I Know What I Saw

By the time I am being shaken out of my cell, I have had an hour’s sleep at most. I rinse my face in a small steel sink and then I am in a van off to court. When I arrive, I am put into another cell from where I can hear other prisoners shouting and banging on the doors. If you believe what they’re saying, we are in a place where all the staff are cunts.

At nine-thirty I’m cuffed to a guard who walks me down the corridor. I see Jan’s face before she sees mine and even though it has been only a few hours, I am so grateful to see her that tears collect in my eyes.

‘Jan,’ I say, and sit while the cuffs are unlocked. She is wearing another tired black suit but the sky-blue shirt underneath it lifts her.

‘Xander,’ she says, waiting till the guard leaves. ‘Okay, we might not have long, so let me say what I need to. We are dealing with your bail position today. Because you have been charged with murder, your bail is not like normal bail. You don’t have a right to bail. It’s kind of the other way around. The burden is on us to show that there is no significant risk that you would cause injury to anyone.’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Not really, Xander. They don’t often bail people in murder cases because the fact of the murder is a good basis for saying there is a risk you could cause harm on the logic that if you did it once—’

‘But I didn’t do it once!’ I say, hearing my voice become sharp. ‘I can’t be locked up, Jan. I haven’t got the head for it. I can’t.’

‘I know, Xander. But the fact is that the prosecution are objecting to bail on those grounds. They say you are a risk.’

I feel defeated.

‘Look,’ she continues. ‘I will do my best, but what I wanted to know was whether there was any way you could offer a surety or security?’

Some of the words she is saying filter into my consciousness but others do not. I can’t believe I am going to prison. I won’t be able to do this is all that I can think right now, and that thought preoccupies me, forcing everything else out.

‘Sorry, what?’ I say, sensing that there is some information that she wants from me.

‘Money. Can you offer any money to help with bail, or maybe you know anyone who can?’

I think of Seb, but I can’t ask him for more than he’s already done. I shake my head.

It is nearly three o’clock before my case is called. I am brought in through some underground passages, cuffed again to a guard. I walk with her as she chirps brightly to me about something in the news and it hits me that my face is going to be in the papers. My blood begins to run cold in my veins and my palms begin to dampen. We emerge in the well of the court in the dock. I look around for the press but there is nothing happening in the court that feels urgent. Some people in wigs and gowns are chatting casually to one another. The judge’s bench is empty. I catch Jan’s eye and she waves at me.

A woman in a crumpled gown stands and announces the judge, and people rise and fall as he enters from the back and sits in the red chair. The courtroom is bland and tired and everyone in here seems the same. The atmosphere is more municipal than I expected.

By the time I manage to master my anxiety well enough to hear what is being said, we are midway into my hearing. The prosecutor is on her feet addressing the judge casually, almost bored.

‘The Crown oppose bail, Your Honour. This is a serious charge. The Crown say that Mr Shute is likely to fail to answer his bail. He is of no fixed abode and due to the nature and seriousness of the offence, he is likely to abscond.’

When she sits down, Jan gets straight to her feet. She attacks the room with confidence, her northern vowels softening in the process.

‘In my submission, Your Honour, there is no significant risk that he would cause injury to another person. Firstly, Mr Shute has no previous convictions for violence at all. Secondly, he denies this offence completely and cannot be considered violent on account of the allegation alone. Thirdly, Mr Shute has been bailed by the police on a number of occasions pre-charge, and answered his police bail every time. We argue that he can be considered as having a satisfactory bail address if the police have allowed him to be bailed there before.’ She sits down.

The conviction with which she has spoken fills me suddenly with hope. But it seems so minimal, what she has said. Should there be more to my freedom than these few words?

The prosecutor gets slowly to her feet and consults someone behind her. I look and see that it’s Conway. He’s here in court. My heart sinks.

‘The officer informs me, Your Honour, that Mr Shute, although not convicted of any offences of violence in the past, has been recently arrested in connection with an offence of serious violence. A middle-aged man was stabbed in the neck and left for dead, essentially.’