Chapter 2

Six years ago.

The judge cleared his throat and coughed, staring at the teenager in the dock of the Crown Court. "James Prutton, you are found guilty by this court of armed robbery, contrary to the Theft Act 1968. You have been a career criminal and a community nuisance since you were twelve and I am not disposed to show you leniency despite your relatively young age of sixteen. Your crime was a vicious and violent act against a peaceful community and you perpetrated a wicked and terrifying crime that has tormented your victims. Furthermore, we note that you have shown no remorse, and have not been prepared to cooperate with the Police to either recover the stolen goods or to locate the other perpetrator."

The sixteen year old in the dock wiped his face and glanced up at his family sat in the public gallery. There was no denying fear was etched on his face and the judge looked at him. "I have read the pre-sentence report and have noted your nineteen previous convictions. I therefore have no alternative but to commit you to a significant custodial sentence of ten years and one month."

"Ten years?" A blonde woman cried from the gallery. "You tell him Jamie. Who did this with you." Jamie stared at the judge who admonished the mother, reminding her that she was in court and such interruptions were not permitted. She sat back down and dried her eyes. Oliver sat speechless in the gallery as he watched his twin brother be sentenced to a youth prison and felt his arm be squeezed by his crying mother. He looked back to see his brother's girlfriend wiping her eyes and purse her lips together, rubbing her face. She threw her brown hair back and ran her hands through it.

"Sorry," she mouthed at the convicted criminal and Jamie looked up at her, blowing her a kiss as he was led away, down the stairs. Tara Prutton sobbed, her blonde hair falling over her hands and she stared down on the court and then spun around to face her son's girlfriend.

"This, this your fault," she told her, getting up and pushing her hands into the face of the teenage girl. "Ya did this."

Emma shook her head. "No," she cried and stepped backwards to avoid the flailing arms of the irate mother. "No I didn't."

Tara climbed up onto the chair and swung her arm at Emma who was backing away from the irate mother. "You fucking liar," she screamed as two court officials opened the door to the gallery. "You led 'im on. He's got ten years, you fucking beetch. Ten fucking years." Emma pushed the blonde mother away and court officials descended on the two brawling women. "Ya did it with 'im, right?"

Emma shook her head and Tara glared at her with her dark brown eyes and brought her hand up, slapping the teenager as hard as she could in the face. "You fuckin' liar." Emma shrieked and with as much force as the off-balance girl could muster smashed her fist into the face of Tara Prutton, who lost her balance and fell off her chair and against the wooden trim of the gallery.

Oliver cried out, and Emma backed away into the arms of a court official while a policeman grabbed Tara, her face leaking blood from where she had fallen against the furniture. The two women were forced out of the gallery, lead away into the exits screaming abuse at each other as Oliver looked dazed; what had just happened?

He stood there, motionless for a moment and then looked at the emptying court staring at him. He was in shock; he brother had been sent to prison and his mother had just been arrested.

"Hey kid, you OK?"

Oliver bit his lip and looked down at the reporter filing her pencil into her notebook. He nodded and the woman got up to shake his hand. "Chrissy Fuller, press."

Oliver shook it and muttered under his breath that he was "Oliver."

"I know. I've been watching you through the trial. Bet it's not easy seeing your only brother put away like that." Oliver shook his head and the reporter flashed her beautiful smile. She glanced over at the door to the public gallery. "You fancy a coffee? There is a coffee shop just outside and I want to speak to you. Tell me what James was really like?"

Oliver hesitated and the reporter took off her glasses and then looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, before placing the spectacles in her breast pocket. Oliver glanced at her large breasts and she pushed her chest out slightly. "I'm not sure—" Oliver muttered and wiped his eyes.

"Listen kid, Jamie is going to be all over the papers tomorrow now the reporting's been lifted. He is going to be big news and my editor wants to me to write about him. But I want more than that. I want to see the real Jamie Prutton 'cos he dain't look a bad kid. Help me, or my editor'll do a hatchet job."

Oliver licked his lips and sniffed. She stared at him, and pulled her blouse down a bit further, watching his expression shift. He nodded without uttering a word.

Chrissy guided the reluctant teenager to the small café and sat down in the corner with him, buying him the largest hot chocolate the small café served, along with a cookie. She clandestinely unbuttoned her top two buttons in the queue, and then flicked the Dictaphone on in her handbag as she put the tray on the table.

She looked into the tearful eyes of Oliver. "It's OK," she said soothingly, touching his shaking hands and rubbing them gently. "Tell me about James. What is the real James like?"

Oliver hesitated. "Jamie, he umm. Well he ummm."

"The whole world is going to see that he is one of the youngest people ever convicted of armed robbery, and that he has a string of convictions, what's the truth, Oliver? Why does he get involved? Is it problems at home?"

Oliver took a sip of his hot chocolate and rubbed his nose before speaking in a quiet voice. "He doesn't read too good, he's no good at school." Oliver paused and stared at the chocolate chips in the cookies and gave a brief shrug. "Teachers said there was no point in him coming to school so he stopped going. I mean I don't mind school, it's a bit shit most of the time but some of the work's OK but he just hated it."

"So you blame this on the teachers?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, I blame it on him. He was fine at home, he'd be the nice guy, always looking out for me." Oliver bit his nail and then looked back at the reporter. "When a few of the lads got a bit heavy with me, Jamie sorted 'em out. He was cool. I mean he got suspended 'cos he beat 'em up in school, like. But he only did it 'cos they were beating me up. But after that they chucked him out of the army cadets; drinking and smoking at camp. He got caught screwin' one of the gals as well, proper lost it. And he went to shit as he had nowt to do – nathin'. And then Mum started shoutin' at 'im. So it all got a bit shit at home for 'im. He went out with the girl you saw up there. He stopped doin' CDs and the like in the 'igh Street, and well he moved onto bigger things."

"The warehouse in Mill Lane?" The reporter asked.

Oliver shrugged. "Yeah. Emma wanted a new PlayStation for her birthday. He told me she said he could have a blowjob every day if he got her one. But 'e got caught. Mum just went crazy and he stormed out and did the Post Office."

"With whom?"

Oliver snorted. "I dunno. I could give ya ten names, they'd all be as likely."

"Not Emma Wallis then?"

Oliver shrugged and took a sip of his hot chocolate. "No idea. I reckon Ian, he was always 'anging around and he 'ad guns an' all. But Jamie wouldn't tell the filth so whoever it was got the money and Jamie got jail."

Chrissy licked her lips and tapped away. "Tell me about your family?"

Oliver peered into his chocolate. "There's nowt to tell," he said and then proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes telling all his family's secrets to the reporter. He felt he could trust her as she was nice and understanding and watched as she listened to everything he said.

Chrissy was lovely, Oliver thought and she even gave him a lift home in exchange for a recent photo of Jamie.

"Where's that fuckin' toe-rag?" Jamie asked with a smile as he came through the lounge door and greeted his twin brother. Jamie pulled out a torn piece of newspaper from his pocket and held it out, entitled "The teenager robber: The truth." Oliver groaned.

"I know," Oliver said, looking at his brother who had bulked out in muscle considerably since he had last seen him, as well as maturing considerably in the face and having his hair cut short. "She was so nice."

Jamie glanced up and read from the paper. "'James Prutton, known to his family and friends as Jamie, had been arrested nineteen times before being arrested for committing this armed robbery. A perpetual truant, Jamie struggled at school unlike his twin brother Oliver who is set to get at least five good GCSEs.' And I love this bit... 'allegations of violence have also been levelled against Jamie.' You spake to a fuckin' reporter didn't you?"

"Ahh well, sort of," Oliver muttered and Jamie grinned. "She was so lovely at the time."

"Ya fucking retard."

"Twas sixteen," Oliver replied instantly and Jamie just chortled, patting his brother on the back.

"Well apparently I was a dangerous nutter and well scary. That gets ya respect inside, ya know. Big respect. So well done bro."

Oliver forced a weak smile at his brother who returned a pair of quizzically raised eyebrows. He had not seen Jamie since the day he was sent down, although he had written to him an almost weekly basis; Oliver found prison too daunting to visit and Jamie had to contend himself with the odd trip from Emma for a couple of years, as well as trips from his Uncle and his mother.

Tara entered the lounge and looked at her son; she had been parking their car at the end of the road after picking Jamie up from the prison where he had served his custodial sentence. "Ya stayin' 'ere, ya go straight, ya 'ear?" Jamie was told firmly by his mother.