The older man at the front, likely the person who would be foreman, was sharply dressed in a suit, although it wasn’t a necessity when you sat on a jury. He was undoubtedly the one who would take the most interest and lead all the discussions in the retiring room. He probably watched a lot of courtroom or police procedural television shows and thought this was his big moment in the sun. He would no doubt be taking copious notes and sticking rigidly to all the judge’s instructions about not reading about the case in the media or talking about it outside of the court. He certainly wouldn’t have seen her on the front of that morning’s paper.

Jessica would have bet money that, although he hadn’t spoken about the case, he had told anyone who would listen that he was a juror on the case and then insisted he couldn’t talk about it. He looked exactly the type who would delight in the fact that he knew things other people didn’t – and revelled in letting them know that. Jessica figured he was a good person to get on side. He would vigorously put his point across after they had retired and be hard to sway away from that.

There were two women around Jessica’s age sitting on the end of the front row of jurors. It looked as if they had bonded during the course of the case. They spoke quietly together while everyone awaited the judge’s arrival. They were exactly the kind of people who would be key swing votes on a jury: interested enough to listen throughout, forthright enough to not be bullied, but open-minded to take on other people’s views.

Jessica had no idea if she was right but working as a police officer gave you a pretty good grasp of the type of people you could be dealing with on any given day. She figured the foreman and these two women would be the key people to convince. These two females especially would stick together and argue their points of view. It was often that fair-mindedness that would get others to agree with you.

The judge entered and everyone stood. He was an enormous man, his robes bulging under the strain from his belly. Some people wore their weight well and managed to hide it but the judge definitely did not. His portly, rounded face was red and he looked out of breath merely walking into the room. He nodded to acknowledge the court and everyone sat down.

Jessica was asked to step out of the court as the two sides bickered over some point before she was called back in and introduced by the prosecutor. As she made her way the few feet to the witness box, she felt the jury’s eyes on her. She looked over towards them and, as she would have expected, the potential foreman was feverishly making notes, despite the fact she hadn’t even taken the oath yet.

As she reached the stand and took a copy of the Bible, she made a special effort to make eye contact with as many of the jurors as she could. The potential foreman was still writing while headphone boy was looking at his feet. She managed to look at the others and held the eyes of the two female jurors on the front row for a fraction of a second longer.

She confirmed her name, age and rank and then began to answer the initial clarification questions. When you appeared as a witness, your side would want to make sure the judge and jury knew you were a reliable, trustworthy person. That often involved a brief rundown of your entire life story and history. It was dull to pretty much everyone involved and, if Jessica had been asked to confirm her conception date, she would have only been half-surprised.

She saw Tom Carpenter in the dock watching her. The first time she had seen him was after the stabbing when he had been questioned after handing himself in. Jessica wasn’t involved in that but had seen him walking through the station with Hunt. He looked very different then, unshaven with a sneer and contemptuous look for the officers around him. Now he was smartly turned out in a suit, shirt and dark-coloured tie. He was shaven and had shorter hair. Back then he looked exactly the type to carry a knife ready to stab anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Now he looked the height of suburban respectability, someone you could trust and rely on. If you compared him to Harry’s unkempt appearance and demeanour in court, you would easily mistake the accused for the supposed veteran police officer.

Jessica answered each question as clearly as she could, directing her answers towards the jury. The prosecutor’s examination was as extensive as it could be. He asked her how long she had known Harry, what her relationship had been with him when she joined CID and other standard questions to establish that she knew him pretty well. Considering Harry kept to himself, she figured she knew as much as anyone. She confirmed she had never seen him act unprofessionally in the course of duty, nor seen him be aggressive.

After the prosecutor had finished speaking, Peter Hunt stood up for the cross-examination. He looked straight at her, the first time she had noticed him do so. If he was annoyed about what had happened a few days previously he didn’t show it, speaking with an even tone and steady pace.

He confirmed a few of the details she had already spoken about and made a special point to let her re-emphasise that she had become the person Harry was closest to on the force. The lawyer then asked one of the questions she had been worrying about. ‘If you know the victim so well, how many times have you spoken to Mr Thomas in the last six months?’

It sounded odd hearing Harry called ‘mister’. He was no longer a detective, so it was technically correct but to her ear didn’t sound right. She knew her answer would sound bad but had no intention of lying. ‘Once,’ she admitted, perhaps slightly more quietly than some of her other responses. She bowed her head almost subconsciously while she said it. In the way legal professionals seemed to be trained to do, Hunt recoiled in mock surprise. Jessica thought that look of horror or shock must come on day one of legal training. Before you opened any books or took any exams, you had to be able to show you could look stunned even when being told information you were already fully aware of. If he did ever get booted out of the legal profession, Hunt could at least go for a job as a daytime soap actor.

‘Just the once?’

‘Yes.’

Hunt gave a smaller recoil and then looked directly at the jury to make the argument that she couldn’t know Harry that well if they had only been in contact once in recent times. She had to concede he had a point.

The man on the end was frantically adding to his notes as Hunt continued. ‘In your experience, is Mr Thomas a big drinker?’

‘How would you define “big”?’

‘Let me rephrase it. Have you ever seen Mr Thomas drink while on the job?’

‘Not really.’

‘So yes?’

‘It’s not as simple as that.’ Jessica had seen most officers technically drink while on duty. She explained to the jury that sometimes it was easier to talk to sources or witnesses in somewhere like a pub, where they themselves felt comfortable. She left out the part that, on occasion, you would have a drink or two with your colleagues a little before you had theoretically finished for the day. It was a fairly common practice and, although Harry didn’t really drink with the other officers, she had certainly seen him talk to people in the pub who could give him information.

Hunt listened to her and nodded slightly, apparently feeling as if his point had been made. Just for good measure, he added: ‘Even if you were to meet with witnesses and the like in a pub, you wouldn’t have to drink yourself, would you?’

‘No,’ Jessica had to admit.

Hunt was on a roll. ‘Have you ever seen Mr Thomas act in a questionable way while on duty?’

It was the type of question that was difficult to answer. She had often seen Harry give his homeless contact money and food in return for information and what about the sealed brown envelope he had given to the same man whose tip had led directly to an arrest? Was that ‘questionable behaviour’? Technically it could be seen as bribing a witness. She had seen him make vague statements in interviews, perhaps claiming to know more about a situation than he actually did. It was definitely a tad dishonest but was it ‘questionable’?