CHAPTER 1
June 199- Tottenham Magistrates Court
"Please state your full name to the Court."
"Benjamin Oliver Lucas."
"And your address?"
"7 Cedar Court, Essendon, Herts."
"Benjamin Oliver Lucas, you are charged with conspiracy to corrupt public morals. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?" continued the clerk of the Court in a matter-of-fact tone."Not guilty," replied Ben with as an assured voice as he could muster."You are further charged with inciting others to commit crime. How do you plead?" Benr epeated his previous plea. The solicitor for the Crown Prosecution Service was brief in his address to the bench."Madam, because of the gravity of these offences we strongly recommend that the defendan tbe committed for trial at Crown Court."
"Agreed," said the bespectacled, silver haired, little lady sitting high up at the end of the courtroom."Madam," continued the C.P.S man, "We oppose bail and suggest thatthe defendant be remanded in custody for his own safety, and because he might otherwise interfere withwitnesses in the case." Ben's heart sank. The chairwoman muttered something to thebald-headed man on her left, then to the younger woman on her right.
"Mr. Lucas, you are committed to appear for trial at Snaresbrook CrownCourt in three months from today. Until that time you will be remanded in custody, " she said in a clear, cultured voice. "Do you understand that?"
"Yes ma'am," croaked Ben. The door behind him opened and a security guard showed himdown the stairs. Ben got the distinct impression that all this had been prearranged. At the custody desk Ben was made to turn out his pockets...keys, cigarettes, lighter, pen, handkerchief and about £80 in cash. The handkerchief and the cigarettes were returned to him but not his lighter.
"Sign here please," snapped the custody officer. "Are you on
medication of any sort?"
Yes,"said Ben.
"What for?" enquired the officer.
"Mind your own business," Ben replied hotly.
"When are you next supposed to take your medication?"
"Nine 'o clock tonight."
"Make sure you tell the prison doctor when you get there then." Ben was lead to one of the courthouse cells. Of course he had been in policecells before but this one had no foam mattress on the wooden, slatted bench.
"How do I get a light for a fag then?" Ben asked the guard.
"Just attract an officer's attention when they walk past your door." Ben looked at the blue summer sky through the barred window and sat on the hard bench. The door slammed shut. He looked round the bare cell and wandered what sort of tool had etched names into the bench, how the professions of innocence and bold boasts of guilt had been scratched onto the painted metal door, how details of crime and sentence had been neatly written in pencil on thepale blue walls. It was 11.30am and Ben was confused and hungry. He badly needed a cigarette. Footsteps sounded along the corridor and a familiar face appeared at the small window in the door. It was Ben's solicitor.