Chapter 23 It’ll all be fine. #2
“Of course, Judge.” Ben clears his throat.
“It is our belief that my client, Mrs Bethany Murray, did not receive her constitutional right to a fair trial. As detailed in our submissions, Mrs Murray suffers from a mental illness, an illness from which she has suffered for years. Multiple doctors have confirmed that this illness is schizophrenia. As a result of this illness, Mrs Murray has experienced violent hallucinations, in which she sees ‘a man’. Whenever Mrs Murray sees this ‘man’, she loses mental capacity. She goes into a fugue state. I have witnessed this myself, with my own eyes, Judge. As such, based on the evidence put forward, we submit to you that on the night of the murder of Joe Murray, Mrs Murray entered one of these fugue states after seeing ‘the man’. Sadly, in her panicked state, Mrs Murray lost control over her bodily actions, was unable to comprehend the difference between right and wrong and felt compelled to protect herself. Perhaps, when she saw her husband Joe, blind with fear, she could only see ‘the man’ that had been taunting her for years.” Ben takes a breath.
“We do not dispute the fact that Bethany murdered her husband. However, it is our firm belief that Mrs Murray was not in her right mind when she committed this crime. We believe she satisfies all the criteria for an insanity plea as provided for in the Criminal Law (Insanity) Act 2006. Therefore, Mrs Murray should not be held accountable to the same standard as an individual who was in their right mind. At her original trial, the issue of insanity was never brought up. The jury should have been given the option of finding Mrs Murray not guilty by reason of insanity. Accordingly, Judge, we put forward that Mrs Bethany Murray’s application for appeal should be granted as a matter of urgency.
Ordering a new trial, wherein Bethany’s mental state can be considered by a jury, is a warranted next step. ”
“And, as you’ve also stated in the application for appeal, the issue of her fitness to be tried?” Judge Murphy inquires.
Ben swallows. “Yes, Judge. Thank you for bringing that up. Findings from Dr Christina Kenny suggest that Mrs Murray, in her current state, may not be fit to be tried. It is our belief that, at her original trial, Mrs Murray may not have been fit to be tried either, thus violating her right to a fair trial.” Ben takes a sip of water.
“In summary, we are bringing this appeal based on the following grounds. Firstly, that Mrs Murray was not in her right mind when she committed this crime. As such, we request that a new trial is ordered and a new jury called. This jury should be given the opportunity to consider Mrs Murray’s mental state at the time of her husband’s murder and be given the option of finding Mrs Murray not guilty by reason of insanity.
Secondly, we are bringing this appeal on the basis that Mrs Murray may not have been fit to be tried from the outset.
We believe that the Focus Facility is not an appropriate setting for Mrs Murray.
Instead, she should be placed in a more appropriate facility, namely The Central Mental Hospital, where she can receive the treatment she requires. ”
Ben glances at me. I cannot stop a smile forming on my face. I’m so proud of him. Everything he said was perfect. And his voice did not quiver once. Ben really is a great advocate.
Judge Barry has a question for Ben. “Why is this information being brought forth now? Why did it not form part of the original trial?”
“As far as I am aware, Mrs Murray’s original barrister elected to defend this case using other methods.
Nevertheless, Judge, I think the evidence speaks for itself in this regard.
It’s clear that Mrs Murray has been suffering from schizophrenia for years.
It is entirely plausible that her husband was murdered during one of her fugue states. ”
Satisfied, Judge Barry massages her lips together. “Thank you for the explanation, Mr Kehoe.”
Judge Kennedy turns to his colleagues. “Do we have any further questions for Mr Kehoe?”
The three judges whisper to one another. I cannot decipher what they are saying.
“Very good. Thank you, Mr Kehoe. You may take your seat.”
As directed, Ben returns to his seat. Now we’re eye to eye. I wish I could hug him, tell him he did an amazing job. I’ve never seen anyone advocate so gracefully, so efficiently. I settle for subtly winking at him. He smiles in response.
“Now,” Judge Kennedy says, “we would like to invite the prosecuting barrister to make any counter arguments she believes are necessary.”
Ms Victoria Ahern steps up to the microphone.
She licks her teeth and sucks on her left cheek before speaking.
I steel myself in anticipation of what she will say.
I’m sure there are many flaws in the appeal documents that she is dying to point out.
Surely that’s why she offered such a large smile earlier – she knows something that I don’t.
I don’t know it yet, but what Ms Ahern has to say will astonish me.
“If it pleases The Court,” she remarks. “On behalf of the Director of Public Prosecutions, I would like to thank Mr Kehoe for making such a compelling argument and for drafting a detailed appeal.” She pauses for a moment, readying herself to say what is to come next.
The tension in the room is palpable. The room falls so still, you could hear a five euro note drop.
“We do not wish to make any counterarguments. If Mrs Murray was indeed suffering from a mental illness at the time of the murder and this illness satisfies all the requirements for insanity as set out in statute, we believe a new trial should be given to Mrs Murray. At this trial, the matter of Mrs Murray’s insanity can be debated by a jury, as outlined in statute.
” She takes a moment before stating, “At the Office of the DPP, we wish to uphold justice and ensure every defendant is treated fairly by the criminal justice system. Mrs Murray, just like every other defendant, is entitled to receive a fair trial. If it is concluded that her previous trial was unfair due to her unfitness to be tried or as a result of mental illness, the Office of the DPP welcomes the opportunity to try Mrs Murray again, in a fair and just way. Thank you. We have nothing further.” With that, Ms Victoria Ahern leaves the microphone and returns to her seat.
Stunned gasps are unleashed from everyone in the courtroom, even the judges.
Those that are seated in the public gallery start to mumble to one another; flabbergasted expressions fill their faces.
For me, at hearing Ms Ahern’s words, a wave of shock floods through me.
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead, my jaw falls to the ground, and my heart stops.
By the looks of it, Ben feels the exact same way as I do.
His brow is creased so tightly that I fear the muscle in his forehead is moments away from snapping.
He’s shaking his head, as if he cannot believe what he’s just heard.
Unfortunately, as she sits beside the prison officer, Bethany remains stone-faced.
She looks like she hasn’t understood a word that’s been said.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Judge Kennedy says.
He’s almost breathless he’s so surprised.
Judge Barry and Judge Murphy similarly agree.
“In the interests of justice, Judge Barry, Judge Murphy, and I will review the appeal once again. We will pay special attention to the oral submissions made today and the evidence provided by the trained mental health professionals and doctors. Our decision shall be delivered early next week and will be orally addressed to all relevant parties. Our clerk will be in contact in due course.”
With that, the hearing is complete. Within minutes, the courtroom is empty once again.
Ben drives us back to his house. It’s midday, so the traffic isn’t too bad. My stomach is gurgling with hunger. Now that the hearing is over, nerves no longer fill my stomach. It’s completely empty. And it hurts.
“I still can’t believe that happened,” Ben says, shifting in his seat so that his whole body faces me.
Though we’ve made it back to Ben’s house and parked in his driveway, we’re still sitting in his pickup.
“I’ve never heard of something like that happening before, have you?
” He unknots his cerulean tie. I do the same.
“Never.”
I study Ben. He’s over the moon. He’s practically beaming, like he is one of the hidden sun’s rays. His contentment is infectious.
“We did good work today,” I say.
Ben studies me. “That we did,” he whispers.
I peer back at him. For a moment, we remain there. In silence. Looking at each other. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.
Ben sighs. “I bet the media will have a frenzy with this.”
“Do you think we’ll be on the Six One News?” I ask, excited.
Ben giggles. “I think it’s guaranteed that we’ll be on RTé tonight.”
I frame my face with my hands. “I hope they captured my good side as we were leaving court.”
Ben rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You don’t have a bad side, Nick. You never have. And you never will.”
The compliment makes me blush. Hearing these warming words, my heart flutters. A dizzy feeling fogs over me, like I’m drunk with happiness.
Before I can reply with something just as heartwarming, Ben opens the driver’s side door. “C’mon. Let’s get inside and have something to eat. I can’t bear to listen to your rumbling stomach for much longer.”
While Ben and I were in court, it rained. A lot. Puddles of water are dotted across Ben’s driveway and throughout his housing estate. Grimly, there’s a sizeable puddle right outside the passenger side door. Looking at it, I wince.
I slowly open the door and step into the puddle.
As soon as I place all of my weight onto my now drenched foot, I slip.
There’s a thud and a splash as I fall right into the dirty puddle.
I manage to swivel to my side just in time to avoid falling on my face.
Sadly, I destroy my suit. Worse, the right side of my face is covered with brown, lumpy water.
At least none of Ben’s neighbours are around to see it.
Ben rushes over to me after I call for him and bends down to help me. He lays a kiss on my head before giving me a hand up. “What happened?”
“I fell.”
“How?” he asks, checking me for any further bruises.
I point at the puddle he parked in. “That’s how.”
I’m filthy. I can already feel the muck hardening on my face.
Ben tightens his lip, trying to supress a laugh.
Seeing this, I start to do the same. After a few seconds, we both throw our heads back, laughter consuming us.
I laugh so hard that my abdomen starts to ache, and Ben doubles over.
In that moment, when I realise that Ben is the one that always manages to bring a smile to my face or a thrilled flutter to my chest, I comprehend the true depth of my feelings.
Ben Kehoe, I’m in love with you.
The laughter dies down. Ben takes me in his arms. He kisses the top of my head. Then, he kisses the cheek that isn’t stained by dirt. In his arms and beneath his protective gaze, I’ve never felt safer.
“I love you,” Ben whispers into my ear. He kisses my cheek again and looks me in the eye. “I really do love you, Nick.”
Tender, affectionate warmth spools through my chest. It’s formidable. It melts away the giant, cold block of loneliness that was left by Tom, replacing it with a new, joy-filled happiness.
Gazing up at his beautiful face, I whisper back, “I love you too, Ben.”