You Don't Know Me

So what I was trying to say was that this barrister for the prosecution, he likes to try and confuse you, but you can’t let him do that. You have to clear away his smoke and look at the thing he’s trying to say, properly. He likes smoke because when there’s smoke your natural thing is to shut your eyes. Another thing he likes to do though is to add up all the tiny pieces of evidences and make a great big thing out of them. He takes a little piece here and another tiny piece here and says to you, ‘Look at how big all these pieces are when you add them up.’

When I was a little kid we had this massive bucket at primary school with all these Lego pieces in it. This wasn’t the racist school I was later put in. This was quite a nice place as I remember it. The walls were yellow. I remember that. And the chairs. I remember the little tiny chairs. Anyway Lego. I love Lego because, one, you can make anything out of it and two, it’s indestructible. That’s why all schools have them I reckon. That shit just doesn’t break which means it’s been there for ever. You probably all had a go at Lego. You probably all loved it. You probably even wondering why you ever stopped playing with it. You probably can’t even think of one bad thing to say about Lego. But I can.

The bad thing about maybe all Lego and definitely this Lego at my school was that there was never enough of the right Lego. There was never enough of the pieces you needed to make your thing, rocket-ship, house, car, whatever. You’d be making your house out of red Legos and then there’d be no red ones left because some snotty kid would have taken it. So then you’d move on to the blue pieces and when they ran out, the yellow ones. But even when you’d used all the normal Lego bricks there still wouldn’t be enough. So then you’d have to use some next pieces, like those thin long pieces and even some of them flat grey triangle ones. Then finally when you were finished, your house or whatever would have all these crazy things on it like wheels instead of windows and random pointy bits in the walls. And you’d say, ‘Miss, look at my house!’ But it wasn’t any house anybody had ever seen before. It was like some crazy nightmare house. And I knew, even then, when I was five or whatever, that when you put pieces together they have to be the right pieces. They have to fit or else it’s not a real thing. It’s an almost thing. Or a thing that nearly looks like the thing.

That’s what he, this QC, likes to do. It’s enough for him for the evidence to nearly look like a thing.

So anyway where was I? This is proper hard. It looks easy on the TV. You say a few words. You make the jury believe you, you cry, the jury cry, the jury say ‘Not Guilty’. In my mind that was what it was going to be like. After I wrote out that bit at the beginning, Palmerston and all that shit and when I realized that I was in deeper than I thought, I wrote some ideas down of what I need to say. I reckoned I could just spit it out like some bad lyrics you get me? But this shit is hard. I got like fifty points I need to make but each one is taking long and I keep getting lost. So although it looks like I’m just chatting random shit but I’m not. It’s all important. I’m just like finding it hard to keep tracks of all these little things I know I have to say but that I don’t know how to say. And then there’s also this other thing … And the more I think about it, the more I think I definitely need you to know it – laters though. It will make more sense, later.

Where was I? So yeah, this is what I wanted to say. The prosecutor is just doing all this mashing things together and making it into something that it ain’t. So he is saying that one day I am having an argument with the boy and I say something to him, and next minute he winds up being shot in the head. He says that I must have shot him because I had some beef with him, or whatever, but that there is just another one of his sneaky things he likes to come out with. You have to look at it though. You have to use your senses. What is the motive? Why was I supposed to have shot him? What, because of the waste man thing? No one shoots no one because of some random argument he’s had or there wouldn’t be any kids left in London.

The prosecution is saying that they don’t really have to prove motive. Maybe that is right what he is saying. He knows the law innit? What I say though is even if they don’t have to prove a motive, you should look for a motive. Because he was shot. If you try and find what the reason for his shooting was you might end up with something. Maybe that’s why Mr QC don’t want to go there. But that don’t mean you shouldn’t go there. So what’s it all about? Who would have a reason to shoot him if it wasn’t me?