Val McDermid 3-Book Crime Collection: A Place of Execution, The Distant Echo, The Grave Tattoo. Val McDermid

       The Remand

      It was over in minutes. Looking around the courtroom, George was struck by the astonishment on the faces of the Scardale villagers who had turned up in force. They had come to satisfy some primeval urge, to see the man they cast as villain in the dock. They required ceremony to assuage that urge, but there in a modern courtroom that looked more like a school hall than the Old Bailey of film and television, there was nothing that could satisfy that need.

      All the facial variants of Scardale were there in the seven men and eight women who had come along, from Ma Lomas’s hooked nose to Brian Carter’s slab features. The notable absentee was Ruth Carter herself.

      The press, of course, were there, though in nothing like the numbers there would be at the committal and trial. There was so little they were allowed to report at that stage, it was scarcely worth turning up. Because of the rules governing the presumption of innocence, now Hawkin had been charged with something, editors had to tread warily. Any suggestion that Hawkin was being considered for a further charge of murder was taboo.

      The prisoner was brought into the courtroom where two men and a woman Justices of the Peace sat on the bench. Alfie Naden was there, ready and waiting. So was the duty court inspector. Hawkin looked more at ease than any of them, his freshly shaved face the picture of clean innocence, his black hair gleaming under the lights. There was a low muttering from the public benches that was silenced by a sharp word from the court usher.

      The court clerk stood up and outlined the charge against Hawkin. Almost before he had finished, Naden was on his feet. ‘Your Worships, I have a submission to put before the court. As Your Worships are aware, it is the duty of the court under Section thirty-nine of the Children and Young Persons Act to protect the identity of minors who are victims of offences of indecency. With that in mind, it is normal for the court to bar the members of the press from reporting the name of the accused, since that would be an indirect way of identifying the victim where there is a family relationship such as we find in these allegations. I would therefore ask Your Worships to make such an order in this case.’

      As Naden sat down, the inspector got to his feet again. He had already discussed this with George and Superintendent Martin. ‘I would oppose such a ruling,’ he said ponderously. ‘Firstly, because of the extreme gravity of the circumstances in this case. We believe this is not the first time the defendant has sexually assaulted children. Publicizing his name may lead to other victims making themselves known to us.’ That part of the argument was little more than kite-flying; Cragg’s attempts at getting gossip out of St Albans officers had been a signal failure. George planned to send Clough down for a second attempt, but for now, they were only guessing.

      ‘Secondly,’ the inspector continued, ‘it is the prosecution’s view that the victim of this assault is no longer alive and therefore does not merit the protection of the court.’

      People gasped. One of the Scardale women made a sound like a small groan. Reporters looked at each other in bafflement. Could they report this statement because it had been made in open court? Would it still be contempt? Would it depend on what the magistrates ruled?

      Naden was on his feet. ‘Your Worships,’ he protested, the very image of outrage. ‘This is a scandalous suggestion. It’s true that the alleged victim of this alleged assault is presently missing from home but for the police to suggest that she is dead is calculated only to generate calumny against my client. I must urge that you rule that nothing may be reported in the press except the fact a man has been charged with the crime of rape.’

      The magistrates went into a huddle with the court clerk. George drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee. To be honest, he didn’t much care whether the press named Hawkin or not. All he wanted was to crack on with his investigation.

      At last, the chairman cleared his throat. ‘We are agreed that for the purposes of a remand hearing, the press is barred from naming the accused. However, this decision need not be binding upon the examining justices at any subsequent committal hearing.’

      Naden bowed his acknowledgement. ‘I am much obliged,’ he said.

      When the committal hearing was set for four weeks ahead, Naden bounced to his feet again. ‘Your Worships, I would ask you to consider the question of bail. My client is an upstanding member of his local community with no previous convictions nor stain on his character. He runs a large estate and there is no question but that his absence will impose hardship on his tenants.’

      ‘Rubbish!’ a voice bellowed from the back of the room. George recognized Brian Carter, his face scarlet with emotion. ‘We’re better off without him.’

      The chairman of the bench looked astonished. ‘Remove that man at once,’ he said, outraged at such an exhibition of disrespect.

      ‘I’m going anyway,’ Brian shouted, jumping to his feet before anyone could reach him. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He left a stunned silence.

      The chairman took a deep breath. ‘If there are any further outbursts, I will clear this court,’ he said stiffly. ‘Please continue, Mr Naden.’

      ‘Thank you. As I was saying, Mr Hawkin’s presence is vital to the smooth running of the Scardale estate. As you have already heard, his stepdaughter is missing from home and he feels his place is at the side of his wife, to offer her comfort and succour. He is no feckless criminal who drifts from place to place. He has no intention of leaving the jurisdiction. I urge you to grant bail in these exceptional circumstances.’

      The inspector slowly stood up. ‘Your Worships, the police oppose bail on the grounds that the accused has sufficient funds at his disposal to be a flight risk. He has no deep roots in this area, having only moved here on the death of his uncle a little over a year ago. We are also concerned about possible interference with witnesses. Many potential prosecution witnesses are not only his tenants but also his employees and there is a very real risk of intimidation. Also, the police view this as an extremely serious offence and it is likely that further serious charges will be brought against the accused in the near future.’

      George was relieved to see the woman magistrate nodding firmly at every point the inspector made. If the others were undecided, he thought her conviction would be enough to sway them. As they retired to discuss their decision, a buzz of conversation started again on the press bench. The Scardale contingent sat stolid and silent, their eyes boring holes in the back of Philip Hawkin’s neck. Hawkin himself was deep in conversation with his lawyer.

      George wished he could smoke.

      Within a couple of minutes, the magistrates trooped back to their dais. ‘Bail is refused,’ the chairman said decisively. ‘Take the prisoner down.’

      As he passed George, Hawkin gave him a look of utter loathing. George stared right through him. He’d always believed in keeping his powder dry.

      Daily News, Thursday, 6^th February 1964, p.2

       Man appears in court

      A man charged with rape was remanded in custody by High Peak magistrates sitting at Buxton yesterday. The man, who cannot be named for legal reasons, lives in the Derbyshire village of Scardale.