Page 4 of Dissection of a Murder
I realize I’m staring at the paper and that my heart rate has increased. I’m used to the adrenaline that comes with the job, but this is on another level.
“You want me toleada murder trial?” I ask. The words sound ridiculous coming out of my mouth. I feel embarrassed saying them. “Ican’t. I’m not a KC. I’ve never gone near a murder before. I’ll have to return it. I’m not doing it.”
“Don’t freak out,” Jim says calmly, as if he were talking to a toddler who’s just realized they were riding a bike without training wheels.
“I can’t just defend a murder trial. And notthisone! The murder of a judge! If it goes wrong, I’ll look completely incompetent, and I’ve no chance of winning. Why do I have to do it?”
“Because Jack Millman specifically asked for you to represent him. Cab-rank rule, Miss Reynolds—if a client wants you to represent them, you can’t turn them down unless you’re not qualified for the case. I’ve spoken to Chester; he thinks you are.”
“Does he?” I frown but am secretly delighted Chester believes I can pull off something like this.
“I understand why you’re worried,” Jim says in his “dad voice.” “The last time you represented him was…problematic.”
As understatements go, it’s a big one. I represented Jack Millman five years ago for assault, and that case made me question everything—the law, the system, whether I should even do this anymore.
“But you’re more experienced now,” he goes on. “And you must have done something right because he wants you again. I thought you’d be pleased. Big, juicy case. Something like this will throw you into the legal stratosphere. You heard the quote: ‘future KC.’ You could be, after this.”
“It’ll be messy,” I tell him. “I can feel it.”
“Well, he also ‘doesn’t trust barristers,’ apparently, just to add that to the mix.”
“Sounds like him.” I sigh. “Who’s the solicitor?”
“Jessops. Davina called me about it this afternoon. She’s content for you to defend.”
This, in itself, is a red flag.
Jessop Solicitors is the biggest firm in Durham. Run by solicitor husband-and-wife team David and Davina Jessop; they get all the big, dubious cases, and always advise their clients to answer no comment in interview. If you’re represented by them, there’s always more to the story.
“OK, so which barrister is prosecuting it?”
He attempts to phrase something several times before coming out with “That’s the other tiny little thing I need to mention.”
I know exactly what he’s going to say.
“Tell me this is a joke, Jim.”
He doesn’t reply. He screws up his face, pretending to be sorry, but—make no mistake—he’s relishing the drama.
“Jim,” I say, perching on the edge of the desk and pushing my fingers hard into my temples. “Please don’t tell me my first murder trial is going to be prosecuted by Julian. He taught me everything I know.”
Not Julian,pleasenot Julian. My pupilmaster, the best barrister in chambers, the one who trained me, nurtured me. The most feared prosecutor on our circuit.
And my husband.
2
Leila
I’ve always beenable to spot him in a crowd, ever since my first day as a pupil thirteen years ago. I was a fresh-faced twenty-three-year-old who knew everything about the law and nothing about life. Julian Kesler showed me how to merge the two. When Innovation Chambers in Durham offered me pupillage straight out of law school, I immediately went to their website and looked up my pupilmaster, as they used to be called. They’ve since been renamed the less archaic and BDSM-sounding “pupil supervisor,” but I can’t ditch the habit of using it.
I remember the excitement I felt, hearing he was going to be my guide over the next twelve months. Pupillage is the intense practical training period you must complete before becoming a qualified barrister, when you’re assigned to work closely with a senior member of chambers during the first six months. In the second six months, you’re given your own clients, but your pupilmaster shapes you into the barrister you become. The bond you form is long-lasting and special.
I spent hours searching the internet for information about Julian Kesler. I wanted to know everything about him; this was the man who would teach me how to be a brilliant advocate, construct crushing cross-examinations, deliver the most persuasive closing speeches.
Julian showed me how to do it all.
He’s talking in hushed tones to a couple of other barristers in the corner of the attic lounge. Rain lashes down the sloped windows behind him. Like most buildings in Durham, ours is beautifully old and we’re lucky to call it our professional home.
