He glanced down at his prepared script, even though he’d considered the possibility that Summers would plead guilty, and all the hours of work would be made redundant with a single word. Years of experience had taught him that wasn’t a risk a barrister can take.
‘M’lud,’ he began, looking up at the bench, ‘I represent the Crown in this case, along with my junior, Ms Grace Warwick, while my learned friend Mr Booth Watson appears for the defence.’ He gave Booth Watson a reluctant bow that was not reciprocated.
‘I must open my submission with a warning,’ said Sir Julian, turning his attention to the jury. ‘The offence on which you are about to make a judgement is among the most disreputable any public servant can commit. The proof of this is the sentence determined by Parliament should you decide the prisoner is guilty—’ he paused, and looked directly at them — ‘is life imprisonment.
‘All citizens when dealing with a servant of the Crown, whether it be a distinguished judge or a bobby on the beat, have the right to assume the integrity of that person is beyond question. When that trust is broken, and in this case it was broken beyond repair, a draconian sentence is surely justified.
‘Detective Sergeant Summers appeared to be an outstanding police officer, with a record of arrests and commendations that heralded a brilliant career. But he chose to use those talents to break the law, not uphold it.
‘Temptation is part of every police officer’s daily experience, and the vast majority of them would never consider even for a moment crossing that line. But unfortunately there are some, though thankfully only a small number, who have no such scruples. Detective Sergeant Jerry Summers is such a man, as you will discover as this trial unfolds.
‘This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is not a matter of a single lapse of judgement that might be overlooked when weighed against an otherwise commendable record of service to the community. Detective Sergeant Summers set up a clandestine network as well organized and effective as that of any professional gang in the criminal underworld.
‘Members of the jury, you will learn during the course of these proceedings how Summers, on numerous occasions after he’d made an arrest for theft or burglary, then made sure that some of the most valuable stolen goods were not handed in to the police station and detailed on his custody record, but would end up in Summers’s home or distributed among his friends and associates.
‘Unlike you or me,’ said Sir Julian, once again looking directly at the jury, ‘Detective Sergeant Summers didn’t need to visit the high street if he wanted a new television set, the latest hi-fi, or even a Jaguar. Instead, he simply removed them from among the stolen goods he had access to during the course of his duty. You may ask why the thieves themselves didn’t bring this to the attention of the authorities. But why would they, when a reduction in the number of items they were charged with having stolen meant they might receive a more lenient sentence?
‘However, that was still not enough to satisfy Detective Sergeant Summers’s wanton greed. For years his local district of Romford had been prey to two rival criminal families, the Paynes and the Turners. He decided to actively assist one of those ruthless gangs, in order to tip the balance in their favour, and perhaps more important, in his.
‘He set about arresting members of the Payne family, while allowing his paymasters in the Turner gang to escape scot-free. And while he was lining his pockets with their ill-gotten gains, he was at the same time receiving praise, and official commendations, for his exemplary police work. A modern-day Jekyll and Hyde.
‘But like so many criminals, he went one step too far when Scotland Yard set a trap to tempt him that he was unable to resist.’
Booth Watson wrote down the words Set a trap. A trap he later intended to spring.
‘The Crown will produce witnesses who will testify under oath that Summers stole drugs from one gang, sold them to the rival family he was working for, and then pocketed the proceeds. By doing so he was able to make more money in a month than he could hope to earn in a year as a detective sergeant. But then he made one fatal error. He attempted to involve an honest police officer in his crimes, who didn’t hesitate to report him to her superiors.’
Booth Watson wrote the words Didn’t hesitate on his yellow pad.
‘When that officer gives evidence, you will be left in no doubt of the extent of Detective Sergeant Summers’s criminal activities. Your verdict will be a resounding blow in the battle to protect ordinary, decent citizens from a corrupt individual who has betrayed the reputation of the most respected police force in the world.’
Sir Julian sat down not to tumultuous applause, but to something far more important, a jury that had hung on his every word. Even Booth Watson had to admit, if only to himself, that he had never witnessed his warring rival on better form. But only the first shot had been fired across his bows.
‘You may call your first witness, Sir Julian,’ said the judge.
‘Thank you, m’lud. I call Detective Inspector William Warwick.’
Lamont looked down at the eight men and four women from his seat at the back of the visitors’ gallery, aware that he couldn’t risk approaching any one of them after being warned by Jackie that he was being watched night and day.
He suspected that Bones Turner would be given the job of nobbling at least three of them, so the jury wouldn’t be able to reach a verdict. However, while the trial was taking place, he would have to avoid contact with any member of the Turner family, or Booth Watson for that matter.
He couldn’t complain. He’d been well rewarded for removing the one piece of evidence that Booth Watson was worried about.
William took the Bible in his right hand and sounded confident as he delivered the oath.
‘Will you please state your name and rank for the record,’ said Sir Julian, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
‘Detective Inspector William Warwick.’
‘Inspector Warwick, would you describe to the jury what your current work with the Metropolitan Police involves?’
‘I’m attached to a special unit at Scotland Yard investigating corrupt police officers, and one in particular.’
‘What is the name and rank of that officer?’
‘Detective Sergeant Jerry Summers.’
‘Do you see him in court today?’
‘Yes, sir. He is the accused, standing in the dock.’
‘What caused your unit to open an investigation into DS Summers?’
‘The chief constable of Essex informed the Yard that he suspected a serving officer in his constabulary was involved in the handling of stolen goods, and was working with one of the leading drug gangs on his patch.’
‘Where did you take it from there?’
‘We already knew there were two major drugs families operating in the Romford division, and the district commander became suspicious when members of one family kept being arrested, while their rivals appeared to be going about their business undisturbed.’
‘Armed with this information, detective inspector, what did you do next?’
‘I placed one of my inner team, PC Bailey, in the ranks of the Romford constabulary while I continued to work undercover.’
Booth Watson wrote PC Bailey?
‘Were you able to catch DS Summers, to use a colloquial expression, red-handed?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said William, opening his notebook. ‘In the early hours of Friday, May the twenty-ninth, an undercover officer observed Summers entering the home of Mr Reg Payne, the head of one of the leading drugs gangs. Summers was accompanied by another man, so our UCO assumed he was about to make an arrest.’