Page 60 of Dissection of a Murder
“You’re the barrister,” he continues. “You put my case together. You find the clues. You get the evidence and make them find me not guilty. That’s your job.”
“I can’t just magic an acquittal out of thin air.”
“Everything you need is right in front of you,” he says slowly. “Like the CCTV you found.”
“You weren’t alone that night, were you?”
He smiles like a proud parent, and we stare at each other over the small table.
“No comment.” He sighs.
“For god’s sake, Jack!” I shout at him. My shrill voice bounces off the stark walls of the tiny room. “You need to take this seriously.”
I loathe the sound of my voice when I’m angry. I shouldn’t be speaking to a client like this. I don’t ever allow myself to get annoyed with people I’m representing. He goes quiet for a few moments. I think he’s going to say something profound, something helpful.
But then he smiles to himself, in a way that suggests he might be about to laugh.
“What?” I snap at him. “Something funny?”
“It’s…nothing,” he says, shaking his head and lowering his gaze toward the floor.
“What?”
“It’s just,” he says, looking up at me, “you remind me of someone.”
Davina and I glance at each other.
“Who?”
His head lowers again, almost as if he regrets sharing a small part of himself.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I give him a moment to breathe, to take stock. I don’t know what’s happening to me these days.
We all need to calm down.
“Is it true that barristers have to keep those blue books you write all your notes in for, like, years?” he says, breaking the silence.
I look at him and then Davina.
“We have to keep them for seven years. Why?”
“Does that mean you’ll still have the one you used for my last case?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should go and have a read through that,” he says, before abruptly standing up and walking to the door. The security guard comes to collect him, and he’s ushered out, leaving Davina and me in silence.
“Sounds like there might be something in your conference notes he wants us to see,” she says, like a shark who’s sensed blood in the water.
29
Leila
26 days before trial
All barristers usetraditional notebooks to prepare their cases in. Supplied by chambers, they’re encased in a rich blue exterior, A4 size, and filled with lined paper. We’re obligated to keep them for seven years once we’re done with them, in case an appeal is raised. They’re stored away in a locked room, and each barrister has their own section. As you might imagine, over the course of a year, they pile up.
