Page 106 of Dissection of a Murder
“Where was your female friend at this point?”
“She’d gone into the bedroom with all her clothes. There was no trace of her. He launched straight into a panicked rant about how his son can’t go to prison because he has his whole life ahead of him, and how dare I blackmail him.”
“How did he appear, physically?”
“I could smell whiskey on his breath. He kept saying his son was about to go to Cambridge to do law, and he wouldn’t have me messing that up for him because of a mistake. That’s what he called Lewis’s murder—a mistake.”
I hear sighs and tuts from around the courtroom as the evidence is given. Jesus, this is risky. He’s completely blackening Anton’s character here.
“How did you respond?”
“I said it was hypocritical of him to come round here saying that, given he was a judge. I was disgusted, to be honest.”
“What happened next?”
“He kept saying, ‘How much do you want for the video?’ He was offering me stupid amounts of money for it.”
“How much?”
“First, he said five thousand, but the offer kept going up each time I said no. Eight thousand. Ten thousand. Crazy amounts. His last offer was thirty thousand pounds. When I said no to that, he realized I wasn’t playing. That’s when he became really angry.”
“What made you think he was angry?”
“He started raising his voice and pacing around the kitchen. He just kept saying, ‘I can’t have a criminal son. He can’t go to prison.’ Then it escalated to the point where I got scared.”
“Can you describe exactly what you mean by escalated?”
“He picked up a kitchen knife, which was in one of those wooden knife blocks, you know, for really sharp knives, and pointed it at me. I was standing about four feet away at this point and he was, like, wild, in his eyes. It was as if he had just completely lost control. He said, ‘Do you know what this will do to his mother?’ ”
“How did you respond?”
“I held my hands up and said, ‘Look, I know you’re upset, but he needs to do the right thing and go to the police. This isn’t my fault. Put the knife down.’ ”
“And did he?”
“Well, he didn’t really get the chance.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s when she got involved.”
“Who?”
“I won’t say her name. Let’s call her, I don’t know, let’s call her…X.”
Taking my advice from all those years ago and saying nothing until trial is the smartest thing Jack has ever done. Everyone’s attention is now diverted toWitness X. Let’s hope she sounds credible to this jury, or Jack is going to prison for the rest of his life.
53
Witness X
Friday, September 6, 2024
10:32 p.m.
You couldn’t makethis shit up. Even I couldn’t, and I’ve lied my entire life. I found myself standing behind the bedroom door, wearing only my thong and a T-shirt of Jack’s I’d found on the bed. I couldn’t close the door properly because the stupid kettlebell—yes, that one—was holding it half open.
Which, of course, meant I heard everything they talked about through the crack where the door met the frame.
