When the Night Ends, page 17
‘It’s a fair question, DI Ridpath; how long is this going to continue?’
‘Thank you, Sergeant Saunders, for your patience,’ Ridpath answered emolliently. ‘I am just trying to establish if there needs to be a review of the standard operating procedures in the event of an arrest for drugs. Of course, the coroner and the jury will make the final decision, but it helps if they understand your testimony as a witness.’ He smiled at the end, as if apologising for putting the poor sergeant through an unfortunate process.
‘It’s just taking too long,’ said Saunders finally.
‘Shall we move on then? When did the signal from the CCTV in Cell 3 cease?’
Saunders frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Let me help you. According to the custody log, you made a note at 4.37, but according to the CCTV images from Cell 3, it ceased at 4.35.’
‘Just two minutes earlier,’ interrupted Cater.
‘As soon as I noticed it wasn’t working, I made a note.’
‘You didn’t go to check it?’
‘No point. Only the maintenance people can open up the camera. They’re always going on the blink.’
‘So it didn’t worry you that it wasn’t working?’
‘No. I ordered the custody officers to check on him every thirty minutes. Standard…’
‘…operating procedures. Did they do it?’
‘As far as I am aware, yes.’
‘Please turn to document five. This is the witness statement given to the IOPC by Lucas Harvey, civilian custody officer on duty. It reads, “The camera went on the blink and I was told by Sergeant Saunders to check on the prisoner every half an hour. Unfortunately, due to an incident, I didn’t have time.” What incident?’
‘There was trouble with some kids we arrested for joyriding. Someone pressed the alarm and when that happens, everybody including the custody detention officers goes to the aid of the officer concerned. Standard operating procedure. But I sent Lucas Harvey back the first time as he wasn’t needed, keeping Terry Rodgers to watch over the kids. They were on something.’
‘The kids were on drugs?’
‘Looked like it.’
‘But you didn’t notice Ben Holdsworth had over 1200 milligrams of diamorphine in his system?’
Saunders looked sheepish for a moment. ‘No.’
‘How many times did it happen?’
‘What?’
‘The alarm being pressed?’
‘Twice.’
‘And in each case, you sent Lucas Harvey back to the custody cells?’
‘No, the second time he stayed in the cells.’
‘Why?’
‘I told him he wasn’t needed.’
‘Then why didn’t he check Cell 3 as you had instructed him to do?’
‘I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him.’
‘He’s dead.’
Saunders raised his eyebrows, but didn’t respond.
Ridpath made a note and then carried on. ‘Document six is a statement taken from the other civilian detention officer, Terry Rodgers. He says, “I returned from the holding room at 5.45 to find Sergeant Saunders in the cell corridor; he was standing outside Cell 3.” What were you doing there?’
Saunders glanced across at his union rep. ‘Checking on the detainee.’
Ridpath frowned. ‘But there’s nothing in your witness statement or the custody report about checking on Cell 3, or on Mr Holdsworth?’
‘I must have forgotten. So much happened that night.’
‘So you went to check on a man arrested for drugs in the cells?’
‘Yes. Standard…’
‘…operating procedure. I get it. Did you speak to Mr Holdsworth at all?’
Saunders looked flustered for the first time. ‘I… I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know if you spoke to the detainee?’
‘I’m not sure… I can’t remember.’
‘But he was alive when you looked in on him at 5.45?’
‘Yes.’
A long pause as Ridpath breathed in, quietening himself and glancing at his notes. This was going to be a difficult question. ‘Sergeant Saunders, you had a daughter, Hannah, is that correct?’
Saunders’ jaw tightened. ‘What’s my daughter got to do with it?’
‘She had a drug problem and died from an overdose of heroin in October, 2017, four months before the incident.’
‘Leave my daughter out of this,’ Saunders growled.
‘I don’t see what relevance this line of questioning has to a man who died in police custody, DI Ridpath.’
Eve’s face flashed into his mind. How would he feel if she died in some shooting gallery with a needle sticking out of her arm? His whole body shuddered with revulsion at the thought. He paused for a moment. Was he going to push this, or back off?
His job was to find out what had happened in the cells that morning. Nothing more, nothing less. His own personal emotions had no part in this interview. He decided to go ahead, tapping the desk in front of him lightly. ‘Did you speak to the detainee, Sergeant Saunders? Is that why you were in the cells?’
‘Of course I spoke to him. I had to check he was OK.’
‘Where was Mr Holdsworth arrested?’
Again, Saunders glanced across at DI Cater. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Let me refresh your memory. It was on Quince Road, part of the Orchard Estate. Your daughter was found dead in one of the local shooting galleries, from a drug overdose.’
Suddenly, Saunders launched himself across the table towards Ridpath, trying to grab hold of his jacket. Sophia screamed. Cater grabbed the man’s arms, holding him tight and dragging him back to his chair.
‘Calm down, Tony…’
‘He’s talking about my daughter…’
‘He’s well out of order, but calm down.’
Saunders was visibly shaking. He gritted his teeth, pointed at Ridpath and snarled. ‘This bastard… it’s my daughter… she was only nineteen.’
And just as quickly as it had arisen, the anger left Saunders and his shoulders slumped. He held his head in his hands.
Ridpath had sat impassively throughout this time, looking at his interviewee.
‘Shall we continue?’ said Ridpath quietly. ‘I will ask you once again. Did you speak to the detainee, Ben Holdsworth?’
‘Of course I spoke to the scum. He was a drug dealer, trading in people’s lives.’
‘And what did you say?’
Sergeant Saunders took his hands away from his face and stared straight at Ridpath. ‘I told him I would kill him if he ever sold drugs on my patch again.’
Cater laid his hand on Saunders’ arm. ‘I think we should take a break now. Mr Ridpath, your insinuations have upset my client.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Garry Abbott was still pacing the room. Should he call Phil? Should he get him to pick up the stuff from the safety deposit box on Mason Street?
He’d been up all night, glancing out of the window every ten minute to check if the van was still parked outside the hotel.
It was, but he couldn’t see if anybody was sitting in the front seat.
Around seven a.m. a man and a woman left the hotel and walked over to the van. The woman wore high heels and a micro skirt, tottering slightly as she opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat.
Garry Abbott breathed out, feeling his whole body relax.
It was just some one-night stand. Some two-timing husband who didn’t want to go back home to his wife. The van didn’t belong to Delaney or his goons.
For the rest of the morning, though, he couldn’t sleep. His mind chased a world of possibilities.
What if he left today? Went to London without picking up the money and passports from the safety deposit box?
What if he booked a flight from Manchester instead? Just went to Thailand anyway? His mate in Chiang Mai would put him up for a while even if he had no money.
Or what if he went to Delaney and apologised for hitting him? Went down on his knees and begged forgiveness?
He rejected all these possibilities. Without money he could do nothing. Without the passports he couldn’t build a new identity for himself. And he was sure Delaney would never forgive him. He was a marked man, that’s what Delaney had said. Somebody wanted him dead, so dead was what he was going to be.
He racked his brains, trying to work out why.
Was it the night in the jail? The things he’d heard in the cell next door?
He hadn’t told anybody about it. Well, nobody except Phil. He knew everything, but he would never grass him out to Delaney… would he?
He picked up the phone and dialled the number.
‘Phil, it’s Garry. You can go to the safety box company this afternoon. I’m going to call them now and give them your details. What ID are you using?’
‘We’ve agreed I’m going to get five hundred quid?’
Abbott sighed. ‘Yeah, as soon as I get the stuff, you’ll get your money.’
‘Right, I’ll use my driving licence.’
‘You need to get there before they close.’
‘Where are you now?’
Again, the hackles on the back of Abbott’s neck rose. Why was Phil so interested to know where he was? ‘I’ll tell you where to meet later.’
‘We’re meeting tonight?’
‘Nah, tomorrow. It’s not safe yet. Give me the number on your driving licence in case they ask.’
Phil said a long list of numbers and letters.
‘Hang on, let me write it down.’
He repeated the number. ‘Got it now?’
‘Yeah, I’ll call ’em straight away, you get yourself down there.’
‘Will do. See you soon, Garry, take care of yourself.’
Abbott clicked off the call and made another to the manager at the depository, giving his password and issuing instructions that his agent, Phil Wardsley, would be along in the afternoon to open his safety deposit box and remove some items.
The calls done, a wave of immense tiredness suddenly swept over Garry Abbott. As he lay down to sleep, for the first time in a while he felt hopeful. The nightmare would soon be over and he could escape to the warmth and smiles of Thailand.
Not long to go now.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ridpath started the tape again.
‘The interview is recommencing at 2.45 p.m. on November 4, 2021. Sergeant Saunders, what did you do after speaking to Ben Holdsworth?’
Saunders was calm again now, self-composed. In a curt voice he said, ‘I went back to my seat at the custody desk after checking out the holding room where the joyriders were kept.’
‘Ben Holdsworth was still alive when you left him?’
‘Of course he was.’
‘And the CCTV in Cells 3 and 4 was still down?’
‘As I noted in the duty roster.’
‘But you didn’t note your visit to him in your account of the night?’
‘I must have forgotten.’
‘You were the last person to see the detainee.’
Jack Cater leant in. ‘I think we have already covered those events before the break, Mr Ridpath; can we move on?’
Ridpath turned the page in his document folder. ‘The following video, document seven, is an excerpt of the second time the security alarm sounded that night.’
They all watched as on the custody desk camera, Terry Rodgers, Saunders and a single copper rushed in from the right. The beeping of the security alarm was loud on the screen. The time in the left-hand corner said 5.46.
‘Who sounded the alarm?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know. I presumed the kids in the holding room had kicked off again.’
‘That’s why the officers responded?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did the security system tell you?’
‘I don’t know, I didn’t look.’
‘What?’
‘I just presumed the alarm came from the holding room.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I went with the officers to the holding room.’
‘Leaving the custody desk?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that standard operating procedure?’
‘No.’
‘Isn’t the desk supposed to be manned at all times?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘But what?’
‘But the kids kept kicking off, I was going to give them one last warning.’
‘And did you?’
Saunders looked down. ‘No.’
‘Because they were quiet. The alarm had come from somewhere else. Did you check where it was from when you returned to the desk?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I thought it was just a glitch. It happened quite a lot.’
‘Security alarms going off?’
‘Yes.’
‘But there is no report of a fault in the duty log?’
‘I didn’t report it every time. No point.’
‘How long is this line of questioning going to continue, Mr Ridpath? My client has now answered the question.’
‘Let us move on to the death of the detainee. You received a message from Lucas Harvey at 6.28 that Ben Holdsworth was lying on the floor of his cell. What did you do?’
‘I left the desk…’
‘Unguarded again.’
‘I left the desk to attend to an emergency.’
Cater had pulled out a booklet from his desk and began reading from it. ‘“In emergency circumstances, the office in charge may leave the custody desk to attend to the incident.” Page twenty-four of the Operating Standards Manual for custody sergeants. I’ll leave you a copy, Mr Ridpath.’
‘That won’t be necessary. What did you see when you went to Cell 3?’
‘I saw the detainee lying on the floor. He seemed to be unresponsive.’
‘The door was closed and locked?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are the keys kept?’
‘In the custody officer’s room.’
‘On the wall?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you do next?’
‘Lucas went to get the keys to open the door. He returned and we rushed in to see the detainee.’
‘Was he responsive?’
‘No.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I commenced to give CPR, compressing the chest and giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I sent Harvey to get the doctor, who was in the medical room checking on the joyriders.’
‘What time did the doctor arrive?’
‘Six thirtyish.’
‘6.35, actually, from the CCTV above the custody desk. It’s not in the duty log.’
‘I must have forgotten to note it.’
‘So you sent Harvey to get the doctor?’
‘Correct.’
‘How long was he gone?’
‘Gone?’
‘How long did he take to get the doctor?’
‘I don’t know, a couple of minutes or so.’
‘In that time you were left alone with the prisoner?’
‘I was giving him CPR.’
‘Alone?’
‘What are you insinuating, Mr Ridpath?’ asked Cater.
‘Nothing. I’m merely establishing a timeline and the whereabouts of the personnel during the death in custody, DI Cater.’ He turned back to face Saunders. ‘So you were alone with the deceased for two minutes. What happened then?’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘I thought you were giving CPR?’
‘I was, but I stopped.’
‘Why?’
‘The man was unresponsive, and I was waiting for the doctor to arrive. I tried again but…’
‘He didn’t move?’
‘No.’
‘Was he already dead?’
Cater leant forward again. ‘I would remind you, Sergeant Saunders is not a medical officer. It is not his job to pronounce death.’
‘True, DI Cater, but you’ve worked the job long enough, Sergeant Saunders, you know if somebody is dead, don’t you? So, had he already died?’
The sergeant nodded, and then took a long time before answering. ‘I don’t know. I’m not a medical officer.’
Ridpath sighed loudly. ‘When the doctor arrived, what did he do?’
‘He performed CPR too, and then called for an ambulance.’
‘Which arrived at 6.43.’
‘I think so.’
Ridpath clasped his fingers in front of him. ‘So how did you feel, Sergeant Saunders? A man died on your watch.’
For the first time, a fleeting smile crossed Saunders’ lips. ‘You want to know the truth?’
Ridpath nodded.
‘You think you can handle the truth?’
‘Try me.’
A hardness came into Saunders’ eyes. ‘I was happy. There was going to be one less drug-dealing lowlife in Manchester.’
Jack Cater’s phone beeped as he received a message. He glanced down to look at it before standing up. ‘This interview is terminated, Mr Ridpath. According to the force’s public relations branch, the coroner’s office has not been sent any CCTV images. The footage has been lost, and they are still trying to find it. They have no idea where this comes from. And, as there is no chain of evidence for these videos, there may be a potential offence under the Data Protection Act. Come along, Tony. We’ve wasted enough time here.’
‘I still have questions to ask this witness, DI Cater.’
‘You may do, but he doesn’t have to sit here and answer them. Come on, Tony, we’re off, time for us to go.’
‘Sergeant Saunders, had you met Ben Holdsworth before February 2018?’
‘No, never.’
‘You don’t have to answer, Tony.’
‘Document seven please, Sophia. This document is a copy of an arrest made in 2016. The detained man is Ben Holdsworth. Can you tell me the signature of the arresting officer at the bottom of the sheet?’
Tony Saunders looked up at the screen. ‘Not my signature. I’d never met Ben Holdsworth before.’
‘Let the record show the signature is that of Sergeant Tony Saunders.’
