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Cleanup Time - The Nikki Wade Retrial; Bad Girls Judge John Deed crossover fic
Topic Started: Aug 22 2007, 07:08 AM (13,909 Views)
LahbibLover
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Love the subtle way you work with Helen and Nikki's family issues. Their underlying emotions feel very real.

Clever writing with the judges. Ah ha maybe another nice surprise with the appeal.

Another great scene Richard.


cheers,

Brenda
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richard
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I would like at this point to thank everyone who's followed this fic which I have built up over time and wish to assure you that you won't have long to wait to the trial as nearly all the pieces are in place. There will be a couple of surprises in store (and for the characters). :D

The feedback you're giving is so welcome and I'm able to assure readers that updates will stay regular. Thanks in particular to your appreciation of both sides of the last chapter, Brenda.
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Jeanna
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I was shocked no one commented on the update before this last one.

Quote:
 
Nikki and Helen were blissfully ignorant of all this. If only the phone call had come some weeks earlier, either Sylvia Hollamby or Jim Fenner would have picked up the call. Their world would have been so much different.


That was an especially chilling observation and gave me goosebumps the first time I read it.

And thank you for having the story already completed before you began to post it so that updates are given with such regularity. :clap
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zena
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Enjoying this story so much Richard, your updates are so regular and knowledgeable love it. :dazzler :dazzler
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richard
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Those posts of yours are lovely, Jeanna and Zena. What is especially good is to have feedback which particularly picks out key parts of the fic.
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BETTELA
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BETTE
This is such a great story, always looking out for the next chapter. Love how you have interacted each of the characters. So post again soon. :hug :rolleyes: :D :D :D
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Emms
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Richard, I owe you tons of feedback. :hug2 I can't wait to get caught up on these latest chapters.

xoxo
Emms
I registered at G Wing and all I got was this lousy tshirt.

“After my time at Larkhall, I deserve to take it easy for a long, long while. I’ve been there, done it, and worn the bloody T-shirt..."~ Helen in: Unfinished Business by Richard

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richard
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It is great to see your posts, Emms and Bettela as always and your real appreciation is welcome.

The next part deals with an eve of trial and I must admit that I do like Helen's 'pep talk.' This is where I've wanted to get to. The first part of the trial proper will be posted 2 days time unless readers want an extra day to catch up. I have deliberately understated the John Francesca scene for obvious reasons.


Scene Twenty-Six


Helen worked like a slave to get everything clear to take the Friday off. Since her revelation, she had been pigeon holed as a mysteriously unclassifiable woman, in not looking what her work colleagues thought a lesbian should look like. She had stabilized her situation at work as she had gained a reputation of being firm but fair. Some of her colleagues took the revolutionary step in not bothering what she did in her private life but were content to accept her as she was. Other more narrow minded individuals pronounced their opinions behind her back but turned on the glacial smiles when they senses her sharp eye on them. Helen wasn’t fooled by them but, as she thought to herself when she was feeling down in the dumps, at least she hadn’t got Jim Fenner and Sylvia Hollamby to contend with. She didn’t need to make great play of her authority over them but exercised it quietly.
“I’m having the Friday off,” she quietly declared.” Unless there is anything urgent that cannot wait, let everything else stack up on Monday. That’s why I’ve cleared everything up in advance. If there is anything urgent, you know who to go to.”
There was a murmur of assent as she had confidence in her deputy to hold the fort while she was away. She had gained enough experience by the school of hard knocks not to think that the world would collapse in her absence. Smiling at the framed photo of Nikki on her desk, she phoned her up on her mobile to arrange to meet her outside her place of work.

In turn, it was an ordinary day at work for Nikki’s work colleagues except that politely asked for the day off work for no particular reason.
“What’s the big secret, Nikki?” one of the more infuriatingly inquisitive women asked.
“No particular reason,” Nikki said in the flattest, most inconsequential tone she could summon up.” I’ve been here since last December and didn’t get much time off round Christmas. I just fancy the day off. As it happens, my girlfriend feels the same.”
“So what romantic rendezvous are you taking her?” asked another equal nuisance. Nikki shrugged her shoulder but declined to answer. They’ll soon find out.
“Why do you keep pestering Nikki? It’s her own business,” Tony chimed in to a look of visible gratitude from Nikki and a flash of irritation running round the faces of her inquisitors. She shrugged her shoulders, declining to make an overt reply and coolly and calmly attacked the pile of work she had on her desk. Some need for completion wanted to leave everything tidy. Next Monday was infinity of time away, beyond the huge event in her life that threatened to swallow up every emotion. As she left the office and was out onto the streets of London, she was away from the stultifying reassurance of her daily routines. This boring sense of normality had its attractions, she reflected wistfully, but she looked square in the eye this almighty task that lay ahead of her. It was what the last few months of her life had built up to, even when she hadn’t been aware of what lay ahead of her. On the face of it, she was likely to be a passive pawn in the middle of an almighty legal battle but old habits dies not at all. It was so like her to mentally prepare herself for the task in hand. Tomorrow would be no different.


Claire was checking over the Nikki Wade file to be sure she was ready for the trial the next day when Jim Patterson put his head round the corner.
“You know, of course, that your crusading days will be over after Friday, Claire,” he announced to her in a tone of voice that was supposed to be humorous.” The ordinary bread and butter cases are starting to pile up and you have to play fair by all our clients, especially the ones that bring in the ready money.”
What he really meant was that his nose was being put out of joint, Claire cynically concluded. The Zoë Carson case had succeeded despite the odds stacked against it and
there was a considerable amount of jealousy of her recent successes.
“The positive side is that it will enhance the firm’s reputation and more work will come our way. Still, as you say, we should be fair minded.”
“I suppose if all goes well, we’ll all look forward to seeing you on the six o clock news not to say the press.”
“You’re being a bit optimistic, Peter. Nikki and Jo Mills will be in the spotlight. I’ll be hovering somewhere in the background. As for the papers, you’ll be more likely to see Geri Halliwell’s latest revelations on the front page. She’s more photogenic and far more famous than me.”
Claire Walker’s relentless modesty was beginning to get under Jim Patterson’s skin. It was only too true that business was on the up and up and it wasn’t due to his overt commercial nous as it should have been. That woman was getting too big for her boots but there was nothing he could say in response. He nodded his head and went back to her office. Claire sighed and her thoughts returned to her preparations for the trial.

John was feeling replete after an afternoon of sexual bliss with Francesca Rochester. As with his professional life, the sense that he was skating on thin ice did not scare him in the slightest. It was that he had spent a lifetime knowing just how far to push his luck. The disapproving look that Coope directed at him and her pronouncement that ‘It was not for her to say,” about his choice of appointments may have made Coop feel that she had at least tried but had achieved nothing in deflecting him from his purpose.
“From what Ian is telling me, you have been especially bad recently. I keep telling him that complaining about you will be bad for his blood pressure.”
Francesca’s low seductive tones of voice only made a pretense at appearing to be innocent. Her charms were as much in her voice as in her body. John’s gaze lingered pleasurably and unashamedly on Francesca Rochester’s long slim legs and the short black sleeveless dress that hung in that deliberately dishevelled way on her. With the greatest of reluctance, he slowly zipped it up her back as she shook her sleek shoulder length brown hair clear. He himself wore a pair of smart black trousers and a shirt that he left unbuttoned. Fate had been kind to him in comparison with his contemporaries, as the process of ageing had only made him more distinguished looking but had not detracted from either his physical or mental faculties.
“You haven’t told him about our guilty secret?”
“Of course not, John. That would provoke a complete and total scandal.”
John grinned at the prospect of Sir Ian feebly trying to play the part of the outraged husband. He didn’t have the passion for it.
“That would just add to my long list of past scandals.”
John was not referring to his wayward private life but the way he obstinately clung to his values while other judges kept their heads down. He started to button up his shirt in a leisurely fashion. As time passed, Francesca glanced sideways at the bedroom clock and started to get worried. She really didn’t want to get caught out and her words were sheer bravado. She had a convenient relationship with the very prim and proper Sir Ian whose salary certainly supported her in the lifestyle that she liked. It was more convenient to indulge her dalliances and have her cake and eat it.
“You have to be going now, John, or else Sir Ian will catch us out. You might be forced to fight him with pistols at dawn.”
He gave her one final lingering kiss before moving back and slipping on his jacket.
“Till the next time, Francesca.”
She smiled wanly and, as John was on the point of slipping out of the flat, fluttered her fingers at him. That afternoon of sex had set her up nicely to be the attractive ornament to her husband’s circle of friends. As John slipped into his car, his thoughts started to move forward to the trial that he would help oversee and his resolution to see justice being done.

Meanwhile Sir Ian happened to bump into Donald Frobisher, as was his habit.
“What do you think the prospects are in the Wade case tomorrow?”
“The plain facts was that the policeman was viciously stabbed with a bottle in his neck. Huntley made that perfectly plain and gracefully conceded manslaughter. No court in England could possibly overturn a manslaughter conviction.”
“And have your sources of information dug up anything that might incriminate Wade?”
“No such luck, Sir Ian. My solicitor spoke to some minor jobsworth at the prison she was in and drew a blank. She’s been leading a very quiet life and done nothing to draw attention. We even made enquiries at the club where the murder took place and the woman we spoke to was most obstructive. She said that even if she knew anything about Wade, she wouldn’t tell my solicitor anything. She adamantly refused to cooperate whatsoever. She finally threatened to have him removed from the premises.”
“Is your solicitor a man? It might have been a better idea to have sent a woman,” Sir Ian suggested in cutting tones.
“He’s never let me down before. He can charm the birds off the trees,” Donald Frobisher blustered.
“Except where women are homosexual,” cut in Sir Ian in slightly acid tones. His nerves are starting to get the better of him. As the other man made no response, Sir Ian made an effort to make the most of the situation and tried to exude as much positive enthusiasm as he could conjure up.
“Still, is everything else ready for the big day tomorrow? We’re relying on you.”
“I’ll do my damnedness to flatten that Mills woman. It’s time she had her comeuppance.”
“And Wade as well,” murmured Sir Ian, reflecting a primitive version of justice without being aware of it.

When they got home, both women felt that their attempt to establish a normal kind of life was derailed. Everything hung on what was going to happen the following day. Nothing existed beyond it. In that way, their sense of time had mysteriously changed. The clock in the hallway ticked louder than normal. All the normal soothing sounds in the flat seemed to jangle their nerves. Idle conversations petered out for no clear reasons.
“Come on, Nikki. Let’s get to bed. We’ll be better off relaxing there. There’s the usual rubbish and I don’t suppose you want to watch some cop show.”
Nikki laughed at the thought. It was easy enough for her to figure out why the average macho male cop had no appeal for her. Something in the tenderness of the look in Helen’s eyes told her that she didn’t have just sex in mind.
The two women slipped into their nighties and lay down in their bed while the tail end of the sunshine cast a glow on the curtains. The room was dark Nikki’s face was turned appealingly towards Helen. Her right arm was looped round Nikki’s shoulder while her left hand stroked her hair. There was an incredibly protective tender look in her eyes.
“We’ve come so far in the last few months together, Helen. We’ve only to fight the good fight tomorrow….”
“Don’t tell me now what we could get if we get lucky. That’s one habit of a prisoner that dies hard,” Nikki said evenly.
“In which case, look at what we have already, a life together. We’ve come a long way since you’ve got your freedom.”
Nikki drew in a deep breath, reached for a cigarette from the bedside table. She lay on her back and took a few puffs. Helen knew instinctively to keep silent while the troubled expression on the other woman’s face indicated that she was struggling to articulate her thoughts. Helen gently stroked her forehead and smoothed her hair.
“I know what really worries me deep down. I’m scared that I’m pushing my luck. I was so incredibly glad to get my freedom. I don’t want to rock the boat.”
“Nikki, the boat damn well needs rocking. You have graduated from the University of Troublemaking and we have thrown in our lot with a number of other graduates. Take Claire Walker for a start who never doubted your case right from the very start and strongly believes in us. Take Jo Mills who has heard everything about us that there is to know and is equally convinced. She will be going to bat for us and even as we speak, is surely preparing to go into battle. If what Jo says is true about John Deed is true, he is yet another troublemaker. Even your family is on your side, for God’s sake We have right on our side and good allies. How can we lose?”
Nikki laughed softly and shook her head in wonder. She realized that she had quite unwittingly sunk inwardly into her own fears as the evening had worn on. At the end of the day, the trial would take place.
“I think I’ll be able to settle down for the night. I just want you to hold me.”
“That’s the least I can do, sweetheart. I’ll be around for you,” whispered Helen into her ear.
Nikki checked that the alarm clock was set to wake them up on time and snuggled down for the night, feeling Helen’s skin next to hers, reassured by that tangible physical presence.


The burden of the trial ahead lay heavy on Jo the night before the trial as it always did. As she sat tapping away screeds of notes on her laptop, she couldn’t help remembering talking to Nikki and Helen before the trial date. She gave them the good news that John Deed would be one of the appeal court judges. She had seen the happy faces of the other two women whose spirits were buoyed up by the good news. The expression on their faces was poignantly trusting in her powers.
“At least your previous appeal court hearing means that you’ll have an idea of what’s in store for you.”
“The last time I was there, I was standing in the dock between two prison officers. I hated the guts of one of them and slagged him off in my speech to the press. I must do better this time around with Helen around to keep me company,” joked Nikki shakily, revealing her jangling nerves to her acute ears.
“It will be better, Nikki because we’ll make it so. Our case is strong,”
Now in the gathering gloom, she tapped away on her computer as she readjusted her thoughts to fine-tune her case. The morning awaited them all.


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BETTELA
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Can't wait for the fighting to begin, in the courtroom, and oh hasn't John been bad, especially with Ian's wife, wonder how he would take it if he realised his wife was sleeping with the enemy. Another great chapter to read look forward to the next one. :) :) :hug :D :rolleyes:
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richard
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Hi Bettela. Thanks for picking up on this one. This is typical John Deed behaviour and it seemed apt to bookend it with the eve of the trial. Can't wait to post the next scene.
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terriw1979
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great update :)
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zena
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Loved the update. Let the games begin. :popcorn :popcorn :popcorn
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NLovesH
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GREAT read richard I've followed this story from late summer as a guest reader and now I have the chance to show my appreciation, for a well written story, a nice cross of Bad Girls/ John Deed. Your writing is masterful and in a league of it's own.
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LahbibLover
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Richard, I'm just sitting here waiting for the next scene. Two days is Saturday. Woo Woo!
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richard
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I am hugely grateful for the recent very appreciative posts and what is great are the posters who know Judge John Deed. What is very interesting are those who haven't come across the series and these characters before and if I've managed to make them real, that is an achievement.

In posting this scene, I must give due credit to a long time BG fan called Norfolkpoodle who prevailed on her barrister brother to do the legal research AND queue up for the original BG book signing event at Waterstones- the guy had no choice but to comply with her wishes. There is a thread called 'Claire Walker Question' on the Debates board and her contribution was utterly invaluable for this part. I have used quite a few of the phrases as they are so good.

I was a bit nervous in setting out to write this piece as I had to throw everything I knew at it. I admit that I do love the way Jo trampled over the original trial hearing and I hope that this rises to the occasion. Enjoy.


................................................................................................................


Scene Twenty-Seven

In retrospect, Nikki could never remember the process by which she finally arrived at the Court of Appeal. Such an emotional moment meant that segments of what she experienced that day disappeared down into a memory black hole while the rest were engraved on her soul for life. At the time she started the day, she felt her way along like a tightrope walker, one step at a time. Throughout the day, Helen’s tangible presence was all around her.

Some instinct prompted her to wake at six thirty and her mind switched on straightaway to the day in hand. She was thankful that Helen’s recent calming influence had made her feel firm and controlled enough in her manner as she had been first time around. She was fast asleep beside her, her face peaceful in its slumbers. Nikki gazed down tenderly at her and slid gently out of bed. This was a new experience as Helen was always the early bird. She selected her outfit with quiet deliberation and set about her makeup very carefully, conscious that every little thing would help her. She felt as balanced and as alert as she needed to be, as far as she could tell. The morning sun lent encouragement to her by gently bathing that corner of the bedroom with light.
“Hi Nikki. You’re up with the lark.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you, not after last night.”
“Nonsense, Nikki. I’ll make you your usual cup of coffee.”
“Tea please, Helen. I don’t want to get too wired on the stuff.”
Helen made no answer but disappeared unobtrusively to the kitchen while Nikki reached for her early morning cigarette.

All she could remember of the car journey was Helen’s soft but firm voice, chatting inconsequentially to her while she lay back quietly in the passenger seat. Her one consoling thought when she arrived at that grey, stylish looking Court of Appeal was that, this time, she wasn’t treated as a prisoner but came in through the front entrance as a normal citizen. She knew that she would be well advised to cling to that thought.

As they plunged headlong into the hurly burly of the foyer, their heels clicking on the black and white tiled floor, they were momentarily disorientated by the confusion of sound and vision. Thankfully, Jo and Claire waved in their direction and they threaded their way through the crowd. Everything so far was going according to plan, the two women reasoned.
“It’s great to see you here at last, Nikki,” Jo greeted her with a reassuringly warm smile. “You’ll probably know, Helen, that you’ll be sitting in the visitor’s gallery. I assume of course that you’ll be here for the day.”
“Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.”
“Will it be the same as last time? You’ll have first crack at it, the other guy says his piece and the judges think things over and decide?” Nikki asked slightly nervously.

Helen climbed up the staircase to the back of the court and through the narrow doorway. Below her were rows of benches staggered down to the rail, providing a bird’s eye view of the court. Right at the back sat two men, dressed in smart suits. They looked very snooty and superior and she took an instant dislike to them. Looking at the front row, she spotted two women, one of whom wore long blond hair and looked familiar.
“Hi Trisha. Fancy seeing you here,” she said in lowered tones, as if in church.
Trisha noted the slight expression of wariness behind the broad welcoming smile and hastened to explain herself.
“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been hassled by some supercilious solicitor who came round asking all sorts of questions about Nik. I made some discreet enquiries, found out about the trial and thought I’d come out of friendship and support, nothing more. Nik knew in advance that I’d be here and she’s cool about it.”
Helen smiled more freely this time. She could tell that Trisha’s concern was perfectly genuine and it would be nice to have company for what could be a long day. She became conscious of the other dark haired woman with her, neatly dressed in a light blue suit.
“I take it you’ve brought a friend with you.”
“You may have heard of her before. Sally Anne Howe. She’s come for the same reason as me.”
“Sally Anne Howe,’ breathed Helen.” You are a legend. We’re all incredibly grateful to you for the last appeal. I heard all about you from my friend Claire Walker. She’s down there, representing us again.”
By the light on Trisha’s face, she guessed that there was possibly more than friendship at work between the two women but Helen, being new to lesbian etiquette, wasn’t sure and made no comment.
“Keep it in the family,” observed Trisha, hinting of that growing sense of sisterhood amongst them. ”I think the trial’s just about to start.” She had picked up on the sudden flurry of movement amongst the court ushers and that sense of concentration of effort.


Nikki could remember the usher indicating her forward and she walked forward into the grandeur of the courtroom, which momentarily dazed her. Then she remembered that she was a free citizen, doing a job like other people. She held her head up high as she had done all her life, even as a prisoner. Putting her best foot forward, she took her place as the cast for the theatre of justice gradually assembled. There was Jo, sitting calm and relaxed and Claire behind her. Right up in the gallery sat Helen together with Trisha and Sally Anne Howe. A lump formed in her throat that there were women around who cared for her in their different ways. That emotion boosted her spirits with no sense of ambiguity. It was a good sign.

The thump on the floorboards announced the arrival of the three judges in their ceremonial robes in their thrones up on high. Nikki shot a glance at the three men. She picked out the most handsome of the three of them. While his expression was appropriately formal, his blue eyes caught the light. That must be John Deed, she thought.

The elderly man spoke briefly in actorish tones and gestured to Jo Mills, below them who was wound up like a coiled spring, not with nerves but with mental energy. With all the confidence in the world, she raised herself to her feet, the fingertips of her right hand touching the rail, her posture relaxed and confident. Four women’s gaze were transfixed by her presence. This was one of these moments that the axis of history balanced on, just before it moved decisively in its destined direction.

“The facts of this reappeal relate to an incident nearly five years previously when my client, Nicola Wade went to her club to pick up her partner just as anyone has done for their partners. She was confronted by the appalling sight of a policeman on the point of raping her partner. This moment is central to the case, which I shall outline for you.

I don’t want to dwell overlong on the original hearing. It is difficult to see not what was wrong about the progress of the trial but what they ever got right. First of all, the prosecution stacked up hearsay character evidence for the deceased, DC Gossard to argue that such a decent hard working policeman would never sexually assault a woman, certainly not that shining paragon of professional dedication and virtue. This had the effect of marginalizing the direct evidence of Trisha Williams, the only person called to give evidence of what happened that night. Secondly, using the witness statement of my client, it was argued that even on its own terms, the killing that was supposed to have taken place in extremely hot blood was supposedly committed in cold blood. The expression 'cold blooded killer' is surely a curious choice of words. The implication is surely that my client Nicola Wade attacked DC Gossard without provocation and studiously ignores the fact that her partner was being raped. Thirdly, no questions were asked and no answers were given as to what, professionally speaking, a policeman was doing visiting a lesbian club. In short, the whole case was riddled through with contradictions. I really wonder how a court of law could ever been so badly handled from beginning to end and how come it was so badly directed.”

The four women’s hearts thrilled at the uncompromising way in which Jo Mills launched a real two fisted assault on the original trial. It pitilessly dissected the shortcomings of the original trial with such confident incandescent passion. Behind his tight-lipped expression, Donald Frobisher’s anger rose within him as he sensed that he was in for a tough battle. On the back row of the visitor’s gallery, Sir Ian and Lawrence James scowled at this rabble-rousing talk.
“That’s Judge Jackson for you,” whispered John Deed behind his hand to Joseph Channing who nodded in assent. John allowed himself a small smile at Jo’s fighting talk. He was as thrilled as the four women at being at the center of this case but, of course, couldn’t express his feelings publicly.

''The appellant Nicola Wade originally appealed against her conviction for murder on three grounds, one, that the defence of provocation was never put to the original jury.
two, that His Honour Judge Jackson failed to direct the original jury to that defense and three that at the original trial there was a clear failure by the police to disclose material evidence. What was central to the appeal was the complete overthrow of the credibility of the policeman, both as an individual and as a representative of the police force. It was accepted as a proven fact that Gossard had a history of violence toward women, that the police knew this and had covered it up. Most damning was the internal enquiry into
the rape of a one-time colleague, Sally Anne Howe where DC Gossard firstly disclaimed any knowledge of her and then changed his story to say that sex was consensual.

“In this context, would it be improper for your lordships to ask serious questions of the initial police questioning of my client, Nicola Wade? There is no mention as to whether or not a duty solicitor was present who would suitably have advised my client. The main plank of the prosecution rested on the statement that my client made saying she was ‘glad the bastard is dead.’ There is evidence that it was made after hours of questioning. It is possible that after this series of traumatic events and she just lost it.”

The three judges pricked up their ears at these questions. This was the weakest part of Jo Mills’s case in terms of hard fact but the questions certainly roused their curiosity.

“I submit that the defence of provocation was imperfectly formulated and, regrettably, the court of appeal overlooked the more inclusive defence of 'acting to prevent a serious injury to another.' Established case law provides that acting in defence of another to prevent actual bodily harm is a legitimate defence and that the threat was real and immediate. Your lordships will surely be aware of cases before you that, in many instances rape also involve other physical injury sometimes of a very serious or fatal nature. The degree of force available to the defender therefore depends on the seriousness of the assault on another. This case law argues that the test of reasonableness is not wholly an objective one. There is an inescapable element of stress and the provocation caused to the defender. It is in this context that the original plea of provocation properly sits, as part of this whole picture. That person is not expected to sit down and think logically about things before acting in situations like discovering a rape. It is acknowledged that he or she will react under stress and fear and may well react violently. I would submit that the law fits like a glove the situation that my client, Nicola Wade was placed in without any warning.

Finally I would argue that had there been a man reacting to protect his wife, the man would have been hailed by the tabloids as a 'have a go hero.' the two of them would have been much more likely to have been believed. It is arguable that if that man had been injured however slightly in the fray he could well have been up for a commendation or medal for bravery. For all these reasons, I urge your honours to consider all these arguments and that you formally quash the conviction for manslaughter.”

The court as a whole sit, rapt with attention to Jo’s compelling words. Tears edged Nikki’s eyes as she witnessed the power of Jo Mills’ oratory and the total humanity and understanding behind these words. What worried her was what the opposition would make of it. She was right in the middle of this courtroom drama as it swirled tempestuously round her.
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