When the Night Ends, page 16
‘Dad…’
Eve was standing at the door. Why hadn’t he heard her coming down the stairs?
‘Are you crying?’
‘No, not really, tired, that’s all.’ He wiped his eyes again.
‘Did you sleep last night? I went in your room and saw the bed hadn’t been slept in.’
He could tell a white lie and say he’d already made the bed, but he decided after his lecture on honesty, he should tell her the truth. ‘No, I spent the night working, checking some video.’
‘You know it’s not good for you, Dad, your health…’
‘I know, it’s just this case…’
‘It’s always just a case, Dad. But what would I do if you weren’t around?’
‘Sleep late every day?’
She hit his chest softly. ‘Don’t joke, I’m serious.’
‘I know.’ It was his turn to hold out his hand with the little finger extended. ‘It won’t happen again, I promise.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Jesus, is that the time? Let’s get moving, little lady.’
Chapter Forty-Four
At the coroner’s office, Ridpath briefed Sophia on what needed to be done before the meeting with Saunders.
He had just finished when Jenny popped her head around the door. ‘There’s a Mr Mallender here to see you. I’ve put him in the interview room.’
‘Thanks, Jenny.’
‘You want me to come with you, Ridpath?’ asked Sophia.
He shook his head. ‘It’s more important you stay here and finish the document deck for Saunders. The interview won’t take me long.’
Neil Mallender had the slightly red-faced, podgy look of a drinker. He stood looking out of the window at the mean streets of Stockfield, turning back to face Ridpath as soon as he entered.
‘How long is this going to take? I have to be at work soon.’
Ridpath ignored the question and gestured for the man to sit.
‘It’s Mr Mallender, isn’t it?’
The man nodded.
‘Neil Mallender?’
‘Correct. What’s this about? Your secretary called and asked me to come in, making it obvious I had no choice, but wouldn’t say why.’
‘Mr Mallender, my name is Ridpath, and I am the coroner’s officer for the inquest into the death of Ben Holdsworth.’
‘The man who died in the cells? But I thought it had been solved. He fell and hit his head, according to the news.’
‘What do you remember of the night? You were in a nearby cell. Number nine, I believe?’
‘I don’t remember the number, don’t remember much of anything.’
‘Tell me what you do remember.’
‘I’d been out celebrating with the lads from work. We’d just won a big account which was going to keep us in business for the next three years.’
‘Where were you celebrating?’
‘In Altrincham. Stupidly, I thought I was OK to drive and took the M60 home. I must have done something wrong because next thing I know I’m parked up beside this cop car blowing into a bag and doing sobriety tests.’
‘They treated you well?’
‘I’ve no complaints. It was my bloody stupidity.’
‘What happened next?’
‘They told me I was over the limit and then they took me to Redbury station. I was booked in by this sergeant.’
‘How was he?’
‘Fine. He explained everything, but the drink was starting to hit me. It must have been the adrenalin. Anyway, I think I signed some stuff, can’t remember what, and was put in a cell. Not a pleasant place to be. Made me think long and hard about my life and the drink and everything. I’ve been going to AA since. Not as much as I want, but enough to keep me off the drink. Haven’t touched a drop for three years now.’
Ridpath regretted his first impressions of Neil Mallender. ‘Well done, it’s hard to give up.’
‘You’re telling me. Hardest thing I’ve ever done.’
‘What happened after you were put in the cells?’
‘Not a lot. I remember curling up, pulling this smelly blanket around me and going to sleep. Next thing I know, they were waking me up the following morning and telling me I could go free.’
‘They released you without charge?’
‘Some inspector said he was giving me a verbal caution but next time they would throw the book at me.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Around 8.30 the following morning. There were lots of other cops there and these guys in the white suits. I found out later somebody had died in the cells not far from me.’
‘You didn’t hear or see anything?’
The man shook his head forcefully. ‘Like I said, I slept through it all. One of the advantages of alcohol, it knocks you out. Wish I could sleep like that again, but I can’t. Insomnia now, can’t sleep at all.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Swings and roundabouts, hey?’
‘Just to be clear, Mr Mallender, you heard nothing?’
‘Not a sausage. Out like a light I was.’
Ridpath closed his file and held out his hand. ‘Sorry to have brought you in so early.’
‘No problem, it’s on my way to work. So I won’t have to attend the inquest? Only your secretary suggested I might have to come here.’
‘I don’t think so, Mr Mallender. I think you are free to go.’
Within seconds the man had picked up his briefcase and was out of the door, leaving Ridpath alone in the room.
One possible witness was cleared. Now all they had to do was find Garry Abbott. Why was he so difficult to locate?
Chapter Forty-Five
When Ridpath went back to the office, Sophia was still editing.
Last night, Ridpath had noted the relevant time codes on the CCTV. Sophia was now copying the clips and putting them in separate folders ready to be called up when Ridpath needed them.
He sat down and wrote a rough script for the interview; the main point was to get Saunders’ account of what happened. He added a few questions on the anomalies he had spotted in Saunders’ duty log, showing them to Sophia so she could put the clips in the correct order.
The rough script was just a guide, however, as he realised the interview could take many directions once it had started.
Mrs Challinor came to see their progress. ‘What time is the meeting?’
‘Two p.m.,’ answered Ridpath, looking over his shoulder.
‘It’s already 12.15, you should get a move on.’
‘Nearly done.’
‘Will Saunders come to the meeting?’
‘He’s said he would.’
‘And are you all set?’
‘I’d like to have watched all the CCTV, but we’re ready for a first meeting.’
‘Make sure it’s documented, Ridpath.’
‘A recording and transcript will be available to you, coroner.’
‘You met somebody this morning?’
‘A Neil Mallender. One of the possible witnesses who spent the night in Redbury station at the same time as Ben Holdsworth.’
‘I don’t remember the name from the file.’
‘He wasn’t in the file. Either IOPC didn’t interview him or they didn’t retain notes on the meeting.’
‘Will we call him?’
‘I don’t think so, Mrs Challinor. He was drunk and slept through everything, having been arrested for DUI.’
‘They didn’t charge him?’
Ridpath shook his head. ‘I think they wanted the cells cleared before the SOCOs went in. Understandable in the circumstances.’
‘Right. At least it’s one less witness for the inquest.’
‘We’re still looking for one other man who was in the cells that night.’
‘Who was he?’
‘A Garry Abbott, arrested for assault and battery.’
‘Another name not in the files.’
‘He doesn’t seem to have been interviewed at all.’
‘You’d better find him, and quickly.’
‘We will do, coroner.’
‘Good. And break a leg.’
‘Mine or his?’
She smiled and left them alone to finish the preparations.
An hour later, they were in the car driving to Police HQ.
‘Have you brought a laptop to record everything?’
Sophia held up her bag. ‘Wouldn’t be seen without one.’
‘And the CCTV clips are cued properly?’
‘I followed your script to the letter.’
‘I may change the script.’
‘I’ll just follow your lead.’ She laid her hand on his arm. ‘You seem nervous.’
Ridpath took a deep breath. ‘You realise what we are about to do? We’re going to interview a copper with over twenty years under his belt. His union rep will be there looking for the slightest mistake on our part. We need to be buttoned up, Sophia, as tight as a penguin in an Arctic gale.’
‘Not possible.’
He took his eyes off the road and stared at her. ‘We have to be organised, no screw-ups.’
‘I meant the penguins in the gale bit.’
‘What?’
‘There aren’t any penguins in the Arctic. Only in the southern hemisphere.’
They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘A polar bear’s bum works. As buttoned up as a polar bear’s bum.’
‘Well, whatever it is, we need to be on the ball. There’s no second chances with this interview.’
On arrival at Police HQ, they set up in a room on the fourth floor. Ridpath checked the video and recording machines while Sophia connected her computer to the system.
At exactly two p.m., Sergeant Saunders walked in wearing full dress uniform, his long service ribbons prominently displayed, accompanied by his union rep in a suit.
‘Let the games begin,’ the sergeant said from the door.
Chapter Forty-Six
Sergeant Saunders and his union rep sat down across the table from Ridpath and Sophia without looking at either of them. The tension in the air was palpable.
‘I’d like to thank you for attending this morning…’ began Ridpath.
‘It weren’t my choice,’ responded Saunders gruffly.
‘Nonetheless, thank you for coming.’ He nodded at Sophia, who started the tape and passed across the folders they had prepared.
‘This meeting has been called to discuss the witness statement of Sergeant Tony Saunders before the inquest into the death of Ben Holdsworth.’
Saunders sighed loudly and prodded the file with his large thick forefinger. ‘I already gave a statement to the other investigations, why am I here again?’
‘As I said, we need to discuss your witness statement before the inquest.’
The union rep laid his hand on Saunders’ arm. ‘Sergeant Saunders has already provided a comprehensive account and written statement to both Professional Standards and the IOPC with regards to the events of the early hours of February 21.’
‘I am aware of his statements, and they are included in the file. However, as you are aware, the coroner’s inquest is a completely separate inquiry, and under the 2009 Coroners Act we have a statutory duty to investigate all deaths in Crown custody.’
Saunders rolled his eyes and sat back heavily. ‘Waste of bloody time.’
Ridpath continued. ‘For the tape, present at the meeting are Sergeant Saunders, his union rep…’
The man sitting next to Saunders leant forward and, in a heavy Manchester accent, spoke into the tape. ‘DI Jack Cater.’
‘DI Cater, and two representatives of the coroner’s office, Thomas Ridpath and Sophia Rahman. Shall we begin? If you open the files in front of you and turn to page three, we will present the first image and revisit the events of that night.’
They all opened their documents.
DI Cater frowned and glanced at Saunders. ‘I wasn’t aware the coroner’s office had been provided with CCTV images from the station.’
Ridpath ignored him and carried on.
‘Document one is a screenshot taken from CCTV dated February 20. Please show it, Sophia.’
On the TV screen on the left, a picture appeared of Saunders in uniform, standing in front of the custody desk at Redbury station.
‘Sergeant Saunders, is this you in the picture?’
DI Cater leant forward. ‘Where was this image obtained?’
Ridpath ignored him again, pressing on. ‘Sergeant Saunders, can you confirm this is you, and the date and time in the top right-hand corner is correct?’
Saunders glanced up from the table to the monitor. ‘Yes. It’s me at the beginning of my shift.’
‘And you were the custody officer in charge on Redbury station on the night of February 20 and the morning of February 21?’
‘Yes.’
‘Document two in the files is the statement given by you to the Professional Standards Department regarding the events of the night. Is this correct?’
Saunders turned the page and looked at the statement. ‘Yes.’
Ridpath stared at him. ‘Sergeant Saunders, is there anything you would like to add to this statement?’
‘No.’
‘Would you like to take this opportunity to amend or qualify anything in this statement?’
Saunders sighed loudly. ‘How long is this going to go on for? I need to get back to work.’
Ridpath continued. ‘Would you like to amend anything in this statement?’
Saunders leant over and whispered in his union rep’s ear.
‘The sergeant has nothing to add,’ said Cater.
‘Moving on. We will now play video of the booking in of the deceased, Ben Holdsworth, at 3.40 a.m.’
‘For the record, Mr Ridpath, I am not aware that any CCTV has been provided to the coroner’s office.’
‘Duly noted, and it’s DI Ridpath, for your information, DI Cater. Please play the video, Sophia.’
Sergeant Saunders sat forward, staring at the screen, taking an interest in the proceedings for the first time. Jack Cater was messaging on his phone.
On the screen, a man was standing in front of the custody desk, escorted on either side by two constables. Behind the desk sat Tony Saunders.
‘Is this the deceased, Ben Holdsworth?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you booked him into the station at 3.40 a.m.?’
‘He’d been arrested for drug possession with intent to supply by Constables Carter and Dryden that evening. He was placed in custody under provisions of the 1994 Drug Trafficking Act.’
The CCTV continued on-screen.
Ridpath paused it.
‘He keeps asking for a DI Brett of the National Crime Agency. Why?’
Saunders shrugged his shoulders. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘Mr Holdsworth is dead.’
‘Then ask DI Brett.’
‘Don’t worry, I intend to, Sergeant Saunders.’
The CCTV continued, with Saunders taking down all the details and finally asking the detention officers to strip search Ben Holdsworth.
‘Why did you request a strip search?’
Another long sigh. Saunders’ voice took on the tones of an adult explaining the theory of relativity to a stupid child. ‘In cases where illegal substances are involved, it is recommended all detainees be searched thoroughly before being placed in the cells, for their own safety as well as that of the detaining officers. Page three of the College of Policing’s Code of Conduct for custody officers. I thought you would have known, DI Ridpath, being a copper and all.’
Cater leant forward, closer to Ridpath. ‘Throughout the booking-in process, Sergeant Saunders followed the exact procedure as described in the handbook for custody officers. The Professional Standards Department called his conduct exemplary.’
Ridpath ignored the interruption and carried on.
‘Throughout your interaction with Mr Holdsworth, did he in any way seem under the influence of drugs or intoxicants?’
‘No.’
‘Was he slurring his words?’
‘No.’
‘Were his pupils dilated?’
‘No.’
‘Did he do anything suggesting he was under the influence of any intoxicants?’
‘No.’
‘Please turn to document three, which is the post-mortem report written by Dr Harold Lardner on the deceased. You will see the toxicology analysis appended to the main document showed he had a large amount of diamorphine in his bloodstream.’
Saunders read through the passage from the report. ‘So?’
‘You still say he didn’t display any signs of being under the influence of drugs.’
‘Yes.’
Cater interrupted again. ‘The post-mortem also states clearly that Ben Holdsworth died from an accidental fall in his cell. No police officers were present in the cell when he fell.’
‘We have had a second opinion from another pathologist who challenges the validity of the work of Dr Lardner. He has stated that with the quantities of diamorphine in Ben Holdsworth’s bloodstream he would have been unable to function. I need to ask you again, Sergeant Saunders, did you notice Mr Holdsworth was under the influence of drugs?’
‘Sergeant Saunders has answered the question. Can we move on?’
‘Were any drugs found in the strip search of the deceased?’
‘No.’
‘All the possessions of Mr Holdsworth were noted in his arrest record,’ interrupted Cater again.
Ridpath knew what the union rep was doing: trying to break up the rhythm of his questions. He ploughed on regardless.
‘When you found him on the floor of the cell, was a needle lying nearby?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘The question has been answered.’ Cater stared directly at the detective.
Ridpath made a note on his pad. ‘Document four. You gave Mr Holdsworth the opportunity to make a phone call. Why?’
Another loud, long sigh. ‘It’s standard operating procedure. A detainee is allowed to make a phone call to a solicitor, family member or friend before being placed in the cells.’ He turned to DI Cater. ‘How long is this going on for? I’ve been through all this with Professional Standards and the IOPC. This… man… doesn’t even know the standard custody operating procedures.’
