A day out in Isleworth
The letters from Chris keep coming. Some are very amusing, some are not so. I’m frustrated at having to keep in touch at a very long arm’s length. It takes on average 3 or 4 days for my letters to get to him and vice versa, so often our news has crossed as it were. He’s keeping in touch with football news and views and also the courses seem to going as well as we can expect. Going over Chris’s early life is proving hard for him. It’s also bloody hard for me as I’m continually trying to sort out where I’ve gone wrong. I realise to my horror how much was going on in his mind that I knew nothing about. What’s worse is that his mother and I were still together then. The time since he left school has been terrible, seeing his life develop without really being able too much about it. There has at times been a “bury my head in the sand” attitude and this is something that we’ve got to address during this next difficult period so that when the time comes his future is more stable that his past has been. I’m not sure though that’s what Chris wants, although for the foreseeable future he’s don’t going to be able to make too many demands.
According to Chris’s brief, he’s now looking at the short end of 1-3 years. Phil’s coming to court with Ann and me so at least we’ll provide some support there if we haven’t provided much before. I’m not looking forward to driving to Isleworth early morning for a 10.00 start so am relieved after ringing the court listing office that day before to be told that Chris is “not before 12.00”. Leaving Salisbury after a hearty breakfast, we get to the Court without too many problems apart from driving 3 laps round a nearby supermarket car park, who’s nervous? In my previous life I’ve been in enough Crown Courts not to be intimidated by the surroundings and am well used to poesy barristers strutting around like the superior beings most of them believe that they are clutching their briefs wrapped in pink tape as if they’re state secrets. A quick look at the list and there is something I never ever thought I’d see…Reg v B******. Talk about bring it all home, how the hell have we got to this?
Coffee (awful) in a very depressing cellar cafeteria where bored looking staff just about raises enough “enthusiasm” to take my money and then we’re waiting again. The business of the normal court day is going on all around us but we’re just not taking anything in. It’s a busy Thursday in Isleworth. I know that we won’t be allowed to talk to Chris today either before or after the hearing so we’ll just have to rely on seeing him in Court in the dock, bloody hell again that empty feeling of my son in the dock. I’m not looking forward to that particular experience. His solicitor and barrister come and introduce themselves to us, they both look young and frankly the barrister’s looking more nervous than me and doesn’t fill me full of anything much other than a sense of pending doom. They’re going down to see Chris, who’s probably been here rather longer than us and won’t have bothered himself with having to read a map to get here but only today’s copy of The Independent courtesy of our friendly Du Can Road newsagent! They’re back with us now. Chris is ok and reasonably calm. She’s looking at 3 years if we’re lucky… Bloody brilliant! What happened to the lower end of 1-3 years?
“Those in the case of B****** to Court 2”. Without being too dramatic, those words are about to change our lives. The court room is small and we file into the public gallery. Chris looks smart and tidy but very red in the face and obviously worried. This is not the time or place for misplaced bravado. Ann waves discreetly to him but we all exchange glances, nervous this is the moment of truth and the old blood pressure must be sky-high. Prosecution outline the case and surprisingly play down Chris’s part, used as a pawn in a larger operation, a “mule” in the jargon. Strings pulled by people higher up the “chain” who remain nameless. Chris is stereotypically in debt and with a drug habit so “used” for this to pay off the debt and definitely not for his own gain/profit. Bloody hell that’s a turn up. Chris I know isn’t looking forward to the mitigation as it brings up more from his past. The girl (barrister) is none too fluent either, but after hearing that his family is there to support him as well, the Judge delivers a not too damning speech, takes into account his guilty plea and sentences him to 36 months. Chris has already served 3 months; the sentence is reduced by ½ as a norm so we reckon he’s 15 months to do. My first reaction leaving the courtroom is that we’ve or rather Chris has got a decent result there. Easy for us to think as it won’t be us spending the next 15 months inside. We manage just about to exchange glances with Chris before he returns “downstairs”. We’re left to thank his legal team who are going to see Chris again. They did say that they were happy with the sentence but then like us they’re also going home tonight, he’s not. Oh, they say, did we tell you he will be back in court for another hearing in about 6 weeks to determine his means… If it wasn’t so serious that would be funny. Chris’s means? A converted horse-box somewhere in Dorset and frankly very little else apart from what little’s in his HMP Gold Account. That’s it for the day so let’s get away from here, drop Phil off and get home; after all I’m in work tomorrow. God, that’s to look forward to.
destressed.life 