anyway. Now, just handle it.”
That afternoon it got worse. The Chief Clerk to the Magistrates came on. There had been a fall-through. The whole of Friday was free. Could she take it on then? Prabani Sundaran thought fast. Apart from witnesses, Mr. Patel and the dog-walker Mr. Whittaker, all on her side were professionals. They would have to make the time. She asked for an hour and phoned around. At four she phoned the Clerk to agree.
James Vansittart took the call at five. He, too, agreed. Pentonville Jail was informed. Friday, ten a.m. Court No. One. Mr. Jonathan Stein presiding.
DAY EIGHTEEN
FRIDAY
The Crown had eleven witnesses and they began with the first constable to reach the scene. He testified that he had been with a colleague in a parked squad car just after two p.m. on that Tuesday when a call came from the control room requiring them to attend an assault victim on the pavement at Paradise Way. This they had done, arriving four minutes after the call. He had tended to the man on the pavement as best he could while his partner called for back-up. Within five more minutes an ambulance had arrived and removed the victim to hospital. In fifteen further minutes a uniformed inspector had arrived and taken control.
James Vansittart smiled at the young man.
“No questions,” he said and the relieved constable took his place at the back of the court.
The second witness was the uniformed inspector. He, too, was led by Ms. Sundaran through his statement. At the end, Vansittart rose.
“Inspector, at the time of your arrival on the scene, had some spectators gathered in the street?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you have other police officers with you?”
“Yes, sir. There were, in all, ten in attendance.”
“Did you instruct them to interview everyone present with a view to finding any possible eyewitnesses of the assault?”
“I did, sir.”
“Did you also have your ten colleagues visit every flat and house that could possibly have overlooked the scene, with the same aim in mind?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Penetrating the estate itself, down the passage through which the attackers had escaped, did your colleagues continue enquiries to try to find an eyewitness?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In all, how many hours were spent on this exercise?”
“I called the team off as dusk fell, about eight o’clock.”
“So, your ten men were intercepting pedestrians in the estate and knocking on doors for nearly six hours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In that time, did they come up with one single eyewitness who either saw the attack or saw two men answering the description of my clients running through the
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