Andy was first to arrive at the TV studio, a modern set of rooms on the fifth floor of a 1960s, boxy construction, just off Gray’s Inn Road. He wasn’t often early, but he had been for each morning last week, when he had attended rehearsals here. It was not that he was disorganised or lazy; just that he usually had so many things to fit into the hours of the day. In any twenty-four hour period, he was frequently each and all of: lawyer, counsellor, truancy coach, husband, father, son, brother, friend, shopper, cook, accountant and tax adviser. Not surprising, then, that he could ill-afford the luxury of being ahead of schedule, of kicking his heels waiting for others to join him.
But today was different. Today was the day Court TV was finally to air, the beginning of a new life, where all Andy’s worries, his conflicting loyalties, his over-spilling diary difficulties would be resolved, in an instant, when he took his place in front of the cameras.
He was asked to wait, seated on a spongy corner sofa, while the assistant who had opened up went scurrying around. Next to arrive was Katrina Sadiq, the lead presenter, friendly, in a quietly confident way. Her reputation as a canny political correspondent, keen to get to the bottom of every issue she addressed, had preceded her and she hadn’t disappointed him so far, with her eloquence and quick tongue. Then Phil Ash breezed in, together with Chris Richards, the second anchor for the show and a collection of other production-related staff. Last to arrive was Graham, carrying a large tray of croissants, which he deposited at the front desk, before shaking hands energetically with each of them.
Andy still felt the studio was small. Once you were seated inside and the lights were switched on, it felt even smaller than when you viewed it through its glass walls. But the team was very attentive and they were each able to practise some short speeches and receive final tips and feedback on their performance. Andy chose to recite Portia’s ‘quality of mercy’ speech from The Merchant of Venice, which he thought might amuse, but no one appeared to notice or appreciate his selection. Maybe they were all too nervous, with it being the dress rehearsal.
Then, in the coffee break, when the croissants were handed around, Graham, who had been constantly on his phone since his arrival – at times waving his arms around, at other times running his fingers through his hair – came to address them all.
‘Thank you all for coming today,’ he said, beaming widely. ‘It’s great for you all to be here for our first day of broadcasting, even though it’s mostly pre-recorded. Phil tells me you have all worked really hard and made yourselves comfortable, which is just as well, as it’s going to be your second home for the best part of the next three months.’
Andy thought it much more peaceful, at this moment, than his real home.
‘I am conscious that we have gathered, here, a talented bunch of professionals, and that you are unlikely to need too much direction, given your own skills and background. Having said that, you are going to have an extra producer in addition to the usual team, at the end of a microphone to give you direction, live, during the show, and to keep things moving. After tonight, I am going to be away from London for a short while – unavoidable, I am afraid, given my year-end targets – but I leave you in very capable hands.
‘Now, tonight is our opening and, clearly, we will be focusing on the background to Court TV’s launch, so it won’t be as dynamic a show as usual. It will be much more scripted. Even so, we will be highlighting the motto of the pilot scheme – “Equality, Accessibility, Transparency” – and I want that to guide you in all you do. That is why we are here, not to feed our own egos, although I should like to think that you will all, quickly, if not already – at this point he gave a nod in Katrina’s direction – become household names. More than that, I want you to become trusted friends of the public. You are here to educate and illuminate them and not, I repeat not, to just blandly accept things you hear in court.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been called bland,’ Katrina said.
‘I do want you to challenge things the judge or lawyers say,’ Graham kept going, with a nod to recognise Katrina’s comment. ‘Andy, you’ll remember we talked about this early on and you were so supportive of this principle that poor practice must be stamped out.’
Andy heard Graham’s words and smiled, as everyone looked at him with admiration for his high moral compass, but inside he was squirming. Did Graham really expect him to criticise his own colleagues?
‘And to be innovative, too. We are going to be bringing along an array of other professionals, each experts in their field, each bringing a different perspective. By the end of the pilot, I want people, high-up important people, to be questioning whether the way things are done now – with wigs and gowns, in dusty buildings, behind closed doors, with rigid rules of evidence and traditional experts – whether that is truly the best way to test a person’s guilt.’
Andy coughed into his hand. Everyone looked at him again. He smiled and nodded his continuing approval for Graham’s wise words.
‘Now. On to our first case!’
Graham walked over to the window, staring out of it before continuing: ‘As you all know, it’s the one everyone’s talking about; the case against Debbie Mallard for killing the beautiful Rosie Harper. What a privilege to be commentating on such a case. Andy, Phil sent you the list of all the lawyers involved, together with the background our researchers had put together, didn’t he?’
Andy nodded, his mouth suddenly a desert. He hadn’t needed to read through a list to know whose name would be right at the top; it was one he had immediately recognised when it had been revealed by a colleague some weeks back: Judith Burton.