‘I’m quoting from a well-known broadsheet now, “The Police have clutched at suspects in the manner of a drowning man clutching at straws.”’
‘That was sensationalist nonsense.’
‘So you weren’t clutching at straws?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Mmm,’ Aimes paused, as if considering that last statement, ‘would you be kind enough to tell the court the name of the second man who was arrested and questioned over the murder of Leanne Bell?’
DCI Argyle looked quite nauseous at that point. Eventually he said, ‘Darren Bell.’
‘And what relationship does Darren Bell have to the dead girl?’
‘Uncle.’
‘He was Leanne’s uncle?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh dear, Chief Inspector.’ The tone was pitying and our lawyer shook his head slowly, ‘Oh dear… oh dear… oh dear. Tell me, is there a family member you didn’t arrest for her murder?’
‘Objection!’ pleaded the prosecution lawyer.
‘I withdraw the question, Your Honour,’ conceded our barrister, but it was already out there and the jury heard it loud and clear.
By the time Detective Chief Inspector Argyle stepped down from the witness stand, he looked like he had been repeatedly slapped in the face.
34
Julian Aimes took just minutes to discredit the prosecution’s two star witnesses; a couple of young women who claimed they had known Henry Baxter a decade before, when both were in their early teens. They each claimed to have been indecently assaulted by him while he gave them those notorious free piano lessons.
Aimes got the first girl to talk about her life as a teenager and by the time she had described her home life, negligent parents and succession of foster families, the run-ins with the law and the absconding from a care home, he’d managed to make her sound like a prostitute. She left the witness stand in tears.
The second girl was undone by Aimes’ assertion she was only testifying against Henry Baxter for money and, when she denied this, he asked her if she would be willing to sign away any future civil claim against him right now, should he be found guilty. The prosecution objected strongly, but the girl hesitated for so long that when she finally answered, she made herself sound like a lying gold digger.
Next up was Professor Raymond Harris, the prosecution’s expert witness and a man who clearly thought he was the most intelligent person in the room and was just about to prove it.
‘Professor, could you begin by telling me how much DNA is common to every individual?’ asked Aimes.
The portly professor spoke with the confidence of a courtroom veteran. ‘Well, I could, but that wouldn’t be relevant to the technique of DNA fingerprinting, which focuses on the percentage that is unique to each individual.’
Aimes regarded the professor as if he might have something to hide. ‘Humour me,’ he demanded, before remembering that he was in front of a jury and adding the word, ‘please.’
‘Alright,’ conceded the professor, ‘it’s around ninety-nine percent.’
‘It is ninety-nine percent or it is in excess of ninety-nine percent? Could you be more precise? If you recall the question, it is how much DNA is shared by every human being on the planet?’
The professor looked a little flushed already, his plump face was reddening and he had only been asked one question. ‘I recall the question, it’s ninety-nine point nine percent.’
‘Ninety-nine point nine percent. Imagine that?’ Aimes was speaking rhetorically but I could see the jurors were taking a lot of notice. ‘So the element of DNA you use in genetic fingerprinting must be just nought point one percent. Am I correct?’
‘You are.’
‘Such a tiny percentage,’ mused our lawyer, as if to himself.
‘But entirely sufficient to distinguish one person from another.’
‘So you maintain,’ Aimes’ voice was a low whisper, but he pitched it perfectly. All of the jurors were listening intently. One or two even leaned forward to hear more clearly, as he presumably intended them to.
‘Would you mind explaining to the members of the jury and myself how the DNA fingerprinting process works in practice?’
‘Well, we use variable number tandem repeats and short tandem repeats.’
‘Really,’ Aimes sounded almost bored now, ‘how fascinating.’
The professor attempted to continue, ‘Variable number loci are so unique that it would be highly unlikely for two people to have the same variable number tandem repeats.’
‘But it’s not impossible?’
‘The odds are millions to one.’
‘But… it… is… not… impossible,’ affirmed Aimes. ‘What is the population of the United Kingdom, Professor?’
The professor sighed. ‘I gather it is approximately sixty-five million people, according to the last census.’
Our barrister shrugged, ‘That’s millions,’ he asserted facetiously, ‘isn’t it?’
‘Oh come on,’ replied the professor, ‘I can see what you are trying to do but this is a hackneyed argument.’
‘Is it?’ replied Aimes reasonably. ‘In that case I shall ask a different question entirely.’ He paced the courtroom for a few moments, as if only now thinking of that question. ‘How did you come to analyse the DNA of my client?’
‘From a buccal swab taken following his arrest for drink driving.’
‘For alleged drink driving. The case has not been heard, so your comments could be deemed highly prejudicial, Professor. I’m afraid I must remind you that it is not down to you to decide upon a man’s guilt, in this case or any other. That is the preserve of the members of the jury.’
‘Then I apologise,’ replied the professor, ‘I understand the drink-driving hearing was postponed because your client is facing the rather more serious charges of raping and murdering a young girl.’
‘Everyone in this room is aware of the charges, Professor. What must be decided upon is his guilt or innocence,’ replied Aimes. ‘So, a buccal swab taken from the mouth of my client by the police and stored where exactly?’
‘It was taken to a laboratory in sealed conditions.’
‘To the Forensic Science Service lab?’ He asked the question lightly.
‘Well no,’ countered the professor, ‘the Forensic Science Service no longer exists. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of that. These days the analysis of DNA samples is conducted by private firms.’
‘Yes, of course, I apologise,’ answered Aimes, ‘how silly of me to forget that the government chose to save money by closing down the world-renowned, state-funded body that for many years conducted ground-breaking study and analysis into the DNA left at crime scenes, choosing instead to farm it out to little known, private companies whose main motivation is profit. Companies like DeoxyNuc Forensics, for example, whose much-criticised laboratory is in Birmingham. Now then, Professor, to which laboratory was the accused’s DNA sample sent?’
There was a pause long enough for the professor to realise he had been duped, then he answered flatly, ‘DeoxyNuc Forensics.’
‘In Birmingham?’
‘In Birmingham,’ confirmed the professor.
‘I see, and would this be the same DeoxyNuc Forensics, let us refer to them as DNF for the sake of brevity, who processed the DNA sample in the case of Andrew Cox.’
‘I believe they did process the sample in that case, yes.’
‘I’m not surprised you recall the case. It was thrown out wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Andrew Cox had been accused of raping a fourteen-year-old girl in Glasgow on the basis of a DNA sample you said proved that he must have done it, because you were the expert witness on that case, weren’t you Professor?’
‘I was, yes, but I gave my testimony based on the information that was available to me at the time. All of the evidence indicated he was the man who raped that poor young girl.’
‘All of the evidence? You mean the DNA sample?’
‘Yes.’
Aimes paced up and down some more, making it appear he was thinking, but really he was building up the suspense levels. Even the jury seemed to sense he was going to hit Professor Harris right between the eyes at any minute.