Chapter 31

 

   The rich wood panelling of the courtroom and the imposing portraits hung around the walls filled John Brown with awe. He wanted to cough but was afraid of drawing attention to himself. Perched at the front of the hushed court, black robed solicitors with wigs checked over their case notes around a large wooden desk.
   Quite a few islanders had taken the ferry and travelled to the courthouse to support Old Graham, who was now regarded as something of a hero in the Western Isles. Dugal was there, as were the Thompsons, and Dundas the water bailiff sat quietly beside them. There were many other familiar faces from the village as well. John reached into his jacket for a hanky and his pew creaked. Faces turned in his direction and he felt himself wishing he had sat somewhere at the back of the crowded courtroom.
   Down at the front an attendant stood and asked the court to rise. There was a rustle as everyone rose to their feet. The judge breezed in attired in red robes and white wig. He took his seat and glanced around the courtroom as everyone resumed their seats.
   When the preliminaries were out of the way, one of the solicitors rose to his feet and mumbled something John couldn’t quite hear. The Judge peered over his glasses, asked a couple of questions and after perusing a few sheets of paper handed up to him, pronounced a fine of £75. The solicitor nodded graciously, gathered his notes and left the court room. Then the procurator fiscal rose and called another name. Another solicitor rose, explained to the judge that his client was pleading guilty, and then spent a few minutes relating a few circumstances surrounding the case. John couldn't hear a word that was being said. Eventually the judge nodded, and admonished the solicitor's client, agreeing that the circumstances were indeed extraordinary. The procurator fiscal then rose and called another name.
   A young man with dark glasses rose from one of the front pews and made his way to the dock, where an attendant closed the door when he was seated. The judge frowned while he perused him over the top of his glasses. After the procurator fiscal had read out the charges, one of the solicitors stood up and explained that his client was a reformed man and was extremely sorry for playing his music so loudly at such an unearthly hour of the night and telling the police to fuck off. The judge listened and then because it was his first offence, admonished him as well. The young man thanked the judge, left the dock and walked out of the court.
   The procurator fiscal then stood again and called out the name they were all waiting to hear. A murmur rippled around the court room. Moments later, Old Graham walked in handcuffed to a police officer. He glanced around the court impassively as his handcuffs were removed. He spotted John Brown at the back of the room and noted his appreciation for his being there with a slight nod.
   ‘Are you Graham Parks?’ asked the procurator fiscal, addressing the accused man when he was seated.
   Old Graham grunted.
   The judge seemed slightly irked by the grunt and leaned forward.
   ‘I’m sorry, could you speak up?’
   Old Graham grunted again.
   ‘Would you please raise your voice and speak clearly?’
   Old Graham grunted for a third time.
   Jason Livingstone, who was defending him, then stood awkwardly and explained that his client couldn't speak properly owing to severe trauma resulting from war experiences in hostile countries.
   The judge scowled at him for a few moments before allowing the proceedings to continue. The procurator fiscal then read out the charges against him, accusing Old Graham of murdering Morrison by knowingly and willingly hitting him over the head with a rock and leaving him to drown.
   ‘How do you plead?' asked the judge. 'Guilty or not guilty?’
   Old Graham grunted.
   ‘I’m sorry,’ said the procurator fiscal, ‘would you please speak up?’
   Old Graham grunted a little louder with a shake of his head.
   John felt his heart sink. This was no way to treat a good man. Jason Livingston stood once more, but before he could say anything, the door to the court suddenly burst open. There were a few astonished intakes of breath as Janet Munro's husband strode in and marched down the central aisle towards the dock. A couple of policemen rose to their feet menacingly but Munro was undeterred.
   ‘What do you mean by this intrusion?’ barked the Judge in great anger.
   ‘Don’t you mister me, Billy Johnson, perched up there under your fancy wig. We were friends at school, we poached salmon together and we even once shared the same girlfriend, so you can bloody well call me by my proper name.’
   ‘Murdo, will you show some respect man! This is a court of law!’
   ‘Yes, and it is on a matter of law and justice that I am here.'
   ‘Indeed? And what would that be?’
   ‘Old Graham is innocent.’
   ‘And just how would you know that?’
   ‘Because it was me who killed that scum bag Roddy Morrison.’
   Gasps filled the court house and Judge Johnson sat back as if hit by a punch on the nose. The only person who seemed unmoved was Old Graham. A dramatic hush then throbbed through the court, pulsating with such energy that many felt their ears would burst.
   ‘I take it I have the court’s attention?’ said Munro quietly, letting himself into the dock and standing beside Old Graham.
   Judge Johnson glared down at him.
   ‘This had better be good, or it is the jail you will be going for contempt.’
   ‘Oh, don't you worry, you won't be disappointed.’
   The procurator fiscal got to his feet and had a quiet word with the judge. The judge then summoned a policeman and had a few words with him as well.
   'Well, as far as I’m aware,’ said Judge Johnson eventually, peering down at Munro. ‘You were not even on the island at the time of the incident.’
   ‘I can prove that I was.’
   ‘Then please enlighten us.’
   ‘A few months ago,’ he began, ‘I received an anonymous letter while away at sea. It was from a friend and he informed me that Roddy Morrison was visiting my house late at nights while I was away.’
   No one noticed Dugal hang his head slightly at this point.
   ‘I can’t explain what I went through,’ continued Munro, ‘being thousands of miles away from home, unable to do anything. During the long night watches as we ploughed through the oceans of the world, I had plenty of time to consider things.’
   ‘The ocean can do funny things to a man, so I’m told,’ remarked Judge Johnson. 'Please continue.'
   ‘It is the televisions and the newspapers that do funny things to men,’ retorted Munro. ‘Divesting them of their sense of justice, while subduing their natural instincts to do their duty to protect their families.’
   The judge leaned forward menacingly and lowered his voice.
   ‘Please keep your comments relevant and pertinent.’
   ‘Don’t get smart with me Billy Johnson. I kicked your butt at school and I could do it again.’
   ‘Yes, and any more comments like that and you’ll be spending some time in the jail. During these long night watches you planned to murder Morrison?’
   ‘I didn’t plan to do anything except to verify the truth of the allegations. I have two children to consider as well.’
   ‘Go on.’
   ‘Eventually, once I’d calmed down, I came up with a plan. I wrote to my wife Janet and told her I would be home at the end of the month. However, if you check with my shipping company, you will find my ship docked in London much earlier, and I was home a week before anyone was expecting me. No one on the Island knew I was home. Not even my wife. I have my train ticket and my discharge book to confirm my story.’
   He then reached into an inside pocket and produced the documents.
   ‘Intriguing. A simple enough matter to corroborate. So you caught the ferry home and then what did you do?’
   A solicitor checked his discharge book and the train ticket, and confirmed that they indeed proved he was at home a week earlier as he had said.
   ‘I didn’t take the ferry, your honour. I paid a fisherman in Ullapool to take me across the Minch and he landed me at night in thon sandy bay near my bothy.’
   ‘So you stayed in your bothy and watched your house at nights. And were you watching your house on the night in question?’
   ‘Oh yes, I was there.’
   At this point it was clear Munro was having trouble controlling his emotions.
   ‘And did Morrison arrive at your house?’
   The silence in the court was at bursting point. When Munro almost broke down, the silence burst and a wave of exclamations and shouts of support reverberated around the courtroom. It took quite a few bangs with his gavel and some stern warnings from the judge to restore order, but eventually things quietened down again.
   ‘Yes, he did,’ replied Munro, getting control of himself again.
   ‘And did you confront him?’
   ‘No, I did not. Had I confronted him there and then, I would have killed the bastard with my bare hands.’
   ‘Indeed, and watch your language.’
   ‘So I followed him.’
   ‘You followed him down to the loch?’
   ‘No, he went into Old Graham’s house.’
   ‘Ah yes, and after that you followed them both down to the loch?’
   Munro nodded.
   ‘And then what happened?’
   ‘They set a salmon net across the bay, and I settled down in the heather to watch. I was still there when Morrison started hauling the net a few hours later. That was when Dundas the water bailiff showed up.’
   Rustles and whispers filled the court and the judge was forced to bring his gavel down again.
   ‘You saw what happened?’ asked the judge.
   ‘Oh yes.’
   ‘Please, enlighten us.’
   ‘There was a scuffle, Roddy and Dundas both fell into the sea and that bastard Morrison held his head under the water and tried to drown him.’
   Dundas rose to his feet.
   'It was you who saved my life! Thank you!’
   ‘Sit down!’ barked the judge, glaring at the water bailiff. His eyes turned once more to Munro. ‘Then what happened?’
   ‘Everything went into slow motion Billy, I can’t explain it.’
   ‘Would you please refer to me by my professional title in court?’
   ‘Yes, your honour.’
   ‘Continue.’
   'When I reached the shore I knew I didn’t have much time. Roddy was a big man with the strength of a horse and he was not a man to try to reason with when he lost his temper, as everyone knows.’
   ‘So you picked up a rock to murder him with?’
   ‘No, your honour, I picked up a rock to save the life of a good man.’
   ‘And you hit Morrison with it.’
   ‘Yes, I did. Quite hard too. After I’d dragged Dundas to the shore I immediately resuscitated him. When he started coughing and I knew he was safe, I turned to look for Roddy.’
   ‘Who was in the water?’
   ‘He was nowhere to be seen your honour.’
   ‘Did you try to save him?’
   ‘I went into the water to look for him, but he must have drifted out into deeper water with the tide. I'm sorry about Roddy, really I am, but I just couldn't stand there and watch him drown the water bailiff.'
   The judge sat back and considered his position. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his time in the courts and he had no idea how to proceed. It was Old Graham who broke the silence.
   ‘You didn’t need to do that, Murdo,’ he said calmly.
   No one on the island had ever heard Old Graham speak before and the silence in the court was complete. Munro turned and smiled warmly.
   ‘I couldn’t sit back and watch you go to jail.’
   ‘That bastard deserved all he got. I fished him out later, after you and Dundas had walked back to the road. I stole a coffin from the Thompsons that night and then buried Roddy in John Brown's grave where I hoped he would never be found.’
   Jason Livingston stood up and then sat down again. Even he was at a loss for words.
   The judge lowered his head and waved a hand. Two police officers then led Old Graham from the court. When they returned, they handcuffed Murdo Munro and escorted him from the courtroom.
   The judge could only shake his head as uproar suddenly broke loose and the courtroom descended into chaos.

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