august 2021
Judith sat in Constance’s office on the morning of Nick’s trial, her shoes kicked off, strands of fair hair escaping her loose ponytail.
‘Do you know how much the food industry is worth, in the UK alone?’ she asked.
Constance marvelled at how relaxed Judith was, given that in less than an hour they would be in court. Instead of poring over her notes, as many other barristers would, Judith wanted to chat about big-picture themes which were, at best, loosely connected to their case.
‘You’re going to tell me,’ Constance said, pausing her review of her notes. She had learned that with Judith it was preferable to join in and roll with whatever she wanted to discuss. There was absolutely no point in trying to shut her down or persuade her to focus on something else.
‘It contributes £30 billion to our economy and employs almost half a million people.’
‘That sounds like a lot. And I bet that’s not including celebrity chefs or radio hosts.’
Judith smiled. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘Why are you thinking about that now?’ Constance asked.
‘I was just wondering why anyone might want to kill Brett Ingram and I suppose there’s only one place to start – and that’s money; hence my question.’
‘Money?’
‘Most people are killed by someone they know and often by someone they love or loved. But when you’re killed by a stranger, it’s usually about money. I mean it may be about drugs, but that’s about money. Or it may be about who’s going to win a huge contract, but that’s about money or who’s going to be president, which is about power, which is about money.’
‘Hang on. Why are we talking about murder, exactly?’ Constance asked.
‘Don’t worry,’ Judith laughed. ‘I have read my brief. I know that Nick is not up for murder and I know our plan of action. It’s just that…well, you’ve seen the pathologist’s report. It’s not exactly robust. So we have to be receptive, keep our minds open right till the very end.’
‘I always do that. You usually prefer focusing on getting our client off.’
‘Ah, but look what happened with Liz Sullivan?’ Judith pointed a finger at Constance.
Judith was referring to the last case they had worked on together: a psychiatrist had been found dead at home, a local gamer had been the prime suspect and, for the first time in their partnership, Judith had been the one expanding the parameters of their investigation.
‘There’s no point in having experience if you don’t put it to good use,’ she said. ‘And you’re always telling me to evolve, to move with the times.’
Constance sighed and pushed away her tablet. ‘You think one of the others – the panellists – killed him?’ she said, knowing that this was precisely what Judith wanted her to say, to engage with her, to chew the fat by batting around alternative theories. Little things Judith had said, since their first coffee back in April, had indicated that this was nagging away at her.
Constance could refuse to play the game, but she would certainly lose and she also risked upsetting Judith – two reasons why this was inadvisable, especially given the close proximity of the trial. ‘What, with one of those secret, sophisticated poisons you keep going on about?’ she said.
‘I think they’re a colourful bunch and they know more than they’re letting on. You know Zoe took her blog down in the aftermath of Brett’s death and she was offline for almost two months.’
‘So?’
‘I thought it was just to give it an overhaul, but Greg did some digging. Turns out she’d received nasty messages, questioning the authenticity of her material.’
Constance raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that such a surprise?’
‘And Rosa Barrera’s café was set on fire not long after. Luckily, she was there and put it out or it could have been much worse.’
‘What has any of that got to do with this?’ The words were out of Constance’s mouth before she could stop them. But she did feel that Judith was getting distracted. And Judith always said she respected Constance challenging her. Even so, she held her breath while she waited for Judith’s response.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Judith said, her voice remaining even. She hadn’t taken offence. ‘It may be nothing. But that’s two people who were there, when Brett Ingram died, having…professional difficulties, shortly afterwards. And you know I don’t believe in coincidences.’
‘Maybe it’s Brett taking revenge on them, from beyond the grave?’ Constance giggled.
‘I don’t know why I bother explaining myself to you,’ Judith said, but her eyes were smiling and Constance knew she had judged her responses perfectly – on this occasion.
But Judith hadn’t finished yet. ‘Of course there’s also the Ambrosia stuff Greg turned up,’ she said.
Constance frowned. ‘Ambrosia?’
‘I told you – the big spend in Heart Foods’ accounts, which the shareholders didn’t like.’
‘I’m not sure you told me the name. Why Ambrosia? Isn’t it some kind of custard?’
‘I think you’ll find the rice pudding is still their bestseller. Some people eat it cold from the can, or so I’m told,’ Judith laughed at her anecdote. ‘Ambrosia was the food of the gods, in Greek mythology,’ she continued, more serious now. ‘Legend has it that it was brought to them by doves and anyone who ate it would live forever. Presumably that’s why the dairy company decided to use the name for its products.’
‘How do you know these things?’
‘You know I’m the product of an expensive private education. But a quick Google search will tell you the same in twenty seconds, for a fraction of the price.’
Constance shifted in her seat. It wasn’t just about attending a superior school. Judith was interested in so many different things, her mind worked remarkably fast and made links Constance would never begin to contemplate. ‘So what did Heart Foods spend the money on?’ she asked.
‘Greg couldn’t find out very much. It was definitely a project associated with improving food quality, though. Diana Percival didn’t mention it, did she?’
‘No. But then she didn’t offer much; just answered my questions, and even then a bit reluctantly.’
‘I could ask her – Diana – I suppose, when she’s in the box,’ Judith reflected.
‘Ask a question, when you don’t know the answer?’
‘I’m not sure I can see the harm in it on this occasion. If it’s totally unconnected, there’ll be no damage done.’
‘Whatever you think’s best,’ Constance said, concluding that if Judith was prepared to contemplate breaking her own cardinal rule then there was really no point arguing with her this time around.
‘I’m not sure I know entirely with this case.’ Judith reached for a glass of water and drank it down. ‘What I do know is that a man is dead and nothing will bring him back and that’s very sad,’ she continued. ‘I also think I need to close my eyes for five minutes and focus on my opening speech.’
***
As she headed for court, Judith spied Andy Chambers seated in the corridor, his head buried in papers, his hair flopping over his eyes. Some years back, she had defended a case which Andy had prosecuted. Then, only last year, he had been selected as the legal brain to analyse cases filmed in the cameras in the courtroom pilot scheme. He had ended up commenting heavily on Judith’s performance and that of the presiding judge, Judge Nolan, in a high-profile murder case. Judith had not enjoyed the experience or the associated fame, which had dipped, at times, towards notoriety. Thankfully, any interest in her had settled down within a week or two of the next case to receive the Court TV treatment. But Judith was not one to forget disloyalty, which was how she viewed Andy’s conduct, even though she acknowledged that he had also suffered at the hands of the bulldozing media machine.
‘Hello Andy,’ Judith said, pausing next to him. ‘You decided to return to the real world, after all?’
As Andy looked up, his report slid down his knees and almost fell to the floor.
‘Judith? Nice to see you again,’ he stammered, attempting a smile. ‘Well, the pilot finished. You know that. A man has to work.’
‘They’ll call you back, when it finally goes live?’
‘I’d like to think so. I did receive lots of positive feedback and quite a lot of fan mail, actually. But I’m told they’re fickle in television. You know, they follow fads.’
‘I see. So you returned to the more mundane arena of criminal justice. I should warn you. I heard that our judge is a great friend of Judge Nolan. I believe they studied together for their Bar exams.’
Andy’s smile weakened.
‘Only joking,’ Judith said and she tapped his elbow lightly and headed into court.
***
Judith sat down in her allotted place in the wood-panelled courtroom and glanced around her. The public gallery, only a few metres away, was almost full and the low hum of conversation from its occupants spilled over to her. Nick’s wife, Lisa, was seated in the front row. She kept turning around, evidently seeking out Nick, who had not yet arrived.
Judith could not begin to guess who the rest were. Most likely at least one reporter, a law student or two and there would usually be members of the family of the deceased. But there was no one there who resembled a grieving relative, which was unsurprising, as Constance had told her that Brett’s parents were both dead and he had no siblings or children. She immediately felt the imbalance of the situation and it bothered her; that there was no one there for Brett.
Then she noticed two gentlemen sitting behind Lisa, wearing smart casual clothes, talking quietly to each other. Both were white and middle-aged, one with a prominent, aquiline nose. Often, strange as it may seem, members of the public, without any connection to a case, came along, purely out of interest. While these two men might fall within that category, Judith preferred to imagine that they may have some association with Heart Foods. It was important to her that justice was seen to be done.
Judith pulled her notebooks from her briefcase and arranged them next to the files her clerk had already set in her place. This was the worst moment, just before the case began; wondering if she had prepared sufficiently, if there was anything obvious she had missed, even some tiny clue she might have picked up. At the same time, she was hopeful that her plans for the other side’s witnesses would be successful, the jury would be receptive, that her own witnesses would withstand the considerable pressures and perform as she hoped.
This wasn’t just a one-woman show; for success in a trial, she had to rely on a whole host of complete strangers, some of them hostile, to behave in the way she desired, but with no guarantees; a show she had scripted almost entirely alone, but now sought to put on for the viewers, without even a dress rehearsal. Anyone who said ‘don’t act with children or animals’ should try this, she thought.
Sometimes, perversely, it helped Judith’s concentration to take a few moments and switch off from the case completely, just before the start of a trial. As long as, at the moment of truth, she could switch back on, which she invariably did. So when thoughts of Greg, his face, his hands, his voice came into her mind, she didn’t push them away. She was pleased he had been content to pick things up again without looking back; she hadn’t wanted to revisit her reasons for ending things last time around and if Greg wondered, he had the good sense not to ask. This was what she required – a partnership of equals and without regret for things already past; co-existence not dependence, although she was happy to accept more support than usual sometimes.
Take this morning, for example. Knowing how preoccupied Judith was and how she was unlikely to eat again till the evening, Greg had prepared an array of breakfast choices, laid them out and not so much as coughed when she eschewed most of them and plumped for toast and jam. He had simply collected up the rejected pancakes, muesli and raspberries, smiled and said that what he didn’t eat himself, he would take in to work for his staff. He really was too good for her. Maybe, once the trial was over, they would go on holiday. That would be nice.
Judith couldn’t remember the last time she had taken a holiday. Not a real one, where you packed a suitcase with clothes you would never wear in the UK – tops with spaghetti straps, floaty dresses and open-toed sandals – and looked forward to a day stretching out without deadlines, supplemented by irresistible ice cream and exotic cocktails. Where to go? She would usually plump for Europe, probably Italy. Then she could dip into some real culture at the same time. She suspected Greg might prefer somewhere further afield and perhaps it wouldn’t be too awful for her to try something new, but she mustn’t give in to him too much. So, Italy first perhaps, then somewhere else of Greg’s choice.
Someone touched her shoulder.
‘Everything OK?’ Constance mouthed, as she settled herself in the row behind.
Judith nodded. Of course she was OK, with Constance there: dependable, determined, indefatigable. Constance opened up her laptop and although Judith couldn’t see the screen, she knew Connie would have everything relevant to hand and be ready to step in and prompt, should Judith falter.
Just then Nick, their client, entered the courtroom, flanked by two police officers. After a brief exchange of nods with her and Constance and then with his wife, he sat down and looked around at his surroundings. Judith knew from Constance that his mood had not improved since they had visited him, and Lisa had said she could hardly persuade him to eat. The pleasure he had previously taken from preparing and eating food had been completely destroyed by the allegations against him and this was apparent from his hollow cheeks and gaunt frame.
Judith rose to her feet, together with everyone else, as Mr Justice Linton entered. The learned judge had recently been censured for criticising the evidence of a young woman who had accused her boss of sexual assault in a case which came before him. Judge Linton had described her as ‘a sensationalist’ with an ‘overactive imagination’. The boss had been acquitted but the newspapers had gone to town on the story, declaring that the judge’s comments would only prevent other genuine victims from coming forward.
‘Is that good for us?’ Constance had asked, when they discovered that Judge Linton would be in the driving seat, and Judith had shrugged. She disliked being in front of judges whose views had been publicly denounced in the recent past. In her experience, they were either unduly sensitive, and so allowed anything and everything to pass unchallenged for fear of more condemnation or, as she suspected might be the case with Judge Linton, they hunkered down and took every opportunity to demonstrate that they were unrepentant and unchanged.
‘This case is very different from that one,’ was all Judith managed, reflecting that the powers that be, those unseen scribblers who allocated the cases, had probably decided that an accidental poisoning case was a relatively safe forum in which Judge Linton could begin his rehabilitation.
Andy Chambers introduced himself and Judith, then launched into his opening speech and Judith finally switched off any and all diversionary thoughts and tuned in to his words.
‘My Lord. This is a tragic case,’ Andy began, ‘tragic because the death of Brett Ingram was so easily avoidable. If the defendant, Nick Demetriou, had only taken the most basic level of care with the food he provided on the 13th of April, then Mr Ingram would be with us today and his company, Heart Foods, one of the biggest British success stories of the last decade, would still have its founder and CEO at its helm.’ Andy let out a sigh, which Judith considered might have been more suitably delivered in an episode of Bridgerton, and Mr Justice Linton’s raised eyebrows hinted that he shared her view. But Andy continued unabated.
‘It’s not disputed that, on the afternoon of 13th April 2021, Mr Ingram attended a public meeting at Tanners’ Hall in Haringey. He had arrived there late morning and Mr Demetriou had served Mr Ingram and a number of other guests a light lunch. Shortly afterwards, Mr Ingram felt unwell. Even so, he insisted to his assistant, a Miss Diana Percival, that he would keep going. But, shortly after 2pm, as he introduced the meeting, he collapsed and died. The prosecution will show some film of Mr Ingram’s last moments, captured by a video camera which was recording the event.
‘Now, Mr Ingram had an allergy to shellfish and had been very clear in his instructions regarding food for lunch. Mr Demetriou, the defendant, paid scant regard to those instructions and the expert you will hear from, Dr Leigh, will explain that traces of shellfish, in the sandwiches served by the defendant, killed Mr Ingram. In addition, the fact that all the food had been kept without refrigeration for at least two hours before it was consumed, may have contributed to the terrible consequences and, in any event, constituted a clear breach of health and safety regulations.
‘When Mr Ingram writhed around, in terrible agony, Mr Demetriou did not go to his aid. Instead, realising what must have happened and seeking to cover up the part he had played, he left Mr Ingram dying on the floor and ran to the kitchen to destroy as much evidence as he could, throwing the remaining food into black bags and pouring boiling water over all the exposed surfaces. When police on the scene asked him what he was doing, he said “I’m cleaning up”. That is exactly what he was doing, members of the jury. He was cleaning up, in order to cover his tracks!’
Judith watched Nick while Andy was speaking. After his initial limited interest in his environs, he had bowed his head, and now his eyes were half-closed too. Constance had given him a notebook and pen and urged him to jot things down if he heard anything controversial, but his hands were empty and she could see the top of the book peeking out from his pocket. Innocent until proven guilty. That was what the law said. But you had to be resilient to withstand the pressure, not only of the trial, but also the finger pointing, the absent friends, the ostracism which all accompanied such a serious accusation. As Constance had pointed out, he was fortunate he had his family to support him through this challenging time.
Lady Justice understood how hard it was to stay strong in the face of adversity. A statue in her honour stood tall on the roof of the Old Bailey, sporting a spiky crown, the scales of justice in her right hand and the sword of retribution in her left. Other iterations of Justice existed of course – other portraits and carved effigies. Many of them wore a blindfold to indicate imperviousness to outside influences like politics or celebrity culture. A well-intended but poorly thought-out metaphor, in Judith’s opinion. It was so much easier to interpret the blindfolded image as the law being unable to find its way through to the truth. No, if statues had any value at all – and they seemed to be coming in for a lot of criticism these days – then their symbolism had to be crystal-clear and, for Judith, the Amazonian version of Lady Justice, standing 200 feet above their heads, said it all.
It was funny though, Judith mused, that we had no problem with the embodiment of justice being female, centuries before women were allowed to practise as lawyers, although, from her infrequent visits to church, as a child, she remembered that the Hebrews had many women judges.
Judith watched Andy sit down, the judge finish making notes and the faces of the twelve jurors turn in her direction. Even as she admonished herself for day-dreaming further than her rigid discipline regime would usually permit, she reflected upon the women who had come before her and fought so hard to sit in her seat: Ivy Williams, Helena Normanton, Stella Thomas. Harnessing all of their energies, she stood up to begin.
‘My learned friend was absolutely right to describe Mr Ingram’s death as a tragedy; the death of a healthy man at the tender age of forty-one, a man who had given so much to society, a man destined for a long and distinguished career in business. We should take note of this and remember the man and his achievements. However, this should not detract from the need to search dispassionately for the truth through the evidence provided in this courtroom, and to reach a decision consistent with that evidence. Mr Demetriou, the defendant, a caterer and food importer by trade, is also a pillar of the local community. He belongs to the “Just Call Us” network, a charitable venture where services – food, drink, entertainment, flowers – are supplied free of charge to deserving families, to allow them to have the celebration of their dreams when they would not otherwise be able to pay for it. He is a man of modest means, a family man, a man who takes pride in his work.
‘It is accepted that there were the tiniest traces of seafood in the kitchen at Tanners’ Hall, totally unsurprising for an establishment which sees a large footfall. The hall had been hired out the night before Mr Ingram’s death and there was another booking for 6pm that evening. We say that the prosecution cannot establish beyond reasonable doubt that those minute amounts came from food Mr Demetriou provided or that they were linked to Mr Ingram’s death. In fact, there is no evidence that Mr Ingram’s allergy, if it existed, triggered his death. The pathologist’s report is unclear on both counts.
‘It is also perfectly right that we should be able to rely on cafés, restaurants and caterers to feed us in a safe and responsible manner, ensuring they comply with good hygiene practices and any instructions from customers regarding allergens. But Mr Demetriou did exactly as he was asked. He is here today not because he did anything wrong, but because we don’t like deaths which go unexplained, especially when a high-profile person is involved. I urge you, therefore, to listen to the evidence and evaluate it and I am sure that when you do you will agree that Mr Demetriou was not even negligent, let alone grossly negligent. In those circumstances, he cannot be held responsible for Mr Ingram’s death.’
During the break, before the first witness was sworn in, Andy leaned over towards Judith.
‘I heard you tried to run the blame culture argument in your last case. Then you abandoned it, because it was never going to work.’
Judith said nothing. She wasn’t going to share any intelligence with Andy, especially not after he had spilled so many secrets on national TV last year.
‘I should be pleased, then. It will make my job so much easier,’ he continued. ‘And thanks for confirming that your client never made any money from his work, although I noticed his wife had a rather nice ring – bit gaudy, but some people like these things – and a dazzling necklace. Much easier, then, to conclude that he cut corners.’
Judith ignored Andy, but once he had shifted back to his side of the bench she stole a glance at Lisa. As Andy had pointed out, and Judith was cross with herself for failing to notice, Lisa wore a long, sparkly heart-shaped pendant, encrusted with what appeared to be a number of precious stones. Although there was no reason, in principle, why Lisa’s choice of jewellery – or clothes, for that matter – should make any difference to her husband’s prospects, and there was no way of knowing if the necklace had any value, Andy’s comment hit home.
Sometimes the reason a case was won or lost turned on impressions the jury formed, especially of the accused. In circumstances where she hoped to present Nick to the court as cautious and abstemious, this was an unwelcome expression of glamour and frivolity by his wife, and Judith made a mental note to take it up with Lisa at an appropriate moment.