‘She’s enjoying every single minute of this,’ Henley said and Fox-Carnell smirked cruelly at her and winked.
‘Ms Fox-Carnell, do you understand that the Crown Prosecution Service have submitted that you will be retried for two counts of murder, two counts of attempted murder and that they have offered no evidence to count five; arson with intent to endanger life and count six, attempted murder?’ the judge asked.
‘Yes, I do,’ Sian replied, wiping her eyes with a tissue that had been handed to her. Henley wasn’t moved by Sian’s crying, she knew that they were well-rehearsed crocodile tears. Performing to the gallery.
The judge cleared his throat. ‘All that leaves is the matter of setting a trial date with a time estimate of twelve weeks which we will fix once we’ve dealt with the issue of bail. Mr Beckworth?’
‘M’lord, yes.’ Mr Beckworth placed his hands on the lectern. ‘A notice of application for the court to consider bail with supporting documentation was submitted to both the court and my learned friend.’
‘Yes, I’ve had sight of the application,’ the judge replied and gave a subtle nod to another court officer who had been standing silently by the door. ‘And you wish for the matter of bail to be heard in chambers?’
Stanford leaned towards Henley and whispered, ‘That won’t go down well.’
‘That’s correct, m’lord,’ confirmed Mr Beckworth. ‘I have discussed the matter with my learned friend and there is no objection.’
‘This court is now sitting in chambers,’ said the judge. ‘That means everyone in the public gallery must now leave.’
Disgruntled murmuring rose from the public gallery.
The gallery’s palpable anger made it difficult for Henley to compartmentalise and lock away her own emotions. She caught the look of arrogance on Fox-Carnell’s face as her victim’s family members weakly threatened to stage sit-ins. A slow three minutes passed until the courtroom suddenly felt cavernous.
An hour after he’d started his argument for Sian Fox-Carnell to be granted bail, Mr Beckworth said, ‘That was my final submission, m’lord, so unless I can assist you any further?’
‘No, you have been most helpful. My thanks to both yourself and Ms Reese. Ms Fox-Carnell, will you please stand,’ the judge said.
Fox-Carnell made a show of shakily rising from her seat and pulling her cardigan tightly around her.
‘I have heard a very detailed application that was put forward by your counsel and also objections to bail from the prosecution’s counsel, Ms Reese,’ the judge continued. ‘Listen to me very carefully. I will be granting bail but subject to very stringent bail conditions.’
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Stanford muttered. Henley released her tight grip on the armrest and pulled out her phone. Her hands shook as she texted Pellacia with an update.
‘Ms Fox-Carnell,’ the judge said firmly. ‘You are to live and sleep at the address that has been submitted to the court by your counsel. You will be subject to electronic monitoring with an additional doorstep condition. You must report three times a week to Colindale police station. You are to surrender your passport, which I understand is still valid and you are not to apply for any travel documents. You are not to contact any witnesses directly or indirectly. You are not to enter any hospital without prior arrangement and must be accompanied by another adult unless, of course, it is an emergency. You will be subject to a curfew which means that you must be at your residence between the hours of 9 p.m. to 7 a.m.. The monitoring equipment will be installed by a representative from Soteria this evening. A security of £100,000 must be deposited to Her Majesty’s Court and Tribunal Service before you are released from custody. Do you understand your bail conditions?’
An intense heat pulsed through Henley. She turned away from the dock but heard Fox-Carnell splutter that she understood in between her sobs.
‘Nah, she’ll never get out,’ Stanford whispered stubbornly as the judge directed Fox-Carnell to sit and he proceeded to fix a trial date. ‘Do you really think her dad is going to stump up a hundred grand?’
The judge rose quickly to his feet and left the courtroom. ‘This is so wrong. So very wrong,’ Henley said as they walked towards the court door.
‘Inspector Henley.’
‘Keep moving,’ Stanford hissed as Henley’s name was called out for a second time with insistence.
Henley stopped and turned around. She felt sick when she saw the wide and monstrous grin on Fox-Carnell’s face. Fox-Carnell spoke softly, as though she was reassuring a patient.
‘I’m coming for you next.’
Henley leaned against her car door, waiting for Stanford to complete the debrief with the prosecutor. Watching a small crowd, made up of nearly everyone who’d sat in the public gallery, gathered in a huddle in the court car park, she sensed danger. Stanford emerged from the court building and jogged down the steps, ignoring the shouts of the reporters.
‘You’re not going to believe it. They’re releasing her in about fifteen minutes. Her brief must have messaged her dad the second the judge spoke because, according to the police liaison officer, the bail money was paid before we’d made it down the corridor.’ Stanford shook his head in disbelief.
‘There are two entrances to this building,’ Henley said, scanning the crowd that showed no sign of breaking up. ‘They can’t release her from the front. It would make more sense to have her use the rear entrance.’
‘What do you want to do? Talk to security?’
If Stanford was right with his timings then they had minutes to convince security and the court staff to release Fox-Carnell away from public view. ‘Let’s do that,’ she said. ‘I really don’t like the look of the crowd.’
The dark clouds released drops of rain. Henley could feel the hostility from the crowd intensifying, their anger amplified and impatient murmurings growing louder. Suddenly, the murmurings transitioned to shouts as the public and the waiting reporters surged forward. Henley was pushed to the side.
