LITMIR.BIZ

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or it should be.’ He glared at her, as though she were responsible for all the failings of the system.

      She held his gaze for a moment, wondering why, even in spite of what he’d said and the genuine passion in his voice, things still didn’t add up. Given the lack of direct evidence linking Farrell to the murder, or evidence pointing in a different direction, it wasn’t clear why he had been the only real suspect. Something was missing.

      ‘OK. I agree the evidence against him is circumstantial, but unless the police were beyond incompetent, there must be something else to make them so sure Farrell did it. What have you left out?’

      He glanced away, reached for his cigarettes, then lit another. ‘There is something, although it’s not really relevant.’

      ‘I’d still like to hear it. I need the full, unedited picture, if I’m going to be of any help.’

      He looked up at her. ‘OK. When Farrell was in his early twenties, before he got married, he was arrested on suspicion of raping a woman. He admitted having sex with her, but claimed it was consensual. The police decided not to charge him. Twelve years later, when his marriage was on the rocks and his wife had booted him out, he was again charged with rape. A twenty-year-old woman he met in a nightclub in Swindon claimed he had followed her out of the nightclub and had raped her. Again he said she had agreed to sex, but this time he was remanded in custody. However, when the CPS examined the CCTV footage from the nightclub and street outside, they decided there was no chance of a conviction and the charge was dropped. Obviously, none of this came out in court, but I’m sure it coloured the police’s and the CPS’s view that they had the right man. As a result, they didn’t bother to look for anybody else.’

      She stared at him, amazed. ‘So the man has a background of sexual violence. You seriously think none of this is relevant?’

      ‘No. I don’t. Innocent until proved guilty, isn’t that what it’s supposed to be?’

      She exhaled loudly, still holding his gaze. What else was he holding back? ‘Well, I disagree. I’d call it interesting and very relevant, in the circumstances. Once, I could dismiss, but twice? You could say there’s a pattern beginning, particularly given the allegations of stalking Jane made against him.’

      An angry fire filled his eyes. ‘There’s no fucking pattern. The police checked everything.’

      She shrugged. ‘Were there other incidents we don’t know about, that maybe weren’t reported? Did you bother to check?’

      ‘It means nothing,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Sean’s not a rapist. He was never charged.’

      She shook her head wearily. Even if Farrell hadn’t been charged or convicted of a sexual offence, such a background was hardly the norm. Without knowing the details, it was impossible to tell what it might mean, but to dismiss it as irrelevant was missing the point. Dan was as bad as the rest of them, she thought, not mentioning Farrell’s background until pushed, trying to skew the evidence Farrell’s way, even in conversation with her. Everybody always had an angle and Dan had probably invested so much time and effort in his belief of Sean Farrell’s innocence that he, too, had lost all objectivity and couldn’t see things straight. She had heard enough for the moment. She got to her feet and picked up her bag.

      ‘Have you tried to get the exhibits retested?’

      ‘Of course. But, as you know, there’s no right in this country to retest the evidence and there’s no consistent policy either from one police force to another. It’s basically a postcode lottery. Wiltshire Police, as they’re now called, have refused on the basis that the defence team had full access at the time. It’s possible the exhibits don’t even exist any longer, or they can’t lay their hands on them, which may be why they’re trying to withhold them.’

      ‘What do you mean? They are required to keep them safe.’

      ‘Try telling that to another innocent man we’re trying to help. I won’t go into the details, but the sodding Hampshire constabulary have either lost all of the exhibits or deliberately destroyed them.’

      He looked at her meaningfully, as though somehow again she were to blame. He was right. Although the Home Office guidelines stipulated that exhibits must be kept for thirty years, evidence did go missing occasionally and it could have disastrous consequences. Unacceptable though it was, what could she say? Human error happened in all walks of life, even the police.

      ‘Going back to Sean Farrell,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t matter that the defence team was beyond incompetent and that science has moved on leaps and bounds. As far as the police are concerned, the ship has sailed.’

      ‘What about the Criminal Cases Review Commission? Isn’t that what they’re there for?’

      ‘Supposedly. They’re our last hope, but they’re basically useless,’ he said emphatically, with a dramatic sweep of his hand. ‘They’ll only send a case back to the Court of Appeal if there’s what they call “new and compelling evidence” that the conviction was unsafe. Rather than champion cases like Sean’s, they seem to be totally in thrall to the Court of Appeal. And they are very unwilling to quash convictions and go against a jury’s verdict. Less than one per cent of appealed cases get overturned.’

      ‘Why do you say the CCRC is useless? I thought they have the powers to request whatever they like from the police and the CPS.’

      ‘In theory, yes. Problem is, they’re completely swamped with applications and massively under-resourced. So they’re looking for any excuse to turn people down. Just to give you an idea, out of the five hundred or so cases they reviewed last year, they sent only about thirty back to the Court of Appeal. That’s all.’

      She wasn’t aware of the statistics, but if what he said was true, it was a depressing picture and she wondered how he coped, working with such poor odds. ‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’

      He nodded wearily. ‘Basically, we have to do the CCRC’s work for them and present them with the evidence on a plate. Which is what we’re trying to do for Sean. But if we aren’t allowed to retest the exhibits, and for whatever reason they don’t think it’s worth doing themselves, there won’t be any “new and compelling evidence” and they’ll turn us down. Catch bloody twenty-two. It’s no fucking way to run a criminal justice system.’ He thumped the table hard with his fist. ‘From what I hear, we have just a matter of a few weeks to come up with something before they decide on Sean’s application.’

      She saw the despair in his eyes and was reminded of Duran’s original question to her in Bellevue: ‘Do you believe in justice?’ She had answered so quickly in the affirmative, but it was an un-thought-out, automatic response. The justice system was far from perfect. In her opinion, at the very least it sounded as though a forensic re-examination of the evidence was merited in Farrell’s case. But without cooperation from Wiltshire Police, the CCRC was Farrell’s last hope. Based on what Dan said, and the little she herself had picked up from the media, it wasn’t an option that filled her with much confidence either.

      She moved towards the door, then turned around to face him. There was something she had to clarify, if only to satisfy her own curiosity. ‘One last question. Do you really believe Sean Farrell is innocent?’

      He looked surprised. ‘Yes. Of course.’

      The response was quick and emphatic, but it still didn’t convince her. Before she had a chance to say anything else, the door to the office opened and Zofia came into the room carrying Dan’s coffee and a paper bag. Dan stabbed out his cigarette violently in an empty mug on the desk beside him and slowly got to his feet.

      ‘We won’t take on a case unless we’re pretty certain,’ he added. ‘We have hundreds of prisoners contacting us each year, but, as I told you, we have very limited resources. We have to be very careful to focus on the cases where we can help most, where we can add value to what has been done before and where there’s been an obvious miscarriage of justice.’ He spoke vehemently, the irritation in his voice clear.

      ‘Everybody

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