‘You expect us to believe that as a habitual carrier of knives, you chose that particular night to leave your knife at home. The night when you were involved in a hate crime that led to a fatal stabbing?’
‘It’s true,’ he said.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mr Sweeney. ‘I’ll tell you what I think happened. You were kicking Luke; you and Conrad and Nicola. Nicola was near his stomach, Conrad at his head, you were by his legs, closest to the gate.’
Louise, her heart thumping like a drum, her stomach cold and aching, concentrated on taking a steady breath in and out.
‘Jason Barnes reached you first; he pulled you away, but you were enjoying yourself by then. Your blood was up and you were relishing the savage attack on Luke Murray. You knocked Jason down and returned to Luke. Jason hit you on the back and you fell down; he moved round you to reach Conrad Quinn, and you pulled out your knife.’
Garrington shook his head continuously, protesting repeatedly, ‘No. No. No,’ as the barrister continued. ‘Jason Barnes had his back to you when you drove the knife into him, pulled it out and ran. That’s really what happened, isn’t it?’
‘No way.’ His face contorted, spittle at the corners of his mouth. ‘No way. Conrad did it. Not me. I never did it.’ He was shouting, his panic and anxiety overridden by a virulent anger.
Louise got a taste of the aggression in the man and understood that he had the wherewithal to kill. She thought he was lying. She believed Conrad Quinn, pathetic though he was. Garrington was a bully. He had been bullying the girl when Luke first ran into him at the house party, and everything Emma Curtis had heard on the bus went against him. Louise looked at the jury, praying that they shared her instincts.
Louise ran into Emma Curtis in the ladies’ toilets. She felt a twist of embarrassment and went to leave, then thought better of it. ‘My daughter,’ Louise said, ‘I’m sorry. Things can be very black and white at that age.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Emma said. She was hugging her upper arms, worry etched on her face. ‘I wish I could go back, do something different.’
Louise pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Gathered herself. ‘We’ve all been there,’ she said, ‘on the train, at the bus stop, in the park. Seen someone needing help, someone outnumbered, someone being hurt. A bloke slapping his girl or a racist hurling abuse. We’ve all been there and wanted to disappear: if I ignore it, it’ll go away.’
‘I was scared, and no one else…’ Emma stopped. Her cheeks were bright red. She looked away.
‘My girl, Ruby,’ Louise said, ‘would I want her to do something in the same situation? With my heart in my mouth, yes. But if she was beaten as a result? Killed?’ Louise’s voice shook. ‘How could I?’
There was a silence. Emma’s face was mobile, struggling with emotion.
‘But thank you for coming here, that was very brave,’ Louise said.
‘No. I just wish-’
‘You can’t go back,’ she said. ‘It’s what you do next, what you do in the future, that matters now.’
Emma gave a brief nod. Louise returned to the foyer, grinding her teeth together and fighting tears.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Andrew
Nicola Healy’s testimony was almost word for word the same as Thomas Garrington’s. She accused Conrad Quinn of carrying the knife and of using it. She kept her answers short and shorn of detail or elaboration until she got agitated. She blinked with nerves and often bit her thumbnail, a habit that made her appear even younger than seventeen. When Mr Sweeney began cross-examination, he challenged her about her comments on the bus. ‘You said, “He’ll cut you.” Referring to Thomas Garrington.’
‘No, that was Conrad I meant.’
‘Not according to an independent witness.’
‘Yeah, but she didn’t know, did she? I know what I said.’
‘Had Gazza told you he was not carrying a knife?’
‘No.’
‘But you knew he often did carry one?’
‘Yeah,’ she said.
‘So it would be fair to assume that Thomas Garrington did have the knife on him that evening?’
‘But he didn’t.’
‘You didn’t know that, though, did you?’ She stalled, her mouth working. ‘You’re mixing me up,’ she complained. She bit at her thumb.
‘Both Conrad Quinn and Thomas Garrington could have been carrying knives that evening. They were both habitual carriers of knives. Yet you claim only Conrad had one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why wasn’t Thomas Garrington carrying his?’
‘I don’t know. That’s just how it was.’
‘Do you deny that Thomas Garrington said, “I’ll do you. I’ll have you. I’ve got a knife”?’
‘Conrad said that.’
‘Did Conrad say, “He’ll shank you”?’
‘No, he said, “I’ll shank you.”’
‘I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful, Miss Healy. In fact I don’t think you’re being truthful at all. I think you’ve twisted the truth to point blame at Conrad Quinn, haven’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Had you met Luke Murray before?’
‘No.’
‘You knew Thomas Garrington had a score to settle with Luke?’
‘Yeah,’ she said.
‘So the brutal way you attacked him, that was done on Thomas Garrington’s behalf, was it?’
‘Not really.’
‘Why then?’
‘He was disrespecting us, wasn’t he?’ Andrew saw Louise shift in her seat. He imagined her anger at the warped justification.
‘How exactly?’
‘He told us to fuck off,’ she said.
‘After you began intimidating him?’
‘He should have had more respect, but we never meant for him to get hurt bad, he just needed a bit of a slap.’
‘How many times did you kick Luke Murray?’ said Mr Sweeney.
‘A couple.’
‘Mrs Barnes described it as a frenzied attack. Isn’t that the truth?’
‘No. Just kicked him to scare him a bit. Just a couple of kicks. I never meant to hurt him, but Conrad went mental. Kicking his head over and over.’
‘And you say you saw Conrad Quinn stab Jason Barnes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Jason was facing Conrad at the time?’ said Mr Sweeney.
‘Yes, and Conrad had the knife out,’ she said.
‘Could Jason see the knife?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her answer chimed with an objection of ‘Speculation!’ from Mr Floyd.
‘Was the knife you allege Conrad Quinn to have produced visible to you before Jason touched Conrad?’
‘Yes.’
‘There was a space between them, and Conrad had the knife?’
‘Yes.’ She sniffed.
‘Jason reached Conrad and grabbed him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s be completely clear about this. Jason Barnes, an unarmed man, advanced towards Conrad Quinn, who had a knife pointed at him?’
‘Yeah, I said so.’ She sounded defensive, petulant.
‘And you’re telling us that as Jason moved towards him, Conrad just stood there, did not raise the knife to strike at an open target?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And then as Jason got close enough, Conrad Quinn reached around and stabbed him in the back?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Which hand did Conrad use?’
Nicola Healy faltered, opened her mouth and closed it again. Blinked several times. ‘I can’t remember,’ she said. Andrew thought she sensed a trap.
‘Everything else is crystal clear, but this particular detail is gone?’
‘I don’t know, I can’t remember,’ she said.
‘Luke was prone on the floor; you were by his side, his stomach, facing the house. Conrad and Jason would have been just to your right. Just the other side of Luke, a couple of feet away, if that. Was it his left hand, the hand nearest to you, or his right, the one furthest away, that Conrad had the knife in?’
‘I can’t remember,’ she said. Her eyes darting about.
Andrew felt a glow of hope. She was lying. And the last exchange made it clear. He leant forward and rubbed his face, caught movement from along the row, Louise catching Ruby’s hand and squeezing it. She knew it too.