Chapter 68
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
LAUREN
The air in the courtroom is stale and claustrophobic. The public gallery has a brass guard rail tarnished from years of touch, and rows of flip-down seats reminiscent of an old-fashioned cinema. But there is nothing entertaining about today’s performance.
Lauren’s eyes never leave the dock. It is the first time she has seen Fraser in eighteen months. During the trial, she had kept her eyes trained on the jury as she gave evidence, knowing that if she so much as glanced at Fraser she would have unravelled.
He is almost unrecognizable. If she saw him in the street, she would think he reminded her of someone she once knew.
Instinctively she would flash him a smile, then realize he was a stranger to her.
Fraser’s head is shaved, and he has gained so much muscle the top button of his shirt won’t fasten.
Lauren realizes with a lurch that he is wearing the pale pink tie she chose for him.
Ten days after Fraser’s arrest, Lauren had packed up his things and taken them to his parents’ house. His mother had been quiet and red-eyed, his father angry and incredulous. Both had wanted answers Lauren couldn’t – or wouldn’t – give them.
‘I keep asking if it was my fault,’ Fraser’s mother had said, and she had so desperately wanted reassurance that Lauren had given her a tight hug and said no, it wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault but Fraser’s.
The defence had contested that, of course. They had cited the traumatic scenes Fraser had witnessed in Afghanistan; the pressures of years on a murder squad. They had talked of a broken society, of governmental instability and toxic influences to be found on the internet.
He had been found guilty.
There had never been any question – the evidence had been overwhelming – but still there had been a sudden rush of air, as though everyone in the courtroom had been holding their breath.
Fraser’s mother had cried, and, when Lauren had looked across, she’d seen that his dad’s cheeks were wet too.
She had wondered if he felt any of the guilt his wife did, misplaced or not.
They are not here for today’s sentencing.
Nadeeka has stayed away too, but there are several other parents here who want the closure of seeing justice served on the man who would have let their children die.
It has been a long and complex investigation, resulting not only in Fraser’s conviction, but in charges for Carrie Finder, Alan Ellis and Chris Morley for Jamie Golding’s murder, with associated charges brought against Mike Bishop, Damian and Peter Fletcher, and twelve other members of New Dawn proven to have been actively involved in criminal activity.
The investigation into other members of the organization continues.
The clerk calls out – ‘Will the defendant please rise?’ – and Fraser gets to his feet.
Beside Lauren, Jules Stratman shifts his foot slightly so it’s touching hers, a silent acknowledgement that this must be hard for her.
That he’s there if she needs him. They’ve been spending time together outside of work.
Just the occasional coffee, a comedy show when Jules won a pair of tickets.
There is, Lauren knows, something there, but it will be a while before she feels able to let someone into her life again.
‘I have read the pre-sentence report,’ the judge is saying, ‘and considered the reports prepared by your psychiatric team. I take their findings into account in my sentencing, just as I take into account the impact statements provided by the many victims in this far-reaching case.’
Fraser’s expression doesn’t change. His lips are a thin line, his face angular and hard as he stares at the judge.
‘You were a police officer sworn to protect the public, yet you chose instead to betray the very institution you served, pursuing the ideology of what has since become a proscribed organization in the United Kingdom. It is now a criminal offence to support or be affiliated with New Dawn.’ The judge pauses.
‘Given the nature of your crimes, I find no grounds for leniency. You are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment, with a minimum term of thirty-five years before parole may be considered.’
Lauren closes her eyes as some of the tension she has held for the last eighteen months leaves her body.
She knows better than most that banning a movement doesn’t make it disappear.
But she has confidence in her colleagues, and in society as a whole.
Together they can push back against the inevitable rise of the far right.
There are enough good apples, she thinks.
No, Lauren isn’t scared of New Dawn. But she is scared of Fraser. She sees him in her nightmares; catches sight of him in shopping malls and supermarket aisles. She hears his tread on the stairs when she’s lying in bed, and has to breathe her way back down to sanity.
When she opens her eyes again he’s looking up at the gallery, searching for someone. For her.
He locks eyes with her and a tingling runs across the back of her neck. She wants to brush it away, but she can’t move, won’t move; won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing he’s rattled her. His brows draw together a fraction.
‘Take him down,’ the judge says.
Lauren looks away as two guards escort Fraser out of the courtroom.
Out of her life.