Over the Hills and Faraway, Book 5. Paying the Piper
Chapter 9: Justice is Blind
Copyright© 2015 by Jack Green
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 9: Justice is Blind - Dewey Desmond knew the transition from military to civilian life would be a challenge, but was unprepared for the shocks, surprises ... and some successes ... encountered as he made his way through the turbulent first ten years of the new Millennium, his path strewn with tragedies, triumphs, disasters and delights ... the latter female of course. Follow him to the conclusion of Over the Hills and Faraway; the journey of a life.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Mult Consensual Drunk/Drugged Heterosexual Cheating Revenge Rough Group Sex Black Female Oral Sex Anal Sex Tit-Fucking Analingus Violent
July 5th, 2002. Chelmsford Crown Court.
Next morning the court opened at 9am, and the courtroom was packed. Adultery, drug dealing, and underage sex. What other revelations would be forthcoming?
V-P called me into the witness box and took me through the story of me coming home and finding Miriam and Hodge at it in the bedroom. I described my attempt to hit Hodge — a baited hook which V-P hoped Blackburn would swallow — my action of putting the house up for sale and starting divorce proceedings; of looking for accommodation and employment well away from Plaistow. All his questions, and my answers, were designed to show the jury my eagerness to distance myself from Hodge, my wife, and Plaistow.
V-P then came to the evening of the assault. He questioned me regarding the circumstances of Hodge attacking me as I walked towards the pub exit, especially what Hodge said to me, and my reply.
"Tell me, Mister Desmond," V-P said, "why did you answer Hodge's taunt of having a small penis by mentioning underage sex?" This was another baited hook, and I wondered how much input V-P had into Jenny Walsh's 'account' of what passed between Hodge and I in the White Swan that evening.
"I knew Miss Walsh to be under-age. She's a local Plaistow girl," I replied.
"What about Hodge, would he have known she was underage?"
"I would think so," I said. "He's a local boy, his parents only lived two streets away from my parents."
V-P then took me through the actual fight. "Were you trained in unarmed combat during your army service, your twenty three years of army service, Mister Desmond?"
"Most certainly. I qualified as a paratrooper, and 'Expert' standard in unarmed combat is mandatory for airborne trained troops," I replied. "Unarmed combat is also form of physical training in the army. We practiced the techniques several times a week."
"So it became second nature to you?" V-P led me through the questions and answers we had rehearsed.
"Yes, the object of the training is to make it second nature."
V-P finished questioning me and handed me over to Blackburn, who had been scribbling away as V-P put me through my paces.
Lord Justice Parkinson, looking pleased with himself, and a wee bit tired, then adjourned for a half hour tea break. I expect Jenny was stashed away in his robing chamber, ready to teabag him.
After the break Blackburn came out of his corner like Rocky Balboa.
"How is it you practically killed Mister Hodge on the twelfth of June, when he made a slight joke about your penis, but failed to do him any damage when you found him in bed with your wife on the second of May? How is it your vaunted 'second nature' unarmed combat skills were not present then, but miraculously returned on the twelfth of June? I put it to you that during those intervening six weeks you practiced, and honed, your unarmed combat skills in a local gymnasium," he glanced at his notes, "run by the Clapton Football Club, determined to attack Mister Hodge when you deemed your 'second nature' skills of a level you knew would cause Mister Hodge grievous bodily harm. In fact you fully and knowingly intended doing him grievous bodily harm, the crime for which you have been arrested and charged." He smiled at me as if to say 'Gotcha'.
"When I arrived home, and discovered Hodge in bed with my wife, I had been travelling for two days from Afghanistan," I said.
After returning from his teabag break Parkinson sat dozing in his chair when Blackburn started his cross examination, but his head jerked up when he heard my reply, and he stared at me with interest as I continued.
"The combination of the pain killers, given to me after being wounded, and jet lag, made me slightly less than fully fit, in fact I was practically dead on my feet. I swung an out of range punch at Hodge, who smacked me on the head with a whisky bottle, and I went down like a sack of sh ... potatoes. Not much of a demonstration of my unarmed combat skills, I agree."
Blackburn looked sick.
"Can this Afghanistan wounding information be corroborated?" Lord Justice Parkinson asked V-P.
"Yes indeed, My Lord." V-P rose from his seat to reply, delighted Blackburn had taken the first hook. "I have a statement signed by Mister Desmond's commanding officer in Afghanistan, confirming Mister Desmond was seriously wounded on the sixth of March while saving the life of a comrade, and due to his wounds he was invalided out of the army, arriving back in the UK on the second of May, the date of Hodge's adultery with Mister Desmond's wife."
Blackburn looked even sicker, but doggedly continued in his attempt to convict me of causing grievous bodily harm with intent. "Have you used these skills, which you claim are 'second nature', on anyone other than Mister Hodge?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Could you be more specific?" Blackburn said, with a sneer on his face and in his voice. "Where, when, and with whom would be more than helpful."
Second hook taken, and I enjoyed employing the gaff.
"Mount Longdon. June the twelfth nineteen eighty-two. Argentinian Marine Corps, members of."
Once again Parkinson peered intently at me; Blackburn went a whiter shade of pale.
Before Parkinson could ask, V-P said. "Mister Desmond was awarded the Military Medal for his Falklands service, My Lord. The documentation is here if required."
Parkinson waved a hand. "I don't doubt it, Mister Avery-Preece." He turned to me and said in a quiet, sad, voice, "Were you a member of the Third Battalion of the Parachute Regiment? My son was serving in the battalion when he was killed on Mount Longdon."
I felt immensely sorry for the old man, still grieving for a son killed on a barren mountain so far from home, and I hoped Jenny Walsh was giving Lord Justice Parkinson the shagging of his life.
"No, My Lord, I was a Greenjacket attached to Three Para."
Blackburn must have been knocked sideways with what he walked into: Hodge's behaviour of shagging the wife of a wounded war hero would demonise him, which would weigh heavily in my favour when the jury came to give their verdict. However, give Blackburn his due, undetered by the set back he continued in his attempt to pin GBH with Intent on me, and cunningly posed a pertinent question.
"Did you employ the technique of falling on the chest and faces of members of the Argentinian Marine Corps, or did you employ it specifically to inflict more ghastly injuries to Mister Hodge?" He spoke with some vehemence, desperate to land a knockout blow.
"It was an accident," I answered indignantly. "I tripped over his feet and fell on top of him."
"Rather a fortuitous accident," Blackburn smirked, "which resulted in a broken nose, a fractured cheek, a broken jaw and several teeth, fractured ribs and sternum, with severe bruising to several internal organs. The horrendous injuries inflicted by you on Mister Hodge also include a detached retina, compound fracture to his left leg, and a knee joint that can never be rebuilt, a fractured wrist, with several broken fingers, and ruptured testicles. Mister Hodge will never be able to father children, and will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. If that isn't Grievous Bodily Harm with Intent I don't know what is."
I then had to carry out the most gut wrenching and detestable act of my life. V-P insisted I make a full, open court, apology to Hodge for the damage inflicted on him, which needed to sound contrite and convincing, when all I wanted to do was yell 'serves the bastard right, job done.'
However, V-P said I would definitely be banged up if I didn't express 'genuine remorse'. I still might get a custodial sentence, but extenuating circumstances might be taken into account if I made an abject apology. I swallowed my pride, and took a deep breath.
"I am deeply sorry for the injuries Mister Hodge sustained when he attacked me. My army training had been so thorough it was instinctive to react in the way I did. Unfortunately, I then inadvertently, and quite unintentionally, caused more injuries to Mister Hodge when I fell on top of him after his flailing feet kicked my legs from under me. I deeply regret all and any of my actions that resulted in Mister Hodge being confined to a wheel chair for life. The memory of the injuries I inflicted on him will be haunt me for the rest of my days."
Too bloody right they will; I'll raise a glass, or three, on every anniversary of putting the shitehawk out of action, a wonderful yearly birthday celebration.
Blackburn didn't seem overly impressed with my abject apology, but it wasn't him to whom the apology had been directed. He returned to the act of me falling on top of Hodge.
"There is nothing in the evidence Miss Walsh gave of Mister Hodge's feet tripping you up, or kicking your legs from under you," he said.
He asked the Court stenographer to read what Jenny had said. She read the 'English' version. 'Mister Hodge fell heavily to the floor, exhibiting all the symptoms of great pain, the accused fell on top of Mister Hodge, then several members of the local constabulary arrived'.
As the stenographer finished speaking V-P got to his feet.
"If it please you, My Lord?" Parkinson indicated that he could speak, and he and Blackburn came up to below the Judges Bench and a discussion ensued. The body of the court wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on their conversation, but I could as the dock was one side of the Judge and the witness box the other.
"The court stenographer read the 'translated' account of Miss Walsh's evidence, which mentions 'exhibiting all the symptoms of great pain ' I suggest the original version is consulted," V-P said.
Parkinson agreed, and the Court stenographer then read Jenny's actual words; a rather a surreal undertaking as her well-modulated vowels interwangled with east London slang. ' ... Marty goes down like a sack of shit and rolls around the floor screaming like his balls had been cut off and the geezer falls over him and then the Old Bill come in mob handed.' The stenographer finished, blushing slightly.
V-P politely thanked her. "I would suggest that as Mister Hodge was rolling about on the floor it is quite feasible his and the accused's feet became entangled, causing the accused to accidently fall on top of Mister Hodge."
Parkinson slowly nodded, but Blackburn wasn't having any of it. "There is no evidence of an entanglement of feet," he insisted. "Miss Walsh does not mention any such thing."
Then V-P made his move, demonstrating his outstanding skill as a barrister. "Of course," he mused, "Miss Walsh could be recalled, and asked specifically if feet were entangled, but I wouldn't want to put the sweet child through any further trauma by having to reappear in the courtroom." V-P continued, with a killer stroke. "I think we can leave it to the common sense of the jury to determine if the accused fell deliberately or accidentally on top of Mister Hodge."
This of course is a heresy which flies in the face of everything lawyers are taught. Namely, never allow the jury make up their own minds; you make up their minds for them.
Blackburn fell into the trap. He was like a bull in the corrida, who had been prodded and poked and got twisted all around. All he could see was the lone figure of the matador, his tormenter. He would chance all in a mad charge and trample him.
"I think Miss Walsh should be recalled and her evidence re-examined, and I insist that she is." He said trenchantly, failing to register Parkinson's scarcely suppressed anger.
"I will make a note of your demand, Mister Blackburn," Lord Parkinson said in icy tones. The time was about 11.45, and it wouldn't have taken too long for Jenny to be called from the witness room, or more likely Parkinson's robing chamber, give her evidence and then the trial adjourned for lunch at 12.30, as in the normal way, but Parkinson announced. "I will order an early recess for lunch. Re-convene at one p.m."
With that he got up and left the Bench so quickly half the courtroom were still seated; a terrible lapse of etiquette which went unoticed by Judge Parkinson in his haste to leave.
V-P laughed. "I happen to know Jenny Walsh spent last night in Parky's hotel room. As far as I know she returned there after Parky's mid-morning teabag break. It would have taken twenty minutes or so to get her back to the courthouse, and I expect she is now in bed or under the shower, awaiting Parky for his lunch time shag. He will not be best pleased with Blackburn, who can say goodbye to any advancement in the CPS."
Dead on 1 p.m. Parkinson strode into the court with a self satisfied and pleased expression on his face, at least until his eye lit on Blackburn.
Jenny was recalled as a witness, and she came into court dressed much the same as the day before, but exuding not just sex appeal but all the vibes of a well shagged young woman. She glowed as she walked into the witness box, wearing the smile of the sated and the satisfied. My estimation of Parkinson went up several hundred notches.
Blackburn tried to smarm around her. "I'm sorry to have you recalled, Miss Walsh. It was a difficult decision to make, but I'm sure you would agree that justice must not only be done but must be seen to be done?" Jenny giggled, and threw a knowing glance at Parkinson, who stared straight ahead.
Blackburn realised his faux pas and said quickly. "Would you please describe, in as much detail as possible, the events after Mister Hodges fell to the floor?"
Jenny pursed her lips in thought, a delicious display of pouting, luscious, invitation ... both Parky and I groaned at the seductive sight.
"It all 'appened so quick, like; one minute Marty was yellin' blue murder, ready to brain the bloke wiv a bottle an' the next minute 'e was on the floor screamin' sumfink 'orrible an' 'oldin' 'is goolies, wrivin' an' rollin' ahbaat wiv 'is legs frashin' an' kickin'..." She stopped as if a light had switched on inside her head. "That's why the bloke fell on top of Marty, 'is feet must 'ave been been kicked from under 'im." She grinned triumphantly. "Stands to reason, dunnit?"
Blackburn looked as if it had been him who had been kicked in the balls.
"Can you say, without any doubt, the accused's feet were knocked from under him by Mister Hodge?" He was still trying to get a result but was flogging a dead horse.
"No, I bloody well can't," snapped Jenny, clearly fed up with Blackburn. She turned to Parky with a winsome smile." Pardon my French, My Lord."
Parky smiled at her benignly.
Jenny turned back to face Blackburn. "It all 'appened so quick. Marty was wrivin' about on the floor, with the bloke stood right over 'im. Marty must 'ave kicked 'is feet from under 'im. Stands to reason dunnit?" She looked out to the courtroom, and everyone nodded in agreement.