‘But he wasn’t guilty, was he, Professor?’
‘No, it would appear not.’
‘Despite the DNA sample and your sworn evidence that he was? Professor, please explain to me why the case against Andrew Cox was eventually thrown out.’
‘It turned out that the DNA sample had been compromised.’
‘The DNA sample had been compromised? What does that actually mean?’
‘It appeared that the tray used to analyse the DNA sample had been used before.’
‘Can that really be possible? A used tray was not disposed of, nor was it clearly marked as having been used, so when the DNA swab from the unfortunate rape victim was placed in the tray it was allowed to mingle with the residue from an earlier sample, in this case the DNA taken from Andrew Cox, following his arrest on suspicion of drink driving, which I need hardly add is an obvious parallel with the case here today. It’s all tragically similar; the same circumstances leading to the surrender of a DNA sample, the same incompetent company analysing that sample, and the exact same expert witness standing before us, confidently stating that it would be tantamount to an impossibility for the accused to be innocent. But Andrew Cox was innocent, wasn’t he, Professor, and so is Henry Baxter.’
The professor did not reply, so Aimes continued, ‘Professor, how many cases have been thrown out because of poor handling by DNF?’
‘I really have no…’
‘Twelve,’ interrupted Aimes, ‘it’s twelve; a dozen citizens of the United Kingdom who could have found themselves undergoing the terrible ordeal of a lengthy sentence behind bars because the practices at DNF are clinically unsafe.’
‘Yes, perhaps, but they were old cases, historic ones.’
‘Twelve errors,’ Aimes reminded him gravely, ‘twelve miscarriages of justice due to shoddy clinical practice. How can any of us honestly state, hand on heart, that Henry Baxter would not make it thirteen?’
‘But processes have been tightened up since then. The possibility of any kind of miscarriage of justice has been virtually eliminated now that there are a series of proper checks and balances in place at DNF.’
‘So you are certain of Henry Baxter’s guilt?’
‘Yes, yes. I would say it is virtually assured.’
Aimes smiled then and there was nothing fake or contrived about his pleasure. ‘You said that before, Professor.’
‘I said what before?’
‘That the accused’s guilt is virtually assured.’
‘What? No… I don’t think… I’m sure…’
‘Yes, yes you did, believe me.’
‘When?’
‘Two years ago when you were involved in the prosecution case against Andrew Cox. I’ve read the transcripts you see, every word of your testimony, and the phrase stuck in my mind. You said, “I would say the guilt of this man is virtually assured,”’ Aimes quoted, ‘but it wasn’t, was it Professor?’
35
Aimes had the good sense to keep Henry Baxter off the witness stand for all but a short denial of wrongdoing and a deep desire to clear his name. He had no idea why the police had arrested him, he said, but it was surely a mistake that would all soon be cleared up. Of course the prosecution tried to tear him apart, but a combination of Baxter’s own self-confidence coupled with a comprehensive briefing from Aimes on how to handle every question meant they rarely drew blood.
Julian Aimes summed it all up neatly at the end of the trial. The two girls were untrustworthy, the police incompetent and desperate for a conviction, and the prosecution’s expert witness had been wrong before.
‘The DNA evidence in this case is entirely unreliable,’ said Aimes, ‘it could have been caused by cross-contamination in the police station or a carelessly discarded tray, previously used to analyse the DNA of an entirely different person, as it was in a dozen other cases, all of which were potentially serious miscarriages of justice involving DeoxyNuc Forensics. If your faith in that company remains entirely undimmed then you might want to consider a guilty verdict in this case. If, like me, you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of entrusting a man’s life to a company that cannot even be bothered to rinse their trays out, then you should find my client innocent of any and all wrongdoing.’
The jury deliberated for less than a day before returning their verdict.
Not guilty.
Leanne’s father left the courtroom immediately.
Henry Baxter couldn’t help himself. As soon as he was released from custody he did exactly what I told him not to do. He strode right out of the front door and stood on the court steps, so he could address the Press — and how they loved it. ‘I stand here before you as a vindicated man but I have been through a terrible ordeal, made worse by the refusal of both the police and Crown Prosecution Service to consider any possibility of my innocence. However, I never lost faith in the British justice system, which is the finest in the world. I have been tried before a jury of my peers and found wholly innocent of the heinous charges levelled at me. I now leave the court without a stain on my character and wish to be left alone. I intend to take a long holiday and simply request you respect my right to privacy. As to the culpability of the senior police officers and CPS officials, who brought this travesty of a case to court at considerable cost to the taxpayer, I leave that for others to consider. Thank you.’
Then he flounced away, exiting stage left, while the photographers snapped away at him as if he was a movie star. Baxter walked with his chin up and his head held high. Anybody with a shred of decency would have avoided making that speech, but child killers don’t have decency. Men like Baxter think laws don’t apply to them and they can do whatever they like. Thanks to our barrister it seemed that he was right.
Palmer tailed Baxter halfway across the city to make sure nobody else was watching him. He was clean, as you would expect. The police were already embarrassed enough at his acquittal. They weren’t going to compound that by following the guy who’d just made them look so stupid in front of the media. Baxter was on his own when he walked into a hotel on the Quayside and checked in. He went to his room and surveyed it to see if it was to his satisfaction, but he didn’t hang about. Instead he left the room and walked down the rear staircase. We’d chosen the hotel carefully, so he could slip quietly out the back unnoticed by the girls manning the reception desk. Palmer was waiting with a car. Baxter climbed in and Palmer sped off.
The lock-up we’d chosen was well outside the city. We used the warehouse to store all sorts of stuff we needed to keep from prying eyes but it was as good a place as any to keep Baxter out of sight while he freed up my money.
Baxter seemed calm when he walked into the room with Palmer. He obviously thought I’d keep my end of the bargain and he was right. I might be a cold, hard, over-logical fucker but I’m not going to break the terms of an agreement I’ve sworn on my only child’s life. The important thing now was to make sure I got our five million back.
Baxter looked at me as if we were old friends who’d had a row and now he wanted to patch things up with me. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I mean it. That lawyer you hired…’
‘Shut up Baxter,’ I told him, ‘I don’t want to hear it. All I care about is the money. You keep your end of the bargain and I’ll keep mine.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ he asked.
I reached into my pocket and handed him the flight ticket I’d bought him, and his boarding pass. He scrutinised them for a moment, to check they were genuine, then went to put them in his pocket, but I snatched them from him. ‘Not yet Baxter. Not till I get my money back.’ I put the tickets on a table set against the wall.
Palmer steered Baxter towards a chair in the centre of the room then he handcuffed both of Baxter’s wrists to the arms of the chair.