A Kind of Wild Justice

By Bryan Marlowe

Gary Remington, a warrant officer in the British Army Intelligence Corps and a veteran of several wars, obtains a compassionate discharge from the Army to care for his fourteen-year-old daughter, the only surviving member of his family - victims of a hit-and-driver.

Remington determines to seek justice for the deaths of his wife and son, but soon realises that the only way this can be achieved is to dispense his own kind of wild justice - outside the law. His fateful decision leads him to take on the role of a vengeful vigilante who shows no quarter in executing his brand of justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mereo Books
• Release date: May 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781908026538

Bryan Marlowe

Bryan Marlowe was born in the City of London, 1930. He left school at the age of 14. He had numerous jobs before National Service in the RAF 1948/1950. He rejoined the RAF in 1951 and retired in 1971. Marlowe worked for 20 years with a northern police force. On retirement he took up voluntary work with Victim and Witness Support, co-ordinated neighbourhood watch schemes, and worked as a newspaper columnist. He has travelled extensively through the five continents and lived abroad.

Book preview

Chapter One

‘My wife and son are dead and my daughter is seriously injured, sir. They were run down by some lunatic, drugged or drunken hit-and-run driver,’ said the soldier to his commanding officer in a voice charged with emotion.

Lieutenant Colonel Laurence Nesbitt was interviewing Gary Remington, a warrant officer class 2 in the British Army Intelligence Corps, serving in southern Iraq, about his application for compassionate discharge from the Army.

‘I am so very sorry to hear this appalling news. Please sit down, Sergeant Major, and tell me what the Army can do to help you in any way possible.’

The sad-faced, and red-rimmed eyed Remington, vainly endeavouring to hide his grief, removed his cypress green beret and sat upright in the visitors’ armchair. ‘You must forgive me, sir, but I’m still in a state of shock after receiving the news yesterday morning.’

‘I quite understand, Sergeant Major. It must have been a dreadful shock for you.’

‘It was, sir, and I still can’t fully believe that it has happened. The battalion duty officer received a priority signal from MoD (Army) and came to my quarters to notify me of the accident. As soon as I heard I rang the Bedfordshire police for more details. The only information I have been able to learn about the accident is that my wife, my daughter and my son – he was only eight years old – were out shopping in Biggleswade, when a four-wheel drive vehicle mounted the pavement where they were standing and drove them through the window of the shop they had just left. I did manage to get it out of the police that the driver, believed to have been a male, presumably uninjured in the accident, had run away from the scene and the police were appealing for witnesses to the accident to come forward.’

‘Let’s hope witnesses do come forward and the police catch this man soon, ’ said Nesbitt.

‘Yes, but if they do find him and he is charged and brought to trial and eventually sentenced, it will not, in any way, alter the fact that this person has virtually wiped out my family. Nothing can ever change that,’ said Remington in a quavering voice.

Nesbitt paused, thoughtfully, trying to think of something comforting to say. ‘How do you think your daughter is coping with all this?’

‘Well, Emma is a very resilient person, but she is only fourteen years old, was seriously injured in the accident and has been admitted to hospital. She must be in an awful state, seeing her mother and brother killed. To make matters worse she has no relatives or close friends to visit and comfort her.’

‘Is that why you are requesting a compassionate discharge, so that you will be able to look after her?’

‘Yes, I’ve put all that information in my application. As much as I am happy with my life in the Army, I feel I must make her care and upbringing my first priority.’

‘I can fully appreciate your concern, but isn’t there anyone in your family who could look after her while you are serving overseas?’

‘Unfortunately not. Joan’s parents are both dead and mine are far too frail and ailing to take on a teenage granddaughter with all the problems that might present to them. And neither Joan nor I have any brothers or sisters who could help.’

Nesbitt looked sympathetic. ‘What about boarding school? I’m sure that in your circumstances you could get her placed in one.’

‘That would be no good. She’s not been doing very well at school and would be too far behind the average child attending a boarding school. No, as I see it, I shall have to leave the Army and find somewhere to live and look after her myself.’

‘Oh, that’s a great pity; you’re doing so well in the service. You’re only thirty-eight and a WO2, with every prospect of being commissioned. Anyway, what would you do in civilian life? What openings are there these days for Operators Military Intelligence, with, or without, linguistic skills?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find some sort of administrative, commercial or security work. Apart from my six Cambridge University GCE ‘O’ Levels, and a certificate in Administration Supervision, I can speak fairly fluent German and Spanish and a smattering of Arabic.’

‘Yes, I’m sure many commercial and public service employers would be able to find a use for your qualities and skills, and that you are well qualified for a number of worthwhile jobs; but you’d not be likely to get the salary you are presently getting as a warrant officer in the Army. And, don’t forget, you will need to provide your own accommodation. Of course, if your application is granted you will be able to return to the UK and occupy your family’s allocated married quarter, with your daughter, until your statutory notice expires.’

‘Yes, sir, that’s what I’d thought. I do have a few thousand pounds invested in a building society; so if I move to an area of low cost housing I might be able to obtain a mortgage for a suitable property. I’ll probably return to Yorkshire. I was born in York, but my family moved to Kent when I was about four years old. But my immediate worry is Emma. I must get back to the UK to be with her. She must be in a terribly traumatised state. And, on her own, without any relatives to support her.’

‘Don’t worry too much on that account, Gary. I’ll get our welfare officer to get in touch with the Bedfordshire SSAFA representative immediately. They’ll see that your daughter is adequately cared for until you can get back there on compassionate leave, awaiting your compassionate discharge.’

‘Oh, so you are going to recommend that my compassionate discharge be approved, sir?’

‘Yes, as much as I regret your loss to the Army, I can fully understand your need to be with your daughter. So now, you get back to your quarters and pack your kit and get ready for the first available flight from Basra to the UK. I’ll get on to Intelligence Corps Headquarters at Chicksands, to get an early decision on your discharge, and I’ll have the adjutant arrange your clearance from the unit and transportation to Basra.’

Remington got up from the chair, replaced his beret and smartly saluted the colonel. ‘Thank you for your help, sir, and if I don’t see you again, goodbye.’

‘Goodbye and good luck, Mr Remington, and thank you for the valuable service you’ve given to my battalion and to the Army. I’ll see that due regard is given to that in your certificate of Service.’

Remington saluted again, smartly about-turned, and marched out of the colonel’s office.

Chapter Two

‘Wake up Emma,’ said the staff nurse softly, as she lightly grasped the young girl’s left hand. ‘Your father is here to see you.’

Emma, her head swathed in bandages, her face bearing cuts and bruises, and her right arm in plaster from her wrist to her shoulder, stirred. Her eyes opened and she looked up to see her father gazing down at her.

‘Oh, Dad, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been praying that you would come soon.’

Remington sat in the chair beside the bed, took her left hand in his and leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Yes, I’m here, darling Emma. Here to stay.’

Tears began to moisten Emma’s eyes. ‘It was so awful, Dad… Mummy and Justin…I can’t get it out of my mind…it keeps coming back…the whole terrible scene…awake, I can’t think of anything else…asleep, I dream about it.’

Remington, near tears himself, gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I know, my darling. It’s the same for me. We must both be brave and try to remember all the good things about our lives with Mummy and Justin before the accident.’

‘What will happen when I leave hospital?’ Emma said plaintively. ‘Where will we live?’

Remington tried to smile, but it would not come. ‘I told you I was here to stay and meant it. I’m leaving the Army so that I can be with you all the time. We can stay in the married quarter until I can buy a house. We’ll move away from here and settle somewhere else. That might help us get over this dreadful tragedy.’

Emma brightened. ‘Oh, yes, Dad, please let’s go as far as we can. I could never go back to living anywhere near Biggleswade.’

‘Mr Remington, I think Emma should be left to rest now,’ said the staff nurse. ‘She needs all the sleep she can get. It’ll help her recovery.’

‘Yes, nurse; I’m sure you’re right. I’ll call in again this evening.’

Emma tried to sit up in bed and clutched her father’s hand. ‘Please come back soon, Dad,’

‘I will, darling; I’ll be back this evening.’

‘Mr Remington, Dr Danvers, who has been treating Emma, asked that you call in to see him when you came to visit Emma.’

‘Yes, thank you, I’d like to talk to him about Emma’s injuries.’

‘I’ll take you to his office then,’ said the nurse.

‘Dr Danvers,’ the nurse said when they entered the doctor’s office, ‘this is Warrant Officer Remington, Emma’s father. You said you wished to see him when he arrived from Iraq.’

‘Yes, thank you. I did want to speak to Mr Remington. There’s no need for you to stay nurse, you may return to your ward.’

Rising from his chair, Dr Danvers crossed the room and extended his hand. ‘I’m so pleased you were able to get back to the UK so quickly,’ said the doctor as he shook Remington’s hand. ‘Please take a seat.’

Remington sat down. ‘The Army can be compassionate when compassion is needed. But, please tell me about Emma’s injuries? Are they likely to cause her any future disability?’

The doctor looked thoughtful for a moment, and then consulted a file on his desk. ‘She sustained a dislocated scapula, compound fractures of her right radius and humerus, and multiple abrasions and lacerations to her head, body and limbs. But she is responding well to treatment and we are very confident that she will not suffer any permanent disability arising from these injuries. In fact she should be fully recovered from her physical injuries in a couple of months’ time. However, I have to say I am very concerned about her mental state. She has suffered a tremendous shock, seeing her mother and brother killed. It will take her a long time to get over such a shock and she might require some form of psychiatric counselling to help her to do so.’

‘Yes, I can well understand that. I haven’t got over the shock myself, but I’m anxious to get Emma fit and well enough to make a move to another part of the country. I intend to resettle in York, the city in which I was born. With me being in the Army, Emma has been moved around rather a lot during her life so I don’t envisage that she should be upset by the move. In fact she has already told me she wouldn’t want to stay anywhere near Biggleswade.’

Doctor Danvers nodded. ‘That’s quite understandable. It would be best for her to live somewhere else. I’m sure that will help her come to terms with the tragic change in family circumstances.’

‘Well, Doctor, you’ve been very helpful and I can see that Emma is in good hands, so I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. I shall come in again this evening to see her. In the meantime I’m going to have a word with the police about the accident. Goodbye, Doctor, and thank you.’

‘Goodbye, Mr Remington. No doubt, I shall see you again when you visit your daughter.’

Chapter Three

‘How may I help you, sir?’ asked the stern looking young woman in the enquiry office at Biggleswade Police Station.

Remington smiled at the woman. She didn’t respond and looked even sterner. Perhaps she was one of those radical feminists, women who generally resented overtures, however harmless, from men, even if they were tall, dark and moderately handsome. No, I’m being unkind; she was probably having a bad day, he mused. Dealing with agitated, anxious and sometimes-argumentative members of the public must be a tiresome and stressful job.

‘My name is Remington, Gary Remington. I should like to speak to someone about the traffic accident that occurred four days ago in Biggleswade High Street.’

The woman’s expression changed. She looked sympathetic. ‘Yes, I remember that accident.’ She sat down at her desk and tapped a few keys on her computer and returned to the counter. ‘It seems the Traffic Division and C.10 officers are investigating the accident.’

‘What about the driver? Has he been caught yet? If he has, has he been charged? And who are C.10?’

The woman looked perplexed. ‘The registered owner of the vehicle had reported the vehicle stolen the day before the accident. The driver of the vehicle has not been traced. That’s why C.10 are involved. C.10 are the Stolen Vehicles Squad. I’m sorry but that’s all I can tell you.’

Remington didn’t want to lose patience with the woman, but felt that he might if she proved to be uncooperative. ‘Well, is there anyone here who can tell me anything more?’

The woman looked embarrassed and thought for a moment. ‘I could ask the duty inspector to have a word with you.’

‘Good, I’d like to have a word with him.’

She disappeared into a room at the back of the reception desk and returned a minute or two later. ‘The inspector is coming down to see you. He asks that you wait for him in that interview room,’ she said, indicating a room opposite the reception desk.

Remington walked over to the room, entered and sat on one of the four chairs in the room. The only other furniture was a canteen-like table with a large ashtray on it. There were several scruffy notices on the walls, advising interviewees how they might obtain legal aid.

A few minutes later a tall, portly, uniformed inspector entered the room. ‘I’m Inspector Postlethwaite, the duty inspector. I understand from our enquiry office clerk that you want to talk to someone about the road traffic accident that occurred in Biggleswade last Thursday morning?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I’m Warrant Officer Gary Remington of the Intelligence Corps and I want to know what is being done about arresting the man responsible for the deaths of my wife and son and the injuries sustained by my daughter.’

‘Firstly, Mr Remington, please accept my sincere condolences. It was an appalling accident.’

‘Thank you, Inspector, but what is being done about it?’

‘Dorothy Baker, the enquiry office clerk you spoke to, tells me she accessed the case file on her computer and told you as much as we know about the incident. It is being actively investigated and we are confident that the driver of the vehicle will be traced before very long.’

‘Before very long! I wouldn’t have thought it would take very long to apprehend this man, and when you do surely you have an open and shut case? A man steals a vehicle and under the influence of drink or drugs, drives it onto a public footpath and knocks down three people, killing two of them and seriously injuring the third! People who are likely to do things like that are surely known to you. Haven’t you a list of usual suspects for most modus operandi?’

The inspector frowned. ‘All we have at the moment is an apparent case of a vehicle being taken away without its owner’s consent, and subsequently being involved in a hit-and-run accident. I fully realise it must seem to you that this is a straightforward case of someone driving under the influence of drink or drugs, but we have no evidence to support that assumption. When the driver has been apprehended, there will still be many factors pertaining to this matter that will have to be investigated before a prosecution file can be presented to the Crown Prosecutions Service. I suggest you might learn more about the circumstances of the accident when you attend the Coroner’s Inquest.’

‘Coroner’s Inquest? I’d forgotten about that. So, I suppose, my daughter may be called as a witness?’

The inspector nodded. ‘Almost certainly – she was a material witness to the accident. And, surprisingly, up to the present time, no one has come forward as a witness to the accident, so her testimony would certainly be required.’

Remington looked puzzled. ‘Doesn’t it strike you as odd, Inspector, that an accident takes place on a busy street in the middle of a town and nobody sees it? What about the shop staff? They must surely have seen the accident. Couldn’t they give you a description of the driver? The car came through their shop front window, and they did see the driver jump out and run away!’

‘I’m really sorry, Mr Remington, but there’s nothing more I can tell you about the case. I suggest you wait until you receive a summons to attend the Coroner’s Inquest. When the Coroner has ruled on the matter the police will be in a position to take what action they consider necessary in the light of the Coroner’s findings. I’ll pass on your enquiry to the officers dealing with the case and ask them to keep you informed, as far as they are permitted, of the progress of their investigation.’

Remington thought: as far as they are permitted! That would be precious little, he felt sure.

‘Thank you, Inspector; I’ll take your advice. I can see it would be a total waste of my time to try to find out anything more from the police at this stage. Goodnight.’ Remington left the room and strode purposefully out on to the street.

* * *

Remington found Emma awake and eager to see him. She tried to sit up in bed and put out her left hand to hold his.

‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Much better, Dad, especially now you’re here.’

Remington managed a smile. ‘I’ll get in to see you as often as I can. Oh, yes, and before I leave, let me know if there’s anything, such as toiletries, you would like me to bring in for you. I’ve brought you in a basket of fruit and some of those soppy girls’ magazines you like to read.’

‘Thank you, Dad, I’ll let you know if there’s anything I need, but at the moment the fruit and magazines you’ve brought in are just what I would have asked for. But the toiletries and a hairbrush will be welcome, when all these bandages have been taken off my head.’

Remington thought it best not to mention his visit to the police station, which would only add more to her memory of the accident.

‘I’ve been busy writing to estate agents about properties in York. When I get some replies, with photographs of houses, I’ll bring them in with me and you can help me choose the sort of house in which you’d like to live.’

Emma’s large blue eyes widened. So much like her