Justice redeemed.
“Jonathan Terence Wedgewood. You also stand accused of perjury, destruction of personal property, destruction of evidence pertinent to a case, obstruction of justice and attempted murder. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, sir! On all charges!”
Diah snorted and muttered under his breath. “Hah. Good luck with that. Cunt.”
“Call the first witness.”
“Call Obediah Stephens.”
Diah stood, marched over to the witness stand and stood to attention. He stared at Wedgewood, pure hatred drilling into his skull. “Oh god if only I could really drill into your skull.” flashed through his mind
Wedgewood stared back in shock at the uniform.
The foreman presented the bible and Diah swore on it.
“Council for the prosecution. You may proceed.”
“Thank you, your honour.” He walked up to the stand and smiled. “What’s your name, son?”
“Obediah Stephens, C.G.M, sir.”
The judge’s jaw dropped. “C.G.M?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Conspicuous gallantry medal?”
“Yes! Sir!”
“Calm down, boy.” The council smiled.
Diah turned his glare to him. “I have a name, you know! Do you call adults boy? No? Didn’t think so!”
The judge didn’t look happy. “Control your temper.”
Diah took a deep breath. And another. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m getting sick of it!”
“Sick of what?”
“Sick of being questioned about my medal, sir! I earned it, I earned the respect that goes with it and I never get that respect I deserve. SIR!”
The council looked up at the judge. “Your honour. I think you should hear the lad out before telling him to control his temper again.”
“Very well… But a C.G.M? I take it you can prove this?”
“I have the medal on me, sir. My dad has the newspaper where I’m mentioned in dispatches, sir.”
“It’s customary to also have a certificate, is it not?”
“It is. I don’t.”
The council looked up at the judge again. “Your honour! Please. I’ve barely started my line of questioning. All your questions will be answered, probably without the need to ask them.”
The judge nodded. “I apologise. One so young, it was quite a shock. Please, continue.”
“Thank you, your honour. Now, Master Stephens. What happened the last time you stood in the witness box and stated your name?”
“I was warned that perjury was a crime, sir.”
“Why did he warn you about that?”
“At the time, I thought it was just a general warning, sir. First time I’ve given evidence in a civilian court. I simply stated that I would never lie under oath, sir.”
“And the reply to that statement?”
“And yet you are, sir.”
“How did you react to that accusation?”
“I felt insulted, sir. Angry. I told him that perhaps he should check his facts before accusing me of being a liar. That his job was meant to be based on fact, sir.”
“Quite right. And his reaction.”
“One more outburst and I’ll hold you in contempt, sir. I muttered something under my breath at that. Obviously he saw me because he demanded to know what I’d said.”
“And what did you do?”
“I stared him straight in the eye and told him, sir. That’s when he sent me down for contempt of court. Locked me in a cell below the magistrates court for hours.”
“And what was it you had muttered?”
“It seems you already hold me in contempt. Sir.”
“What happened next?”
“The three men I was standing as a witness against must’ve been sent down too, I heard three cell doors slam, sir, followed by a voice half-singing you’re going to die, boy.”
“How did you react to that?”
“I laughed and yelled back Oh please try. I could do with beating seven shades of shit out of someone right now.”
“Now… Why did you tell him what you’d muttered?”
“I was under oath, sir. I said I’d never lie under oath and I never have and never will. I swore not only to tell the truth, sir. I swore to tell the whole truth. He asked, I answered. Hardly a crime, is it?”
Diah glanced up at the judge. He did look a little uncomfortable. The jury didn’t look too happy either.
“So, what happened next?”
“A few hours later, the foreman came and let me out of the cell. Through I was being released but nooooo, oh no. Exercise yard, sir. And the three I was testifying against were in there.”
“And then?”
“What do you think? They attacked me of course. That’s why that one has his arm in plaster. I broke it. The guards arrived but only after I’d thrown one, broken his arm and threatened to rip the arm off the third and beat the first one to death with the soggy end, sir.”
“Good lord! Where did you learn to fight? Three fully grown men?”
Diah held up his hat. “There, sir.”
“May I?”
“Of course.” Diah handed the hat to the council. He examined it, handed it to the judge who also examined it. The judge nodded to the jury and it was handed around there too.
“Let it be known for court records that Obediah Stephens provided a part of his uniform in the form of a sailor’s cap with H.M.S Defiant as its identifying marking.” He looked down at the witness stand again. “What class of vessel?”
“Warship, your honour.”
“How many masts?”
“Four, sir. And for added propulsion, an engine was added when the ship was taken from pirates twenty odd years ago, sir. There’s a large funnel protruding from the rear deck, sir.”
“And the crew compliment?”
“Not entirely sure, sir. Well over two hundred with room for at least another twenty in crew quarters, sir. And another twenty in impressed quarters too, sir.”
The council resumed his questioning. “Thank you, lad. Back to the main subject. They attacked, you defended yourself injuring one, the guards appeared. Then what?”
“I was ordered back to my cell.”
“How did you feel?”
“A little exhilarated, sir. A little satisfied. I enjoy a good fight but I’ll only do it if attacked unless I’m fighting onboard, sir. For my friends and shipmates, sir. It felt good, putting what I’d learned to good use without holding back too much.”
“Too much? You could’ve done more?”
“Yes, sir. First rule of fighting for your life is to kill, not injure. A dead foe is no longer a threat. An injured one may become more of a threat, sir.”
“And the second rule?”
“The second rule is there is no second rule, sir. Anything goes. Any form of deception, underhandedness… Anything that provides you with an advantage where lives are on the line is acceptable, sir.”
“Very well. Now, you’d returned to your cell…”
“Not sure how long it was, sir, but I got called up to the courtroom again. This time they put me in the dock, sir. He said if I didn’t recant my claims on the letters after my name he’d sentence me to seven days in prison for contempt of court, sir. He also said that my other crimes, including perjury and injuring those three would be used against me on my return.”
“And how did you react?”
“Angrily. He was ordering me to perjure myself, sir! I told him before I was even awarded that medal I was told it could never be taken away by anyone. I refused of course. I also demanded that he charge me with perjury there and then, sir. I hoped that might mean I’d get tried for that rather than the contempt of court. A way out of going to prison. Of course, him, oh no, I wouldn’t be charged with that until I got back! That’s when one of the others finally spoke, sir. It was a mumble but I heard him asking why I was being pushed further and further into contempt just because of those, in his words, bloody letters, sir.”
“They said nothing before that point?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“And his response?”
“Blah blah, I’ll have you know my father had that medal, blah blah, I will not have it tarnished by him dragging it through the mud etc, etc. Told him to keep out of it. As I was already heading for prison for nothing anyway and I was angry, I called up to him, sir.”
“And what did you say?”
“The truth again, at least as I saw it. I said if his father was there he’d bloody whip him for what he was about to do. That’s when he sentenced me to forty days and said he’d push for those other crimes to be run consecutively so I ended up in prison for twenty years, sir.”
“Other crimes?”
“Perjury, assault and grievous bodily harm, sir.”
“But they attacked you!”
“I know, sir. That little detail didn’t seem to bother him. When I appeared in front of him again the first thing he said was I was showing my true colours as nothing but a common thug, sir. Probably due to the black eye and bloody nose I’d let them give me in order to get them off balance, sir.”
“What happened next?”
“I was led downstairs to the cells again, sir. I admit, as I was going down those steps I called him some very… rude words and said he couldn’t organise a piss up in a fucking brewery, sir. He’d already sentenced me to the maximum for contempt so I really let rip. I went back into mine but the foreman said not this time and led me to a cage on wheels. Spent the next ten days in Stafford prison, sir.”
“Can you identify the man who did this?”
“Him, sir. The one in the middle. Wedgewood, sir.”
The council looked up at the judge. “Sir. The story does continue, but I feel this is a good point to pause and allow my colleague the opportunity to take over. I don’t rest my case, sir, there’s still a lot to cover, but I would like to put it on hold temporarily.”
“Very well. Master Stephens, is there anything more you wish to add?”
“Just one thing, sir. When I got to prison I very nearly spent twenty years in A wing for murder, sir.”
The judge stared down at him in horror. “What?”
“Case of mistaken identity, sir. Someone called what I thought was my name and a number and I stepped forward. He’d already packed up all my possessions and handed me my uniform before it came to light, sir. As a result, I had to leave in prison uniform. They couldn’t find my possessions because I couldn’t remember the number they’d shouted.”
“Why did you step forward?”
“Well I’d never been in prison before, sir! How was I meant to know?”
“You’re assigned a number before you enter prison! Before you even leave the cells below the courthouse!”
“I wasn’t and that moron didn’t even send any court documents down with me! The only Stephens O they had on file for arrival that day was Oscar, twenty years into a forty stretch for murder transferred from Strangeways. The booking clerk had to fill out the form himself, sir. His handwriting was so bad that when it got to typing up my details onto a proper form I got misnamed Charles Stephens and ended up in there even though they’d been trying to get me out for over a week, SIR!”
“Clerk of the court!”
“Yes, your honour?”
“Add criminal negligence to the charges against Mr Wedgewood.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr Wedgewood. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, sir!”
Diah stood, marched over to the witness stand and stood to attention. He stared at Wedgewood, pure hatred drilling into his skull. “Oh god if only I could really drill into your skull.” flashed through his min
It was the council for the defence’s turn.
He glowered at Diah.
“I put it to you… boy… that you in fact have never been to sea. That this entire thing is nothing but a fantasy dreamed up by a child! Therefore that you have not got a conspicuous gallantry medal and Mr Wedgewood there was right to accuse you of perjury!”
Diah sniggered. “Seriously? That’s your line of questioning?”
“It is. Yes.”
“Go on then. Try me.”
“How does a fifteen year old boy end up on a Royal Navy vessel when the minimum age for a military sailor is eighteen?”
“Simple. Sir. I, and Stephen Rogers, were impressed in Southampton, sir. And I wasn’t fifteen. I was thirteen, sir.”
“But only sailors qualify for impressment!”
“As far as the press gang were concerned, we were on water within a mile of the port and Stephen at least was fair game. sir. They grabbed me too and received punishment for that.”
“What punishment?”
“I suggest you contact the court houses in the south of England, sir. The barge master I was working for sold us to that press gang. As a result, Ebenezer Stone and George Clough both received the death penalty last year, SIR! I think it’s likely Southampton where Stone was hanged and I heard Clough got the noose in Portsmouth. Might’ve been Plymouth, I can’t remember. As for proving I wasn’t even on that ship, may I suggest you contact the admiralty? After all, they authorised the medal! Contact Gibraltar too. It was the governor there who presented it to me!”
“You claim to be able to prove your medal is authentic?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you also said you haven’t got a certificate. Such a certificate is traditionally assigned at the same time as the medal, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So where is it?”
“The medal. Here.” Diah pulled out his medal case and opened it, handing it to the council. “My dad has the newspaper containing my mention in dispatches if you want to get it off him.”
“And the certificate?”
“I haven’t received the replacement yet.”
“Replacement? Where is the original, boy! I’d expect such a certificate to be taken care of. That is the only proof I, for one, will accept!”
“Well tough fucking shit! Sir! If you want to know where my original certificate is you should’ve spoken more closely with your cunt of a client! He’ll tell you where my fucking certificate is!”
The judge glowered down at Diah. “Boy, I’m warning you”
“Oh warn away! I don’t give a shit anymore! Sir! Send me to fucking prison again. What difference does it make? If you must know, he destroyed it! Sir! I wasn’t there, I was in prison so you’ll need to ask my dad what happened there… SIIIIIIIIIR!” Tears began to well again. “Apart from the medal itself, that was my most treasured possession and he tore it to shreds! Look at the charges sheet again!”
“He… He did what? He was accusing you of perjury and”
“Exactly! So shut up about me being all disrespectful and crap. As far as I’m concerned, civilian court isn’t worth the dog shit scraped off my shoe, SIR! He accused me of contempt of court and after what he did to me, I can’t think of anything more contemptible! Why do you think I refused to testify against those three this time?!”
The judge shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You’ve mentioned that before, civilian court. What other court is there?”
“Court martial, sir. When I gave evidence against a man there I was treated with respect! SIR! I expected the same in Stoke and all I got was shat on from a great height for no fucking reason, SIR!” Diah returned his attention to the defence council. “Well, any more stupid questions?”
“Indicate the man with this newspaper.”
Diah pointed at his dad.
“Foreman?”
“Yes, sir.” Dave handed the foreman the paper folded to the relevant page and he returned, handing it to the council.
He looked troubled as he read it. He sighed and handed it back to the foreman, who took it to the judge.
“As some of the Jury are unable to read, I will read it now.
Royal Navy
Conspicuous Gallantry Medal
CGM
Landsman Obediah Stephens A532803 H.M.S. Defiant.
For his gallantry at sea during an escort operation on the fifth of June, 2018 in which, as a seaman in training, he was alerted to the absence of the expected bells, found a crewman dead, killed a saboteur and alerted the captain that the ship’s guns had been tampered with. His bravery saved the lives of over two hundred men and helped secure the capture of the pirate vessel responsible. Exemplary performance for one so young.”
One of the jury stuck his hand up.
“Yes?”
“What does it mean, absence of bells, sir?”
The judge smiled. He looked down at Diah. “Would you care to answer that, lad?”
“Gladly. They ring a bell every half an hour to mark time. The count increases until eight bells when it means a change of watch. Two watches on the ship so all sailors work four hours on duty, four off unless there’s an emergency, attack or severe weather. Then it’s all hands on deck, sir.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that though, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. There’s two two hour watches, called dog watches, at sixteen hundred hours to eighteen hundred and eighteen hundred hours to twenty hundred. Four pm to six pm and six pm to eight pm, sir.”
“And why is that?”
“Two reasons, sir. First, so everyone gets a chance for an evening meal and second, so everyone gets every watch. Without them if you started on morning watch, you’d always be on morning watch.”
“Which is?”
“Oh four hundred to oh eight hundred, sir. Four am to eight am, sir.”
The medal and newspaper also did the rounds, before being returned to their owners.
The council fidgeted, he glanced at his client, he seemed at a loss on how to proceed.
“Sir, I too would like to continue with the questions for the boy after the story has continued.”
“Very well. It’s clear the lad needs time to pull himself together anyway. Stand down, Master Stephens, return to the bench. Call the next witness.”
Diah returned to the bench next to a grinning thief.
Dave put his hand on his shoulder. “Do you really feel that way?”
“’course I do. After what happened, you would too.”
“Call Edward Mattock!”
The call echoed down the courthouse again and the foreman from the magistrates entered. He took the stand and swore himself in.
The prosecution council stepped forward again.
“Mr Mattock, what is your profession.”
“Foreman for Stoke-on-Trent magistrates court. Or it was until it was shut down, sir.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Still there, sir. There’s a lot of work to do. Every trial conducted by every magistrate trained by Mr Wedgewood needs to be retried, sir. That’s every case handled by that courthouse for the past ten years, sir. They were all doing it the same as Wedgewood.”
“Every single one?”
“Every one he didn’t send on to crown court, sir, yes.”
“And why is that?”
“I didn’t know, sir. It’s not my place to question the operation of a courtroom, just to follow the instructions of the magistrates but in all the time I was there, even though three men sat on the bench, only one ever passed judgement, sir.”
“How…” the council gulped. “How many?”
“We’ve not finished going through them. That in itself’s likely to take weeks, sir. Well over a thousand at the last count.”
“A thousand retrials!? From one courthouse!?”
“More, sir. We’ve barely scratched the surface. Could end up being ten times that, there’s no way of knowing yet and it’s not just the guilty verdicts that need to be retried, it’s the not-guilty ones too.”
“Could you describe how the average trial commenced?”
“Of course, sir. Witnesses would be called. Often dismissed without paying any heed to what they’d said. When all the evidence had been heard, he’d pass judgement and sentence them. The other two rarely said a word and when they did speak, he reprimanded them. Usually the maximum sentence for the crime too, sir. Very rare he ever passed a sentence that was less than maximum.”
“What about mitigating circumstances?”
“I doubt he even knows the meaning of the word, sir. If he does he certainly doesn’t believe they deserve any attention.”
Diah glanced Wedgewood’s way. The defence solicitor seemed to be in a heated argument with him, well, a whispered argument. The solicitor shook his head, walked back to his place and sat, his head in his hands.
“Now, back to young Obediah. How did he react when sent down to the cells for the first time?”
“He was angry, sir. Why wouldn’t he be? I advised him to just tell Wedgewood what he wanted to hear, that it’d go easy on him but he maintained his insistence that his medal was valid and why should he lie about that, sir.”
“Why did you put the lad in the exercise yard at the same time as the defendants?”
“He told me to, sir.”
“Did he say why?”
“No, sir.”
“And how did Obediah react when told he was spending time in the yard?”
“First thing he asked was whether they were going to be there. When I said yes, he smiled, sir. Said he could do with beating the shit out of someone. He did say he’d only do that if they attacked him though.”
“Didn’t it concern you?”
“Of course. As soon as he issued the order, I ordered guards to observe so they could be on hand to break it up if anything started, sir.”
“Did he order you to do that?”
“No sir, I did that on my own. If I hadn’t I feared the lad might be killed, sir. As it was, it turned out to be the other way around. They were in far more danger from him. Surprised me, that, sir.”
“I can’t think of any more questions that can condemn this man more than he already is, your honour. No more questions for now. Again, the rest of the story is yet to be heard, sir.”
“Very well. Council for the defence?”
He looked tired. He stood, sighed, stared at Wedgewood with what could only be described as loathing… “No questions, your honour.”
“None?”
“I… I’m sorry, sir. After speaking to my client and hearing the testimony so far, I can’t think of a single question that I could use to defend this man’s actions at this time! I’m at a loss, sir.”
“Very well. Call the next witness.”
“Call David Stephens!”
Dave walked to the stand and swore himself in.
“What is your relationship to Obediah?”
“I’m his father, sir.”
“And do you have anything to add, over and above the lad’s testimony?”
“Only that my other son, Lance was in tears at the end of it. I was in shock too, sir. I sat there for a good five minutes just staring at the empty witness stand after he’d sent my son down to the cells. At least Diah had the forethought to shout back to me before the door slammed shut to get one of the generals or the king to help.”
“Generals? King?”
“Yes, sir. The villages around Kidsgrove had been in contact with the king for a while now. As for the generals, he sent a few high ranking army officers up to help deal with a… situation in the villages, sir. General Asquith reacted to Diah’s medal in a similar way to many others at first, sir. With disbelief but it only took him a minute to be convinced, unlike that one.” Dave pointed at Wedgewood.
“How did you contact the king?”
“Over the radio, sir. I have it with me.” Dave held it up.
“Really? That thing?”
“Yes.”
“How? Radios are huge!”
“This one isn’t but it does have the power to reach London. I used it to contact him that very day. Unfortunately none of the generals were available and it took too long to contact him. By the time I had it was deemed too late to get Obediah out of the cells until Monday. By then, as you heard, he’d already been sent to Stafford and lost in the system. Of course, I didn’t find that out until Monday morning.”
“Why? Why were you not informed of the location of your son?”
“I don’t know, do I? I can only assume it was his petty vindictiveness. He didn’t even tell me where he was straight away when I demanded my son’s release on Monday. He almost said it as an afterthought.”
“But your son is a minor! How can you… He didn’t even volunteer the information so you could visit?”
“No, sir, and until we received a letter from him over a week later all we knew was which prison, didn’t even know which wing, sir. My wife was beside herself. Added to that King Henry reporting that they couldn’t even find him in the records…”
“Yes, I totally understand. I would’ve been worried sick too. So… Monday morning. Describe the events as best you can.”
“I sat in the public gallery waiting for them to emerge from their chambers. The moment they did I barged to the front and demanded the release of my son. Of course, he acted all outraged, how dare you, you only approach the bench when I grant permission. I ignored him and demanded his release again. He asked who I was, I told him. He asked who my son was, I told him that too. The moment I uttered those letters after his name, he turned red from rage, sir.”
“And then?”
“He told me my son was nothing but a ruffian. A common thug and he was where he belonged and he would not get out until his forty days were up. Then I produced the evidence, first, the newspaper you’ve all seen now. He tossed it in my face claiming it was fabricated. When I placed the certificate before him he barely even glanced at it before crying forgery. He picked it up and before I could do anything, tore it to shreds right in front of me.”
“And then?”
“I called him a monster. What had he just done? Told him that was Diah’s most prized possession. He scoffed of course. That was when the king spoke for the first time, asking what he’d done. He said he’d issue a replacement signed by his own hand but I knew Diah wouldn’t see it like that. Of course, we didn’t reveal who was on the end of the radio at that time, sir.”
“Go on.”
Dave sighed. “Again, I demanded his release and it was only then he saw fit to tell me he was in Stafford prison. I was outraged, sir. My son, a fifteen year old boy, in adult prison. I thought minors were automatically sent to borstal unless it was an incredibly serious case. Contempt of court is not a serious case.”
The judge nodded. “That is how things are supposed to proceed. Clearly Mr Wedgewood thinks he’s a law unto himself.”
“He also said that he would, on release, be brought back before him and be sentenced to twenty years for the other crimes he’d committed. That my son could rot in there as far as he was concerned. I said I’d already proven the perjury charge to be false, he denied it and when I asked what other crimes, only then did he tell me he’d been put in the exercise yard with those three. I demanded to know what kind of a man would put a fifteen year old boy in a yard with three men he was testifying against and he said a man who’s growing very tired of this conversation. Henry spoke up again then, demanding Wedgewood’s name.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No, sir. It was never mentioned until he demanded it. With that information he could produce the documents required for when Diah was released. He decided it should be my son’s job to serve him the papers.”
“Papers?”
“Dissolution of his appointment as magistrate, sir. He thought Diah deserved it and quite frankly, I agreed. His majesty advised me to withdraw at that point before he tried charging me with any crimes, such as that imagined forgery he’d destroyed.”
“Thank you. Is there anything more you wish to add?”
“Not at this point, but there is still the day of Diah’s release. That was a week later, sir. I think you still have a few people to speak to.”
“Quite agree. Again, sir, more questions later, but for now, no further questions, you’re honour.”
The judge looked at the radio… “And you say the king himself is available now, on that thing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Could you…?”
The radio spoke. “No need for David to do anything. I’ve been here. Listening. I have a bible to hand if you wish to swear me in.”
“That’s really king Henry?”
“Yes. I am he.”
“Good lord. Very well.”
“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
“Now, just for verification purposes, you understand, sir.”
“Of course. It’s not every day a disembodied voice claims to be king of England. I understand fully. Please, proceed.”
“How do you announce yourself in an official capacity?”
“I, Henry the ninth, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas. King, Defender of the Faith and Emperor of India… Followed by whatever decree or statement I wish to make.”
“What is your full name?”
“Peter Henry William Arthur Beaumont.”
“And your date of birth?”
“Official or actual?”
“How about both?”
“Very well… My official birthday is the second Saturday in June. This year, that’s the eighth. My actual date of birth is the thirtieth of October, 1992.”
“And what on earth is your interest in a small mining village like Kidsgrove?”
“Ah, now this gets complicated. For one, it isn’t just any mining village, it’s a village that sprang up in record time and has a working electricity supply and telephone network but that’s not what got my attention. I received a visit from one of its occupants asking for help.”
“Help with what?”
“Something extraordinary occurred there some time ago. Something linked to the events that struck London. I’d rather you end this line of questioning here and now. Such things are a matter of national security and not for the ears of the general public. They did gain my ear and I have been in communication with them for some time. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Very well. When did Obediah first gain your attention?”
“Not long after the coronation I reviewed the most recent decorations. As highest ranking member of the Royal Navy and the Army, I saw it as my duty to find out as much as I could about such men of worth. When I got to Obediah, I was astounded. When I heard he intended to join the navy on his majority, but not only join, but join up for life, that amazed me even more. The youngest man ever to receive that award and a more worthy man I can not think of right now.”
“And how did his plight reach you?”
“I’d just had an audience with several foreign diplomats when I heard the radio in my drawing room. The voice sounded unfamiliar. Tired. Almost as if it’d given up the will to live by the time I answered.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d been trying to contact me since about ten in the morning and by the time I answered it was well after three. When I informed him the courts close at four, David was devastated because it was Sunday the next day. I just informed him it gave us more time to get all the evidence together and sent a train up with a solicitor and a copy of the relevant newspaper the next day.”
“And how did you feel upon hearing of this?”
“How do you think I felt? I was outraged. A decorated man being persecuted by such a vindictive, evil, self serving… I apologise. It still angers me now, especially after hearing Obediah’s reaction to the destruction of his certificate and I was positively livid, listening to his testimony today. No innocent man should suffer such indignities. Until he learned of his certificate’s destruction he was self confident, self assured and totally in control. I just pray that he regains those qualities. It was almost as if something had died within him, listening to him today.”
“Thank you, your Majesty. No further questions.”
“Council for the defence?”
Again, he sighed. “No questions, your honour.”
Wedgewood stood bolt upright. “What the hell are you doing you fool! You’re supposed to be defending me!”
“Can you provide any ideas on how I can defend you, you idiot? Every single thing digs you deeper and there’s nothing I can think of that would get you out of this!”
“I didn’t know!”
“You didn’t even try to find out, did you? I’ve seen the court transcripts! Obediah told you to look up the dispatches to determine the truth for yourself! Did you?”
“Of course I didn’t, why would I waste my time on a child’s fantasy?”
”It wasn’t a fantasy though was it? Now you’ll have all the time in the world to waste. In prison, the way things’re going!” He turned to the judge. “Your honour, I’d like to withdraw council from this man. I can’t do this anymore. Not for him.”
“You understand if you do this, it will be deemed a mistrial and a new jury, new councils
and a new trial will need to be scheduled? Do you really think he deserves a reprieve? Do you think young Obediah deserves to be put through all that again?”
“No!”
“Then I recommend you remain his council until the conclusion, even if you can’t think of any means by which he can be defended. He will have a chance to have his say, though at this point, I very much doubt anything he says will vindicate him.”
Wedgewood glared at his defence, at the judge. He looked like a trapped animal. As if his ankles hadn’t been shackled, he might’ve bolted for the door again.
Then, a change. He visibly deflated. He leant on the railing of the dock and his head fell to his forearms on the rail. “I’d like to change my plea to that of guilty.”
“To all charges?”
He nodded, defeated. “All charges.”
“Very well. I have here a list of recommendations for your sentencing. You will spend the remainder of your life with no hope of release in C wing at Stafford prison. This, apparently, was Obediah’s idea and I wholeheartedly agree. Many men you sentenced are there and almost all, according to Obediah, know what you did to him and liked him there. They will of course make the rest of your life a living hell which, again, I wholeheartedly agree with. Furthermore you will not have the capability to earn any privileges. Ever. Your food will always the worst. Your recreation time will always be limited to that of one hour a day and even though you will be paid for any work they put you to, you will not be permitted to spend it, thus denying you the chance to pay for luxuries. In fact, your account will be held at a permanent zero, even if someone attempts to pay into it from the outside. Any money you accrue will be distributed among the rest of the prisoners in C wing.”
“What!? No-one deserves such treatment!”
“For the crime of attempted murder alone, you deserve the death penalty! Never in my life have I witnessed such a case. You didn’t just attempt to bring ruination on this lad’s life, you brought ruin to the whole city! Do you have any idea how much it’ll cost to host over one thousand, possibly as many as ten thousand retrials? What about all those innocent men you incarcerated? All the lives you ruined before Obediah here helped bring this to light? They will need to be compensated if found not guilty in a properly orchestrated trial!
Now, as for you two. Five years in prison. Again, Stafford C wing. You however will be treated as normal prisoners. You’re just as much victims of this imbecile as Diah is. You however had it in your power to read. The opportunity to learn your duties. To override the decisions made by Mr Wedgewood, but you took none of them. I also fine you each one thousand pounds which will go towards paying for those retrials.”
One dropped to the floor in a dead faint at this news.
The other… “But I don’t have a thousand pounds!”
“Then you will, on your release, work to pay it off or be placed in debtors prison until such a time as you’ve paid it off there.”
“
But I’d be in there for a hundred years paying off that much!”
“All properties owned by you will be confiscated and sold. That will cut your debt considerably. If you wish to avoid debtor’s prison I suggest you begin work at the moment of your release and pay every penny short of living expenses to the court each week. And when I say living expenses, I do not mean lavish lifestyles. You will be provided with a list of acceptable expenses.”
“What do you mean acceptable living expenses?”
“I’m unfamiliar with living costs among the working classes right now. Anyone?”
Obediah stood. “Sir. At current prices, two shillings a day for a guest house, this may, sometimes, be cut if sharing with someone else. Sixpence a day should be enough to cover food. Maybe put aside a shilling a week to save up for replacement work clothes or boots after a month or two. Maybe another shilling for unforeseen circumstances. Doctors can be bloody expensive, for example, so he’d need to save to build up enough cash. Just have to hope he doesn’t fall ill in the first few years. Prices may go up a bit in five years though.”
“You expect me to pay all but eighteen shillings a week?”
The judge smiled down on Obediah. “Thank you. I think one pound a week is acceptable based on current prices. I warn you now. If you underpay by even a shilling for even one month, it will be debtor’s prison for you. Foreman. Take them down.”