Beyond Innocence (25 page)

Following this outburst from the bench, it was obvious before Irene asked her first question, Royston Chambers was wishing he was back at Stafford and he had made the gravest mistake of his life coming here today. But it was too late now as Irene began, “Mr. Chambers will you please confirm that you are at present serving a term of five years imprisonment at one of Her Majesty’s penal institutions, and whilst you were on remand you became acquainted with Harry Thomson, who had been arrested and charged with the murders of two people?”

Chambers        “Yes that is correct Miss.”

Miss Yarwood  “During your time on remand, did you ever come into contact or conversation with Harry Thompson?”

Chambers        “Yes Miss I came into contact with him but I hardly ever spoke to him at all.”

Miss Yarwood  “How close did you get to him?

Chambers        “Well I was moved into the cell next door and we were neighbours so to speak for up to six months, but, during this time other than to say hello, I hardly ever spoke to him.”

Miss Yarwood  “Did he ever speak to you, and did he ever confess to you that he was guilty of these two crimes?”

Chambers        “No never, not ever, and that’s the absolute truth.”

Miss Yarwood  “Will you please tell this court how you came by this so called confession.”

Chambers        “Well Miss I had received a couple of visits from Detective Sergeant West. During these visits, he kept telling me I was facing at least seven years in gaol this time, but, if I could help him by getting Thompson to confess, he would come to my trial and try to get my sentence reduced.”

Miss Yarwood  “And did you help him?”

Chambers        “No, not at first, because, Thompson wouldn’t talk to anybody, let alone me.”

Miss Yarwood  “So what did the Sergeant do. Did he threaten you at all?”

Chambers        “Well actually, thinking about it, he was very clever, because, he just kept suggesting that, if I didn’t get him this confession, he wouldn’t help me. He also kept telling me that, if I didn’t do it then I would also be in trouble with his boss, Detective Inspector Taylor. That’s when I knew it was getting really serious, and, if I didn’t give them what they wanted, they could well end up framing me for another job as well.”

Miss Yarwood  “So what did you do next?”

Chambers        “Well I gave in didn’t I?” I gave them a confession which was just what they wanted but I made it all up, every single word.”

Miss Yarwood  “As a result of this, are you aware that, without your confession and without the false evidence from Bridget Riley, Harry Thompson could well be a free man, able to walk the streets at will?”

Chambers        “Yes I am, Miss, and that’s why I have volunteered to come here today because, whilst I have been in prison, I have had a visit from Mr. West telling me not to come here today. He reckons nobody will believe me, and with this new evidence against Thompson, it will be a waste of time. He also said, because of this new evidence, the right man was in gaol, and he no longer felt obliged to help me in my appeal.”

Miss Yarwood  “Thank you Mr. Chambers. I have no further questions but if you will wait there I am sure Mr. Nuttall-Jones will think of something to ask you.

Sir Gordon was already on his feet and he moved quickly into the attack, “Come on now, Chambers, you know full well that this isn’t true. Admit it man, there isn’t one grain of truth in any of your allegations whatsoever. First of all, let me remind you, you are under oath here, and I would like to take you back to the trial where you swore, on oath, that the evidence you gave was the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth. At that time, you never mentioned anything about being pushed into this by anyone in the police force, and that can only be a malicious falsehood on your part.”

Chambers        “No, The only truth is what is being said here right now.”

Sir Gordon       “Well I think it’s something different, and I’m putting it to you that you have come here today to try to cause trouble for a man who has devoted a lifetime serving the public and to solving crime within the Merseyside area. I am also putting it to you that you’ve come here today with this cock and bull story in the hope that, if somehow you are to be believed, you might get a reduction in your sentence. Well I can assure you Mr. Chambers, that it is not going to wash and you’ll end up in very serious trouble. Think about that.”

Chambers        “I already have and, with the evidence presented here today, there’s probably quite a lot of truth in what you say. In which case, I say to you, why should I come here today to take such a risk? Well, I’ll tell you. As far as I am concerned, I’ve got nothing to lose, and, eventually, when the truth does come out, I might have something to gain.”

Sir Gordon addressed the bench before indicating he had no further questions, “Your lordships, I would like this court to consider that, if you do not believe the evidence of this witness here today, then, he has without doubt, committed perjury. On the other hand, if you think that he has told you the truth today then he undoubtedly committed perjury at the murder trial. Either way, he cannot have it both ways, and it is my contention, his sole purpose in coming here today was to try to make such an impression that he might have been able to secure a reduction in his sentence. Then, as he resumed his seat, he continued to glare at the hapless figure of Chambers leaving the court.

With the proceedings over, the three robed figures left the court to consider their verdict which would be announced two days later.

After the high court hearing, with the day coming towards its conclusion, Timothy Harris found himself the centre of attraction. The baying hounds from the press refused to leave him alone as his own case before the court was prominently featured on the television.

Lying in her bed in the private hospital, Paula Harris could hear all the activity around her. In fact, she had been aware of it almost from the start of her ordeal. The trouble was she couldn’t see where she was, and nobody took a blind bit of notice whenever she spoke. It never occurred to her that nobody could hear her because no sound came from her lips. She knew she was in hospital and she knew her bed had been made for she had heard the nurses saying to each other, “Roll her on her side, now lift her this way etc. Under normal circumstances all this effort would make a patient feel a little more comfortable, but, as in Paula’s case, when your body is completely devoid of feeling, nothing at all felt different.

This daily ritual was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing. Paula heard the voice of Sister Brenda speaking in reply, “Hello, hello, oh it’s you Mr. Woods, yes I can hear you. No, Matron has just left the ward, and we’re making Mrs. Harris as comfortable as possible. At this point her voice faltered momentarily, as she said, “No doctor, there hasn’t been any change in her condition, and there’s still absolutely no response from her. In fact, everything remains the same as before you left, and we look forward to seeing you when you get back. By the way, is it possible to say how you got on at the high court today? She gave a sharp intake of breath as she received the news that, barring a miracle, her charge had twenty-eight days to live. Shocked by the news she had just heard, she clumsily replaced the receiver whilst calling anxiously to her colleague, “Betty, Betty quick that was Mr. Woods on the telephone speaking from London. According to him, it’s practically all over for Mrs. Harris. Apparently, the judge has ruled if there is no medical evidence of any improvement in her condition within the next twenty-eight days, her support systems will be switched off.”

Betty heard the news with alarm. “My God, she exclaimed. “That’s terrible news, and her lying here like this not knowing anything about it, and to make matters worse, not even knowing her son was buried last week. Tell you what, Brenda, it makes you realise just how lucky and well off people like us really are.”

Brenda readily agreed, and commiserated with her colleague as they both set about the completion of their allotted tasks.

Trapped in her inert state, it was impossible to describe the pain now felt by Paula Harris as she digested the news that she was on a life support system, and at best she had only four weeks to live. This coupled with the confirmation that her son Anthony had died set her mind racing with a hundred and one questions which could not be answered. Once again, she agonised to God that it could not be true. Please. Please dear God, she prayed, don’t let it be true about Anthony or the life support system. With all the strength she could muster she was trying to scream the place down. Surely, she thought, somebody will hear me. God Almighty, why can’t somebody hear me, but it was no use, no sound issued from her lips. Despite all her efforts, her limbs refused to respond to her commands to move. As she lay there, utterly exhausted from her efforts, the two dedicated nurses left the ward. As they left, they were unable to see, the single, salt laden tear, which had formed within her eye before beginning it’s painstakingly slow journey down her cheek. Beneath the bedclothes, she moved the little finger on her right hand with agonising slowness trying to mount it across her index finger. After another supreme effort, she finally succeeded then, as the medication administered by her dedicated nurses began to take effect, she lapsed into a deep sleep, still praying to God, still hoping against hope this was nothing more than a bad dream, from which she would escape when she finally awoke.

Relaxing, in her little flat, in the parish of All Saints, Manchester, Edith Farrell had just poured herself a refreshing cup of tea when she heard the announcement on the television about Timothy Harris and his case in the high court concerning the switching off of the support systems keeping Paula Harris alive. She knew at once this case referred to the Mrs. Harris who had suffered a terrible stroke whilst visiting herself at the premises of the Manchester Children’s Adoption Society. Hearing this sad news upset her badly, because somehow she knew instinctively, Mrs. Harris desperately wanted to contact her son. If it were true her support systems were going to be switched off, she was acutely aware this would not be possible. Edith Farrell could not live with herself if she allowed that to happen and, her own conscience demanded that she take action. Normally, under adoption society rules, unless both parties specifically agree to contact, then contact cannot take place. This rule ensures that any person wishing to forget about that period in their lives is free to do so. She knew she was taking a chance, and if she was found out it could also mean she would lose her job as well as her pension rights, but she felt she could not stand idly by and let somebody turn off her support system. In addition, Edith Farrell was also aware that Mrs. Harris’s first born son also wished to make contact, and if that opportunity was denied him now, he would never get the opportunity to meet his real birth mother. At first she was in a quandary about how she should proceed then, after giving the matter some considerable thought, she decided she would write a letter to the lawyers who had handled the defence of Harry Thompson. She reasoned, quite correctly, that she should be able to obtain that information from The Law Society the following morning, then she would be able to post her letter straight away.

She wrote as follows:

I wish to advise you that I received correspondence some time ago from one of your clients who was trying to trace his birth mother. It so happened that his birth mother had expressed similar thoughts, and arrangements were being made for these two people to be put in contact with each other. At this stage, I must point out that this contact related only to contact between mother and son, as there was no mention of the name of the father on the birth certificate. Therefore, my
society would not be in a position to offer any further assistance should your client wish to pursue the matter further.

As you are aware your client is at present serving a prison sentence, and he insisted, before any personal contact was made, his mother had to be made aware of all the relevant facts as he felt his incarceration might make his mother change her mind about the whole thing.

With hindsight, that is something we will never really know for the poor lady suffered a terrible stroke, whilst making a visit to our offices, and the effect of this illness has left her in a terrible state, completely unable to fend for herself.

Today, I have learned that there was a high court hearing to determine whether, or not, the support systems keeping Mrs. Harris alive could be switched off. I realise that I cannot allow this to happen whilst I know that she has a blood relative who, in all probability, would dearly like to be put in touch with her. Perhaps, this is something that you could discuss initially with her doctors at St. Margaret’s BUPA Hospital Manchester.

This issue is further complicated by the adoption society rules which state contact can only be established if it is the wish of both parties, and in this instance this condition has not been fulfilled, due to the stroke suffered by Mrs. Harris.

In addition, I should also point out that, in writing to you, disclosing this information I am putting my job on the line together with my pension rights. Despite this, I can’t sit idly back, allowing this lady to die without her knowing everything possible had been done to reunite her with her child. My own conscience simply will not allow it. All I am asking is that you treat this matter in the strictest confidence because, so much and so many people, depend upon it.

Yours sincerely,

Edith Farrell,

Matron,

Manchester and District Children’s Adoption Society

As usual Betty Oldroyd was in a happy mood as she reported for duty on ward 7. In order not to waste time, Brenda and she had a set routine which involved the first person to arrive collecting the tea tray from the ward station and taking it straight to the ward which housed Paula Harris. Brenda had seen her making the tea, and as a result she had gone straight to the ward. After opening the door she proceeded to open the windows in order to allow the clean fresh air to permeate the room, then it was time to roll the bedclothes, part way down, before they both sat down for their early morning tea.

She had just attended to the covers, when the door opened and Betty entered, with the tray. She turned around and wished her colleague “Good morning. Then she turned to say the same to her patient. It was at that moment the words froze on her lips, and she let out a scream. The tea tray went up in the air, returning to earth with a resounding crash, scattering the scalding contents all over the room. For a moment her colleague was transfixed by the scene, then she shouted, “Betty, good heavens, what is it? What on earth is the matter?” Betty was rooted to the spot. All she could do was point her finger at their inert charge. Unable to see at once what had given her colleague the shock of her life, she repeated the question, “Betty what is it?”

Released from the spell, Betty took three quick strides to the bed and pointed to Paula Harris’s hand, crying as she did, “look Brenda, her little finger it’s moved!” See, look at it, it’s resting on her ring finger. She must have done that last night or sometime after we left. Betty was almost in tears as she continued excitedly, “Brenda, it’s a miracle, it’s a miracle I tell you. Ring for Mr. Woods immediately. As her colleague picked up the telephone in order to convey the good news, and to request the urgent attendance of that person, Betty reached out, and put her arms around the still body crying, “Mrs. Harris, Paula, please don’t worry. It’s going to be alright. Oh God, you poor thing, I do wish you could hear me. As doctor Woods arrived on the scene, he was confronted with the sight of two of his senior nurses, crying unashamedly as they tried to explain to him the discovery that their patient had some movement, irrespective of how minute it might be.

After a quick examination of Mrs. Harris, he brought the two of them quickly back to earth, explaining this did not mean that she was going to fully recover, neither did it mean she could understand, or hear, what was going on around her. For the next few minutes, he busied himself requesting the attendance of other colleagues in order that a full and proper clinical reassessment of the patient’s condition could be carried out. At this stage, although he dare not show it to those present in the ward, he was also hoping this might prove to be sufficient improvement to allow Judge Russell to change his mind.

Michael Mulrooney was seated in his office. He was reading through the morning mail which had arrived on his desk. One letter in particular had caught his eye. It was a letter sent by Edith Farrell, Matron, at The Manchester and District Children’s Adoption Society, and it clearly Identified Harry Thompson as the child of Paula Harris. As he reread the letter, he began to realise the implications, and the effect, the contents could have on the lives of quite a few other people. Potentially, it opened up a whole new can of worms. Out of interest, he found himself posing a number of questions which he thought might be of some relevance. What if, Timothy Harris wasn’t the boy’s father and if that were the case, how would he react when the news broke, as it surely would, at some given moment in time. Worse still, how would Timothy Harris react if it transpired he was the father of Harry Thompson, and he wasn’t aware of this? Almost immediately, he dismissed this scenario from his mind, as he couldn’t envisage a situation such as this arising with Timothy Harris being totally unaware of this fact for all these years. Still he, mused, it would be ironic if that were the case, especially with his involvement with Angela Clarkson, the subsequent libel case, and finally, his own son being convicted of the Clarkson murder. He shook his head at the thought, and whispered aloud, “No that’s too far-fetched to contemplate. His thoughts now turned to Mrs. Harris, and her position especially since she was under virtual sentence of death. Finally, his thoughts turned to his own client, Harry Thompson. How would he react to the news? In addition, there was also the question of secrecy. Already, he could sympathise with Mrs. Farrell, and the dilemma she faced, and he realised that above all else she had to be protected and her name kept out of the public domain.

A man of quick decisive action, he picked up the telephone and rang the number of Irene Yarwood’s mobile phone. One way or another, she had to be informed immediately. Together they would consider the implications, and plan the next moves to be taken.

Irene listened intently as he read the contents of the letter over the phone. She grasped the nettle straight away, telling him, “Michael, the first thing you must do is set up a meeting with the legal team representing the hospital. The knowledge that Mrs. Harris has a son might be sufficient reason to allow the judge to reverse his decision. I know this is taking a chance on Mrs. Farrell being exposed, but I don’t think anybody has much choice in this matter especially if the judge rules that the improvement described still doesn’t warrant her support systems being left on. Looking at it from another point of view, just suppose Harry Thompson knew that Paula Harris is his birth mother. Don’t you think he would be saying to the judge, “kill my mother if you dare!” I know one thing, Timothy Harris won’t be pleased to hear this news, and the press will have a field day when they learn, Harry Thompson is his stepson. Go ahead, make contact and set up a meeting as a matter of extreme urgency. If I were you, I think I would go via the consultant who is responsible for her at the hospital, because he will know who best to contact regarding the legal aspect. You might have to put him under a little bit of pressure, as I agree with you we must do all that we can to protect the anonymity of Mrs. Farrell. But I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with some way of keeping it secret. Anyway, telephone me later at the office or, if you are free, come down to the Wig and Gown for lunch. Ok? Goodbye and I’ll see you later. Thanks.”

As requested, Michael telephoned the hospital and arranged to see Doctor Woods without delay. Later that morning, he was shown into the consultant’s office where the doctor asked him how he could help.

Michael hesitated, then he decided to put his cards on the table, “I’ve come to see you about one of your patients, a Mrs. Harris. I think we may have a joint interest in her wellbeing and welfare. I have received information today that this lady has a living relative. In fact it is her son who was adopted many years ago. Strictly speaking, I can’t, under any circumstances, reveal the source of my information, but I can assure you that the source is absolutely impeccable, and the information will withstand any test in any court of law. Besides, it’s better that you don’t know, then you cannot be questioned about it later. I’m sure if you pass this information to your legal representatives and we can arrange a meeting, perhaps something can be done to prolong the life of Mrs. Harris.”

Throughout this opening speech, Dr. Woods had studied his visitor intently now he spoke, “Well first of all Mr. Mulrooney, let me thank you for coming here with the news about my patient. I have to say that I find it all very mysterious to say the least. Here we are, with positive information which might prolong the life of my patient, and you can’t disclose the source. I must confess I am intrigued to say the least. However, let me put you in the picture. This morning, when my staff and I reported for duty, we were astonished to find there had been some improvement in the condition of Mrs. Harris. Two of the dedicated nurses discovered she has some very slight movement in one of her little fingers. Following on from this and after carrying out further tests, we have been able to ascertain that the lady can hear. Throughout the day we shall be carrying out all manner of tests in an effort to establish if there is any other part of her body which is able to function. Naturally, I have already been in touch with our legal advisers, and we are hopeful that this improvement alone will enable the judge to reverse his decision. Therefore, I’ll give them a ring now to see if we can meet as soon as possible in order that we can compare notes. Following a brief telephone conversation Michael found himself driving to the city centre and a meeting with the hospital’s legal team. The meeting was short and the discussion brief. It was decided that the appeal would be lodged on the basis of the new medical evidence and, if that tactic did not succeed, then an approach from Harry Thompson would be made, on the basis that he had an interest in the case being the son by birth. It was also agreed the name of Matron Farrell should well be kept out of all matters if it was at all humanely possible. Feeling well satisfied with the morning’s work, Michael made his way to his luncheon appointment at the Wig and Gown with Irene Yarwood.

After a pleasant lunch, during which he brought Irene up-to-date with the morning’s proceedings, they made their plans for another trip to London to the Court of Appeal for the much awaited the judgement of their lordships. For safekeeping, he deposited the letter from Matron Edith Farrell with Irene, and they both agreed, once it had been established that it had served its useful purpose, it would be returned in person to that upright and stalwart individual. She could then destroy it herself with the knowledge that it could never come back to haunt her in any way.

After lunch, Irene returned to her chambers where she was pleasantly surprised to find Sebastian Kreiff the senior partner waiting for her. He came straight to the point of his visit, “I take it that you’ll be going down to the Appeal Court tomorrow, and I wondered if you could do me a great favour.

“Certainly,” she responded, “What is it you want me to do?”

“Well, he replied, the Crown Prosecution Service has asked me to defend the appeal of the Latimer Brothers’ conviction, and I wondered if you would be able to pick up the court transcripts of the trial from the Central Records Office and bring them back with you. This will ensure I have as much time as possible to study the case. You won’t have to wait or anything as I’ll get my secretary to telephone the Records Office in advance, and they should have all the relevant files to hand when you get there.”

“No problem, she replied, “I’ll be in London anyway so I should be able to do that for you and I wasn’t planning on stopping over after the verdict, so consider it done. Will that be all Seb?”

“Yes, he answered, “that’s all for now, but whilst I’m here, just let me ask you something. Where on earth did you get that idea about Thompson’s right to silence, and what on earth made you tie it in with his human rights being abused?”

“To tell you the truth, she answered, I was literally clutching at straws. You can imagine the picture. The crown had just presented this new evidence about lifting DNA from clothing and I knew I didn’t really have a leg to stand on. As a result, I was most reluctant to call our forensic expert there and then as I didn’t consider I could introduce sufficient doubt in the minds of their lordships, and I thought I had nothing to lose passing him over at this point of the proceedings. Whilst this was going through my mind, I couldn’t help thinking about something the prosecution had said earlier, something about this evidence being so compelling my client might just as well have confessed to the crime initially. Had I not have read about the Hurst case in the first place, I probably wouldn’t have thought about it, but those words kept going round in my mind, and the next thing I knew I was asking the questions.”

“Now I know it hasn’t got us anywhere yet, but if the appeal verdict goes against me, then I shall ask for permission to appeal to the House of Lords. In that case, I’ll be praying that permission is denied so that I can lodge an appeal with The European Courts. This will be on the basis that when a sample from Harry Thompson was tested without his permission, he was effectively denied his human right to silence, and this was a denial of his basic human rights.”

Sebastian looked at her incredulously whilst she continued, “No doubt a lot of people will argue this is trying to get Thompson off on a technicality, but Seb, isn’t this what the law is all about? Also we mustn’t forget that, if the crown had done its own job properly in the first place, this opportunity would have been denied us.

Finally, allowed an opportunity to speak he asked, “Are you serious about this Irene?”

“Of course I am, and it won’t do you the slightest bit of good trying to persuade me otherwise. Don’t forget, my duty is to my client, and nobody else.”

“Irene,” replied Sebastian, “I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, please let me tell you I think it’s absolutely brilliant and I’m praying that it succeeds for you because you certainly deserve it.”

“Thanks Seb, I really appreciate that. I really do because, at one stage, I thought I might have blown it but if this comes off then I know it will all have been worthwhile. Incidentally, one last thing before you go, I’ll bet you didn’t know that Harry Thompson’s mother is Paula Harris!” She saw another expression of surprise on his face as the news sank in, and his legal mind went into overdrive, as he too realised the implications and repercussions this could well have on the case.

Whilst he was still thinking about these matters she continued, “Of course that doesn’t mean Timothy Harris is the father, but even so I am sure you can imagine the complications which could arise before we’ve finished with this case.”

About to take his leave, Sebastian wished his junior partner good luck, and a pleasant journey before adding, “It just goes to show, Irene, it’s a very small world indeed. He was still shaking his head in disbelief as he walked down the corridor to his own office, repeating to himself, “Harry Thompson and Mrs. Harris, mother, and son, who would have believed it?”