Unconvicted

By Olly Jarvis

In a razor-sharp legal thriller, Jack Kowalski must win two challenging trials to save his reputation and his career

Junior barrister Jack Kowalski is crushed. His client Timothy Smart appears to have committed a monstrous crime while on bail – a bail application Jack fought hard to win.

When a high-profile Polish footballer is charged with rape and demands a fellow countryman represent him, Jack must overcome his guilt and get back to work. Before long he takes on a second case, a GBH for instructing solicitor Lara Panassai, who Jack remains desperate to impress. But neither case is what it seems, and Jack will face an extraordinary uphill battle to see that justice is done…

The second Jack Kowalski novel, Unconvicted is a gripping courtroom drama written with the expert insight of a practising criminal barrister, perfect for fans of William L. Myers, Deborah Hawkins, and Scott Turow.

'A book so on point I felt like I was reading tomorrow’s headlines.' Nigel Adams Bookworm

'It had enough twists and turns to keep me glued right to the last page. I look forward to reading more in the series.' Reader review

'It’s a right proper page turner and no mistake... This is very intelligent storytelling here, walking the line between entertainment and authenticity extremely well and balancing character and action perfectly... Highly recommended.' Liz Loves

'Another winner... really looking forward to round three.' Reader review

'Undoubtedly an author to watch out for... this legal thriller was excellent and kept me interested all the way through.' Reader review

• Language: English
• Publisher: Canelo
• Release date: Jan 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781911420309

Olly Jarvis

Olly Jarvis is a writer and criminal defence barrister, originally from London but now working in Manchester. He wrote highly acclaimed Radio 4 drama Judgement, exploring a barrister’s thought processes whilst cross-examining a rape victim. Using his knowledge of the Indonesian language, he travelled to Sumatra where he wrote and presented a BBC documentary entitled Mum Knows Best. Olly has two children and lives in Cheshire.

Book preview

Twain

Prologue

Pani Mila was waiting for Jack in the doorway of the Parish Hall. An elderly Polish woman who helped out at the church and cooked and cleaned for some of the parishioners, including Jack’s father, she reminded him of a Russian Matryoshka doll.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘It mean very much to the children, meeting people like you.’

‘It’s an honour,’ Jack replied, letting his wig bag roll off his shoulder.

‘Sorry, but you’ll have to speak Polish.’

‘No problem,’ Jack replied.

The chatter ceased as she showed him through into the hall, full of children of all ages sitting on old plastic chairs.

It had been over a decade since he’d last sat in those seats.

‘Everyone, this is Jack Kowalski,’ Mila began in Polish. ‘He’s a defence barrister working in Manchester.’

A few sniggers.

‘Who knows what that means?’ she asked.

‘He gets criminals off,’ said a boy at the back.

The older children broke into laughter.

‘That’s certainly one way of looking at it,’ Jack cut in, using his best Polish grammar.

Encouraged by Jack’s reaction, the teenager observed: ‘You’re too young to be a barrister.’

There were a few smirks.

‘I’m twenty-six.’ This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. ‘Some of my clients say the same thing.’

More laughter.

‘Anyway,’ said Pani, trying to regain her rhythm. ‘Jack grew up in Moss side, went to this church, went to Polish school here Saturdays, just like you. Actually,’ she said with a smile, ‘like you, he no speak English when he start school.’ She turned to the guest speaker for confirmation.

‘That’s right,’ Jack replied.

The audience was interested now.

‘Did you find that hard?’ asked a teenage girl.

‘Yes. It was difficult to fit in. I don’t think I ever got over it.’

He had struck a chord.

‘Is that why you became a barrister, had something to prove?’

‘Good question.’ Jack laughed. ‘You should be the barrister.’

A grin spread across her face.

‘Do you have to wear funny clothes?’ asked a younger girl at the front.

‘Yes, I do.’ Glad of the respite, he pulled the tin from his bag and held up his wig. ‘I have to wear this,’ he said, tossing it over to the child. ‘Try it on.’

Enjoying the attention, she put it on, making everyone chuckle.

A boy put his hand up. ‘What do you do if they’ve done some horrible crime, like rape or murder, and you know they’re guilty?’

Pani Mila winced, but didn’t intervene.

Jack gave a wry smile. He’d been asked that question a thousand times. ‘You only know if they tell you, and then you can’t say they’re innocent.’

‘But what if you just know,’ the boy persisted, ‘in your heart?’

Jack thought for a moment. ‘You carry on.’

‘That must be very difficult,’ said Pani Mila.

‘I suppose so,’ Jack replied. ‘But it hasn’t really happened to me yet.’

Chapter 1

‘Come on you two, it’s half past seven.’

Natasha Smart’s daughters scampered across the landing. They giggled as she patted their bottoms.

The girls climbed under their duvets.

‘Mummy,’ said Geraldine, the eldest, as she flopped her head deep into the pillow. ‘I miss Daddy. When can we see him?’

‘I’m not sure, sweetie. Daddy’s poorly. When he’s better you can see him.’

‘Does he still love us, Mummy?’

‘Of course he does, sweetie. Why do you ask that?’

Geraldine’s brow furrowed. ‘Because I saw him. He didn’t look poorly.’

‘Where?’ As soon as she said it, Natasha wished she hadn’t sounded so alarmed.

Geraldine studied her mother’s face with the intuition of youth.

‘At school. Playtime.’ Geraldine’s words became a whisper, sensing the importance of her secret. ‘He talked to me through the fence.’

‘What did he say?’ her mother whispered back.

She thought for a moment. ‘I can’t remember. I think it was about God.’

Natasha was still taking this in when she heard something being knocked over outside. The wheelie bin. She got up and looked out of the window, onto the lane below. Too dark to make anything out. She cursed the lack of streetlights. Since she’d separated from Tim, the house had lost its appeal. Once their dream home, the Cheshire farmhouse with its own land had become a frightening and isolated prison.

She finished tucking the girls in, kissed their foreheads and made her way downstairs.

Another clattering sound, this time from the back of the house.

Natasha’s heart was pounding. She tiptoed through the kitchen to the back door and peered through the glass into the darkness. Nothing.

She unlocked the door, opened it slowly, then stood on the step, illuminated by the kitchen light. ‘Tim, is that you?’

The stillness of the countryside filled her with anxiety. ‘If you’re trying to scare me, it isn’t working. Go home or I’ll call the police.’

After a few seconds she half-turned, about to go back inside. Then something on the patio caught her eye.

White paint – letters – a word – ‘WHORE.’

The shock made her gulp. She slammed the kitchen door, locked it, then ran to the front door to check the bolt.

Senses heightened, the slightest sound made her jump.

She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, knees up against her chest.

Burying her head in her hands, Natasha began to sob.

Chapter 2

Jack tutted when he saw that the light was still on in Mariusz’s workshop. He locked the door behind him and flipped the open sign to closed. ‘Tata, you promised not to work this late any more?’

‘I finishing now,’ Jack’s father replied, getting up from the sewing machine. ‘Give me hand.’

Jack walked past the suit rails and steadied Mariusz as he tried to straighten up.

Mariusz waved a finger at the finished jacket. Jack hung it up, switched off the light, helped his father up the back stairs to his flat, and lowered him into the armchair. ‘You’ve got to slow down, Tata, you know what the doctor said.’

Mariusz gave a disapproving grunt. ‘Zuppe in fridge, Pani Mila make.’

Jack put the soup on the hob. ‘Smells good,’ he called to Mariusz. ‘When are you going to take Mila dancing at the Polish Club?’

‘Stop talking rubbish.’

Jack laughed.

‘She very grateful you agree to give talk.’

‘I enjoyed it. They asked some tough questions, though.’

Jack took the soup through to the lounge. His father made to get up, but Jack gestured for him to sit and pulled a small, mahogany-effect coffee table over to his chair.

Mariusz sipped at the spoon cautiously and watched his son. ‘You look well, Janusz.’

Jack blew on his soup. ‘I am. I feel like everything’s falling into place, like I’m finally getting the hang of it. I may actually be able to do this job.’

Mariusz smiled. ‘I knew you could.’ A pause. ‘And what about Lara?’

‘I’m on a case with her at the moment, speeches tomorrow,’ he replied, knowing what his father really meant.

‘When you going to ask her on date?’

‘We work together; she’s my instructing solicitor. I don’t want to spoil things.’

Mariusz scoffed. ‘You have courage to fight case in court, but you too shy to ask her?’

‘Leave it out, Tata, it’s not that easy.’ There was no hiding from his father. ‘I will when the time’s right.’

Chapter 3

Oblivious to the biting Mancunian wind, Jack walked down Quay Street with a spring in his step. He stopped outside chambers, touched his name on the list of members and smiled to himself. Jack Kowalski was finally a tenant at Century Buildings. He ran up the steps, two at a time, then turned left into the clerks’ room.

‘Ah, Mr Kowalski. How are we today?’ asked Bob as he watched chambers’ newest tenant take off his coat.

‘Fine, thanks. Speeches at half ten in my burglary trial.’ He reached into his pigeonhole. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s a bail application in a rape, sir. On the missus. A favour for your old pupil-master – Mr Huntsman’s part heard in Liverpool. You’ll look after it, won’t you?’

Bob’s politeness didn’t fool Jack. Nobody refused the senior clerk.

‘A rape?’

‘You’ll be all right, sir. The solicitor is Ken Dobkin. He knows you haven’t got a prayer. It’s just to keep the punter ’appy. You’re on at ten.’

‘But I need to be done for my trial at half ten.’

‘It won’t take long, sir, client won’t be there, banged up in Strangeways.’

Jack looked at his watch. ‘That’s in twenty minutes! When am I supposed to read it?’

‘Walking to court, of course.’

Jack registered his disapproval with a glare.

‘Well, get a move on, sir!’

‘Just this once, then, and only because it’s for Mr Huntsman,’ said Jack as he left the clerks’ room.

‘Oh, of course, sir,’ replied Bob, winking at the junior clerks. ‘Anyway, you should be thanking me. If you’d had the brief yesterday you’d have spent all night on it.’ Bob got out of his chair and followed Jack as he hurried out onto the street. ‘Carry on the way you are, sir, and you’ll be doing your own rape trial before you know it!’

Turning the corner, Jack raised an arm in triumph.

Walking back into the clerks’ room, Bob announced: ‘I do like that boy.’

Chapter 4

Jack robed in double-quick time. He rushed down to Court 8, flicking through the brief to take in the basic grounds of the application for bail. He had butterflies, but not for fear of going into Court: he’d all but conquered that in his first few months of tenancy. No, he was nervous about being unprepared, and at the possibility of getting a dressing-down from the judge.

But it was all part of being a barrister, and Jack could handle it. He was on his way, he’d won a few trials, his diary was starting to fill up, and solicitors were actually briefing him in his own name. And most important of all, he was starting to feel comfortable, not only in a wig and gown, but in his own skin.

His opponent was already in Court. Barry Smith worked in-house at the Crown Prosecution Service. A sensible and fair prosecutor who gave every brief the same meticulous consideration.

‘Here he is! Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you, Kowalski?’ he said as Jack flung his papers onto an empty lectern on counsel’s row.

‘Don’t even go there,’ Jack replied. ‘I’ve read the basics, Barry. No previous, denies it completely. Anything else I should know?’

‘Only that we’re really worried about this one.’ His humour had vanished. ‘He’s gone totally psycho, flipped out, smashed up the house and did some pretty strange things leading up to the rape. We really don’t want him out there. This brief has got danger written all over it.’

‘Bloody hell, Barry! Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?’ asked Jack. ‘I wouldn’t worry though, mate. I’ll never get bail in this.’

‘All rise!’

Her Honour Judge Beddingfield entered the courtroom and took her seat on the bench.

‘Yes?’ she said, not wasting any time.

The court clerk stood up. ‘The bail application of Timothy Smart, Your Honour. Mr Smith is for the Crown and Mr Kowalski defends.’

‘Very good. Let’s get on with it, gentlemen. I’m anxious not to keep the jury waiting in my trial. What are your objections to bail, Mr Smith?’

‘Quite simply, risk of further offences, Your Honour. The defendant has committed a very serious offence – rape of his estranged wife. He’s very unstable. There’s been a pattern of offending, all directed towards Mrs Smart: harassment, smashing windows, even entering the house uninvited and leaving bizarre and threatening messages on the walls. She’s terrified, Your Honour.’

The prosecutor handed forward some photographs of the lounge, the first of which showed the words ‘sin no more’ written in three-foot-high letters along one wall.

‘Yes, I see,’ said the judge, looking through the other photos, clearly concerned. ‘What do you say, Mr Kowalski?’

Jack got stuck in immediately: ‘There’s absolutely no corroboration for any of this, Your Honour. It all comes from Mrs Smith; only her word. There’s no bruising or injury that suggests a forced sexual act.’ Jack paused to let his points sink in. ‘Your Honour, as far as the allegations of criminal damage are concerned, it’s pure speculation that they were committed by the defendant. There is not a shred of evidence to link him to the offences. No forensics, nor eyewitness evidence. And, as I understand it, Mrs Smart did not report any of these matters to the police at the time they were allegedly committed. Only later, when she made the allegation of rape.’

Her Honour raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that right, Mr Smith?’

‘Yes it is, Your Honour. Mrs Smart made her reasons quite clear in her witness statement. She didn’t want to aggravate matters by involving the police. She was desperately trying to find a way to appease the defendant and resolve matters amicably, for the sake of the children. He reacted very badly when she told him she wanted a divorce.’

The judge nodded. ‘Yes, I see.’

Smith continued: ‘She’d already managed to persuade the defendant to move out some months earlier. Even then, she noticed how his behaviour was becoming more erratic. As far as any lack of injury is concerned, it’s well known that it takes the case no further. There is frequently no bruising or other injury where intercourse is forced.’

‘Semen?’ said the judge.

‘None, Your Honour. The defendant suffered from sexual dysfunction during the marriage – unable to ejaculate. There was a partial DNA profile on a vaginal swab, which matched the defendant.’ Smith sat down. He’d done enough.

‘Mr Kowalski?’

‘I’ve seen the expert’s preliminary report – it’s a significantly incomplete profile. My learned friend knows full well that he would never get that in evidence before a jury. Your Honour, Mr Smith hasn’t dealt with a fundamental flaw in the Crown’s case – the identification. Mrs Smart says that she woke up to find herself being blindfolded in her bed. Her hands were then tied to the bedposts and she was raped. Even if her account were true, she never saw her attacker’s face. How can she possibly identify the defendant?’

Barry Smith scoffed as he stood up to respond. ‘A rather compelling circumstantial case though, Your Honour. The rapist clearly must have entered with a key. The complainant is adamant that after ten years of marriage she knew her own husband when he was on top of her, as well as all the other matters already mentioned. Oh, and when interviewed by the police, the defendant answered no comment to all questions.’

Jack shot up. ‘As was his right, Your Honour. The defendant has no previous convictions. He is just an accountant. The prosecution do not have any other independent evidence to put before you today that suggests Mr Smart is unstable, unpredictable or criminal.’

Her Honour looked to Mr Smith again for an answer.

‘That is right, not yet. But the alleged rape happened only last week. The investigation is in its very early stages.’

Jack finished his submission. ‘Your Honour will be well aware that a trial date in this matter is likely to be months away. To remain in custody for that length of time will cause immense damage and suffering to this defendant, who as I say is of hitherto impeccable character. There is a real danger of pre-judging this matter today on the basis of a single witness, Mrs Smart, who cannot be said to be independent. This case is about a marriage breaking down, and all the hidden agendas that inevitably involves.’ Jack sat down.

Smith looked across at him nervously as the judge considered the matter.

Finally, she made her decision. ‘It is with a great deal of hesitation that I will grant bail. There will be conditions of non-contact with the Smart family, residence at the defendant’s parents’ address in, Mr Kowalski?’

‘Withington, Your Honour, as set out in the written application.’

‘…And daily reporting to Longsight police station.’ She looked at Jack earnestly. ‘If he puts so much as a toe out of line his bail will be revoked. Is that clear?’

Jack nodded. ‘Yes, Your Honour.’

‘I’ll rise while the jury are assembled.’ She left as quickly as she had entered.

Jack held up his open hands to Barry and shrugged. He wasn’t going to gloat, but it was a big result for him – and for Dobkin & Co.

‘Well done, Jack’ said Barry, magnanimous in defeat. ‘I’m not looking forward to telling Natasha Smart.’

Chapter 5

Jack and Lara crossed Spinningfields towards Marek’s restaurant. After getting bail in the rape, they had also secured a not guilty verdict in their burglary trial.

‘I really didn’t expect that, Jack, great job.’

‘Me too. The drinks are on me.’

‘You know Marek will never let you pay.’

Jack grinned. ‘Do you ever wonder about your cases?’

‘What do you mean?’ Lara replied.

‘When they get off, whether they did it?’

Lara looked at Jack curiously. ‘Never, why waste the energy?’

‘Now that I’m actually winning a few—’

‘Only Jack Kowlaski could find the negatives in getting a not guilty,’ Lara said with mock exasperation.

Jack laughed.

‘Anyway, what’s brought this on?’

‘Just something I was asked last night by some kids.’

Lara stopped, grabbing his arm. ‘The moment you start thinking like that, Jack, you’re finished as an advocate.’

He nodded.

‘Look, this is the system we’ve all signed up to. It ain’t perfect, but we have to trust the jury’s verdict, or the whole thing collapses.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘What’s the phrase – better a hundred guilty people go free than one innocent man be convicted?’

‘You’re talking about having faith in the process, but you and I both know the verdict often depends more on the ability of the barrister than anything else.’

‘Of course, just like an operation depends on the surgeon.’

‘You have an answer for everything.’

‘That’s why I’m a lawyer.’ She winked.

Jack laughed. ‘Come on, let’s get that drink.’

Chapter 6

Knock knock.

Natasha Smart froze.

Silence.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard four loud knocks on the front door.

She crept into the hall.

‘Who is it?’ The terror in her voice was obvious.

No reply, then a hissed whisper: ‘’Tis I!’

She jumped. It had come from behind her. Natasha swiveled around. Her mouth went dry. Fear shot through her body.

Smart was standing in the kitchen. Had she forgotten to lock the back door?

Natasha was momentarily unable to speak. ‘What are you doing here?’

Only a leer in response.

‘Get out!’ She was shaking in fear.

‘If a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?’

Natasha noticed something in his hand – a jerry can. She could smell the fumes.

‘Oh God, no. Please. I’m begging you.’

‘The soul who sins shall die,’ he said, wallowing in her horror. ‘I gave her time to repent,’ he muttered to himself, ‘but she will not turn away from her immorality.’ He splashed the petrol over her.

Screaming, Natasha flapped her arms, trying in vain to wipe the liquid off her face, all co-ordination lost in the panic. ‘No, please, I beg you.’

He pulled out a cigarette lighter and held it out towards her.

She stopped.

Smart’s grin radiated pure evil.

In the final moments Natasha Smart was calm.

Finger on flint.

Click.

Chapter 7

Marek ushered Lara and his nephew to some empty stools.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘Not guilty,’ the lawyers replied.

Jack’s uncle plonked three Tyskie beers on the bar and declared: ‘Another victory for the Kowalski!’

They clinked bottles. ‘Cheers!’ said Lara.

‘Na zdrowie,’ replied Marek.

‘To Lara,’ said Jack. ‘She did all the work, I’m just the mouthpiece.’

‘We make a good team.’

What did she mean?

Mariusz left his drink and moved off to serve a customer.

Maybe now was the time? Filled with confidence from the day’s events, he needed to seize the moment. ‘Lara?’

Before he could go further, his phone pinged.

‘It’s from Sarah Dale, she needs me to come back to chambers ASAP.’

‘Sounds like something juicy?’

‘Could be,’ said Jack, trying to return to his task.

‘Better not keep your Head of Chambers waiting,’ said Lara. ‘I’ve got to get back to the office, anyway.’

In two minds, Jack hovered for a moment.

‘Well, go on then,’ she bossed.

The moment had passed.

Chapter 8

Jack went straight to the clerks’ room to share his good news. ‘Not guilty in the burg, but also, bail in the rape!’

But Jack didn’t get the reaction he’d hoped for. In fact, he got nothing at all – just stares. ‘What is it?’ he asked, suddenly feeling unnerved.

Sarah Dale, Head of Chambers, walked in before Bob could respond. ‘Jack, have you got a minute? We’re in the library.’

Jack followed her in. Ken Dobkin, Lara’s boss, and Simon Huntsman, Jack’s former pupil-master, were already sitting at the table.

‘Sit down, Jack,’ she said, with uncharacteristic tenderness. She lowered herself onto the seat next to him.

‘Timothy Smart has just been arrested for murder.’

Jack couldn’t take it in. ‘Murder?’ Then he felt the blood rushing to his head. ‘Please don’t say his wife?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Arson.’

Jack’s turned white. He made to stand up, but his legs gave way.

‘You all right, Jack?’ said Huntsman, with a steadying hand under Jack’s shoulder. Sarah poured a glass of water. ‘Here, drink this.’

‘What about the children?’

‘They weren’t there, thank goodness – they were at their maternal grandmother’s place,’ Dobkin replied. ‘It was a regular thing, they’re saying Smart knew that.’

Jack brushed Huntsman’s hand away as the news began to sink in. ‘And there I was, wallowing in the