Elaine Harper was dressed entirely in black, with black earrings and black nail polish to complement her outfit. Although she was in her late sixties, she remained a strikingly attractive woman. She had refused to speak to Constance some weeks earlier, but an advance copy of her statement had provided a steer of what her evidence would be, and it wasn’t helpful.
‘Mrs Harper, I know this must be most distressing for you, so please let me know if you require any breaks at any time.’ Laidlaw began at his oily best and was rewarded by a sob from the witness. ‘Mrs Harper, when did you last see your daughter, Rosie?’
‘I saw her two weeks before her death, on the 31st of May, but we spoke the night before.’ Elaine Harper’s mouth hinged open on one side only when she spoke, giving her delivery a staccato quality. The physical resemblance between Elaine and her now dead daughter was evident, but where Rosie had been gentle and supportive, at least on camera, Elaine seemed brittle, every syllable delivered like an accusation.
‘And when you saw Rosie, what were the circumstances?’
‘It was my birthday. I invited her and the children over. We had some Prosecco and a light supper.’
‘And did she tell you that anything was bothering her?’
‘No. But the children, my grandchildren, were there.’ She looked out into the gallery, spied Laura and Ben, gave them a half smile, then returned her gaze to Laidlaw.
‘I see. Did you get the impression from anything Rosie said or did that something might have been bothering her?’
‘I thought she seemed a bit quiet, thoughtful. And she’d lost weight.’
‘She’d lost weight?’
‘She was never big but, well, her clothes were hanging off her. And she picked at her food, left most of it.’
‘When you spoke to her on the telephone, the night before she died, was she more forthright?’
‘She said that Debbie was coming over the next day to talk about Ben, my grandson, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.’
‘Did she explain what she meant by that?’ Laidlaw leaned forward and gave the camera his best shot at empathy.
‘She didn’t have to. I knew what she meant.’
‘And what was that?’ Laidlaw was speaking softly, cajoling the witness.
‘Danny… Debbie… can I say Danny, is that all right?’
‘Yes, that’s perfectly all right. We know that you are referring to the defendant.’
Judith rose slowly.
‘Your honour. I have no desire to make things more difficult for Mrs Harper than they already are,’ she said. ‘But my client’s name is Debbie now. And she has the right to be addressed in that way, if at all possible, by everyone in this court room. Of course, if Mrs Harper forgets or makes a slip, that is totally understandable. But this court should do what it can to uphold the defendant’s right to be called by her name.’
Constance frowned. Judge Nolan frowned and made a bridge with her hands. Debbie stared at Judith. Someone muttered ‘hear hear’ before a ripple of laughter rose and fell. Mrs Harper opened her mouth to speak, but then the judge cut in.
‘Thank you, Ms Burton. You are, of course, correct. And right to point out the other considerations. Mrs Harper, do try to call the defendant Debbie or the defendant if you can. If you are referring back to events when she was known as Danny, then, I assume, it would be acceptable to call her by that name, if you wish.’ She turned towards Debbie and Debbie gave a shallow nod of appreciation.
‘I’ll do my best, my lady,’ Mrs Harper swallowed and glared at Debbie, accusing her, even in that moment, of making life even more intolerable.
‘Before the interruption, you were telling us that Rosie was not looking forward to a conversation with Debbie the following day.’
‘That’s right. Ben wanted to leave school, said he wanted to become an actor. And Debbie was encouraging him. Rosie knew they were going to row about it.’
Judith looked at Ben, who was sitting close to his other grandmother, his face pale and pinched.
‘And Rosie wanted Ben to stay on at school?’
‘Of course she did. She said he should finish school and then, if he wanted to become an actor after that, it was fine. At least he would have his A levels to fall back on.’
‘Perhaps Debbie was trying to be supportive to their son?’
‘This was nothing about being supportive. This was all about him…her. She knew that Rosie wanted Ben to stay on and that’s precisely why she encouraged him to leave, filling his head with nonsense that he was going somewhere. Going straight to an early death, more like. That’s what happens to all these actors.’
Laidlaw smiled, before turning the page of his notes affectedly. Perhaps, his own parents had said something similar to him, Judith mused.
‘Did Rosie and Debbie have a happy marriage?’ he asked.
‘I think they were happy at the beginning. Rosie was. The wedding was very over the top of course, but he was a footballer.’
‘Was there a point when Rosie became unhappy?’
‘I didn’t see it straightaway. I had a feeling, but I didn’t want to pry. But after the 999 call, I asked her and she told me. She had to, really.’
‘Ah. You’ve mentioned the 999 call. We heard the call on Monday, when Inspector Dawson was giving his evidence. But it might be useful to hear it again...’
We all remember the call,’ Judith objected. ‘I don’t see how it would be of use to play what would clearly be a distressing call for this witness. We’ve heard it once and been through the transcript.’
‘I want the witness to identify the caller.’
‘The defence accepts the caller is Rosie Harper.’
‘Your honour, it’s clear why the defence doesn’t want the call played again, but it’s central to this witness’s evidence.’
Judge Nolan pressed the end of her pen a number of times in quick succession. Judith weighed up her chances and predicted they were slim. The judge’s reprimand of Caroline Fleming would have been perceived by some as siding with the defence. And she’d just upheld Judith’s plea to call her client ‘Debbie’, despite, no doubt, viewing it as petty and pandering to the left.
And while Judge Nolan was not usually one to care an iota for appearances – she was very much a ‘judge of the moment’ – no doubt she was learning, as was Judith, that in this scenario, with every inch of the screen open to scrutiny, appearances were paramount and ‘moments’ could be made to last hours. She needed to appear even-handed to have any chance of surviving this case.
‘All right. Mrs Harper. You may find this call upsetting,’ Judge Nolan said, her eyes lingering longer than necessary on the overhead camera, ‘but Mr Laidlaw assures me it’s important for you to hear it in this court room, in order to give your evidence.’
Judith smiled to herself. So, she hadn’t yet lost her touch.
The 999 call was played for a second time, with the court in sombre silence. It took a few moments after it ended, to appreciate that the sobs they were all hearing were not emanating from the caller, but from Mrs Harper herself.
‘Mrs Harper. Do take a few moments to compose yourself.’
Elaine Harper wiped her eyes and nose, gestured for a glass of water and drank it down. Then, as she had almost recovered her equilibrium, the usher mistakenly pressed play on the recording again and Rosie’s voice rang out another time. She burst into tears anew. One juror joined her, then one of the reporters on the front row, which set Ben off. When silence was restored and Mrs Harper had used up at least four tissues, Laidlaw continued.
‘Can you confirm whose voice was on that recording?’ he asked.
‘It was Rosie, Rosie’s voice.’
‘And the voice in the background at the end?’
‘Ben, my grandson.’
‘How did you get to know about the call?’
‘I didn’t know about the call when it happened. The first time I heard it was when you played it to me. But I knew the police had been around to the house, because Lynn told me.’
‘Lynn is Mrs Harris, Rosie’s neighbour.’
‘She was worried when the police arrived in the night and she called me.’
‘And you raised this with Rosie?’
‘I called her straightaway and asked what was going on. She played it down, said it was “a mistake”. But she was just covering up.’
‘What was she covering up?’
‘All the things happening. About a week after the police came, she told me.’
‘Told you what?’
‘That he, Danny, that was his name then, wanted to be a woman. She said she’d had an idea for a while that things weren’t quite right. But he had told her and they’d had a huge argument. And that’s why she called the police. And she said she’d fallen on her wrist at work, slipped on some ice, but I know he pushed her. When we next met, he couldn’t look me in the eye. He’d hurt my daughter and he was ashamed of himself, as he should have been. And there, that call proves it.’
‘Your daughter had hurt her wrist?’
‘All bandaged up it was.’
‘And that was the day after the police were called?’
‘Or thereabouts.’
‘Who do you think murdered your daughter?’
‘I think he murdered her. Debbie.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll have to ask him that. I think they had a big argument and all of it came out, all the stuff from when the police were called and the things with Ben. She probably told him how it was and he didn’t like it. She wanted to stop him seeing Ben.’
Debbie kept her eyes on the ground, but she fiddled with the cuff of her jacket.
‘Rosie told you that she was going to prevent Debbie from seeing Ben?’ Laidlaw’s lips were desperate to proclaim ‘victory is mine’ but he managed to rein them in.
‘That’s what she said,’ Elaine Harper confirmed. ‘Said it was the only way to stop him influencing Ben, to stop his stupid ideas.’
‘Did Debbie love the children?’
Elaine faltered. ‘Yes,’ she said, the word dragged from her mouth by her conscience. ‘For all his faults, I always believed he loved those kids. He spent time with them whenever he could.’
‘So the prospect of being separated from Ben would have been very provocative?’
Judge Nolan grunted and wagged her index finger from side to side like a pendulum, until Laidlaw, finally, nodded in her direction.
‘I withdraw that last question,’ he muttered. ‘Thank you, Mrs Harper. Please wait for Ms Burton.’
* * *
Judith rose to her feet, with Constance’s warning, delivered in the break, still in her ears. But she was also acutely aware that conflict over the children, or more specifically, Ben, could be a convincing catalyst for violence. It could just provide the elusive motive. Everything else, Danny’s transition to Debbie, money issues, was old news. This was new and current and potentially explosive. She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She had to find a way of neutralising Mrs Harper’s testimony.
‘Mrs Harper. You told the court that you last saw your daughter to celebrate your birthday, two weeks before her death.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Before your birthday, when was the last time you saw Rosie?’
‘Oh gosh. I’m not entirely sure.’
‘I don’t need the exact date, but around when, do you think?’
‘It had been a while, a month or two?’
‘So, you’d last seen Rosie in late March?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘And before that?’
‘Probably Christmas time.’
‘Is it correct that you and Rosie had fallen out in recent years, and that your birthday lunch had been an attempt to smooth things over, after a long period of not seeing each other?’
‘I wouldn’t put it exactly that way, but we were not as close as we had been, yes.’
‘Why did you fall out?’
‘That was because of Debbie too.’
‘Can you explain that?’
‘When she told me that Debbie was…wanted to become a woman, she was cross with what I said.’
‘And that was the week after the 999 call, so in February 2017?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want to ask about the call for the last time. Don’t worry. I won’t make you listen to it again. But I wanted to understand what Rosie said to you about the call.’
Elaine Harper sighed and snatched a glance at Ben and Laura again.
‘She said they’d had a row and she’d called the police just to scare him, but I knew she was just saying that, to make me feel better.’
‘You didn’t trust what your own daughter said to you?’
‘She was trying to protect me from the truth. No one wants to admit their husband is beating them, do they? And when I asked again, she told me, about Debbie.’
‘Did Rosie tell you then, or later on, at any time, that Debbie threatened or injured her that evening?’
‘No, but…’
‘Without the explanation, please, of what you thought she meant. Did Rosie ever tell you that Debbie threatened or injured her that evening?’
‘No.’
‘Rosie actually told you the opposite, that the call was not genuine?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Thank you, the yes was sufficient. When Rosie told you, a week later, about Debbie, you said she was cross with what you said in return. What did you say?’
‘I told her I thought she should throw him out. But it seems that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.’ Mrs Harper dabbed at her eyes. ‘Rosie could be quite headstrong. I suppose that’s how she had done so well for herself.’
‘Did you encourage your daughter to divorce her husband?’
‘Of course I did. But divorces take time. I told her to kick him out there and then.’
‘And she didn’t appreciate that advice?’
‘She said I didn’t understand. I…me…with my Brian in the hospital. I shouldn’t have to deal with all of that too.’
‘And from then on, you didn’t see as much of each other?’
‘Brian died, within weeks of all this. His heart gave out. He adored Rosie and he couldn’t bear to see her so distraught. We had the funeral and after that, Rosie was distant. But she was throwing herself into her work and she did kick him out soon after, even if she didn’t like what I said at the time.’
‘If I told you that Rosie confided in a colleague that you were vindictive and gloating and that was why she broke off contact with you, what would you say to that?’
Constance flinched at Judith’s embellishment of Jason’s words, began to compose a note for Judith, then scrunched it up into a ball and held it tightly inside her fist. Judith leaned forwards toward Mrs Harper.
‘That’s not true,’ Mrs Harper began to cry again and she buried her head in her hands. Laidlaw scowled at Judith. ‘It’s often hard to get across what you mean, what you feel, in the heat of the moment,’ Mrs Harper protested from underneath her hands. ‘I just wanted what was best for my daughter. I can see how it probably sounds now to everyone, that I’m some kind of terrible person, prejudiced and nasty. This was my daughter, my baby, and she was so unhappy.’
The usher brought Mrs Harper another drink and, this time, she waved him away, before wiping her eyes.
‘Cast your mind back twenty or so years to when Rosie told you that she and Debbie were getting married. How did you and your husband respond?’
‘We gave them our blessing.’
‘But you weren’t totally happy?’
‘It was more Brian, my late husband, than me. He said Danny gave him a funny feeling, said he didn’t trust him, thought he was false, fake. But we never let Rosie know that. We kept it to ourselves.’
‘Isn’t it true that your late husband disapproved of Danny because he grew up on a council estate?’
‘No.’
‘Was brought up by a single mother?’
‘No.’
‘Had a tattoo before they were fashionable, had a reputation for partying?’
‘It wasn’t like that. We didn’t care where he came from or how he spoke. He was a footballer; we didn’t expect him to be posh. Brian was always civil to Danny. They just didn’t have much in common.’
‘So neither you nor your husband approved of the marriage, but Rosie went ahead anyway. Did Rosie know you didn’t approve?’
‘We kept it to ourselves. We joined in all the celebrations. Now, of course, I wish I had listened more to Brian. I wish we had warned her.’
‘Mrs Harper. I put it to you that you have absolutely no evidence that Debbie killed Rosie, do you?’
‘I know Debbie was there. And I know Rosie was scared of Debbie. That’s what I know.’
‘Did she ever tell you she was scared of Debbie?’
‘Not directly.’
‘And when you told her to “kick Debbie out” she disagreed, you said?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because she was…headstrong?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it doesn’t sound like she was very scared of Debbie, if she chose, despite your maternal advice, to have Debbie stay, even if it was only for a few extra weeks.’
‘She was scared of what he might say, what he might do, if she threw him out.’
‘Rosie was scared about what other people might see or hear or think?’
‘Of course she was.’
‘Do you think that this fear you are talking about – assuming you are correct – might have been precisely that: Rosie was worried about what people might think, when news of her separation was made public, particularly given the circumstances, including her husband becoming a woman? And it was this she was scared about, rather than any fear that Debbie might harm her physically?’
‘No.’
‘But you accept that you never liked Debbie, neither did your late husband?’
‘I do. I have to be honest.’
‘And that when Rosie did confide in you, you fell out and didn’t speak for some time.’
‘It’s true. If only she’d listened.’
‘This, then, is your last opportunity to prove to everyone that you were right all along, isn’t it?’
‘No. It’s not like that.’
‘To show everyone, all your friends, whom you told frequently that Debbie wasn’t good enough for your daughter. Lynn Harris, whom you befriended, was over the road, keeping an eye on things but, in reality, spying on the family, feeding gossip back to you. You told Mrs Harris that Danny had become Debbie, didn’t you?’
‘I did. But she’d have found out soon enough.’
‘Even though Rosie had asked you and your late husband to keep it private?’
‘Yes, but, I mean, it was all over the papers.’
‘And you don’t even have your husband now to confide in, so it’s down to you, isn’t it, to show everyone that you were right all along. Debbie was always bad news!’
‘No!’ Mrs Harper shrieked. ‘It was never like that! If you had children, you would know how it feels when they make the wrong choices and you’re powerless to help. She married a monster. I just wanted to protect her. How could he do that to her? To my baby. To make her so unhappy. He must have known when he married her what he was like. To trick her like that, for all those years. He’s a fraud, a liar and a murderer!’
* * *
‘Well that went well.’ Judith sat quietly, pulling on a loose thread from her wig.
‘I thought it was OK,’ Constance tried to reassure her, her crumpled up note reminding Judith to be restrained, still rustling against the inside of her jacket pocket. ‘Everyone knows she isn’t a neutral witness. And she helped with the 999 call, by saying that Rosie insisted it wasn’t genuine.’
‘What were her last words? “A fraud, a liar and a murderer”. That will make a great front page headline tomorrow morning. Take a look; perhaps it’s trending already.’
‘You had to do something to show she wasn’t being fair.’
‘You told me to go gently and I pushed her too far. And, naturally, if I had children of my own, I would have understood, instead of being the cold-hearted bitch they’ll portray me as when they play this back this evening for a million viewers. Is that one of the statistics they put up there for everyone to know, like those tables ahead of a big tennis match? But instead of height, weight, age, they substituted marital status and family and I got widow and childless. Is that how she knew to push that button?’
‘It may not be too bad. You got in the class bit and it diverted attention from her saying Debbie was cold and Laidlaw didn’t take the opportunity to ask her about that again. And I wasn’t sure about the 999 call, but it was good for us, playing it again after you had taken Dawson through it. It really emphasised how Rosie never said she was hurt, that the call is nothing. You wanted Laidlaw to play it again, didn’t you?’
‘I thought if I said nothing then the judge might intervene and stop Laidlaw, to spare Mrs Harper’s feelings. Once I forced her to choose between Laidlaw and me, it was more likely she would go with Laidlaw on this one. So now she owes us one. And you’re right, after that session going through the wording on Monday, the impact of the call was diffused. But that doesn’t change how monumentally I fucked things up right at the end. I was too brash, too insistent. Maybe I got excited by the cameras. I don’t think I did. I tried business as usual. Oh God, they’ll crucify me tonight, but I suppose I deserve it.’
‘I thought Court TV was complete garbage?’
‘How can I focus with that lens suspended above my head, sucking up my innermost thoughts and regurgitating them for moronic consumption?’
‘You said Laidlaw was the drama queen.’
‘I know what I said. I was trying to make the best of things and that was before bloody Andy Chambers and body language and reconstructions and Q and A and did you know someone even asked where I get my clothes from? It’s impossible to exhale in there, without someone examining the composition of my breath.’
‘Just ignore them, like you said.’
‘You’re the one who told me to play to the cameras, that public opinion mattered. Which is it to be?’
Constance leaned back in her chair. She didn’t want to admit that she might have been wrong, that the impact of Court TV was profound and not necessarily positive. And Judith facing a crisis in confidence was the last thing Debbie needed.
‘There’s a partner at work who specialises in media law,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask him if they’re overstepping the rules.’
‘You do that,’ Judith said, taking a drink of water. ‘Though, if they are, I’m not sure there’s anything we’ll be able to do about it.