Chapter 61 Leila
Leila
R v Jack Millman
The importance of today weighs heavily on every single person in this courtroom.
I’ve had, at most, three hours’ sleep. Julian and I remained in separate rooms all night; even in the midst of what happened, neither of us can afford any drama before today.
I am physically and emotionally wrecked.
The bags under my eyes communicate as much.
I didn’t even use a brush this morning; I simply scraped my hair back into a ponytail (the wig will cover it anyway).
My eyeliner looks as if it’s been drawn on by a toddler.
Never in a million years did I expect the last day of the trial to be like this.
I had an urgent breakfast meeting before court and then literally ran to court just in time to meet Davina, so we could head down to the cells to see Jack.
When they bring him in, I feel an overwhelming sense of emotion and I inhale deeply, while trying to be subtle about it. It will do no good for the others to see how nervous I am. How much this trial means to me, too. We can only work clinically for so long—I have this man’s freedom in my hands.
“How are you, Jack?” I inquire. It’s a stupid question, but I ask it anyway.
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Neither did I.” I smile. “You set the court alight yesterday.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“For what it’s worth, I think we now have the best chance you’ll ever have at being found not guilty. But you never know with a jury. At the end of the day, it all depends on their biases.”
“Whether they believe me or the judge’s son?”
“Not technically,” Davina answers. “It’s a case of whether enough doubt has been cast on the prosecution’s case.
They’ve heard all the evidence they’re going to hear now, so they have to go away and discuss it, then decide.
We can only hope we’ve persuaded at least three of them to question the prosecution enough that they cannot, legally, find you guilty. ”
“So, that’s it?” he asks eagerly, facing me. “No more evidence? That’s all the jury will hear?”
I swallow hard. I know he wants something more, but I can’t give it to him.
“Yes, that’s it.”
He is fidgeting again, scraping his hair back.
“I’m going to be found guilty, aren’t I?” he whispers. His breathing has become heavy.
“Jack, it’s OK,” I tell him. Placing my hand gently on his arm, I wait until his eyes are level with mine. “It’s going to be OK.”
He nods quickly, anxious to believe me. To trust me.
“Whatever happens, we will deal with it.”
The truth is, I’m as terrified as he is.
I walk into court a different person from yesterday, as does Julian. The tension in the air feels impossibly thicker than it has over the last two days.
Everyone slots into their positions, making way to start at 10:30 a.m. sharp.
“Mr. Kesler,” the judge says, inviting Julian to begin his speech.
He looks dreadful, like a man who’s been up all night, which he very likely has.
Far from the slick pro who appeared on day one of this trial.
He now stands before the jury as a tired, unshaven arsehole who requires notes to lead his speech.
The jury still hang on to Julian’s words, though, as they always do. Even operating at 50 percent, he’s still a better advocate than most.
“Where is this mystery lover?” he asks during his closing submissions. “Isn’t it ludicrous to suggest that someone who professes to love you would rather risk you being sent to prison for life than admit to a crime they themselves committed? Does that sound like love to you?
“Jack Millman is a liar who commits heinous crimes and then spins elaborate stories in the hope that jurors fall for them. He is untrustworthy. He is a cold-blooded killer. And I invite you to find him guilty of murder.”
Julian emphasizes all the evidence that goes against us: no comment throughout the investigation, the length of time it took to call an ambulance, the bungled attempt to “hide” the murder weapon, not to mention the sheer unbelievability of Jack’s version of events.
Some of them nod along, but others remain stony-faced. Occasionally, some of them turn their heads to look at Jack in the dock, as if thinking, Are you capable of what he’s saying? Are you?
When he finishes, Julian sits dramatically, swishing his robes out of the way before doing so. I always used to think it was cool. Now I just find it irritating.
Being the advocate closest to the jury box, I stand and turn toward it. I’m about five feet away. All twelve jurors stare at me, waiting for me to convince them my client isn’t guilty of murder.
“What kind of man is Jack Millman?” I begin. “He is the kind of man who has affairs with married women,” I say slowly, making eye contact with every single juror. “That doesn’t sit well with most of you, does it? It doesn’t sit well with me, either.
“You may find his relationships unpalatable. You might consider his lifestyle unsettling. But you are not here to judge this man on where his moral compass lies. So, what is this case really about? At the heart of this case is the death of a man, a husband and father. You are tasked with deciding whether Jack Millman murdered Anton Smythe. His defense is simple—‘It was someone else.’ It seems to me this case can be summarized by the following: good people do bad things. Conversely, bad people can also do good things.”
I’ve hooked them. Each one has locked eyes with me. They don’t know where I’m going with this. There are various angles I could have taken. I decided to change tactics at the last minute. I hope it’s enough.
“By all accounts, Jack Millman is a ‘bad’ person. As soon as he was old enough to be in it, he entered the prison system. You, like anyone, would have him down as guilty from the off. But he’s also the kind of man to be up front about his past. I could have prevented you, the jury, from knowing all about his background.
I could have made an application to stop the prosecution from telling you about his previous convictions, but Jack Millman stopped me.
That’s the kind of person Jack Millman is.
Ask yourselves, are those the actions of a man who has anything to hide?
“Jack Millman is the kind of man who, by the Crown’s own admission, had the opportunity to flee the scene of this murder, but didn’t. He had a window of time to make a run for it but chose to face the police and go willingly to the station. It was he who called 999 to seek medical help.
“So, let me ask the question again. What kind of man is Jack Millman? I would say he is a man who would rather risk life imprisonment for an offense he didn’t commit than destroy the life of someone else.
He is a man who cares more about protecting a vulnerable, scared woman than his own welfare.
And let’s not forget the vital piece of evidence in this case—the murder weapon, the kettlebell.
DCI Brady himself said it was used by someone who had “no knowledge of evidence or criminal law” and that replacing it by the door was a “poor attempt to manipulate a crime scene.” Jack Millman has been in the justice system since he was ten years old.
It is nonsensical to suggest he would have made such a rookie mistake.
“How easy it is to judge others from a distance,” I continue.
“It would be easy for me to stand here and paint Anton Smythe as a morally corrupt criminal judge who breached every ethical code by going to visit Jack Millman that night. It would be easy—given Jack Millman’s evidence—for me to smear Anton Smythe as a nasty, vindictive, aggressive, privileged toff who deserved what happened to him.
That is what the prosecution wants me to say.
“Unfortunately, life is not black and white. It is filled with a spectrum of gray. It is complex, layered, nuanced. And so is this trial. You are not here to cast the easiest judgment. You are here to make the correct one.
“I submit to you that Anton Smythe was a good man, a dedicated husband, and, above all, a caring father—and it was this that led him to Jack’s flat on that fatal night.
No parent wants to see their child in trouble.
But he got it wrong. His professional role in the criminal justice system skewed his perception of what action to take, and that was a mistake. Why?
“Because, sometimes, even good people do bad things. We are all flawed. Even Anton Smythe.
“Enter Jack Millman—always choosing the wrong path, always making the wrong decisions. He saw Anton’s actions as wrong and refused to cooperate.
Ironic, isn’t it? Coming from a criminal.
But, we have evidence of Jack speaking to Quinn a week before the murder.
Something that, crucially, Quinn lied about under oath.
The facts are there, ladies and gentlemen.
Jack is the one who made the right decision on that night when he refused to take the money Anton Smythe offered him.
“Bad people do good things. Now, there may be some of you who have listened to all of this and thought it nonsense. Too ridiculous, too outrageous, to believe. That this is an open-and-shut case.
“I’d say this to you. If someone took a snapshot of any moment in your life, can you guarantee it would be representative of the true situation? Or would it, perhaps, involve a more complicated story? Life is complex. There is a story behind everything.”
Jury speeches don’t hinge on facts, they rely on connection.
I speak to each and every one of the men and women on the jury and appeal to their human nature.
Most people like to think they’re nothing like the criminals we hear about, but the truth is we’re all only a few steps away from ending up in the dock.
Having laid out my case, I then run through the forensics and evidence of each prosecution witness, pointing out inconsistencies and doubt where I can.
“It is for you to consider, ladies and gentlemen: is Jack a cold-blooded killer? One who struck Anton Smythe with a kettlebell and then sat on his sofa watching him die? Or is it more complicated than that? Was it, in fact, not Jack who killed him at all? The defense says you cannot be sure he is guilty, and I invite you to acquit.”