Blackmail by Michael Stokes

Author:Michael Stokes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2016-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Tuesday, 2 March 1999

‘Do you really think it’s a runner?’ asked Harriet Lassiter.

She was sitting at her desk in chambers reading the notes prepared by Laura Mitchell for Charles Cavan-Henry, who was lounging in Harriet’s well-worn leather armchair opposite, smiling broadly. He’d just had a rather unexpected victory in the Court of Appeal and was feeling very pleased with himself.

‘Well, I can’t think of a way round it,’ he answered. ‘Whoever drafted this statute certainly didn’t foresee the circumstances we find ourselves in. But they never do, do they?’

Harriet remained sceptical. She always operated on the basis that if something sounded too good to be true then it probably was just that – too good to be true.

‘But it doesn’t make sense. Why exclude evidence that proves a man’s guilt without a shadow of a doubt? There must be a contrary argument, surely?’

‘Ours not to reason why,’ said Charles. ‘It’s a gift from the gods, as they say, and when you think about it, it’s entirely consistent with article 8 of the European Convention. By doing what they did, the police undoubtedly interfered with my chap’s right to a private life. It simply depends how you look at it.’

‘Yes,’ said Harriet, ‘but article 8 doesn’t deal with absolutes. What are the words? “Everyone has the right to respect for his private and family life…”’

‘Well, that must include your DNA, surely?’

Charles was in no mood to be contradicted.

‘Especially if you’ve given a sample voluntarily for a specific purpose and the police promised to destroy it afterwards. They did the exact opposite and kept it on their database. We can’t have the police deliberately breaking the law, now, can we?’

Harriet continued to appear somewhat less than convinced.

‘I understand the argument. It’s superficially attractive and it’s succeeded at least once before.’

‘Really? Laura couldn’t find any reported cases directly on the point.’

‘Well, there is one.’

‘Don’t keep it to yourself, Harry. Where’s it reported?’

‘It’s not in the law reports, but I’m hoping to get a transcript of the ruling.’

‘Where did you dig this up from?’

Charles was even more ebullient.

‘I didn’t. My junior did.’

‘I thought you’d been lumbered with that old has-been Randell Richards? Couldn’t you insist on someone a bit more, er… how should I put it… contemporary?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Randell,’ cautioned Harriet. ‘Did you know about this rape case in Carlisle? It’s not in the law reports but Randell knew about it. An old mate of his was the defence junior. The judge – it was Francis Willoughby, you know, the one who has just been promoted to the Court of Appeal – ruled out a DNA profile in almost identical circumstances.’

‘Fantastic! But didn’t the Crown appeal it on a reference? Surely, it must have gone to the Court of Appeal?’

‘That’s where Randell comes in again. Apparently, the CPS messed up and put the appeal in too late. There’s a strict time limit. So as far as we know there hasn’t been a ruling from the CACD yet.’

‘So ours may be the

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