The next week, after updating Alan about the holiday visit, David arranged a teleconference with his barrister and the NT Attorney General’s office. On the other end of the line was the NT Minister and his executive assistant, Rebecca Singleton, the Beck of Alan’s conversation.
His barrister spoke on his behalf. “My client’s representative may be willing to agree to the psychological assessment you are proposing to show she has lost all memory of the events which occurred. This is on the basis that, if we do so, you will seek a pardon for my client from the murder conviction, without the need for a retrial or a resumed sentencing hearing.
“Such agreement must be on the basis that all events prior to a pardon being granted remain absolutely in confidence. Both the medical examination and any future dealings with her or her representatives must be done in a manner which does not reveal my client’s current location and allows her to continue her current undisturbed life.”
The Attorney General answered. “That is very much what I had in mind, with the examination to confirm her mental state being the first step.
“I have sought expert advice from a former justice of the High Court to confirm a pardon is legally appropriate in this situation. I expect to receive this by the end of the month. If this supports our proposed course of action, I will then give an undertaking to seek a pardon on behalf of my government. In the meantime I am happy to give an undertaking of confidentiality on behalf of my department for the other steps which need to occur.
“The only caveat is that the psychological assessment needs to be done by a person who is acceptable to my office on the basis of their expertise and independence. This party may be required to give in person private evidence to NT legal authorities of their findings. I will leave it to Rebecca to confirm the suitability of such a person directly with you.”
The barrister replied, “Have you identified any such people you consider to be suitable to do this examination at this stage?”
Rebecca replied, “As you are aware most of the leading psychologists are based in cities such as Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. I have a list of names that may be suitable but have yet to meet any or discuss what is required with any of them. Because of the sensitivity of this issue I wish to meet in person with a small number of relevant specialists so as to determine who has most appropriate skills and at the same time ensure this person fully understands the absolute confidentiality of this task. I am happy to fly to one or more major Australian cities to meet with these people if we can agree on a short list with requisite qualifications and expertise.”
The barrister replied. “Do you have Dr Ross Sangster of Brisbane on your list?”
“Indeed I do,” Rebecca replied. “He and a Dr Pamela Hunt, in Sydney, are at the top of my list. In Melbourne Dr Veronica Ritchie is also high on my list.”
“Is Dr Sangster is acceptable to your client?”
The barrister replied. “I believe he is likely to be. I would want to have the opportunity to interview him in person before confirming this.”
So it was agreed, they would meet in Dr Sangster’s Brisbane examination rooms the following week to work out the details and confirm this was satisfactory to all. They would only make arrangements to interview other doctors if either of them had reservations about the suitability of this man.
Beck flew to Brisbane on the Tuesday evening for a Wednesday meeting with the psychologist and the barrister from the other side. She could have flown on the red-eye flight that left at two o’clock in the morning, getting in at breakfast time. But she hated spending nights on a plane when she could sleep in a comfortable bed. Not that there was anyone to share this bed with at either end right now, but it still beat an aeroplane seat.
As she sat into her seat that afternoon and banked over Darwin before heading south she thought how drab her life had become over the last two years, she an up and coming lawyer with a prestigious job, though the pay was only mediocre.
She should be living the high life, in her own apartment. But instead she lived at home and cared for her Mum who had Motor Neurone Disease and was going downhill fast. Not that she begrudged her Mum the care, they were close and there was no other family still living in Darwin, her brother and sister were long gone, one to Kiwi Land and one in Perth, and her father had been dead now for five years, though she still missed him.
So it was the least she could do. But still it was nice to be away for a night and to know her night was her own. It had been hard keeping the money up for her Mum’s treatment. Sure the public health system paid a fair bit. But the extra and new treatment which promised some hope of stopping the disease’s awful progression had to be paid for out of her own pocket.
While it had been a struggle thus far, she had managed to raise this extra cash, but there was nothing left for a life of her own. Thus her social life had almost vanished over the last two years though she kept a bright smile on her face and tried to act as if she was having a ball, being a party girl.
It had really come in handy when she had met that journalist in town the year before last. It was six months after diagnosis, just after she had moved back home but before it had got too bad. It had been one of her few nights out. This man was in town for the trial and sentencing of the notorious Crocodile Man killer, the English witch-bitch dubbed Crocodile Girl.
At the time Beck had largely bought the negative gossip doing the rounds that this girl Susan was a cold calculating killer. So she was flattered when this guy, Jacob, had come up to her in the bar, telling her how hot she looked, and, after buying her a few drinks, suggesting they go back to his hotel room to finish the night.
It had been one of the last and best bonks she had, good sex was hard to find when you lived with a Mum who depended on you. So, in the pillow talk after, when it emerged that she worked for the Attorney General and had the inside info and she had also told him about the struggle to pay for her Mum’s treatment, he had offered to help.
He said that, if she could provide some inside info about the case, he could arrange for his media outlet, an online news service in London which syndicated to many papers across the world, to make generous donations to help cover her mother’s expenses.
So she had told him what she knew from the inside about this case then, not that she knew about the last minute defence pitch which got Susan out on bail until it happened. But Beck had known that, after Susan’s release, she was staying with her new boyfriend Vic, the helicopter pilot, and she knew that this girl had chosen to take the name Emily instead of Susan; that was part of the bail related information that had come to her boss.
So with those bits, plus Jacob’s existing knowledge about this girl whose life he had been digging into for months now, it had given a big part of the splash in the paper just before she had gone missing, ‘The Two Faces of Susan Emily McDonald’, he had called it. Beck knew it had been a huge story across Australia and England for days, and Susan’s disappearance had then made it even bigger and more sensational.
The ten thousand dollars which had turned up in her account a few days later, called bet winnings, had been very welcome too. She had thought the article Jacob wrote had been a bit over the top, but hell the girl was no saint, she was an uppity Pommie bitch, that how Susan had struck her the one day she had seen her in court for her trial. It was the way she smiled from the witness box as they asked her about the murder. So Beck did not feel bad, all said and done, that a big part of the story had come from her.
She remembered the next time she had seen Jacob. In town for the inquest, he had looked her up, asking for any more insights. Another good night of sex had followed; the last she had. He had asked her if she had any more inside info. She did not have much at that stage, just a bit more inside info about the police investigation which had never quite got out before, only minor details but it added local colour. Jacob paid another $5000 for this. He promised her that any more bits would also be paid for similarly.
So, when the rumor of the girl turning up again got going, she fed this too him too and it had earned another ten thousand. It seemed harmless enough. She had never walked in the shoes of this girl, but Beck thought she was an English tramp who had got caught and had run away from facing the music. That money really helped with her Mum’s latest treatment.
But as fast as she spent money on her Mum a new set of needs and costs would appear. A better wheelchair was the latest on the list. It was another cool ten thousand of which the state would pay near zero. It said the old one was good enough, even if her Mum was no longer strong enough to push it up even the most gentle hills on her own. So now Beck needed another ten big ones, for a wheelchair with a motor. She knew Jacob would pay.
But now Jacob was getting antsy, saying it was time for more inside info, suggesting she needed to try harder to find out, threatening how he would hate it if the deposit slip for the money he had paid her was to turn up in her bosses mail. Jacob was chasing where this Susan girl was holed up, probably in Queensland somewhere. But he was getting nowhere. Now he suggested Beck was not trying hard enough to find out.
She knew she would lose her job instantly, along with her career, if the payments ever came out. She hated the way that what she had done was being used against her. But the money for her Mum made such a difference. So she had told Jacob she would try harder to find out and she had meant it.
Then the real story had been dropped in her lap by that copper, Alan. Trouble was she liked the guy; she liked Sandy too, she was not jealous that way. But there was something honest and good about the way he was putting his job on the line to protect and help this girl. He had told her about the guilt he felt for his role in convicting her. As she saw his decency this way, she started to feel ashamed about her own role. It was too easy to wriggle out of any blame by saying that the information she had given had made no real difference and Susan got what was coming to her.
But as Alan told his tale about Susan that day, as they sat in the corner of the pub, Beck had started to walk in her shoes, seeing how it must have felt from the inside, so desperate and alone that she was suicidal. And there was something honorable in Susan refusing to disclose the true nature of the man she had killed, even though it had come out later anyway in the police investigation. The idea of Susan protecting her own unborn children from guilt by association with their biological father did seem well intended.
So it no longer was easy to be the inside source when the information would be used to damage this girl, though, God knew, she really needed that money, the next ten grand to buy the wheelchair.
For now she tried to block out her dual role and focus on the here and now, the fact that she was doing something that may help this girl and could even undo some of the harm she had caused. It was a nice thought, though it would not pay the bills.
Living this dual life gave her empathy for this other girl, Susan, how it was to be trapped by bad decisions and their consequences, even if well meant. She was pleased at the thought that what she was doing now may help this girl, tip the balance back a bit against the bad she had done before. But now she had a big moral dilemma to deal with, whether to pass on this new stuff to Jacob in return for more cash. That decision would wait.