The Cotterell jury was back with a verdict.
Carson was in court again, sitting next to Warner and Murray. None of them spoke. The atmosphere was febrile as is often the case when a murder verdict is expected. So many different opinions as to the outcome bounced invisibly around the courtrooms between people, like silent, charged atoms. The judge appeared and was handed a piece of paper which he read. He nodded and handed it back. He then looked up at the jury and asked the foreperson to stand. They had reached a unanimous verdict, he told the judge.
‘Not guilty,’ she announced.
There was a pause. A moment of silence engulfed the courtroom. It was almost a physical sensation. Then, as if a pressure valve had been released, a spontaneous smattering of chatter. The judge pounded his gavel.
‘Mr Cotterell, you are free to go,’ he said.
Cotterell stood up and embraced his lawyer and the team. His wife rushed forward to hug him. Carson stood, was about to say something to Warner along the lines of ‘you can’t win them all, good work, you did a good job, but we don’t always get the verdicts we want…’ but realised he had no inclination to say anything, so just left.
‘What a load of bollocks, sir,’ Murray said to Warner. But Warner wasn’t listening. He was watching Alice Mackenzie who had been sent by Cross to observe the verdict. Tamsin Cotterell was signalling to her. She walked over to be swept into a grateful embrace by the now-free man’s wife. Warner watched as Tamsin introduced Mackenzie to her husband who listened intently amidst the noise of the court clearing. Then an expression of grateful recognition swept across his face, and he shook her hand enthusiastically. He began talking to her in earnest. Warner couldn’t help feeling there was something of a smug victory dance in all of this, with Mackenzie at the centre. This wasn’t entirely surprising as her wretched boyfriend had swayed the jury towards the wrong verdict with his theoretical analysis of the CCTV.
‘Drink, boss?’ Murray asked Warner.
‘Sure. I need one after this bloody fiasco.’