‘Whoever it was has a personal vendetta against her.’ Henley was tearing off her gloves and removing her oversuit.
‘The crowd looks as though it’s thinned out a bit.’
Henley scanned the area. All of the activity was now at the riverside as the CSI team gathered evidence and police vans reversed closer to the railings in an effort to block the view of Sian Fox-Carnell’s body from members of the public. ‘People have to go to work,’ she said.
‘Who’s that?’ Ramouter pointed in the direction of the fire engine in the cordoned off area. ‘Boss, can you see him?’
Henley nodded, and they both began to walk towards the white man who was dressed in jeans, a black bomber jacket and wearing a baseball cap who was moving casually towards the riverfront. As Henley and Ramouter got closer they could see that he was holding a smartphone stabiliser with a microphone on top which was pointed towards the river.
‘Hey,’ Ramouter shouted, sprinting towards the man with Henley close behind ‘Stop right now and put down the phone.’
The man stopped but turned the phone towards Ramouter.
‘For God’s sake,’ Henley muttered when she saw a yellow press lanyard hanging around the man’s neck.
‘Can I have your name please, officer,’ the man asked, turning the camera towards Henley.
‘No, you cannot have our bloody names,’ Henley said, taking hold of his arm and marching him away.
‘You have no right to remove a member of the free and independent press,’ the man said.
‘Name,’ Henley demanded as she placed him against the side of a police van.
The man smiled, reached into his pocket and held out his business card to Ramouter.
‘Ben Trezeguet. Reporter.Freedom News,’said Ramouter. ‘This looks like you made it yourself. If you’re legit, where’s your National Union of Journalists ID card?’
‘I am a free man and do not wish to be constrained by the bias and lies of the mainstream media,’ answered Ben.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Henley muttered but released his arm.
‘I’m part of the independent press,’ Ben continued.
‘You’re a nuisance with a phone and a YouTube channel,’ corrected Ramouter, placing the card in his pocket.
Ben pointed his phone at Henley and said, ‘I report the news. And a body hanging over the Thames first thing in the morning is news. So, officers, can you give me your names and your initial views on the case?’
Henley reached for her police radio. ‘What I’m going to do is have an officer escort you away from here. If you come back, I’ll have you arrested for obstructing the course of justice and trespassing. Do you understand me?’
‘I have a right to free speech and there’s freedom of the press. You’re breaching my human rights and my first amendment right.’
‘First amendment,’ Ramouter said with a laugh as a police officer approached them. ‘Lad, this isn’t America.’
‘I have a right to—’
‘Is that anything to do with you?’ Henley asked, pointing at the drone which was still hovering in the sky but now closer to where they were positioned.
‘Am I under arrest?’ Ben demanded. ‘I’m not obligated to answer your questions unless—’
‘Please get him away from here and if you see him again, arrest him,’ Henley said to the officer.
They watched him get led away.
‘Do you think he’ll be back?’ Ramouter asked Henley.
‘Probably not, but I’m more concerned about the bloody drone and what it’s already seen,’ she replied, her gaze fixed on the firemen who were untangling the rope from which Sian Fox-Carnell hung.
14
