Page 115 of Dissection of a Murder
Because, while Julian has been looking incredibly smug, sitting at the opposite end of the advocates’ bench, what he didn’t realize was that he just handed me a grenade.
And I’m about to pull the pin.
57
Leila
R v Jack Millman
Day 2
12:14 p.m.
I watch as alltwelve jurors shift to sit up straight as Quinn Smythe makes his way back into the witness box. They are intrigued. Eager to hear his side of the story. Good. At least I have their attention. He looks a lot less sure of himself than he did before.
“Mr. Smythe, before we begin,” the judge speaks, “I remind you that you are under oath. Do you understand what that means?”
“Yes.”
“That it is a criminal offense to lie to this court?”
“Yes,” he replies quietly. He keeps his head down, refusing to look at anyone.
I need to approach this very carefully. Quinn Smythe has just become our most important witness.
“Mr. Smythe, you’ve heard what Mr. Millman said. After you gave your evidence, you listened to him make some very serious allegations against you, particularly in relation to the death of Lewis Sorrington.”
“My Lady.” Julian stands up and interrupts. “This trial concernsthe murder of Anton Smythe, this witness’s father. Tragic though it may be, the death of this other boy is not this court’s concern.”
“Your Ladyship,” I respond robustly, “this issue is pivotal to the defendant’s case. It sheds light on why Mr. Smythe was at Mr. Millman’s home to begin with and illustrates his state of mind. Of establishing a threat to the defendant. It is relevant.”
“I’ll allow it,” the judge says. “Tread carefully, Miss Reynolds. I know where you’re going with this. Mr. Smythe, before you answer anything further, I must warn you that as a witness in these proceedings, you are entitled to avoid any self-incrimination and therefore may refuse to answer any questions that would put you at risk of criminal prosecution. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he says. I watch his chest quickly rise and fall. He’s trying to appear calm, but he knows I’m onto him.
I dive straight in.
“Quinn Smythe, are you responsible for the death of Lewis Sorrington?”
He grips the side of the witness box.
“No,” he says immediately. “There’s no evidence of it. It’s his word against mine.”
“Is it?” I ask.
“Yes. He has no proof.”
“Have you told the truth during this trial?”
“Yes,” he says, looking at the jury. He can’t look at me.
“When you gave your evidence yesterday, I asked if you’d ever met Jack Millman outside of Innocence. Do you remember what your answer was?”
“I said I hadn’t.”
“Can you confirm you had taken the oath before you gave your evidence?”
“I did.”
