It was hardly surprising that, despite being called by the prosecution, the combative Jenny Johnson was no help whatsoever in proving her partner was a killer. Nor was anyone shocked that she blamed a police fit-up for Bishop being on trial. She painted a picture of a harmonious relationship with its normal ups and downs. During sex on the night of the murders she said she saw no scratches on Bishop’s body. She maintained he was neither violent – Marion Stevenson later refuted this by recalling him punching Jenny – nor prone to any ‘tendencies to perversion’.
It was during the questioning over her original statement that her mood changed. In her initial version, she had identified the Pinto as Bishop’s, having previously described a similar top he owned and even recalling him struggling to wash the paint out. By now she’d had a rethink. She wanted the court to believe this was all concocted by the detectives who had kept her up all night and behaved ‘like animals’ towards her. She blamed her apparent poor eyesight for mistaking the garment they showed her for another. She now insisted he had never owned a sweatshirt like the Pinto after all.
She put her signing of the statement, she allegedly never read, down to her rage that Bishop was still carrying on with Marion Stevenson. She then said she would have signed anything to get rid of the police. Despite being eight months pregnant and under extreme stress, it might be thought that having her partner incarcerated on suspicion of murder could have prompted a modicum of diligence in checking what she was signing. When specifically asked in court which account was true, she stuck by her current version rather the one at the time when events would have been fresher.
For the defence, it was critical she kept to the new narrative. Jenny knew that were she to put that Pinto sweatshirt in the hands of, or rather on the back of, Bishop he was doomed. If, as the prosecution maintained, she had unambiguously confirmed it was his then he would never see the light of day again. She had to deny it and keep denying it until her dying breath.
With the sweatshirt being so central to the case, Dr Anthony Peabody, the forensic scientist, was never going to be in for an easy ride. If he were able to convince the court that Bishop had worn it – despite the plethora of witnesses for both the defence and prosecution who denied seeing him ever do so – that should be job done. The jury would have little choice but to convict.
Bishop had accepted that he owned the blue–grey trousers on which four fibres from the Pinto were found. He never denied that he had worn those trousers on the day of the killings. But he did not, and would never, accept those Pinto fibres had transferred to the trousers when he had worn both garments together.
The only option open to the defence therefore, however dangerous, was to allege police conspiracy or cock-up. It was far safer to blame the latter and here it was handed to them on a plate. The chain of evidence from when the sweatshirt was handed in to the police to being taken back to the police station was incomplete. Any potential exhibit coming into the hands of the police should have been put into a forensically sterile bag, sealed and signed by all who touched it. Its integrity and continuity would then be set out plainly for all to see. Instead the Pinto had sat outside the exhibits store until Eddie Redman examined it for blood. But, removing the hindsight spectacles, this sweatshirt came to the police as found property, not an exhibit. To all intents and purposes, it was preserved. The police just could not show that. It certainly never came into contact with the girls’ clothes.
Court advocacy, particularly in cross-examination, is a real skill. Defence counsel aims to foster doubt in the jury’s collective mind that a witness is telling the truth, stopping short of branding them a liar. Blinding the court with science is also an own goal; a jury needs to be able to follow an argument. So, a good barrister will proffer alternative hypotheses as to why a witness is saying what they are. Perhaps they did not see things as clearly as they thought. Perhaps the passage of time has fogged their memory. Perhaps an alternative explanation makes their assertions less than certain.
By leading the witness down a particular path, encouraging him or her to admit other, seemingly innocuous, possibilities and by gradually increasing the sum value of their concessions, the inquisitor can bring it all to a climax that hopefully will hit the jury like a steam train and make them question all they have assumed to be true.
That should be easier with non-professional witnesses, those for whom it is their first and only time in the witness box. But professionals can become complacent in their ability to parry these attacks. They can assume that, given they are in court three or four times a year, they can spot an ambush coming and head it off at the pass.
That can be fatal. They may be no stranger to the witness box but their opponent – the barrister – is there every day and holds all the cards. Overconfidence or, as in the forensic elements of this case, failing to cover all the bases, can crash-land an otherwise decent case. Any worthy defence barrister will approach a case as if he or she were prosecuting and vice versa. The same should be true for detectives.
Forget any of the seven Ps – Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance – and, despite all your efforts, defeat looms.
Pinto sweatshirt aside, if any forensic evidence could link the girls, their clothing or the murder scene to the trousers Bishop said he was wearing, then a conviction must follow. Prim Dr Peabody found no such link.
When questioned whether he could, on a scientific basis, say that the Pinto sweatshirt was worn by the murderer, all he could say was, ‘it could have been.’ He might have tried to be a little less aloof.
Lawrence had the scientist on the hook. He just needed to keep him there to induce enough doubt over those crucial links that were so central to the Crown’s case so that the jury would have no choice but to acquit. He followed up with another question he knew the answer to. Scientifically, could Peabody say that the Pinto was ever actually worn by Bishop? ‘No, but it could have been.’ Then came a stream of questions designed to test whether the scientists were charged with finding the killer, whoever it may be, or just to build a case against Bishop:
‘Have you examined Dougie Judd’s clothing?’ Mr Lawrence asked.
‘No,’ replied Dr Peabody.
‘Have you examined Barrie Fellows’ clothing?’
‘No.’
‘Have you examined Marion Stevenson’s clothing?’
‘Yes, twice.’
‘Why?’
‘To see if I could link Bishop to the murders through her.’
‘Not to see if she was linked to the murders?’
‘No.’
‘So, the purpose of examining the Pinto was not to see who it was linked to but just to see if Bishop was linked to it?’ the barrister concluded.
‘Yes,’ conceded the scientist.
Another line of attack was the presence, or otherwise, of Bishop’s dog’s hairs on the Pinto. Initially none were found but after the defence scientists discovered other dog hairs on the sweatshirt, Peabody also found three that could belong to Misty. He explained he left that particular examination to last as he felt it was ‘low priority’. Lawrence went to the brink of accusing Peabody of interfering with the evidence. His observation that it ‘just so happened’ the hairs were subsequently found and that this was an ‘interesting coincidence’, prompted the most robust challenge from the judge.
‘Are you suggesting the witness tampered with the evidence?’
Obviously, Lawrence could not assert that and neither did he want to. Just airing those thoughts in front of the jury was enough to suggest all was not squeaky clean. Peabody was furious. He stopped giving his evidence to scribble the insinuation down. I have never seen a witness whip out a pen and paper to make their own notes while giving evidence. Neither, it seemed, had Lawrence, who challenged him before the judge followed suit. Peabody was unrepentant. He was determined to record what had been said so that ‘I can remember it has been said for my own purpose.’
Dr Peabody’s evidence did not cover the prosecution in glory. It seemed the police were furious too. Years later, Peabody would admit to having been pinned up against a wall by a senior police officer as he left court as, in his words, ‘emotions ran naturally high.’
The challenges and counter-challenges between the two leading barristers had become a distraction. Leary, for the prosecution, called on the judge to stop his opponent asking hypothetical questions. Lawrence mocked Leary for getting dates wrong. This particular spat prompted Bishop to shout from the dock, ‘My lord, I am innocent of these charges and my defence has the right to question this bloke.’
The judge had had enough and reminded the experienced barristers, ‘This is a very serious trial. It is very nice to have games between the two of you, but don’t.’
This must have been most unseemly to all sides. The victims’ families must have wondered how Nicola and Karen’s memory had been allowed to descend into such a petty squabble. Bishop’s mother, Sylvia, took the debacle to new depths when she stormed out of court sobbing, ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t take any more,’ pausing just before she disappeared through the door, to turn and shout ‘Bastards’.