28

Three Months Later

Two massive lines of protestors lined the street outside the Old Bailey on the day Jessica Matthews was due to arrive for her first directions hearing. The crowd was split neatly into two opposing camps. The first hailed Matthews as a hero for taking direct action against the scourge of paedophiles and included the parents of children who had been raped and murdered by sex offenders. The second group was composed of those who believed Matthews was a dangerous, insane psychopath who would have killed anyone who got in her way and needed to be stopped at all costs.

As the van with its blacked-out windows and escort of five motorcycle officers arrived, cheers and boos erupted from the gathered masses.

‘Bit of a circus, isn’t it?’ sniffed Woods, as he and Collins made their way towards the court building. ‘Can’t believe some people see her as a hero. Murder is murder. There’s no justifying it.’

Collins nodded towards one group of protestors. ‘There are banners down there demanding that the government bring back the death penalty. I guess those people think it’s okay to kill people just so long as it’s official.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s the kind of moral dilemma that helps to make the world go around,’ said Woods with a smile.

The two officers went through the revolving doors of the court and flashed their warrant cards to the security officer on the desk before taking the stairs to the entrance of Court Number 1.

It was by far the most secure court in the building and necessarily so. It wasn’t that anyone thought Matthews had any chance of escaping. Rather that one of her supporters would attempt to free her. Or someone else might kill her.

It had been three months since Matthews had been captured and this would be the first time Collins had set eyes on her since then. She had heard rumours about the kind of state that she was in but nothing had prepared her for the sight of Matthews, flanked by a dozen court security officers, in the perspex box that served as the holding pen for the accused.

At first Collins thought that Matthews had been shackled at the legs; it would have explained her shuffling, shambolic gate. The truth was it was simply how she was walking. Matthews seemed to have aged about fifty years in the past few months. Her hair had become grey and matted; the flesh around her face had become sallow and languid. She was stooped forward and appeared to be having trouble keeping her balance.

Collins gasped and she and Woods exchanged glances.

‘She’s putting it on, she’s got to be,’ said Collins.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Woods. ‘Maybe it’s the guilt; the bad karma has finally got to her.’

‘You and your bloody psychology, you think that’s the answer to everything, don’t you?’

Woods cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, yes, that’s what it’s supposed to be: the answer to all the things that go down in the mind of a human. This is completely classic. It’s an amazing transformation.’

‘Well, I don’t believe it for a second.’

‘Come on, Stacey. Her actions were never exactly sane, were they? Cutting people open when they were alive, keeping the heads in jars and talking to them? None of it is the kind of stuff that normal people do. She was clearly pretty deranged to start off with. The strain of going on the run and being caught, not to mention three months in prison, were probably just enough to finish her off. It makes perfect sense to me.’

As the judge called out her name and asked her to stand, Matthews began sobbing softly, covering her face with her hands.

The judge spoke solemnly. ‘I have this morning received this submission from the Crown Prosecution Service. Can I ask if the defence has been consulted about this?’

A tall thin man in a grey wig sitting on the bench opposite the judge stood up to speak. ‘We have, Your Honour, but, like yourself, only this morning. However, we have no objections. I find myself in full agreement with my learned friend about Ms Matthews’s state of mind. She is clearly not competent to understand the charges against her or assist in her defence. This is very clear from the doctor’s psychiatric evaluation.’

Collins’s brow furrowed deeply. ‘What the hell are they talking about?’ she whispered. ‘One minute the woman is a top forensic pathologist, holding down an important job, dealing with people day in and day out, getting involved in complex scientific and medical studies, and then they want to say that the next day she’s a gibbering idiot? It’s doesn’t make any sense at all. What the fuck is the CPS playing at?’

The hearing lasted only a few more minutes before a shuffling, shaking Matthews was led back down to the cells. The decision had been made. There would be no trial, there would be no further charges. The case against her would proceed no further.

The two dozen journalists who had crammed themselves into the press bench shot up at the earliest opportunity and made their way out into the corridor in order to begin filing their stories. The case had been covered by tens of thousands of column inches ever since it had first been made public, and it seemed that neither the press nor the public could get enough of it. This latest development had provided a fantastic new twist that would ensure the story remained in the public eye for weeks to come.

‘I don’t believe this, Tony, they’re going to fall for it. She’s faking and they’re going to fall for it.’

Woods shrugged. ‘It’s not like they’re going to let her back out on the streets or anything like that. She’s going to end up in Rampton or Broadmoor, somewhere like that, and she’ll be there for the rest of her life. You’ve got to admit, it was always a possibility that they’d find her insane and end up sticking her in an institution. It’s probably the best place for her.’

‘You don’t understand, Tony. It’s not the best place if she’s faking it. She knows what she’s doing. You have to remember, I got to know this woman. She made a deliberate effort to befriend me in order to keep tabs on what was happening with the case. If she’s made this much effort to get herself into a mental institution, it’s because she’s up to something. And I mean to find out exactly what.’

The two of them waited in the court until the barristers, solicitors and clerks had all left before making their own way out into the cavernous hallway. From there they walked along the corridor towards the staircase. They were one flight from the ground floor when Collins suddenly broke off.

‘Where are you going, guv?’

‘I need to talk to her.’

‘But the precedent –’

‘Fuck the precedent. I can’t leave it like this, I just can’t.

‘It’s out of our hands; you have to.’

‘No, not this time.’

‘Well, I don’t want any part of it. You’re on your own.’

‘Fine. I’ll meet you back at the car.’

‘I need to speak to Jessica Matthews. I was the officer in charge of her case. I need to see if there is any further information she wants to divulge to us before they take her away.’

‘I’m not sure I can do that, ma’am, especially with a verdict of unfit to stand trial.’

Collins sighed. ‘You have to understand, sane or not, there are several other unsolved murders, some of which have involved very young children.’ Woods headed towards the exit of the Old Bailey, but Collins moved into the back office and showed her identification to the guard, who blocked the way to the tunnel that led to the cells beneath the court house. ‘She may be the only chance of catching the people responsible. I’ve got kids myself. I don’t know if you have but there is no way I could rest until I knew I had done my best. I know it means bending the rules a bit, but rules are meant to be broken, especially if they help us to track down those who are guilty.’