Tamsyn and Rego entered Camborne station from the staff entrance. Tamsyn wasn’t sure how she felt about Ollie knowing that she was there and she hoped that the DI wouldn’t need to mention it.
She was left to watch from the viewing room while Rego and DS Stevens met Ollie and his solicitor in the front office.
Ollie’s solicitor was an older woman with an expensive looking trouser suit and John Lennon glasses. She introduced herself as Annabelle Hoskins.
Rego and Stevens shook hands with both of them.
“First of all,” Rego said, his tone confident and calm, “I want to ensure that Mr Garrett understands this is a voluntary interview.” He turned to Ollie. “Thank you for coming in so promptly. And I’d like to remind you that you’re not under arrest and are free to leave at any time.”
Ollie nodded but looked uncomfortable, sweat breaking out on his upper lip.
“Can I offer you anything to drink?” Rego asked politely. “I need to have a chat with Mrs Hoskins first.”
The solicitor declined a drink but Ollie asked for water and drank down the whole plastic cup in one go while he was waiting.
In the viewing room next door, Tamsyn clutched her notebook, leaning forward to hear what the DI said to Ollie’s solicitor.
“Thanks for coming in on short notice, Mrs Hoskins.”
“Not a problem, DI Rego. May I see the pre-interview disclosure documents?”
He handed her a sheet of A4 paper printed on both sides and she skimmed it quickly, raising her eyebrows a couple of times. Tamsyn had already seen the document and knew it listed the topics that would be covered in the interview. She also knew that the DI’s softly-softly approach wouldn’t be for long.
“Mrs Hoskins, your client has been invited into the police station today as we suspect he is involved in drug dealing. He is not under arrest and he is free to leave the station.”
“Inspector, has my client been under surveillance?”
“At this stage, I have given you appropriate disclosure to enable you to talk to and advise your client. I will explore each topic as the interview progresses.”
She nodded, then looked down at the sheet of paper again, and Rego continued, reading word for word what was written on the pre-interview disclosure.
“I have information that your client was at the Mackerel Inn public house on Thursday 22nd March where a suspicious meeting was held where a drug deal is suspected to have occurred. We will ask your client questions about his involvement in that offence, and ask him to account for any persons he met on that evening. We will ask your client to provide the telephone numbers of any phones he has access to or used.”
“Anything else, DI Rego?” she asked, peering over her glasses at him.
“I have information that on Monday 28th March, your client was at a party at 23 Leskinnick Place, Penzance, where a person was seen to exchange a package which was believed to be a controlled drug. Your client appeared to acknowledge it was a drug and was closely associated to the person making the drug deal. We will ask your client questions about his involvement in that offence. We will ask your client to provide any information about the identities of the person making the exchange at the house party.”
Mrs Hoskins made a few notes then asked to speak to Ollie about the disclosures.
Tamsyn knew that anything said between a solicitor and their client was classed a legal privilege and was conducted in private, so now all they could do was wait.
Rego and DS Stevens joined her in the viewing room, discussing how they were going to conduct the interview.
Then Rego turned to Tamsyn.
“So, the way we’re going to do this is with phased disclosure. We’ll be holding back some facts, hoping that Garrett will trip himself up with lies. At this stage, he doesn’t know about the CCTV footage from the Mackerel Inn. I’m going to start by asking about the drug dealing at the party.” He gave her a quick smile. “And Garrett has drunk a fair bit of water by now, so he’ll be wanting a toilet break. He’ll think he’s finished and will relax a bit more – then we’ll start part two, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
They had to wait twenty minutes before Mrs Hoskins indicated that she was ready for the interview to proceed.
Tamsyn watched as they all took their seats and DS Stevens pressed the ‘record’ button.
Everything was recorded digitally into a cloud-based system. No tapes, no discs, and at the end of the interview, Mrs Hoskins would be given a unique reference number where she would be able to access the cloud from her office computer and download her client’s interview.
Tamsyn leaned forward as Rego began.
“The time is 4.15pm on Wednesday 28th March at Camborne Police Station, Detective Inspector Robert Rego and Detective Sergeant Tom Stevens attending. Please identify yourself for the purpose of the tape, including your date of birth.”
Ollie’s voice shook slightly and his eyes kept darting towards his solicitor.
“Ollie, um, Oliver Garrett. My birthday is 1st August.”
“Annabelle Hoskins, solicitor, DG Law.”
DS Stevens read the caution.
“You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
Rego’s face was impassive as he stared at Ollie. “Do you understand the caution?”
Mrs Hoskins replied for Ollie.
“I’ve explained the meaning of the caution to my client and he understands.”
Rego nodded, his eyes still on Ollie. “Mr Garrett, I’ll remind you that you are not under arrest and you are free to leave the station at any time.”
Ollie relaxed a fraction. It wouldn’t last for long.
Rego didn’t even glance at his notes.
“We suspect that you may be dealing controlled drugs in the local area. Can you tell me your involvement in your drug dealing activities?”
Ollie’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow.
“No comment,” he said, his voice raspy.
Rego glanced at DS Stevens indicating for him to take over.
“I understand you have recently returned to Cornwall,” DS Stevens said pleasantly, continuing the questioning. “When did you come back?”
Ollie licked his lips.
“Three weeks ago. Well, nearly four. At the beginning of March.”
“Why did you come back to Cornwall?”
Ollie glanced at Mrs Hoskins who simply nodded.
Gaining confidence, Ollie replied clearly.
“I got a job as the marketing manager at Pedrick’s Camping & Caravan Park in Carbis Bay.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’ve got a lodge on the site.”
“And who do you live with?”
“A couple of the chefs that work there, Sam and Alfie.”
“How much do you earn, Mr Garrett?”
“I don’t see why…” he began, then changed his mind. “I get £20,000, just about, but I get free accommodation.”
Rego glanced at DS Stevens, then resumed leading the interview.
“Last Monday, I believe you were at a party, where we believe controlled drugs were being supplied. What can you tell me about that?”
Ollie licked his lips again and swallowed.
“I don’t know anything about any drugs.”
“Whose party was it?”
“I don’t know. I just heard there was a party. Lots of people were there. I didn’t really know any of them.”
“How did you hear about the party?”
“I think someone at the pub mentioned it?”
“One of your friends?”
Ollie paused. “I don’t remember – it could have been.”
“I’ll need their names and addresses.”
“I only know their first names…”
“That will do for now.”
He pushed his notepad towards Ollie who picked up the pen with obvious reluctance and scribbled the names but Rego only glanced at the short list.
“Who was dealing drugs?”
“No comment,” Ollie said, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“What type of drugs were being supplied?”
“No comment.”
“Were you dealing drugs?”
“No!”
“Who was?”
“No comment.”
“Were they your drugs that were being supplied?”
“No comment.”
Ollie’s face was slowly turning red, as if he was sitting under a space heater. His earlier confidence had completely evaporated and he looked like he was going to be sick.
“Where do you get your drugs from?”
“No comment.”
Rego paused, leaning back in his chair.
“Ollie, I know it’s your right not to say anything, but this is your opportunity to give us your side of the story. If you haven’t supplied any drugs, please tell me; it’s your opportunity to provide an account.”
Ollie was silent, glancing at his solicitor for guidance. She gave a small nod of her head but he just frowned at her.
“Who was at the party, Ollie?”
Ollie didn’t answer, his eyes glued to the table in front of him as he pushed his finger against the grooves and dints from previous ‘persons of interest’.
Neither Rego nor Stevens filled the silence.
Tamsyn looked up as a uniformed officer she recognised slightly came into the viewing room.
“Your new DI knows what he’s about.”
“Sorry, what?”
“I saw you earlier in the week. You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Harry, Harry Joules. Drone pilot and a useful fly-half though I say it myself. You free for a drink later?”
“Just, er, what did you mean about Inspector Rego?”
He sat down next to her.
“Your crim is practically pissing down his own leg. See, he’s answering all the non-relevant questions, but saying ‘no comment’ to the important ones about his involvement in crime.”
“Okay, so?”
“So, if it went to trial the prosecuting barrister would make a big play on that, and probably the Judge in his summing up. With the usual old lags who’ve been up and down here more times than an umbrella on a bank holiday Monday, ‘no comment’ interviews are ‘no comment’ from start to finish because their briefs know that the Judge or barrister will be onto it and it can work against them. But some suspects, like your boy here, they can’t help themselves … they start off all confident and ‘no comment’, but look at your DI – he’s an old hand. He’s just sitting there, pretending to read that file. Meantime, fella over there is expecting the questions to come quickly, but your DI is making him sweat. I bet you a pint of Rattler that your boy will break first. Look at his brief, she knows what the DI is doing; she’s probably rolling her eyes under those ugly glasses.”
Rego repeated the question. “Who was at the party, Ollie?”
Ollie shook his head then blurted out, “They’re just people. I didn’t know them.”
“I’d advise you not to say anything else,” said Mrs Hoskins.
Harry grinned at Tamsyn. “Got him! Told you.”
“We have a witness who saw you at the party,” Rego said as if there’d been no delay in Ollie’s answer. “You appeared not to be bothered by the fact that drugs were being supplied; is that because they were your drugs?”
“What witness? Who?” his eyes narrowed and he glanced towards the one-way window where Tamsyn was hidden from view.
Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she flinched and Harry threw her an amused look.
“So, we on tonight? Quick drink after work? Or maybe a long one?”
Tamsyn tore her attention from the interview and gave Harry a regretful smile.
“Oh, sorry, I can’t. I’m on lates.”
He looked disappointed and stood up to go. “Another time then?”
“Sure,” she nodded distractedly. “Maybe.”
“Great! I’ll hold you to that. See you around.”
Ollie sat back in his chair, his arms folded and a belligerent expression on his face.
“No comment.”
Rego glanced at DS Stevens before continuing the questioning.
Tamsyn wondered how many of these exchanges were real and how many were planned theatrics just to ramp up the tension for Ollie.
“I want to ask you some questions about a second incident at the Mackerel Inn public house on Thursday 22nd of March,” Rego said calmly. “Do you know where the Mackerel Inn is?”
“No comment.”
“Have you been to the pub recently?”
“No comment.”
“When was the last time you went there?”
“No comment.”
“What time would you normally go?”
“No comment.”
“Who would you go with?”
“No comment.”
“Have you been dealing drugs at the Mackerel Inn?”
“No comment.”
“Were you at the Mackerel Inn on 22nd March?”
“No comment.”
“Who did you go with?”
“No comment.”
“Who did you meet?”
“No comment.”
If Rego was frustrated by the ‘no comment’ answers, he didn’t show it.
“Was any meeting pre-arranged?”
“No comment.”
“How was the meeting arranged? By phone? Did you set up the meeting? Did you use your phone to set up the meeting?”
“No comment.”
“What is your phone number?”
“No comment.”
The questions continued: where is your phone? Did you go to the Mackerel Inn by car? Was it your car or someone else’s? Did you hand anything to anyone? Did you receive anything? Tell me what you handed over.
Ollie continued to give ‘no comment’ answers. Finally, Rego looked up from his list of questions.
“If nothing illegal took place, please tell me now, because you haven’t got anything to hide.”
“No. Comment.”
Ollie sat back, a smug look on his face.
Rego glanced back at his notes.
“Mr Garrett, we have CCTV footage which shows you and another man wearing a hoodie outside the Mackerel Inn public house, where a package is being handled by a female. Who is the man with the hoodie?”
Ollie glanced nervously at his solicitor. This time she shook her head.
“No comment.”
“Is he a friend? What’s his name? How do you know him? Is he a drug dealing associate? Who is the woman in the picture? How do you know her? Is she a drug dealer? What’s in the package that’s being handed over?”
The questions came thick and fast and Ollie sat in stunned silence, as if he’d only just realised that this was a lot more serious than he’d first thought.
“Ollie,” Rego said slowly, “If it’s nothing illegal, this is your opportunity to tell me now. By saying ‘no comment’, it raises my suspicions that you’re involved in illegal activity. Look at the facts: it’s late at night, you met outside the pub in a dark corner that you didn't realise was covered by CCTV; you are outside for a brief few seconds where you meet up with this woman and a package is handed over. It doesn’t look to me like a social meeting, or a meeting where you chanced to meet a friend or cadge a fag. What was this meeting about?”
Ollie swallowed and licked his lips.
Rego leaned forward, his voice confidential.
“Are you scared of anyone, under any sort of threat if you provide an account?”
Ollie’s eyes widened and he glanced compulsively at his solicitor who raised her eyebrows.
“I need to be sure that you’re not being intimidated or being made to deal drugs through threat of violence, because if you are,” Rego continued persuasively, “if you tell us what’s going on and are truthful, we can protect you. So again, I will ask you, tell me what that meeting was about.”
This time he slid the CCTV photograph in front of Ollie and his solicitor. Ollie paled and turned a ghastly green as he studied the grainy black-and-white image.
Rego pressed on.
“We will find the man in the hoodie, Ollie. Do you think he’ll talk? Do you think he might implicate you?” He paused, but Ollie seemed incapable of speech. “This is your final chance, right now, to tell me who was behind the drug dealing at the party. If it’s not you, tell me whose drugs they were, and provide a full account to me about the circumstances of your meeting outside the Mackerel Inn, what was being exchanged, and who were the people you met.”
There was a long silence; Ollie didn’t even say ‘no comment’.
Rego turned to DS Stevens. “Do you want to ask some questions?”
Stevens shook his head.
“Perhaps Mr Garrett would like a break to go to the toilet?”
Ollie nodded quickly, relieved to have the excuse to get up and leave the room.
Rego looked at his wristwatch. “The time by my watch is 17.27, and I’m terminating the interview.”
DS Stevens escorted Ollie to the toilet and Rego opened the door to Tamsyn’s room.
“I expect you need a break, as well.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Okay, thank you.”
Tamsyn hurried to the bathroom, but when she came out, she immediately bumped into Ollie who glared at her.
“Bitch! You did this! You stitched me up! You’re a fucking grass!”
Horror then anger rushed through her.
“You did it to yourself, dickhead!” she snapped, and walked away hurriedly.
Tamsyn was furious – with Ollie, with herself, but mostly with Rego.
She stormed back into the viewing room where he sat flicking through his notes.
“Sir! You wanted Ollie to see me, didn’t you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I did.”
“But … you used me!”
His gaze hardened and Rego shoved his chair backwards as he stood up abruptly.
“Get over it, PC Poldhu. If you can’t deal with this, you’ll never make a copper, because you’ll have to face a lot worse than the likes of him.”
She stood in silence, stunned and hurt as he strode through the door.
He reappeared in the interview room where Annabelle Hoskins was making notes on a legal pad.
“There are a few questions I want to ask about another matter, if your client doesn’t mind bearing with us for a short time.”
“Something else you want to disclose, DI Rego?” she asked crisply.
“At the conclusion of the last interview, I showed your client a still image of three people outside of the Mackerel Inn public house at 22.47 hours on the 22nd of March. One of the persons in that image we say is your client. The female in the image we believe is a woman known as ‘Jowita’, who has a number of aliases but that her real name is Saemira Ruçi. Saemira has been murdered. We want to ask your client a few more questions about his association with Saemira and any knowledge of her murder.”
“I see,” said Mrs Hoskins, peering over her glasses with a grave expression. “I will speak to my client.”
Ten minutes later, everyone trooped back into the interview room and the procedure began again with Rego giving the time and date, Ollie and the solicitor identifying themselves, as before. Once again, the caution was read out and Rego asked if Ollie understood it.
He nodded and muttered an affirmative.
Rego ploughed on, seeming neither tired, frustrated nor anxious.
Ollie, on the other hand, was sweating freely, and his right knee was jiggling uncontrollably.
“At the conclusion of the last interview, I showed you a still image captured at 22.47 hours on 22nd March outside of the Mackerel Inn public house in Newlyn. There are three people in that image: we can clearly see that one is a male, which we say is you. There is a person wearing a hooded top, and a female which is Saemira Ruçi. Saemira is dead, she has been murdered: did you kill her?”
Ollie sucked in a shocked breath.
“No! I didn’t. I didn’t even know she was dead till just now. I don’t know anything about that! I swear!”
“Again, I will ask you to account for that meeting.”
After that, Ollie couldn’t answer Rego’s questions fast enough.
“Okay, okay. Look, it was just some weed, yeah? No big deal. I smoke a doobie now and then, that’s all. Everyone does it. A friend of a friend told me that if I go down the Mackerel of a Thursday evening I can score, right? It was just some weed! I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Did you know Saemira?”
“No! I didn’t even know that was her name.”
“Did you know her by another name?”
“No, I mean yes. He just said that there was this Polish woman called Jo who he knew and that she got him good weed, right? Maybe some spice, I don’t know.”
“Then how did you know who she was at the pub?”
“He said she had long brown hair, and I just thought she looked … I mean, I said, ‘Are you Jo?’ and she nodded and asked what I wanted.”
“Was it a drugs transaction?”
“Just weed! I only gave her twenty quid.”
Rego met Ollie’s eyes and Tamsyn almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“Ollie, I’ve already asked you in the previous interview a series of questions about this meeting, but now the level of seriousness is off the scale and I would like you to account for the purpose of that meeting, going back to when you very first met the woman we call Jowita, through to the very last time you saw her, going into as much detail as possible.”
Rego then began to repeat every question and Ollie answered them all.
“I just like a smoke now and again; maybe some E if I want to go old-school. A bit of molly sometimes, but not that much. Just sometimes, with friends. So I was at this pub in Gulval. I’d only been back in Cornwall a couple of weeks and I met up with some people I used to go to school with. One of them, Adrian, had this mate called Spider who he said could hook me up with whatever I wanted. I don’t know his real name and I only met him twice, once at the Coldstreamer and again at that fuckin’ stupid party. But he was the one who knew about this Jo woman. I met her at the Mack Shack that night and gave her twenty for some weed. That was the first and last time I ever seen her.”
Tamsyn swallowed hard. It was such a familiar story. She’d done her share of partying; she felt cold at the thought that it could have been her sitting in that interview room. She’d never thought ... she’d simply never thought what it meant, how it all connected.
She felt sick with shame.
“And the man who was with Saemira?” Rego asked Ollie. “Had you seen him before or since?”
“No, never. He was a scary dude. Just the way he stared, you know?”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did he speak to Saemira?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know what he said. It sounded like Russian or something. I suppose it was Polish. But … but I got the feeling like he was in charge. I could be wrong, I don’t know. It just felt like he was telling her to do something.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I don’t know. It was dark and I only saw him for a second.”
“Would you be prepared to work with a police artist to give us a description of him?”
Ollie nodded reluctantly.
An hour later, Rego wound up the interview having wrung every tiny detail from a scared and cowed witness.
“Ollie, you have just admitted buying a small amount of cannabis. I don’t intend going through the custody procedure and we can deal with this by way of a caution, if you choose to accept a caution. That means you won’t be placed in a cell, but as possession of cannabis is a recordable offence, you will have your fingerprints, photograph and DNA taken, which will stay on record. I’ll have a member of the custody staff finalise the paperwork.”
Ollie glanced at his solicitor who nodded.
“Yeah, okay,” he said weakly.
Rego glanced up towards where Tamsyn sat in silence.