Episode 3 Silk

I trust you most of all. I miss you.

-CW.

-Martha Costello.

-Are you looking to move?

-Well, I'm bloody lonely. I want a friend.

Prosecute, and you'll walk into silk.

-What are you doing in Oxford, sir?

-College reunion.

Pastures new, sir.

Does Billy need to know about this?

A white ribbon around a Clive Reader brief?

-It's just another job for you.

-No, it really isn't.

-This isn't supposed to happen - falling for a solicitor.

-No.

Your upstairs and your downstairs need to have a talk, sir.

Positive discrimination - is that it? I mean, do women get more...?

Martha Costello got silk because she's an outstanding advocate.

-I wasn't...

-Yes, you were.

We treat each application on its merits.

You've always been very skilled at saying nothing whilst appearing to say something.

Let me be very clear, then.

I'm really not allowed to discuss what was said about your application.

I'm applying again.

And, in the interests of natural justice,

I want to know if there's some kind of blackballing going on.

I can't comment.

No reasons given, no feedback,

I mean, where else in the law would that be regarded as just?

Or reasonable?

Wednesbury reasonable.

Are you threatening us?

A judicial review of a decision to reject an excellent silk application.

Now, that would be all over the press.

Talk to your senior clerk.

I haven't told him I'm applying.

Well, I can see why.

Why did the oyster leave the party early?

What?

Because he pulled a mussel.

Senior members of the Bar don't sleep with their pupils.

How did you...?

As I said, I can see why you're leaving your clerk out of it this time round.

What's that?

-Miss?

-What are you watching?

We were just going to give it to you, miss. Right, Jake?

I need a pupil.

Er, there aren't any. We're interviewing next week.

Grab a notebook. Come with me.

Go for it, Beth. It's fine.

"Beth"?

How old do you think "Beth" is, Jake?

Hello. I'm Tavishi Gupta, CPS solicitor.

I need clearance for a legal visit.

Yeah, well, better late than never, Martin.

And you owe me one, remember.

He doesn't want me prosecuting.

-Will that mean there'll be a problem?

-No, he's my clerk. He doesn't dictate what work I do.

Right.

-12 turning into three - that'll help us get home on the conspiracy.

-How?

There's 12 students at the restaurant. They all smash it up, nine of them leave.

-Leaving the three defendants.

-Who have what in common?

They're all new members of the club.

You used to have to eat a hot chilli for every year the club had been in existence.

That was getting a bit dangerous, so now, instead...

Sexually assault the waitress, steal her knickers, ruin her life.

Induction rite, which means it was a plan, an agreement to do something.

Which makes it a conspiracy.

Mr Cowdrey's got a con, sir.

-What, in here?

-Yeah.

-Well, can't he have it in one of the...

Not really. Sir.

Drink?

-You were at Oxford?

-Yeah.

-Right.

-What?

-Well, you know.

-No, I don't.

-You might feel...

-Ask around. Find out what my politics are.

-Night, Clive.

-You off home?

-Yeah.

-No con?

No, it's my first day sitting tomorrow.

You'll be fine. Just write it all down.

And don't speak.

It wasn't me.

Right.

-Well, where were you?

-Pub.

-With lots of your mates?

-Mm-hm.

You're all over the shop.

Prints were on the counter.

I've been there before, innit.

Glass in your trainers matches the glass from the shop.

-I walked home that way.

-What, on your way back from the pub?

-Mm.

-Yeah, about half a mile out of your way?

-Mm.

The cut on your hand.

What's another cut?

So, er, not guilty, then?

Not guilty.

Do you always wear that baseball cap when you go shopping?

Between a quarter and a third off.

No, not on attempted murder. You don't get nothing off.

You see, I don't think this is attempted murder.

This is a section 18 wounding. That's GBH, Ricky.

-Tell them that.

-I'm gonna try.

In simple terms, you intended on breaking all his fingers

but you weren't going for his head. Am I right?

Don't push me.

Am I right, Ricky?

What? You can get them to drop the murder if I roll over on the GBH?

No. You answer my question and I'll answer yours.

It depends who the prosecution is and it depends who our judge is.

No, pleading to GBH, you mean.

It means they will have to give you credit.

Does the devil get credit?

Yes, he does.

Maybe we should explore why you get angry.

Oh, yeah.

Let's do that.

Why do I lose it? Why does Ricky Armitage go mental on you?

You want to explore that? Come on then, let's explore, bitch!

It's all right.

Tell me about your girlfriend.

He dissed her.

Who did?

-The man in the shop, you dozy bint. Who else?

-And what did he say?

He called her a whore.

And were you were there when he said it?

No. Alexa, my girlfriend, she was there.

She come home and told me.

So that's the trigger.

I can help you.

Bollocks.

You got that?

'His girlfriend is vulnerable

'and there are care proceedings in the family court for his daughter.'

He's got a child?

Get the solicitor to find out what's happening.

-Why didn't you ask Ricky?

-Well...I want to know first.

-Are you off home then, miss?

-I might see if someone fancies a drink.

Mr Reader, maybe?

Uh, Mr Reader, maybe.

-What's she like, the victim?

-She's good, Izzy.

Robust.

Will she be intimidated by the line-up against her? Of course.

Line-up?

Three silks. All privately paid, all very pukka.

I'm hoping it'll backfire.

You still haven't answered my question - about not liking the boys.

I hate them and everything they stand for. Does that matter?

Well, I think it does a bit. It's important not to get personal.

PHONE RINGS Sorry.

George.

Hi.

Oh, right. Erm, yeah, OK.

Yeah, I'll see you in a bit.

Sorry, that was this, er, solicitor woman. She's on her way here now.

Listen, she, er...

She fancies me quite a lot. It's a bit stalker-y, actually.

Anyway, the thing is, she gets insanely jealous.

So...

Would you mind?

Leaving?

Would that be...?

Clive!

-Who was that?

-CPS solicitor.

Gave me a very strange look.

Really? Good con?

Four pages of form,

lots of it for violence.

Crack and smack are his drugs of choice.

Abused as a child by his uncle when he was four.

About as damaged as you can get.

Oh, and he says he's the devil.

High self-esteem, at least.

George is coming.

-Shall I hide under the table?

-She doesn't know I'm prosecuting. She'd hate it if she knew.

-So just don't...

-No, no, no. Course not.

Hi.

-Hi.

-Hello.

So, erm, what are you doing in Oxford, Clive?

Sexual assault.

Oh, and...and who are you for?

Do you mind if we don't talk about it?

It makes me feel really uneasy,

casually discussing... this kind of crime.

No, I completely understand.

Shall I...shall I get a bottle?

My God, you'd want her on your side in a fight.

Every time.

So...

Clive.

Ready?

What for?

Number of past girlfriends?

What? Oh, God!

Between ten and 20? More than Nick Clegg?

Define girlfriend. What is this?

-Any weird obsessions?

-Like?

Train spotting, Star Trek, really big diggers.

None.

Julie Andrews - yes or no?

-Well...

-She can run properly, she can throw and her hair is short.

-What are you saying?

-Well, sometimes with the upper-class English male,

when it comes down to it, the ideal girl...is a boy.

She's not really my type.

Good.

Just getting a few things clear before...

Before?

Before.

You're a very dangerous woman.

You have no idea.

Tell me.

Show me.

Jake?

Yeah. Listen, I need you to, er, to come to The Lamb.

No, no, no.

Table by the bar, my jacket - I want you to bring it to me.

I'm in the disabled toilet.

No. I can't...I can't leave.

Jake. Jake?

Listen to me. Shut up and just do it, all right?

Thanks.

Bloody hell.

Last night.

Sir?

It's really very important that Billy doesn't find out.

About?

The business in the toilet?

What business in the toilet?

Good man.

What business in the toilet, sir?

OK.

Jake, I was on my own in there.

Yes.

There was nobody with me, at any stage, doing anything.

Did you rip your shirt yourself, sir?

No.

George Duggan...

-Wasn't there.

-You've got it.

I've got it. (And Billy hasn't.)

Where's the pants?

What?

Your three defendants are arrested at the scene.

Your case is they assault the waitress

and take the pants off her to use them as what, a kind of trophy?

She gets away, they stay put, the police arrest them.

So, where's the pants, Clive?

See, if I were defence counsel...

Yes. I know.

The only thing to leave that pub was the waitress.

So, one more time...

I know, Martha.

Just saying.

God, whose side are you on?

Well, it's defending. It's what I do.

Of course. You'd hammer my lying toerag of a waitress

into the witness box, wouldn't you,

on behalf of those...poor students.

And where does Billy stand on you prosecuting?

Oh, what, that's an argument? Billy doesn't like it, so it must be wrong? Come on, Martha.

You do this once and once only.

You lose George Duggan's work over this

and I will stuff so much white ribbon down your cakehole

that it'll be coming out of your arsehole at the same time,

like the mother of all tapeworms.

Do you understand?

Anyway, erm, good luck.

And you stay out of Miss Duggan's downstairs.

Still rowing?

Ed?

Ed Marmor!

-How the hell are you?

-Good. My God!

Fine.

-So what are you...?

-I'm over for a conference - terrorism and the law.

Marmor on Terror. I bought it.

-Did you read it?

-No!

ED LAUGHS

Professor Ed.

Yeah.

-God, look at us. Prime of life.

-Yeah.

A couple of big shots.

Marston Street seems like...ages ago.

-Best year of my life.

-Yeah?

You know the hardest thing?

-It took me years after to belong in the real world. Everything was disappointing after that.

-Ed.

-What?

-Shut up.

-Absolutely.

You can't repeat the past. Hey, who said that?

Someone says it to Gatsby. Gatsby doesn't agree.

-So, how long are you, um...?

-Rest of the week.

-Oh, excellent. Listen, we should...

-Shoot the breeze?

Last night.

-Tell me what happened.

-You know what happened.

I want to hear it from you.

I got a razor and jumped.

Jumped?

In the safety net so people don't kill themself off the landing, yeah?

I went in it, just me and my sharp.

And I started cutting.

I was bouncing about and cutting. It was amazing.

And they couldn't get at me.

And how did they stop you?

Some big-arse officer jumped in there with me.

And did you try and hurt him?

No, it wasn't about him.

Can I see?

You weren't really trying to hurt yourself either, were you, Ricky?

Why are you here?

Because you're my client.

Do you love her, Alexa?

Or did you just smash up the shop because

you're an angry man with what, no heart, no feelings?

RICKY SNORTS

HE SIGHS

All rise.

I think possibly counsel should see Your Honour in chambers?

It's a small world, the criminal Bar. It happens.

Can't see there's a problem.

Hang on. So, prosecuting counsel is applying to join the chambers,

of which the judge is head, and nobody's supposed to know,

yet defence counsel does know.

I mean, I'm sorry, but this is doing my head in.

Your Honour.

We rise above.

We're all capable of conducting ourselves in a professional manner

and leaving anything personal at the court door.

And it's a plea, isn't it?

You're dropping the attempted murder?

We can't prove intent.

There.

Look how grown-up we're all being.

Oh, er, one thing - the defendant must be happy.

Are you being nice to me?

Don't know what you mean.

Would you have offered this deal if I wasn't a vote that you need?

All rise.

Tricky thing is impressing you... and impressing him.

MEN CHATTER/CLIVE WHISTLES

What is this?

A stranger walks in and you all go quiet?

What?

Are we in a pub on Dartmoor?

You all look like a bunch of crows.

It's a murder.

Sorry?

A murder of crows, I think you'll find.

OK, Izzy.

I'm here just to say hello.

And they're here because they're entitled to be and because...

Actually, why don't you tell her?

To make sure you don't coach the witness.

They're really here because they think they can intimidate you.

But of course they can't.

Because I'm going to rip them to shreds.

Tom...McFarland.

Just wanted to say, whatever happens,

I know you're just doing your job. Hard feelings won't come into it.

Well done.

You OK?

Fine.

All three defendants in the dock, together with nine others,

have pleaded guilty to causing £17,000's worth of damage to the White Hart pub.

Now, it's a lot of damage, it's a lot of money,

but it's just property.

These three are also charged with conspiracy to commit a truly nasty

and deeply humiliating sexual assault on a 19-year-old girl.

Now, conspiracy...is an agreement.

They agreed to assault Izzy Calvin,

their waitress that night.

And what did they do?

They forced her down onto a table, they pulled her skirt up from behind,

they dragged her knickers down and they took them off her.

Now, pause. Imagine you're Izzy.

It's dark.

You're being forcibly held down, your pants have been ripped off.

There are three men doing this and they're all very drunk.

What's going to happen next?

What else can it be?

Izzy...believed that she was going to be raped.

Your Honour, um...

Jury out.

I understand your zeal as a prosecutor, Mr Reader.

The convert is noisier than those who have always belonged.

But I'm most anxious the jury don't get the wrong end of the stick.

What would Your Honour like me to do?

You must ignore anything I said that might suggest this was an attempted rape. It wasn't...

it isn't...and I'm sorry.

-Whoops.

-You don't do that. Nobody interrupts an opening speech.

You don't open rape when it isn't there. Is it your little solicitor girl?

Is it because you want to get into the knickers of little Miss CPS?

Argh! Ha-ha-ha. Nerve touched?

I think Achilles has shown us his heel, and so early in the day.

I know this is very difficult for you.

We've all seen the CCTV footage.

And I'm sure we would all understand if you don't want to answer.

Your daughter was with you in the shop at the time.

Can you tell us how she's doing?

She's not coping.

Remind us how old she is.

She's 12 years old and she's wetting her bed.

She wakes up every half-hour in the night.

We do not sleep.

She will not leave the house without me but she will not go to the shop, so I cannot work.

No questions.

RICKY BANGS THE GLASS

I think your client wants you.

Thank you.

Ask him what he called my girlfriend.

-Ricky, that won't help.

-Ask him.

No, Ricky.

I'm going to adjourn this. We'll come back on Wednesday.

I'm warning you, Mr Armitage. Any more of that behaviour and I'll hold you in contempt of court.

Take him down.

Nice.

-It's my restaurant and I told them all to leave.

-And did they?

No. They started throwing glasses and pulling the pictures off the walls.

It was mayhem.

I went up to my office and called 999.

When I came back down Izzy was gone.

You went up to your office.

-Yes.

-Why?

I don't understand.

It's a restaurant. Is there another phone?

-Yes.

-Is it downstairs?

Yes.

Why not use it?

Who is Adam Garside?

He's a decorator.

Will you take a look at this, please?

Is that an invoice from Adam Garside for a re-fit done on The White Hart?

-Yes.

-And is the date the booking was made to do the work recorded at the top of the invoice?

Yes, it is.

And is that date before this incident took place?

Yes.

What relation to you is Mr Garside?

He's my cousin.

You went upstairs to make your 999 call to allow time

for the 12 downstairs to do serious damage to the restaurant.

-I don't follow.

-Well, let me spell it out.

You allowed it to happen,

so you can claim the insurance and brighten up your dreary little pub whilst sending work to your cousin.

-Is it right that all three defendants wrote to you after the incident?

-Yes.

Were those letters of apology for the damage they'd caused?

Yes.

And is it right that the defendants repaid you for the cost of the damage?

Yes.

Did you get repaid twice, Mr Craven?

The insurers...and the defendants.

Yes.

What was the point of that?

How does slagging off the boss make any difference to the question of

whether or not your boys did their sick business with Izzy?

Bit ruffled, Reader?

More puzzled, really.

-About?

-About how any of you got silk with judgement as poor as that.

More titillating question is why you didn't.

Kant versus Bentham - you still for Kant?

I've had a long day in court.

Terrorist suspect - 20 minutes to go before the bomb he planted goes off,

killing thousands of people, destroying the Bodleian and every book in it.

The answer's no.

Torture is always wrong. It demeans us all, it reduces us as human beings.

-It's too big a price to pay.

-What if it's London, hmm?

What if it's a really dirty bomb and eight million people will die?

So the higher the number, the harder it is to defend my position?

Torture one terrorist - save eight million lives.

Indefensible not to. Your argument becomes absurd.

-All right. Well, what if we torture him, he doesn't give us the information, but...

-But?

There's one way to get him to talk.

If we torture his 5-year-old daughter, he'll cough.

See? You're happy when the person we're torturing has guilt attached,

like, maybe he deserves it anyway,

but put someone innocent in his place... Look what happens.

I'm glad you stuck to your guns on this.

-Really? Why?

-Well, I guess I didn't believe you 20 years ago. I thought you were posturing.

-Why would I have done that?

-Because you were angry.

And you felt uneasy about all this privilege, so you took up contrary positions.

-Maybe that's why you went to the Bar.

-What's that got to do with it?

To defend the indefensible, to keep being angry.

-I'm prosecuting now.

-Yeah, I heard.

And I heard who you're prosecuting,

which leaves the posture question kind of hanging.

Get me George Duggan. Bethany, bucket of chicken. Go.

Come on, Jake. Jake?

-Jake?

-Er, she's not answering.

-Well, where the hell is she?

Well, she's probably with Mr...

What's the matter, Jake?

Cat got your tongue?

CHORAL SINGING

PHONE RINGS

George, hang on.

You're where?

-So, are you pleased to see me?

-Yes.

No, it was just you ringing in the middle of evensong.

Is there a greater sin?

No, I was just a bit thrown cos one of the defendants was singing.

-Your client?

-No, no. Not mine.

Are they all at this college?

Erm, no, none of them.

Brasenose doesn't have any badly behaved men.

-Are women allowed in here?

-No.

-SHE GASPS

-How incredibly exciting.

What if we get... what if we get caught?

-Clive?

-Yeah?

-How old are you?

-About 19.

-That's what I thought.

It'll squeak.

What?

Single beds always do.

You must have had your fair share of single beds.

My place of safety.

On my first night at boarding school,

I must have cried for about four hours,

trying to keep it quiet, obviously.

When I went to sleep, I dreamt I was at home. I was looking for my mum.

I woke up.

I woke myself up. I was calling out for my mum.

And the boy in the bed next to me was awake.

And he said, "It's Lloyd. Sorry."

-He used his own surname?

-Yeah.

12 hours in and none of us had Christian names anymore.

To his credit, he didn't tell anyone in the morning, you know,

about me crying out for my mum in the night.

And what became of Lloyd?

He went on to be quite badly bullied by me.

SHE LAUGHS

I'm not interested in mothering you.

-No?

-No.

Oh, well.

Worth a shot.

More squeaky sex?

Oh, Lloyd!

SHE LAUGHS

Lloyd! Shush!

She's 10 years old.

-Who?

-Ella, the daughter.

Alexa was 15 when she was born. Ricky was 16.

-I spoke with the barrister that's representing Ricky in the care proceedings.

-And?

The final hearing's listed the week after Ricky's criminal case.

She says they're waiting to see what he gets before they decide.

Whether to take her into care.

Or not.

Why did you stop?

I didn't know she was there.

And when I did, the way she looked at me, like...

-Like?

-Ella.

Your daughter.

Jamie Slotover.

-Oh, I can't talk to you.

-I know.

It's for when this is over and we can talk.

McFarland Senior is the story.

Famous daddy puts it on the front page, if the boys are convicted, of course.

A big inside story on the lawyers.

Four million readers.

Don't talk to her. Press scum.

Izzy Calvin is going to give her evidence but I want to call her last,

so she has time to settle down and feel less intimidated.

£30,000 a day this court costs the taxpayer.

I'm not sitting through three quarters of the prosecution case,

only for you to pull the plug.

Won't happen. She'll be fine.

PHONE BEEPS

I was in the cell across from them in the police station. I could hear everything they said.

Posh people always talk loudly, don't they?

What were they talking about?

Knickers.

Or rather, one pair of knickers.

-Saying what?

-Laughing about how they were skimpy but also frilly.

And the next afternoon were you released from the police station?

Yeah. And as I was being processed she came in.

Who?

The girl, Izzy.

-Did you hear what she said?

-She said she'd been sexually assaulted.

-And this was AFTER you'd heard the three defendants talk about the knickers?

-Hours later.

You're a liar, Paddy Caffrey.

-Is that a question?

-You're a liar with a chip.

You've lost me there.

Is it right that on the 9th of December 2009, at this court,

you were convicted of handling stolen goods?

Yes.

-An offence of dishonesty.

-You're the lawyer.

-Are you trying to be funny?

-Are you trying to be a pompous git?

Look - there's the chip,

right there on your shoulder.

That's not a question. That is a gratuitous insult.

Mr Caffrey!

Mr Judge?

Is it right that you were convicted following a trial?

During which you gave evidence.

Oh, look. There's long wind coming right out of your arse.

Mr Caffrey! Final warning.

Evidence which the jury decided,

by finding you guilty, was a pack of lies.

You're a proven liar.

The jury can make their mind up about trusting you this time round.

I've heard about the police being not very sympathetic

with victims of sexual assaults.

So you were worried about how they'd treat you?

Yes.

Did you tell your boyfriend when you got home that night?

No.

No?

What were you frightened of?

That...he wouldn't understand.

Not understand what?

He might think that I'd somehow led them on.

Why would he think that?

I don't know.

Is he the jealous type?

Yes.

Is he the type who suggests you do lead people on?

How did you meet?

-At the restaurant.

-Did he work there?

No.

So how did you meet him?

He was a customer.

What, a regular customer?

No. He just...

-One night...

-You were his waitress.

Yes.

Did one thing lead to another?

Yes.

Did you have sex the same night you met?

Did he leave a tip?

Your Honour!

Mr Milson's finished, I think.

No further questions.

How many buttons on your shirt were undone?

-The first three.

-Is the purpose of that to show a bit of cleavage?

-No.

-Well, why not two buttons?

How about your skirt - above the knee?

-Yes.

-How far above the knee?

-A few inches.

-How many inches?

-Six.

-Your Honour! Please.

The line of cross-examination is directly relevant to the defence case.

I'm happy for the jury to hear this, Mr Reader.

When you're waitressing,

is it right that you have to lean across tables to serve customers?

Yes.

With a skirt that short, it's highly likely that your knickers are going to be visible, isn't it?

Which means these defendants would have known that they were skimpy and frilly, wouldn't they?

-Possibly, but...

-Were you flirting with them?

The thing about being a waitress is that's sort of part of the job.

-So the answer is yes.

-A bit.

But when they got drunk and started smashing the glasses

I went into the pub bit, out of the way.

And then you went back.

They pushed me down on the table and ripped my pants off me.

Why don't you ask me questions about that?

Why go back in, if they'd been behaving as they had?

On your own, in your skirt, six inches above the knee,

and your shirt, with all those buttons undone,

in the dark.

It was dark and I was frightened and it was very confusing.

So dark that you couldn't see which of the three had hold of you?

-Really?

-Yes.

-And you had no idea who was taunting you,

who was doing the so-called egging on?

-Really?

-I've told you I don't know which of them was doing what.

You were speaking to them all night, taking orders, joking, flirting.

Are you asking this jury to believe you couldn't tell their voices apart?

-What are you saying?

-I'm saying your evidence is a pack of lies.

The truth is you were making it very clear to them

that you were more than just their waitress, weren't you?

Why...why have you sat down?

-JUDGE:

-Miss Calvin.

Are you afraid to say it?

Are you calling me a whore?

Are you?

Are you?

They're going to get off. I can't stand it.

I thought you might need a bit of help.

What is this?

We're both interested in seeing these boys go down.

Bloody hell.

The first defendant's father, McFarland Senior,

and the victim, Izzy Calvin.

-Crikey.

-Well, it could be her asking for money,

or it's him trying to pay her off, which is what the journalist thinks.

Has to be the first.

She must have gone to him or she would have told you, wouldn't she?

-It doesn't mean she wasn't assaulted.

-Clive!

-It doesn't mean she wasn't assaulted.

-No. And I didn't say that.

What are the defence saying?

You haven't told them.

If you're right and Izzy is complicit, you know what will happen.

The whole case collapses. At best, there'll be a new trial. And she can't go through it all again.

-Clive!

-If I disclose these to the defence all three of them will walk. They'll get away with it.

Non-disclosure of evidence is as serious as it gets.

I know. I know, I know.

Is this about Izzy, or is this about you?

What colour are your socks?

What?

Your socks - what colour are they?

Now?

Now.

Yellow.

And what colour are your co-defendants' socks?

How can he be expected to know?

Well, let's see if he does, shall we?

They're yellow.

How do you know?

I just know.

Is it coincidence that you're all wearing yellow socks?

-No.

-Because you had an agreement to wear them,

a plan?

Yes.

-Made when?

-Start of the trial.

Signifying what?

-Well, they're socks.

-No, they're not. They're club socks, aren't they?

McFarland?

Yes.

Yes.

And wearing them now is a statement of solidarity.

-If you like.

-If I like or yes?

-Yes.

-And a clear indication that you all intend to remain in the club,

whatever happens here.

It's the three individuals on trial here, Mr Reader,

not the club and its codes of practice.

The purpose of the club is to conspire to commit crime.

My learned friend is getting a little overexcited.

Wild and unsustainable allegation.

What else do you do, apart from smash up restaurants?

It was set up as a cricket club.

When was the last cricket match involving the club?

No conferring.

The coronation.

I'm sorry?

1953.

So, 58 years of smashing up restaurants. (My God.)

If you like.

And after this trial, regardless of the outcome,

you hope to continue with your life of crime?

You know, some people, maybe even this jury,

might consider that to be an act of shocking arrogance.

Is it nature or nurture?

I...I don't understand the premise of the question.

Well, not everyone born into a fantastically privileged position

goes on to lead a life of crime.

Lots of very rich boys go on to live blameless,

even constructive existences, despite their backgrounds.

Ricky Armitage has had a hell of a life.

And he's made quite a few other lives hell.

I've heard that when you go to judge school

they tell you to ignore the fact that the defendant

has had a childhood filled with abuse, neglect and misery.

But I think that's wrong.

And I think there are judges with the independence of mind

to agree with me.

You see, aged four, Ricky Armitage had his uncle in bed with him

most nights for nine months.

Aged 10, his foster father tied a lit cigarette to his penis

with an elastic band and made him dance around the coffee table to Leo Sayer.

Am I wrong in thinking that these two events

have something to do with why Ricky is a violent man?

Ricky has two things in his life that he cares about.

His girlfriend and his daughter.

He loves them both.

This...this man, this violent, angry, damaged man,

who smacks a baseball bat down on another man's fingers,

has love in his heart for two human beings,

and, well, I think that's extraordinary.

I mean, how can a man with so much brutality in his life feel love?

Well, Ricky can.

And not only is that extraordinary,

it also means there's one thing inside him that any judge doing his job well has to recognise.

And that's hope.

Don't take that away.

Don't send him to prison for a length of time that will extinguish hope.

Because when you extinguish hope,

there's nothing.

And when there's nothing,

well, we'd better all watch out.

Am I allowed in here?

No.

What are you doing here?

All my exam certificates, all my tennis trophies and squash cups,

they're all in the big middle drawer of my father's old desk at home.

-Ed, enough schmaltz.

-Schmaltz?

Sorry.

I'm trying not to lose a really big trial.

People keep things.

Clubs keep things.

Clubs have trophy cabinets.

Secret clubs have secret trophy cabinets.

Yes, they do.

-What, you...?

-Shush.

I'm not even allowed in here, right?

Why didn't you leave with the other nine when they left?

We were enjoying ourselves. The waitress was flirting with us.

Did you talk about her in a sexual way?

Just, you know, normal remarks.

-Such as?

-About her legs.

What about her legs?

That she had good legs for...

For?

For what, a girl?

For someone her age.

-How old are you?

-19.

How old is she?

19.

You weren't going to say that, were you, about her age?

-Say what?

-Well, just now,

right then,

you lied to me.

Good legs for someone her age?!

Why don't you finish the sentence the way that it came out that night?

-Good legs for...?

-A slag.

MURMURS FROM GALLERY

It's a long way from evensong, isn't it,

a word that ugly?

We're none of us just one thing, are we?

Define slag.

A girl who sleeps around.

Does Izzy Calvin sleep around?

-I don't know.

-You don't know? So why did you call her that?

OK. One more time.

Why did three of you stay behind?

I'll make it easier.

Why was it the three new members of the club who stayed behind?

It was your induction, wasn't it?

Get the knickers, join the club.

-No.

-Something you felt you could do because of your own innate sense of entitlement.

-No!

Without regard for your victim. Cold, brutal, unfeeling.

Well, where are they, then, if we took them off her?

I bet they're in her drawer in her bedroom at home.

How much would you like to bet?

Sorry?

Your scholarship?

Your inheritance?

What are you saying?

Shall we share the information on that piece of paper with the police?

Shall we tell them where your club hides its trophies?

What do we think?

Do we want the unedifying spectacle of waving a pair of pants around in court?

Do you want Izzy Calvin to suffer the humiliation of having

her pants in an exhibits bag being examined by the jury?

Or shall we get it over with now,

the honourable way?

Telford?

Sorry.

Don't say it to me.

I'm sorry.

I take into account your early pleas of guilty,

your good character,

the fact that each of you have written to the owner of the restaurant to apologise,

that you have paid for the damage you caused,

and that you have very promising futures in front of you all.

This was mindless violence

and it's disgraceful behaviour from young men who should know better.

It is an attack on the community,

and it came about because you thought you were above the community,

not part of it, better than it.

Well, you're not.

And I want you to understand that,

which is why I'm sentencing you each to 120 hours of community service.

GASPS FROM THE GALLERY

Clear the dock.

I want to deal with the three defendants in the trial separately.

This was an act of mindless violence.

It had a trigger but that excuses nothing.

It has two victims - a father and a daughter who,

I have seen for myself,

have suffered and will suffer terribly.

You could be proposed for membership, be rejected

and never even know that you were proposed in the first place.

It's all very secretive.

Not much natural justice.

Judicially reviewable, probably.

-What sort of thing would you be rejected for?

-I don't know. If you went to Harrow and not Eton?

If how angry you were somehow interfered with good manners, you know, that kind of thing.

Reader!

What do you want, Milson?

Do people like you eat humble pie?

Journalist named Slotover.

Would I care to comment?

I'll see you in the Court of Appeal

and I'll see you in front of the Bar Standards Board.

This is the end of your career, Reader.

The real world, huh?

I didn't disclose them.

Well, say something.

Eight years.

-My God, Marth, that's...

-Right at the top end, but completely unappealable.

And, coming from our Head of Chambers?

Unbearable.

What about you?

Eight months.

And how do you feel about that?

I haven't stopped being angry since it happened.

-Then, you're a prosecutor.

-It feels like it fits, Marth.

Like I fit with it.

Mr Reader, sir.

You survived.

The new Mrs Reader's none the wiser

and you're back on the pink ribbons.

Night.

When you're dealing with an escape situation, you keep the van locked.

That wasn't fighting your own corner. It was cutting his throat.

-He's dead because of me.

-But that doesn't make you guilty of murder.

I'm really counting on you here.

I'd need to be sure of feeling the love in the clerks' room.

But, if we were looking for prosecutors, Caroline Warwick may not be the way to go.

You know what, Billy? To be honest, I expected better.

-I've had a letter from the Bar Standards Board. I really need your help.

-Jesus, Clive.

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