#and i’ve heard him in court as a crown prosecutor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

do-what-the-knight-tells-you · 5 years

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Broadchurch: The Short Story Collections Volume 2 Available over here This second volume contains another four short stories, also ostensibly intended 1 per episode, but they take place at very different times. I read them interspersed, (watch ep 5, read first story, watch ep 6, read etc), but it might be fun to read them in an actual chronological order during a re-watch.

1- “Protection”, Sharon Bishop (Joe Miller’s Lawyer), During the S2 trial, specifically the night following episode 5. Serious, heavy, dramatic insight into her character over the course of a terribly busy evening that includes a dinner invite with Jocelyn and the judge, and her romantic partner surprising her at The Trader’s. Plus lots and lots of phone calls. Very interesting.

2- “One More Secret”, Beth, halfway through episode 6, this starts the evening after Tom’s testimony, and continues about 24-36 hours. Insight on Beth, how she’s coping (and Chloe), how she reacts to learning Mark’s “last secret”, that he was gonna leave her... oh, and discussion on her relationship with Ellie.

3- “The Leaving of Claire Ripley”, Claire (who would eventually marry Lee Ashworth), 10ish years before S1 maybe? This is The story of who she was before him, a relationship she got into, what she thought she wanted, and how it all went sideways, eventually forcing her to run from consequences for the first time. Basically, how she ends up in the right town/place to meet Lee, and get embroiled in the Sandbrook mess... and without any support network but him. Very interesting, totally unexpected.

4- “Thirteen Hours”, Alec Hardy, pre Series 1, specifically, One Day before Series 1. Insight on Alec, before he meets Ellie, how he’s balancing Claire, his illness, and secrecy, in the new town, in the new job. Hint: Barely. 13 hours from his life, probably 20 hours before Danny would die. Basically, the last “normal” day before Danny’s body is found and all goes to shit. Poor Sucker.

I’ve included summaries, my notes, excerpts, reactions, and other Things Of Interest under the readmore. Again, these story volumes are interesting, short, and worth the read for me!

1. Sharon bishop- during trial Before episode... 4? What morning is it she drives to see her kid? Ah, she pulls the all-night drive and sees her kid in prison in EP 3, so this takes place the night after that day in court. No, wait, after he's beaten up, so, maybe after ep 5? About to head home from the trial. Gets a phone call from her... Partner? Boyfriend? "Darroll". Not Jonah's dad, I don't think. She gets asked to dinner with Jocelyn and the judge Oh fuck, he shows up at The Trader’s when she specifically told him not to. She forgets to change, and bails out of there back for the judge’s place. Still making phonecalls about Jonah bearing beaten up. God she’s stressed. I can practically feel the anxiety and nausea drip off the page. Man, her POV on Jocelyn is cruel. Specifically, that Jocelyn is perfect and privileged, and never missed/misses an opportunity to put her down. Man, Sharon fucking hates her. The judge makes a comment about Sharon being judge material in a few years, if she's interested, perfectly polite and congenial. Sharon turns it down, privately thinking that she likes the fight too much. Judge says she didn't think it was for her, either, until she suddenly found herself the first Asian woman. And even then, her dad was still disappointed. The whole conversation makes Sharon furious and resentful, of these smug women, their perceived privilege in comparison to her, the way she had to fight to build the ladder she climbed, the way she was never even expected to take A-levels, the way she had Jonah on a great track and it was "his kindness" that got him incarcerated and stuck on the "lowest rung" you can start on. "Sonia refills the glass; Jocelyn puts a hand over hers. ‘You must’ve had offers for the bench,’ Sonia says to Jocelyn, filling a new glass with sparkling water. Jocelyn’s eyes crinkle. ‘Too many other interests I would’ve had to give up.’ Sharon nearly chokes on her salmon. Jocelyn doesn’t have interests. She’s just trying to convince everyone – including herself – that her life has had any kind of meaning since she gave up work. Sharon makes a little coughing noise and Jocelyn looks at her sharply before turning back to Sonia. ‘I’m not good at impartial,’ she says, with a little shrug of false modesty." See, we know that Jocelyn quit because she was going blind. We know that she is regretful of the life, the love she felt she wasted. No way is she out (sexuality-wise), or I think Sharon might not be as furious with her privilege. Which, like, she definitely has, but Sharon is so tired and furious right now, she's equivocating the economic privilege Jocelyn undoubtedly has with "never having had to struggle or sacrifice for your job". We of course know and are sympathetic to how Hard Jocelyn had to work, probably one of the first women in her county/area to do what she did Every Time she did it. And we are sympathetic to the fact that she did that all while remaining closeted, and how miserable and hard that must have been... But Sharon doesn’t know some of that, and she’s too furious at the system, at economic privilege... and honestly, at herself, for having chosen to work so hard she missed things with her son. maybe things that led to this situation. Which she absolutely is blaming on the system, and not at all on anything else. And they have such bitterness between them, Jocelyn probs had been a little jealous, a little "oh yeah, wear your wound on your sleeve, get everyone to cry for you", secretly angry that she never "was brave" enough to come out. At least her protege never had to lie, could be honest about who and what she was. There is a lot of shit between them on the subject of race and gender and privilege and stuff (Jocelyn did specifically mention that the decision to take Sharon on as a protege was partly a diversity hire, to “get more women”. Sharon is furious at that comment. I don’t know enough about race relations in the UK to know how contentious the fact that Sharon’s black would be... but considering the judge is also non-white, and Sharon is furious with her too, it’s clear the primary contention is money, even if race is a casual condition). And pride. I totally believe (agree with Jocelyn’s assertion) that Sharon has an issue taking blame. It must always be someone else's fault. And she doesn't care about morality a bit. She says to herself it's because justice didn't work for her kid, but I get the vibe from Jocelyn that that shit was in place long, long before. "Now they’re getting closer, thinks Sharon. ‘Not good at impartial’ is nothing but a euphemism for the fact that Jocelyn Knight is a dyed-in-the-wool prosecutor, although being her, she’s got to dress it up as a higher calling. She likes the chase, that’s what it boils down to. She might as well come into court dressed in a bearskin dress and wave a spear about. But Sharon knows that working for the Crown makes Jocelyn feel good because she can always tell herself she’s fighting the good fight. She believes her own lies, and that’s what makes her so good at her job. Defence, now that’s where the real fight is. You’ve got to have balls to speak for a defendant, run the risk they might be guilty. To take all the shit from the press and public that comes with it.

“‘You do have to bite your tongue,’ Sonia admits. ‘Mind you, when I say something, people really bloody listen.’ Now that, Sharon likes the sound of. Instant respect. The kind she thinks Sonia and Jocelyn must take for granted. ‘Speaking of which, there’s something I need to say. Off the record. Because if this was official, we’d be in court, and you’d both be in the shit.’ Without raising her voice by a decibel, Sonia has managed to change her tone; if anything it’s smoother and calmer than before, and that’s more chilling than an angry rant. Sharon feels the blood banging in her cheeks and doesn’t risk looking at Jocelyn. ‘I heard your yelling halfway across the building, earlier,’ continues Sonia. ‘I’m presuming, since it hasn’t appeared on the Broadchurch Echo Twitter feed, that members of the press and public didn’t hear it, but that’s no thanks to either of you.’

“Caught red-handed; this morning’s angry words ring in Sharon’s ears and a schoolgirl shame burns like acid in her gullet. What could this mean for the case? For her career? Sharon is rarely lost for words but she can’t begin to talk her way out of this one. She feels like the walls of a maze are clanging down around her. Sonia’s still talking as the phone in Sharon’s pocket begins to vibrate. Without looking she knows it’s the prison governor. The call that will keep Jonah safe tonight is coming through now. Answer it, screams her conscience. Sonia’s voice is a burble in the background. Answer it. The twenty-year conflict between Sharon’s motherhood and her career feels condensed into these few seconds. Her skin feels too tight all over. She puts one hand in her pocket as if her fingertips could send the message for her: wait for me. Just give me one more minute. Sharon’s instincts tell her that even to break eye contact with Sonia Sharma right now would be professional suicide, never mind taking a phone call. The phone doesn’t ring for long: four, maybe five rings, before the caller hangs up. Sonia’s words come back into focus.

“‘I told you both at the start: professionalism and dignity,’ she says, still more head girl than headmistress. ‘Keep your personal rows out of this case or it’ll be a full-scale public bollocking. Got it?’ Sharon nods as she absorbs the gist: she’s got away with it, in the broadest sense. Where she ought to feel relief there is only a crashing sense of failure and loss. In the ensuing silence, she can hear the food she’s chewing turn over in her mouth, but she can’t swallow it. She’s just about to push back her chair when Sonia comes in with what she clearly thinks is an ice-breaker.

“‘So, you were her pupil?’ It’s a loaded question and Jocelyn doesn’t give Sharon a chance to answer. ‘I found her and brought her onto a scheme I was running to bring more women into the law. Particularly from underprivileged backgrounds.’

“Sharon explodes; too late, she sees the crumbs fly everywhere. ‘I was at Oxford by this point! She tells it like she pulled me out of the gutter.’ ‘She was the best I ever had. On course to be my Head of Chambers, if she’d stayed.’ It’s a reverse flip in the conversation. Sharon is so stunned that for a few seconds she forgets about the missed call. This is the first praise she’s ever had from Jocelyn Knight. She had always presumed the admiration flowed in one direction. Jocelyn let her go without a fight.

“Resentment boils inside her and she doesn’t trust herself not to come back with sarcasm or worse. Sonia’s seen her with the gloves off now and it cannot happen again. She excuses herself to use the bathroom – beautiful, hand-painted tiles, organic handwash, only the best for the judge’s residence – and she splashes water on her face, tells herself in the mirror to get a grip. She dials her voicemail with shaking hands. There’s a message, not from the governor but from his assistant, saying that they’re waiting for her to return their call. Sod etiquette, Sonia and Jocelyn can amuse themselves for a few minutes: Sharon hits redial but she is locked out by the engaged tone. She waits one minute, then tries again. She repeats this three times with the same result. She weighs up her options – hide in the toilet for god knows how long, or make her excuses and leave? It’s an easy decision.

“Back in the dining room, she realises there will be no need for excuses; the evening is already being wrapped up. ‘Thanks for a lovely supper,’ says Jocelyn, folding her napkin and getting to her feet. ‘But I should be getting back.’ Sonia leads her guests into the hallway. ‘No rest for the wicked.’ She nods through an open doorway to a study where case files are piled high on a table. They will all be working through the night.

“Back in the car, Sharon sets her phone to hands-free and hits redial repeatedly. She is on the dual carriageway that leads into Broadchurch when at last the line is free. Hope spikes then crashes with each unanswered ring. There is nobody there. She’s missed her window. And she doesn’t know where Jonah is sleeping tonight. Reality is a punch in Sharon’s guts. She can’t save Jonah. She’s trying to remote-control his life, when the brutal truth is that it’s been out of her control, and his, since he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong colour skin. The injustice of it burns. The miles between Sharon and Jonah seem to stretch out and then snap. The road swims before her, lights blurring to amber tadpoles against the black. Sharon pulls into a lay-by and bawls until her throat is sore and her eyes are gritty." Her partner is still at the hotel when she gets there, and I thought this section was particularly beautiful: "‘Oh, babe,’ and that’s all Darroll has to say. He places his knuckle on the point between her shoulder blades, the heart of the knot. He knows where her body keeps its secrets, and with his touch, she is undone. Afterwards, she waits until he has fallen asleep, as good as drugged. In these stolen hours the Traders hotel is as silent as it gets. No phones ring. Not a floorboard creaks, not a toilet flushes. There is only Darroll, the gentle rolling snore of him. Sharon is wired. Only four hours’ sleep in two days but she can’t remember feeling more awake. Darroll’s soothing effect is only temporary. It rushes through a drain and is replaced by thoughts of Jonah, his beaten-up face and a circle of thugs closing in on him." She gets up and back to research the appeal for Jonah's case. (God, she's working so hard there, so distracted from the Miller stuff, it really is a mark of how fucked the Broadchurch investigation was, or how ruthless and rule-break-y Sharon is, that her side ends up winning) "She has a career's worth of favors to call in, and she isn't too proud to do it." Determined as fuck, and unwilling to not succeed. Heck of a character. . 2. One more secret- Beth- during trial, partway through episode 6 (where Tom lies on the stand in Joe's defence), I think after Tom's testimony, that night, before Mark's She gets home, longest she's been away from Lizzie. "‘Where are my girls?’ she calls while her key’s still in the door. Chloe emerges from the sitting room, a puke-stained muslin cloth draped over each shoulder. Chloe’s dropped out of college but she can’t get a job until the trial’s over because Beth needs her for the childcare. If Beth can’t be with Lizzie, then it’ll have to be someone else who loves her. The baby needs to be with her own blood. The time spent with the baby seems to be helping Chloe, too. It’s taken her mind off her own problems; the spoiled GCSEs, losing her nan, and the break-up with Dean (who left Dorset for the chance to shear sheep in New Zealand, only telling Chloe the evening before his flight. Beth still can’t think about him without her hands balling into fists)." She has a meeting with a social worker who has come to check on her mental health, and she gets pissed and storms off, only realizing later than that that might have tipped them to the balance of thinking she's not a fit mother. She starts to think about the checklist they gave her and how to throw it so the social decide she's fit enough, not too depressed, to take care of her kid. Next morning is the Mark’s testimony. Where she learns that there's one last secret between them after all, the mystery of the unaccounted for hour in which he drove around, and then wrote her a letter saying he was leaving her. "And then suddenly there is someone at her side. Ellie is there, dropping to her knees. Their faces are level and Beth has been brought so low she will take comfort anywhere, even here. She collapses against her old friend. ‘It’s not Mark,’ says Ellie. Her eyes shine with tears that reflect Beth’s own. ‘It’s Joe, doing this to us.’

“‘Mark was going to…’ Beth can’t get the rest of it out. She lets Ellie cry with her and it feels so good, for the first time in ages, to lean on someone the same size as her. They stay locked like that. After a few minutes, they stop crying, pull apart and look at each other. There’s a strange, almost post-coital awkwardness in the air; for all the intimacy of their embrace, they’re still essentially estranged, both unsure how heavily they can tread.

“‘I’m so sorry about Tom,’ says Ellie. ‘He still doesn’t believe Joe did it.’ ‘Oh, God, no, I get it. Danny would’ve done the same.’ Saying his name changes the mood again; it brings them past embarrassment and into the hugeness of what has happened between them. Ellie meets Beth’s gaze head-on, still offering that unflinching apology and Beth understands, suddenly, that she will keep saying sorry for ever if that’s what it takes.”

[Oh god, she really would, wouldn’t she]

“Something inside her wants to draw back but there’s something stronger – a need to be understood, or perhaps the green shoots of forgiveness – that keeps her in the moment. ‘I didn’t know,’ she says. ‘About the letter.’ Ellie pulls a face. ‘I gathered that.’ Beth puts her chin on her knees and sighs deep. ‘You must want to beat the crap out of him.’

“‘I do, but it’s not just that.’ Beth hugs her knees tighter. ‘I’ve got this social worker on my back making me fill out this questionnaire to see if I’m going to top myself. As if I would, with Chloe and a new baby needing me. I’m like, don’t you think I’ve got enough shit to deal with without racing back from court to talk about my wellbeing?’ Ellie winces. Beth didn’t mean to throw a barb at her, but there’s no way around it. They can’t pussyfoot around this case, and if mentioning it hurts Ellie, well, that’s the way it’s got to be. Beth leans back against the cool wall of the stairwell.

“‘If I’m not depressed already then that’ll just tip me over the edge,’ she mutters, more for her own benefit than Ellie’s. ‘Stupid cow with her stupid drawn-on eyebrows.’ ‘Patricia Kennedy?’ Ellie wiggles her own eyebrows, but nervously, like she’s afraid to acknowledge the joke. ‘I’ve come across her before. She’s all right. She’ll only be worried about you.’ ‘Yeah, well, I feel persecuted. And I worry that they’ll … do something. Take her away from me.’ It’s the first time she’s said it out loud. ‘Why would they do that?’ says Ellie.

“‘Look at me,’ says Beth. ‘I can’t even look after myself.’ ‘Bollocks, you’re doing a brilliant job,’ says Ellie, in her old, no-nonsense way and it’s more reassuring than any platitude. Conversation grows louder in the atrium and the court doors start to swish open. Ellie gets to her feet.

“‘I need to find Tom,’ says Ellie. Her teeth are clenched in a grim determination that Beth recognises from their old lives. Tom’s in for the bollocking of his life. Beth watches her straighten up, and only when she sees her at her full height does she realise Ellie’s been stooping since this all kicked off. Ellie puts out her right hand, and for a moment Beth thinks she’s offering a formal handshake and the indignation surges again. Then, as Ellie’s set face begins to wobble, she realises she’s offering to pull her up to standing. Beth hesitates for a second but finds she doesn’t have it in her to snub the offer. Ellie’s hand is cold in hers, but her grip is tight. I’ve got you, it seems to say. The raw intimacy of it is too much, and Beth drops her hand as soon as she’s on her feet. It’s exhausting: the smallest gesture is so loaded.”

[Oh I ache for you two.]

“ ‘Right, then,’ she says, testing her legs. They seem to be holding her up. ‘I’m going back in, see what else Mark’s got to say.’ ‘You sure you’re up to that?’ asks Ellie, tilting her head to one side. ‘No,’ says Beth. Their smiles are tentative, feelers in the dark. But they don’t hug. It feels too soon for that." oh you poor girls.

She gets back home after kicking mark to the curb, only to find the bloody social worker waiting for her. Only...

"‘Just give it to me, then,’ says Beth, sitting opposite Patricia. ‘Give me the bloody questionnaire.’ Patricia smiles softly. ‘All in good time. Look, I’m sorry if I was insensitive, barging in on your trial time. We’ll work around you from now on.’ Beth brightens. ‘You mean you’ll discharge me?’

“‘No,’ says Patricia. ‘I still want to keep an eye on you. Not because I think you’re going to harm Lizzie, but because you are vulnerable, even if you don’t want to admit it. But I won’t come and see you every day while the trial’s ongoing. What I’ll do is check in every few days, and give you my mobile number. If you feel you’re not coping, there are options. Don’t be stubborn.’

“‘I’m not stubborn.’ Patricia raises her magnificent eyebrows and Beth finds a genuine laugh. ‘How come you changed your mind, then?’ she asks. Patricia closes the file on her lap and looks Beth in the eye.

“ ‘I had a call from a colleague who helped me see things from your perspective,’ she says. ‘Helen?’ ‘No,’ says Patricia. ‘Someone I worked with a while back.’ She starts to pack up her bag, putting her various sheaves of paperwork into compartments. On her way out of the door she turns and looks over your shoulder. ‘I won’t patronise you by pretending I understand what you’re going through,’ she says. ‘But you know, you’re not as alone as you think you are.’ Beth thinks she means because of Lizzie, and holds her tighter than ever. It’s only after Patricia has driven off that she realises who the old colleague was, and that she wasn’t talking about her daughter after all." And then, to conclude the chapter, "Without meaning to, she turns slowly in a half-circle to Ellie’s house. The light in the top bedroom is on and two figures move around inside. Tom is home. Jealousy swoops in, and Beth is too bitter to be happy for Ellie. That thought pulls her back to this afternoon at court, Ellie’s outstretched hand and how good it felt to take it. Beth fights the softening inside her. How can she accept friendship again? How can she trust? To survive the next twelve hours, the next few weeks, the rest of her life, she has to keep a force-field, like a shell, around herself and all her children. She turns her head away from Ellie’s house and looks up. The star that was shining so bright above her twinkles once, then disappears behind a cloud." Ugh, it's all so rough. I wanna wrap everybody in a soft blanket, Ellie, Beth, Alec, all the children, Maggie and Jocelyn, even mean Sharon and her poor kid. Wrap them up safe (and keep them out of the way while I off Joe Miller). . 3. The leaving of Claire Ripley- preseries, by a lot Takes place before claire and her husband meet. she's thirty or so, living with her grandma, more or less happy. In the town she was born in. Her friends are all getting married and having families-- she hasn't found the kind of man she wants to settle down with yet. She's looking for something more exciting than that.

She ends up dating a fellow who's kind of a small-time ecstasy dealer, but as she is more more successful at her salon and gets promoted, it makes him feel insecure.

One night he's selling more pills than normal, and she realizes that it's a cheap bad batch, gonna really hurt people, panics about how close she's been to the whole thing, ditches his pills, and runs away. For that, his family / employers put her grandma in the hospital. And tell her she has to leave town or else they'll do it again.

She tells her Grandma she's leaving, and her grandma gives her that pendant, the pendant she had been saving for her birthday. Claire thinks to herself that she's going to love that pendant out of both punishment and hope, and maybe one day give it to daughter of her own. Someone who really deserves it [again, reinforcing that she did care about Pippa, as much as she was able to care about anyone].

She finds that there's a woman selling a hair salon in Mercia, and she has just enough to buy that out of her savings from working salon in town, so she does, and she runs.

a week later she's on a plastic mattress, having forgotten to buy bedding, above the shop she now owns, bitterly ruing the day that she got in with the fella she got in with, and dreaming of a man she hasn't met yet. A strong man, an honest man, a man who works with his hands, a man muscular enough and sturdy enough to carry her upstairs throw her in bed and love her like she wants to be loved. Short, but kind of a wild ride. . 4. Thirteen hours- Alex Hardy- 17 July 2013 The day before Ellie gets back from vacation. (Or, comes back to work). The day before Danny is killed. Fuk. Hardy wakes at the traders, he's been there ten days. He takes his meds to settle his heart. "Hardy looks out over Broadchurch. Those huge cliffs everyone keeps telling him to go and look at glow amber in the distance; the sea is the same pale blue. He doesn’t like horizons. They make him feel agoraphobic, like nothing’s got edges, like everything could spill everywhere. “Now that the seagull’s gone, it’s too quiet. There is no noise apart from the chink and ting of breakfast things being laid out downstairs. You get the wrong kind of noise in the countryside. Hardy thrives on the white noise of the built environment, the comforting rumble of an A-road in the distance. He salivates at the thought of the hotel’s eggs Benedict but knows he should eat the wholegrain cereal in the dispenser, even though he’ll be charged the same price. What a waste, and a waste of police money, too. But that’s all to the good; it’s his own money he should be worrying about. Between the maintenance he pays Tess and Daisy and his other, secret expenses, he’s sliding into the red. Time now is measured in pounds and pennies as well as hours and days. “How much money he'll spend, how many nights he'll sleep in the traders..." It all depends on how quickly he can break Claire Ripley. This short story lays out the situation. Lays out his arrangement with Claire, it lays out the fact that he's doing this to punish himself and to solve the case and he doesn't feel like he can go home until he has done that. Much in the same way that, in the first collection of short stories, Ellie realized she couldn't go home to her actual house in Broadchurch without Tom, without Joe's case being done. The references to his physical state are just... He's drowning. It's so jarring after watching him halfway healthy at the end of series 2 finale. "Alec Hardy's heart skips a beat it can't afford to miss." "He's maybe half a mile from Claire's house, but the walk would ruin him for the rest of the day, and he needs the driver to get them back to Broadchurch." Something strange happened with Claire's phone, and now he's late to his shift, risking the only thing he has left, his career. "Someone behind them sounds their horn... Jolting him from anxiety into panic, and he has one of those micro crisis that happens two or three times a day now. He hasn't got time for this. What the hell is he doing? he was so sure this setup was the only way to save his sanity, but he now realizes it's just as likely to destroy it. it has put his career on the line again, and God knows his career is all he has left, now." Turns out, not that she admits to it but he puts together the pieces from observing, that Claire had herself a little tantrum and threw her phone and broke it. He's a little bit pleased by this, because it's the opportunity he needs to be able to get her a phone that he's paying for that he can monitor, under the guise of it being safer and more secure. he talks about the fact that she is suspicious, and he knows she's holding something back, that she is never the same person twice when he comes by, vacillating between very young, innocent, flirty, pouty, angry, blank.... He told her he'll be back by lunchtime with a new phone for her. " 'I've got to go, I do have another job apart from you.' “Claire nods, and Hardy wonders if she realizes just how loaded that statement is. Does she realize that she has the power to land him in the shit? Does she know what a huge transgression he has made? what he's doing is not a secret you could dump on anyone, not even your most trusted colleague. And D I Alec Hardy has no mates in Broadchurch nick." Then he heads back to the office. (there is a newspaper clipping up in the kitchen at the office, the headline is something like "copper run's 10K for charity", and it's Ellie dressed as a Bee doing a 10km fun run. just FYI. This is a thing that happened.)

Basically the whole story is just one shit-ass day in Hardy's life. His prescription runs out and he has to get a renewal, and ends up having to go pretty far abroad to get that renewal, Claire leaves the house to go get a phone herself and he catches wind when he goes to buy her a new phone and the guy mentions that someone have been there trying to do the same thing. Basically it just involves him traveling the city, fielding phone calls from one of the other detectives about some boys who stole some charity shop tins. He ends up successfully solving the case, nearly dying because of missing his medication, and ends the story worried that his boss is on to him already, that Claire will not behave right, and that today heralds Bad Things for his time in Broadchurch.

But he convinces himself today is just a blip, tomorrow they will charge some hoodlums with stealing Charity money from shops, and nothing more dramatic could possibly happen unless things get real violent at the egg and spoon race at field day at the school. He's exhausted, but he knows everything else to be done can be put off till tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better.. Oh you poor bastard.

That’s all, and I think that’s the last of the broadchurch-associated Official Publications.

(But also I’m high-key tempted to accquire the three-season box set and scour the cast interviews and commentaries and deleted scenes for additional stuff. because I have no chill over these people, apparently)

#Broadchurch #broadchurch resources #and in case readmore is still broken #long post

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butitdidntmake · 6 years

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Paedophile driven to court in hospital gown to be jailed

Shocked this story didn’t make. Roy Whiting’s crimes led to massive changes in newspapers, the law and society. This man could well have been involved in making him into the child killer who ruined many lives. Disappointed for Green’s brave victims and the diligent police who worked so hard to return him to prison this didn’t get a good show.

A convicted paedophile was driven to court in his hospital gown when doctors passed him fit to go back to prison for another 12 years following a second conviction for abusing young boys.

In a dramatic end to his trial, former sports coach Michael Green - described as child killer Roy Whiting’s mentor and idol - was hospitalised with a suspected stroke.

Police who investigated Green, drove him to court as soon as he was discharged from hospital by doctors in Brighton.

Green, 75, abused boys as young as nine, the court heard, while coaching ice hockey and when he worked as a cricket coach at an exclusive private school.

He befriended Whiting who went on to rape and murder eight-year-old Sarah Payne when they were both involved in motorcycle speedway racing in Sussex.

Green was found collapsed in his flat by police after he failed to appear in court to hear closing speeches at the end of his two week trial.

The judge ruled the trial should carry on without him.

After spending nearly five days under the care of doctors in Brighton, Green was discharged and driven straight to court knowing he would be jailed for a second time.

Still wearing his hospital gown, Green was led into the court building by the same police officers who investigated his crimes.

After a meeting with his barrister, Green shambled the last few metres down the corridor still wearing his hospital wristband to the public entrance using a walking frame, complaining of the pain he was feeling.

Prison officers in blue surgical gloves sat either side of the convicted paedophile who listened with his head bowed as Recorder Elliott QC told him she had considered the possibility he will die in prison.

One of his victims watched from the public gallery overlooking the court as Green was jailed for a second time for abusing boys in his care.

Green, 75, conducted a serious, repeated and widespread campaign of abuse, the judge told him.Green was already convicted of abusing two boys in Hampshire in the early 1980s and jailed for nine-and-a-half years in 2001.

He was freed on licence when more allegations against him were brought to police.

As the new allegations did not involve abuse after his previous conviction, he was not taken back into custody.

The 75-year-old was terrified of being attacked as he walked in and out of Lewes Crown Court each day of his trial fearing his victims or their families could try to take their revenge.

Child killer Roy Whiting idolised Green and worshiped him as a God, it was claimed.

Whiting was jailed for life in 2001 for the rape and murder of eight-year-old Sarah Payne.

His crime shocked the nation and let to the passing of Sarah’s Law which allows parent to know if a convicted sex offender could have contact with their children.

The two men met while Green was a coach with the Crawley Tigers speedway team.Green made Whiting captain of the team as they grew closer.

He was described as the future child murderer’s mentor.

Green went on to be a sports coach at Windlesham House boarding school in West Sussex where he abused boys in the cricket team.

Recorder Sarah Elliott QC said Green was guilty of abusing seven boys aged between ten and 15-years-old.In each case, he was their sports coach.

"The seriousness, harm caused and culpability of the offender are the main considerations I must apply.

“The delay in bringing these matters to trial is in part down to the shame and confusion the victims felt at what they had suffered through you.

"You used your popularity and position as their sports coach in a gross abuse of trust.

"You befriended your victims and their families for your sexual purposes.

"In relation to the offences at the school, they were borders with you looking after them in the evenings and weekends, so they were effectively trapped with you.”

Green used pornography, gifts and trips to the cinema to see racy films to groom his victims, the Recorder said.

“With some, you simply got into bed with them,” she said.

The hours Green spent as a sports coach gave him the opportunity to abuse boys for his own deviant sexual pleasure, he judge said.

“This was a serious, repeated and widespread set of offences,” the judge said.

Green shook his head as the Recorder detailed his offences and jailed him for a total of 12 years for a total of 18 offences.

Green was convicted of 17 after already admitting one offence.

Green’s successful prosecution was down to the hard work of Sussex police and in particular DC Dawn Robertson, the Recorder added.

Detective Constable Dawn Robertson, who was involved with both investigations, said; "Green's 2014 sentence received considerable publicity and as a result these seven further victims came forward to us over the ensuing months.

"We have great admiration for their readiness to help see justice done, and for giving evidence at Green's trial where he denied the allegations throughout and continues to do so even after conviction, as he did in 2014.

"It is clear that throughout that period of the eighties and nineties he was actively involving himself in different types of sports coaching, all of which had one thing in common - they gave him access to young and often vulnerable young boys who he systematically abused under the guise of helping them.

"Reports of this type will always be taken seriously and investigated wherever possible.”

The Recorder also made a Sexual Harm Prevention Order preventing Green from having unsupervised contact with any child under the age of 18.

In a heartbreaking impact statement, one of Green’s victims said his life had been blighted by the abuse he suffered.

“All my life this has haunted me and has been a dark demon I’ve had to deal with.

"The mental scars are sometimes unbearable to live with."

The court heard Green, who had also worked as an insurance agent. used his position as a trusted sports coach to attack seven more boys across Sussex between 1980 and 1994.

He was described as a sexual predator would take boys back to his home where he would then climb into bed with them.

One victim said he came forward after reading reports of another child abuse case.

“He’s the scum of the earth,” the man told police after coming forward in 2015.

"I saw something on the news and thought, he’s going to get away with it.

"I wanted to get my point across.”

He told police he had been sexually assaulted after meeting Mr Green when he was 11-years-old.

The man, now in his 40s described Michael Green as having a musky smell.

"Like a dirty person sort of smell,” the man said.

“I was scared to say anything.

"I didn’t know what to think.

"I didn’t know what would happen to me, so I let him carry on do it.

"I just blocked it out of my mind for years,” the man said.

“I was disgusted with it, but I was only young so I tried to put it to the back of my mind.”

Green even abused schoolboys in the cinema as they watch Madonna in A League of Their own and Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard.

Another man, also now in his 40s, who asked not to be named said Green was notorious as a Nonce when he coached boys in the ice hockey team.

"Everybody knew what he was up to.

"When I heard he had got the job at the school, I felt sorry for those boys.

"He would stand around naked in the showers with boys aged ten and 11.

"People would just tell him to get away from the boys.

"He was just known as a nonce.

"He was a horrible bastard.

"If I saw him now, I'd knock him out.

"We just knew him as Mick the Nonce.”

The jury were told of Green's previous conviction at the start of the trial but not about his connection to Whiting.

Prosecutor Richard Cherrill said new charges were brought when other men started to come forward after reading press coverage of the case, and from the high profile coverage surrounding other historic sex abuse cases.

He said: “We say his previous conviction is relevant.

“That is because it shows his propensity and desire to abuse young boys in his care."

Mr Cherrill told Lewes Crown Court how Green performed sex acts on boys as young as nine.

He would tell boys that they were special and he loved them and would beg for cuddles for his own sick desires.

One reported the boys felt “mystified and repulsed” when Mr Green told them to sit on his knee while he licked and nibbled their ears.

In a dramatic end to the trial, Green suffered a suspected stroke at home over the final weekend break.

Police were sent to his home after he failed to appear at court on Monday morning.

As he was waiting to be assessed by a neurology specialist, the judge ruled the case against Green could go ahead.

The jury heard closing arguments with an empty dock.

Mr Cherrill told the jury: “The defendant is ill.

"He’s not done a runner, he cannot be here.”Green was discharged and driven from hospital an hour before his sentencing.

ends

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castingdirect · 2 years

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Portsmouth Tinder Swindler Is Facing Two More Years In Jail

Conman can't access his Bitcoin to pay back money he conned! A Portsmouth Tinder swindler is facing two more years in jail after it's been revealed he's unable to pay money back he swindled from a millionairess. The 'charming' Tinder swindler conned a millionairess out of almost £150,000 but claims he hasn't paid her back because he can't access his Bitcoin fortune. Richard Dexter was jailed for four and a half years after he tricked victim Amrita Sebastian into believing he was a 'successful businessman,' having met her on dating app Tinder. BOASTED OF BEING WORTH MILLIONS The suave conman boasted of being worth £6.8 million, having 'private jets,' being involved in 'Hollywood Studios,' and buying a hot air balloon 'just because he could.' Duping her into sending him £141,500, Dexter claimed he had £4.2 million tied up in investments - but in reality there was just 37p in the account which wasn't even his. Two months ago, when he was jailed, the 38-year-old from Portsmouth, Hants, insisted he could pay Dubai-based executive Miss Sebastian back 'within a day' as he has '£200,000' in a Bitcoin wallet. But a hearing at Portsmouth Crown Court, Hants, was told that Dexter hasn't paid anything back yet and has 'not been engaging' with the process. NO ACCESS TO BITCOIN Dexter claimed he has 'no access' to the apparent Bitcoin wallet and insisted 'I've got nothing more to give' unless the court wanted to seize a doughnut shop he had set up. He said: 'I have no access to it... I've got no access to any of my information or devices,' he told the court, adding that Bitcoin 'fluctuates on a minute by minute basis' when asked about the wallet's total amount. The 'well-educated and well-dressed' conman at one stage stropped and refused to enter court, with Judge Timothy Mousley QC branding him 'disruptive.' Dexter, who moaned about 'being locked in a cell for 23 hours a day,' said he's struggling: 'I can't speak to a solicitor, I'm not legally represented and I want to be, I want to understand what's going on. 'I've got nothing more to give - I have nothing more for you to take apart from my shop which probably won't last the month anyway.' Leaving the dock to exit down to the cells, he said: 'I can't be in this room, I'm sorry.' CONFISCATION ORDER In Dexter's absence, Judge Mousley QC ordered the £14,500 to be confiscated within 28 days, suggesting Dexter use Bitcoin to pay. Judge Mousley QC said: 'There has been no response from Dexter... to provide the information required. 'He's quite clearly not engaging with the process and today has been disruptive. 'It's quite obvious to me that he repay the money immediately and he had £200,000 of Bitcoin and from that resource the money would be paid. 'There was evidence given that he had ample assets.' If the money is not paid in 28 days, Dexter will be jailed for a further 2 years. FURTHER COSTS £8,000 in costs must also be paid to the Crown Prosecution Service, Judge Mousley QC ordered. Dexter said his doughnut shop, named Sticky Boy, is struggling and is now in the name of his partner, 37-year-old Hayley Jones. Previously, it was heard father of two Dexter met Indian Miss Sebastian on Tinder in 2015 and posed as a businessman selling biopharma tech. He claimed international companies 3M and Pall Corp were interested in tech equipment he had the patents for and willing to sign deals worth up to £12 million. Dexter told Miss Sebastian 'she wouldn't lose anything' and that he would pay her £100,000 as interest. Over the course of 15 months, she made a series of payments, some as large as £68,000. CONMANS'S STORY Prosecutor Robert Bryan said: 'He claimed he was a successful businessman selling biopharma technology and he said he was worth £6.8 million and was involved in Hollywood studios. 'He alluded to his immense wealth and private jets, expensive cars, and said he had more by way of interest in his investments than a doctor's salary.' In one text to Miss Sebastian, Dexter said: 'Hey! I'm 32, most of my friends did Uni and have debts and worries and all earn £40,000 to £60,000. 'I bought a hot air balloon yesterday, just because I could.' Judge Mousley QC previously said of him: 'I'm left in no doubt that dishonesty is a feature of your character and it is profound. 'You are someone who shows no hesitation in resorting to lies with an ease that is almost breathtaking. 'When your truthfulness is challenged you reach for more lies to cover your tracks. 'There was absolutely no sign of you apologising and there's little sign of any remorse.' Dexter admitted seven counts of fraud relating to swindling Miss Sebastian out of £141,500. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ CASTING DIRECT SUCCESS ONLY HAPPENS WHEN WE work work work work work work work work work ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ CASTING DIRECT ARE FIRST AND FOREMOST: Modelling Agency Advice Center Marketing Management Social Media Management Camsite Management Studio Account-Based Camsite Management Tubesite Management Fansite Management Profile Management Casting To Studios Worldwide Casting Casting For Movies - Broadcasting The World Casting For TV Webcam Model Management Female Webcam Model Management Male Webcam Model Management Transvestite Webcam Model Management Trans-sexual Webcam Model Management TIPS & STORIES Got a tip to share? Whether you have a top tip, a story to share, wish to feature in an article, or wish to anonymously contact us in relation to any matter, either shared within this article or within the website, please get in touch. Email [email protected] or alternatively, people are welcome to leave comments, and can contact us using our contact form on our website, or any of our social networks where we feature. WHERE YOU CAN FIND US You can find Casting Direct on: #Facebook, #Twitter, #Instagram, #Reddit, #Quora, #Medium, #Tumblr, #Blog.it, #Pinterest, #YouTube, #Vimeo, #OnlyFans, #FanCentro, #JustForFans and our website www.casting-direct.com ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Read the full article

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jarigendut · 7 years

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Waking up from the dreams.

It has been a while since I wrote a commentary on a K-drama. That’s mostly because I found the last few line-ups uninteresting. I was also busy and lazy and every other excuse you can think about, so there’s that. I bounced back to the ring this season and found some titles which helped me get through the week swiftly, so I thought I should write some things about them once they had concluded.

While You Were Sleeping (KBS, 2017) was one of those titles. It is a story about someone who sees the future through her dreams and a prosecutor who later works with her to prevent or solve crimes. It sounds like I Hear Your Voice (SBS, 2013) and Lee Jong Suk is on the ship, so there is no reason to skip this drama.

I saw some of my old posts and I saw how bitter I was about Suzy being cast for the female lead. My love for Jong Suk was so strong after W: Two Worlds (MBC, 2016), just like my dislike for her after Dream High (KBS, 2010) and Gu Family Book (MBC, 2013). How happy I am to report that I was wrong. I think that most of her crying parts still look fake, but she did better than what I expected in the rest of the scenes. On the contrary, I don’t think this is a ground-changing role for Lee Jong Suk (maybe first love is just hard to beat?), but he also did well. I had fun watching him cringing doing cute things and flailing around. (Suzy was the sweeter surprise, though.) The one who takes away the crown for his acting is none other than Jung Hae In. I didn’t recognize his quick appearance in Goblin (tvN, 2016) as the cute neighborhood oppa, so his role and character execution truly surprised me. Claps are also due for the amazing Kim Won Hae, who steadily appears in many dramas as an (awesome) supporting character. This is my first encounter with Lee Sang Yeob and he did well with what he was given as a villain.

A large reason why these actors left such good impressions on me is that the writer seems to create characters who are compatible with the actors. This especially rings true in the case of Suzy’s Nam Hong Joo. I’ve heard that the writer created the male lead character with Jong Suk on her mind, so I wonder if it was the same case for Suzy. I see the backstories, I understand why the characters become who they are at the beginning of the series, and I stay with them as they grow throughout the series course. The court cases are designed to support such clause, which completes the circle of growth. At times the cases are complicated, at other times they are simple. At a time we spend more time in preparation than in the trial, at another time we see the real emotional fight during the trial.

On the other side, I relate the least to the villain. As the sole villain throughout the series, he had a lot of burden on his shoulder. While he served well to propel the plot and character’s growth, his own character growth got sacrificed in the end. It’s especially unfortunate because I did see glimpses of him being human; the moments never got a decent follow-up.

Another villain I didn’t expect to hit so weakly is the almighty Fate. Anyone who has watched several K-dramas would know how mean and unforgiving and shitty Fate could be. I imagined it would be especially bitchy because our babies are messing with her via the dreams. But she didn’t. This especially ties to the basic plot elements, which in my opinion suffers from a lack of punch. A fantasy drama toying with time(lines) must lay down the fundamental points of the system and later on establish the consequences to engage the viewers. There is no stake, which means there is no suspense, which translates into a lack of interest during some of the mid episodes. Fortunately, the character beats compensated enough for my taste.

The series is also graced with a pretty cinematography and a star-studded soundtrack. Eddy Kim’s When Night Falls is so magical that my love for it is beyond words.

While You Were Sleeping offered me a mix of romance, comedy, life reflections, slice-of-life kind of taste with sprinkles of magic in between. It didn’t make me fall head over heels, but it certainly made my Wednesdays and Thursdays more colorful for a while.

#commentary #kdrama #while you were sleeping #kbs #lee jong suk #bae suzy #jung hae in #kim won hae #lee sang yeob

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rufeepeach · 7 years

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Fic: Closing Arguments

Title: Closing Arguments Rating: NC-17 Summary: Jaded defence barrister Mr Gold finds himself inexplicably drawn to the Crown Prosecution Service's rising star, prosecutor Belle French.

AO3 link

A/N: Written for @rumbelleorderinthecourt, and posted five minutes before the deadline! Fair warning, you're going to learn a few things about the UK court system, since this is set in London.

A few starting points:

A barrister is a lawyer who stands up in court and argues, wearing a wig and robe (at least in the criminal Crown Court, where this is set). Barristers work in Chambers, solicitors work in firms. Both Belle and Gold are barristers in this. If you want a laugh, look up the wigs and robes, then imagine being sexually attracted to someone wearing that.

The CPS stands for the Crown Prosecution Service. They're the people who represent the prosecution in criminal trials. Basically the UK version of the District Attorney

All the case law in this is entirely fictional, if you can't tell by the names, so don't expect to learn any actual law.

Gold had made any number of mistakes in his life.

However, the one that haunted him this morning was not his failed marriage, or his estranged relationship with his son, or how easily he’d let work and greed isolate him from the rest of the world.

This morning, Gold lamented one thing: telling Mal Vincent, in a moment of weakness, that he was not a morning person.

At the time, Mal had been a colleague, another QC working out of his Chambers who was disgustingly capable and put-together first thing in the morning. He’d been heavily hung-over that day, as far as he recalled, and she had breezed into Chambers in her pristine grey pantsuit, her hair coiffed and make-up perfect, and scoffed at his five o’clock shadow and dependence on his coffee cup.

He’d made a sour quip about how sobriety would force one to embrace the morning – less chance of coming across temptation that way. Mal hadn’t taken too kindly to the slight on her history, and he actually liked her, in his own misanthropic way. He’d muttered an apology when he’d realised his offence, and told her how he loathed working first thing in the morning.

Just his luck she’d get appointed to the Bench. It was one thing to have a friendly rivalry with a colleague: it was another to have a Judge take pleasure in tormenting him.

And so, Judge Vincent had scheduled this CPD seminar for 9am, Monday morning, and Gold was certain part of it was just so she could torture him.

He had considered skipping it altogether. However, with the recent King ruling having thrown so much of the law into disarray, he couldn’t afford to miss an important insight. Especially since he was certain King would factor into the arguments he’d have to give next week in court, and Judge Vincent wouldn’t go easy on him just because he’d decided to stay in bed today.

So here he was, at 8:45am, hunched over the terrible coffee machine in the courthouse lobby, hoping to God that the muck it churned out could keep his heart beating for the next few hours.

The machine finally gurgled to a stop, and Gold pulled back his cup and took a hesitant sip. He grimaced: it tasted like burnt engine oil. It was, however, vitally necessary for his continued functioning, so he took another sip. Bad coffee was always, always preferable to no coffee at all.

“That bad, huh?” a soft voice, female, came from beside him. He looked up to see who in the world was stupid enough to address him before his first cup, and saw a stranger.

She was tiny, was his first thought, even in her sky-high heels. It was so rare for him to meet anyone he could tower over, but this diminutive young woman barely came to his shoulder. Her dark hair hung in long, shiny curls over her shoulders, and she smiled so brightly it hurt his eyes. Her neat black skirt-suit told him nothing about who she was: professionals and members of the public alike would dress up for court.

“Bloody terrible,” he muttered, in response to her query. She laughed, a bright and merry sound. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Starbucks ‘round the corner has a half-hour queue out the door,” the woman confided, stepping in to fill the space he’d vacated and beginning to fill her own cup. “Or else I wouldn’t be relying on it.”

“You seem chipper enough to dodge the bullet,” he groused. “Young people don’t have to rely on stimulants.”

She laughed again, and looked at him. “I have a seminar in fifteen minutes on the developments on judicial treatment of white collar crime,” she told him. “So I don’t think youth alone will keep me standing.”

He eyed her appraisingly. He’d thought he knew everyone working in their little sector of the City these days; it was a small enough group after all. He knew he’d remember if he’d met her before. She was beautiful, no two ways around it, and she made full eye contact every time she spoke, those striking blue eyes meeting his fearlessly.

She was young and bright-eyed enough to still be in pupillage, or perhaps she was a trainee solicitor sent by one of the firms. Whoever she was, she hadn’t heard of him, so she couldn’t have been around for long. He knew every pupil and trainee in the City had their own ‘run-in with Mr Gold’ story – it was all but a badge of honour, at this point. Maybe she was even an assistant, or a paralegal. Whoever she was, she was green as a sapling.

“Have you been to one of these before, then?” he asked, not knowing why he did. Maybe there was something slipped into the god-awful coffee that made him converse with strangers.

The woman smiled, and shook her head, those long, soft curls shaking with the motion. Her cup was full, and she stood straight. “No, I- Oh sweet Jesus!” she cried, having taken a sip and belatedly actually tasting the contents. “You were giving it too much credit!”

“It’ll keep you awake,” he shrugged, taking another sip as if to prove it. This time, he managed to hide his grimace as he swallowed. “That’s all it has to do.”

“I haven’t been to one of these before,” she told him. “I’m actually new to London. So I didn’t know the coffee was this bad – honestly, I didn’t know that coffee could be this bad.”

Well that explained it, then. She was clearly fresh out of University, and some superior had brought her along to see the courtrooms and hear the big players speak.

“How do you like the city?” he asked, because she was still making that infuriating eye-contact and he felt it was expected. She smiled – it seemed she was always smiling.

“I love it!” she enthused. “It’s everything everyone always says it should be, and there’s so much more interesting work than where I used to be.” She narrowed her eyes, and looked him over. “I hope this isn’t rude, but... are you Mr Gold, from Castle Street Chambers?”

Gold sighed internally, and for just a moment, was strongly tempted to lie. Of course she knew who he was. She’d probably approached him with the intent to get a good Mr Gold Is An Arsehole story out of him to laugh about with her fellow trainees later. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been baited. Worse, she could be trying to play him, get some kind of recommendation or favour out of him in exchange for a few moments of attention from a beautiful woman. He knew plenty of men in his position – barristers, judges and solicitors alike – who were guilty of such weakness.

Gold was a firm believer that one should earn one’s favours. He had no time for men who would take advantage of a young woman like her offering her time or her good graces, or, in fact, for the sort of woman who would offer them in the first place.

Regardless of her game, she was mistaken: he was twice the arsehole any of her colleagues may have warned her he was, and he could not be bought with a winning smile.

“I am indeed,” he said. She brightened, if that were possible. She really was remarkably pretty; it was almost hard to remember that she was certainly trying to work him.

“Your reputation precedes you,” she said. He smiled, thinly. If she wanted a show, then that’s what she’d get.

“This is your first time, you said? Well then, a few pointers, if I may,” he said, and she nodded, eyes shining and expectant. “There’s limited seating, so it’s good form to allow qualified lawyers and judges to sit at the tables, and stand at the back if there’s no room. If you have a question based on lack of understanding rather than furthering the conversation, keep it to yourself and look it up on your own time.”

She looked as if she had been doused in cold water, her lush mouth parting with shock, her warm blue eyes widening with hurt then flashing cold, narrowing in anger. Her lips pressed in a thin line. She almost – almost – snarled.

“Good advice,” she said, tightly. He thought for one moment she might throw her hot coffee directly into his face. He’d probably deserve it. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Do,” he advised. “Now, if you will excuse me,” he turned and picked up his briefcase, and made his way toward the conference room used for the seminar. He didn’t look back at the tiny, shaking woman behind him, who would almost certainly be hissing and spitting his name to everyone she met for the next few weeks. Good thing, too, he supposed. It would prevent more of her ilk from approaching him in the hopes of getting anything from him. One thing those stories were good for was keeping hopeful young people well away from him.

He met Judge Vincent at the door, and shook her hand. “I see you managed to drag yourself from your crypt, Mr Gold,” she said, with a smug smile. “The allure of today’s keynote too strong to resist?”

“More like the knowledge of how I’d be made to regret not attending,” he replied. “I’ve been a little too busy to pore over today’s agenda.”

“It should be an interesting one,” Mal said, not taking the bait. “And certainly relevant to some upcoming cases. We’re honoured you decided to haul your carcass to join us. You almost look as if you slept last night.”

“Any time, your honour,” he muttered. She grinned.

“I do miss you, Gold,” she said. “We should catch up sometime.”

He didn’t bother replying to that. He just took another long sip of his coffee, and turned to make his way to his customary seat at the back of the room.

Mal’s voice stopped him, “Oh, Gold!” she called. He turned. “I’d like you to meet today’s keynote, since I know you so avidly devoured the preparatory materials she sent out.” She turned to a sickeningly familiar figure, whose mouth was smiling warmly but whose eyes were glaring daggers. “This is Belle French,” Mal said, indicating the woman beside her. “I’m sure she requires no introduction.”

Indeed, she did not. Belle French was a name Gold had come across any number of times in the past week, while preparing for the Feinberg case next week. She’d published any number of influential articles in the past few years, and was by all accounts the CPS’ star prosecutor for high-value white-collar crimes. She had, in fact, been junior counsel for the prosecution in King, and was rumoured to have been the real mastermind behind the arguments that had lead to such a revolutionary ruling. She was also his opposition on the Feinberg trial next week.

“Oh, we’ve already met,” Miss French smiled a silky, pointed smile, and held out the hand not holding her coffee cup. “Mr Gold, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered, his stomach sinking. When he’d pictured Belle French, reading over her articles and her court documents, putting together his defence against her, he had imagined someone who hadn’t left the library in ten years, someone as pathetic and married to the job as he was. Who else could have achieved so much while still so young? Whatever he'd expected, it wasn’t the stunningly beautiful, charming woman before him. And he’d just put her down and grievously insulted her, without even learning her name. “Good to see you again,” he said, weakly, shaking her proffered hand. Her handshake was firm, solid, although he imagined she didn’t dig her sharp fingernails into most people’s hands the way she did his.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she sneered. Mal glanced between the two of them, her eyes lighting with the scent of something amiss.

“You’re our keynote, then,” he surmised. “Well, you did say you hadn’t been here before.”

“I did,” she agreed. “And don’t worry: if, when I’m finished with my analysis of the rise of complex computer coding and encryption in the commission of embezzlement and fraud, and what this means following King, I find that there are no more seats available, then rest assured I’ll be happy to stand at the back.”

With that, she gave him a sunny smile that sent a chill down his spine, and turned to Mal, who was staring at them both with a small smirk curling her lips. “It was such an honour to be invited, Judge Vincent,” she said, her warm tone at complete odds to the ice that had preceded it. “I’m ready to begin whenever you are. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go check on the PowerPoints.”

She turned to move past them, and Mal returned her attention to Gold.

“Are you going to explain that, or…”

“You know these young upstarts,” Gold replied, coolly. “Always seeking to make an impression.”

“I’ve known Belle French for three years now,” Mal said. “I’ve never heard her have an unkind word to say to anyone. You walk in, and suddenly it’s as if I’m talking to Regina Mills.”

“I have that affect on people,” he shrugged, uncomfortably. “If you’ll excuse me, Judge.”

Mal waved her hand, still smirking, and Gold made for his seat. His hands shook as he pulled out his notepaper and fountain pen, ready to make note of anything new Miss French could come out with. He hoped – unkind and ungracious as he was – that she would have nothing of real interest to say.

Her talk was, of course, revelatory. Having read her articles, her background – no picture provided, or maybe he hadn’t looked, an oversight in either case – and her arguments on her past high-profile cases, he was well aware of her intellect. Her faculty with words, however, her excitement about the law and the passion and vigour with which she spoke about justice about the importance of keeping the law up to date with modern methods and modes of crime, the way she brought her audience along with her, bringing what could have been an extraordinarily dry review of case law to glorious life… Gold blinked, blearily, at the end of her talk, to find he hadn’t written a word. He was too busy watching her, enraptured by the way she moved and the way she spoke so eloquently, her warm alto accent rolling over each word.

She had been beautiful before, yes, but there was something extraordinary about how she lit up when talking about her chosen subject, her bright intellect lending light and warmth to her features, until she was all but glowing with passion and life. He felt he could listen to her talk all day, about any subject she chose. She could have read him the phone book, but if she spoke like that he’d have been glued to his seat.

After Miss French finished speaking, Regina Mills followed, talking about a far less interesting area of public sector financial law. Gold allowed himself to zone out, his eyes on the back of Miss French’s head. How he ever could have taken her for a grasping, ambitious, silly little trainee he had no idea. Doubtless she had been luminous even during her training – it was clear from how she spoke that such perception and passion could not have been taught, but were innate. She had added to that raw talent with a breadth and depth of knowledge that almost matched his own. Given a few more years’ experience, she would be truly formidable.

And he had spoken down to her, spat at her, and made her less than what she was. For the first time in years, Gold felt truly ashamed of his bad behaviour. He knew he could be beastly – there were good and honest reasons for his bad reputation in London’s legal community – but Miss French had been wholly undeserving of his scorn.

She would hate him now, as well she should. She would trounce him next week – Cara Feinberg was guilty as sin, for all she would deny it until the cows came home – and he’d have to watch and know she took true pleasure in it when she did. He’d known that already, since the CPS’ case was watertight and Mrs Feinberg was mostly pleading not guilty on the off chance a technicality might save her. That, and because Gold was reasonably certain she was a psychopath who enjoyed the attention and the theatre of it all. She’d probably enjoy prison, he thought: he felt sorry for the poor women who’d wind up locked up with her.

At the end of the seminar, there was a half hour networking session scheduled. Gold, loathing almost everyone in the room and the concept of networking itself, made for the door as quickly as he could.

He’d made it to the cloakroom, almost to the foyer, when he heard a voice behind him. “Do you have any questions, then?” Miss French called. He stiffened, and turned.

“None that spring to mind,” he replied. “You were very comprehensive.”

“You’ve changed your tone,” she noted. “Are you sure you’re not waiting for me to ask what ‘fraud’ means? Or how about whether theft is a crime? Although I suppose I should look that up on my own time. You know, due to my lack of understanding.”

He winced at the bite in her voice, although she looked and sounded amused. He wasn’t used to having his own cruel words thrown back at him.

“If you’re seeking an apology, dearie, then clearly you’ve not heard as much about me as I’d have thought.”

Miss French gave another tight smile, and to his surprise her eyes gleamed with challenge rather than malice. Or maybe they just looked the same, coming from a bright young woman with a good, strong heart.

“I know more than enough about you, Mr Gold,” she said, stepping closer. “Unlike some, I bother to do my research.”

Once again, Gold was flummoxed by how he could ever have imagined this sharp, dangerous woman as a flighty little trainee in search of approval. He was a head taller and twenty years her senior, and had the experience and accolades to show for it, and yet in that moment he felt she towered over him. He stood his ground, bracing his weight on his cane between his feet. Let her get her moment of triumph, he thought: he owed her that much after his comments a few hours previous.

“Then you know that this morning was hardly uncharacteristic,” he replied. “I’m surprised at your shock.”

“Oh, it wasn’t your unkindness that surprised me,” she told him. “Everyone warned me about that. I just expected that you wouldn’t be so stupid to not at least Google the keynote speaker of a conference you were planning to attend. Especially when I’m also counsel for the prosecution on your case next week. I expected better from you, that’s all.”

He gaped at her, his heart racing. He hadn’t been so thoroughly dressed down in years, and never by someone so tiny and so beautiful, who seemed to take such pleasure in doing it. It said something none too favourable about him that he enjoyed the sensation.

“Well I’ve been rather busy, Miss French,” he replied, swallowing to wet his throat. “No free time for idly trawling the Internet.”

“But you had read my paper on the use of hacking and coding in private client embezzlement cases,” she pressed. “I saw you nodding along while I was discussing those points. You were one of the few who looked as if you understood.”

“I will admit it was a well-researched position,” he conceded. “Even if the point you made about Blanchard v Glass was a little farfetched.”

Miss French’s eyes lit up, even as her lips hardened into that thin line again, her jaw tightening. Her mouth was a very soft red, like rose petals. He wondered if they felt as soft as they looked.

His eyes flicked back up to hers the moment he caught himself, and he saw her cheeks had bloomed a little, a hint of red beneath her immaculate make-up.

“In what sense?” she asked. “The facts of that case were clearly relevant to the issue.”

“It wasn’t a criminal prosecution,” Gold replied. “Hardly relevant to a paper discussing white collar crime.”

“The case was on-going while Sydney Glass was being investigated for money laundering, on behalf of Blanchard’s wife!” Belle cried. “Exactly how is his being sued for breach of fiduciary duty irrelevant, when he had purposely designed software for that purpose and abused his position to use it?”

“No case was ever brought,” Gold spread his hands. “An investigation is just an investigation, no jury ever had chance to find him guilty. That’s the issue the CPS always has. Too much faith in the police, too little ability to admit their mistakes.”

Belle’s cheeks did flush then, an enchanting shade of rich, deep crimson. He did notice, however, that her lips were twitching, curving into a smile. She was enjoying this as much as he was. “Blanchard won that case, you know,” she said. “The court was satisfied he was at least guilty of the breach.”

“Impropriety is one thing,” Gold replied. “Illegality quite another. You’d do well not to confuse the two.”

“And which is Cara Feinberg?” she asked, pointedly. “Illegal, or just improper?”

Gold grinned, all pointed teeth. “Certainly the latter,” he conceded. “The former is for the jury to decide next week.”

“You know she’s guilty, Gold,” Belle said. “I’ve never seen a more open-and-shut case where the defendant refused to plead guilty. She all but signed her name on those corrupted files!”

“I never said my client was wholly sane,” Gold remarked, and couldn’t help a genuine smile at the soft laugh he surprised out of Belle. It softened her whole face, when she laughed, turning that bright and ready smile into something warmer still. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, her rosy cheeks glowing. He couldn’t help but stare.

“Cara Feinberg is a special case, from what I’ve heard,” Belle agreed. “Why didn’t you advise her to plead guilty?”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “My client has yet to be found guilty, Miss French,” he said. “And so I don’t think it prudent to discuss with the prosecution what legal advice she has and has not received.”

“Fair enough,” Belle nodded. “Confidentiality and all that.”

“Indeed,” Gold agreed. “Thankfully, I haven’t been the one handling her for the most part. That heroic task has fallen to her solicitor, Ms Fisher.”

“Heroic indeed,” Belle agreed. “Even if you are trying to keep a demented thief on the streets."

“Propriety, Miss French,” he chided. “You won’t lure me into conceding my position.”

“Worth a try,” she grinned, her bright eyes sharp and gleaming. “So… was it improper or downright illegal how rude you were to me earlier?”

“Neither,” Gold grinned. “You spoke to me before my coffee, dearie, and without even the good sense to introduce yourself and thus give me a good reason to temper my speech. As such, anyone in that room would agree you got off lightly, all things considered.”

“So speaking to me like a servant in a Victorian novel was warranted, because you hadn’t caffeinated yet?” she surmised, eyebrows raised. “That’s some arrogance you have there.”

“You assumed I should know who you were based on your professional connection to me, and your accomplishments,” he replied. “Isn’t it arrogant to have assumed I’d have looked you up in advance?”

“Not at all,” she smiled, like the cat that got the cream. “I didn’t overestimate my importance, just your intelligence. I had just assumed you were smart enough to know your enemy. Unfortunately, I was mistaken.”

She gave him a bright smile as she delivered her coup de grace, and then turned on her heel, and made her way back to the doors into the conference room, to her adoring public.

“I’ll see you in court, then?” he blurted, turning to face her. She looked delighted, all but bouncing in her heels as she turned to look back at him.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she replied.

One week later

“Whatever is the matter with you, darling?” Cara Feinberg murmured through the glass separating them, as Gold glanced at the courtroom door for the fifth time. “Aren’t you supposed to be urging me to plead guilty again or some such nonsense?”

“I’m fine, Mrs Feinberg,” he assured her, returning to the task at hand.

“Whoever are you waiting for?” Cara asked, ignoring his response. “It’s not that delicious judge, is it? Ugh, I could eat her with a spoon.”

“Perhaps if you acted less like Hannibal Lector’s lecherous sister every time you spoke, this not-guilty plea would seem less ridiculous,” Gold snapped. Cara’s immaculate dark eyebrow rose.

“Touchy this morning,” she murmured. “If it’s not the delectable Judge Vincent you’re waiting for, then whoever is it?”

“I’m not waiting for anyone,” he replied. “Now, when Mr Feinberg takes the stand, remember that you need to look miserable. The jury will be watching your reactions, and the worst thing you can do is have no reaction. The only way they’re going to take our case seriously is if they get an emotional connection to you. You’re the betrayed wife, remember?”

“Oh, I know my lines, darling,” she drawled. “This isn’t my first divorce hearing.”

Gold sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unless the glass somehow didn’t tip you off, Mrs Feinberg, this is not the Family Court. This is the Crown Court, you are defending charges of fraud and embezzlement, and you’re facing a prison sentence if the prosecution make their case.”

“Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to,” Cara said, waving one immaculate red-clawed hand. “You just go out there and do your thing, and I’ll be in here, getting to know this lovely gentleman.” She turned to her security escort, and waved her fingers. He blinked back, stone-faced.

“Please don’t-“ Gold stopped, arrested by the sight before him. Belle French had slipped into the room without his noticing, and was organising her documents. She looked rather different, with her hair in a neat bun under her white wig, her black robes concealing her petite, perfect figure. He supposed that was how he’d missed her.

“Ah-ha,” Cara grinned. “It’s Little Miss Prosecution, isn’t it?” she said, and Gold was exceedingly thankful then for the thick glass, that made it impossible for anyone but himself and the guard beside her to hear Cara’s crowing. “You’ve got a crush on the enemy, you naughty boy!”

“Please try and take this seriously, Mrs Feinberg,” Gold pleaded. Cara grinned, a serial killer smile that Gold hoped she wouldn’t show to the jury.

“Please try not to throw me under the bus to impress your little girlfriend,” Cara retorted.

“Miss French is a respected colleague,” Gold bristled. “Nothing more.”

“Ohhh Miss French,” Cara cooed. “How delightful. You know, she’s very pretty, if you like that sort of thing, doe-eyed and righteous. Just the sought you imagine needing rescuing from a tower someplace.”

“If there’s nothing more you need from me, Mrs Feinberg,” Gold sighed, testily. “Then I’ll be returning to trying to keep your terrible self out of Her Majesty’s custody.”

Cara grinned, but waved him away. Gold returned to his place on the bench, facing the pedestal where Judge Vincent would seat herself soon enough.

“Mr Gold,” Belle greeted him, when he came level with her.

“Miss French,” he nodded politely.

“Have you had your coffee yet this morning,” she asked, politely. “I wouldn’t want to attempt a conversation with you until you had.”

“Before I left home, Miss French,” he assured her. “And again before coming to court. Thank you for the concern.”

She grinned. Gold returned to organising his documents.

“They’ve re-opened the Glass investigation,” she told him, a moment later.

“So I read in the paper this morning,” he replied. “New evidence, apparently.”

“The software I discussed in my talk last week,” she said. “They’ve traced elements of the transactions directly back to Glass’ IP address. I daresay the CPS will be contacted soon enough.”

“So the civil case may yet meet your requirements for relevancy,” Belle continued. “The point I made in my article may not be so farfetched after all.”

“You don’t let things go easily, do you Miss French?” Gold said. She cocked her head to one side. He wasn’t sure when they’d moved closer to one another, but he could see the flush in her cheeks now. Was it possible he got her heart racing as fast and easily as she did his?

“Not when I’ve been sneered at and had my work criticised by a man who couldn’t be bothered with a basic Google image search, no.”

“You could have introduced yourself,” he pointed out. “Saved us both a fair bit of embarrassment.”

“Saved you embarrassment, you mean,” she retorted. “I’m not embarrassed at all by your bad manners!”

He stared at her, right in her eyes, so close now he could count the little flecks of turquoise among the brilliant blue. She was astonishingly beautiful, and infuriating, and with her cheeks flushed and her breath coming hard he could barely think of a retort.

His eyes flicked down to her lips, still so soft, coloured that same shade of rose petal red. He wondered what they tasted like, whether she’d look the same in pleasure as she did in anger. He wondered if he’d ever had so much fun riling someone up as he did Belle French.

“All rise!” the clerk’s voice rang out, disturbing them, and Gold jumped back, startled. He and Miss French only just managed to scramble to their own sides of the bench before Mal entered, and he swore he heard Cara Feinberg wolf-whistling behind him.

Mal took her seat, allowing Gold and Miss French to do the same. He knew he caught her smirking at him, right before she schooled her face and called in the jury.

The trial began.

Three days later

Belle shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

Gold was giving his closing argument, and goddamnit was it hard to sit still. Did he have to roll his accent so he was caressing every word? It was hard enough to concentrate when he was being so clever and looked so good, talking with his hands and making eye contact with her every chance he got. But then with his accent and the wisps of his shaggy dark hair peeping out from under his wig, it was unreal how badly she wanted the trial to be over already.

He was rude, and superior, and he fought her on everything she said. But then, she supposed since they were opposed in court, it was his job to fight tooth and nail for his client. Even if his client was the guiltiest person she’d ever seen, and she was certain he agreed.

Cara Feinberg wasn’t even trying to look innocent. Belle wasn’t sure why she’d tried pleading not guilty, when the case against her was so clear. Even Gold with his impressive oratory skills and legal mind, couldn’t manipulate the law or facts well enough to paint her as the victim. And when Leonard Feinberg, tiny and harmless as they came, shuffled into court two days ago and was visibly terrified of his wife in the defendant box, Belle had known the jury were in her pocket.

The problem wasn’t winning the case. The jury hadn’t needed a three day trial to know a criminal when they saw one. The problem was her intense physical reaction to Mr Gold, easily the rudest and most challenging man she’d ever met, and how badly she wanted him to rip off her robe and wig and take her right there in the courtroom.

It was distracting, to say the least, and highly inappropriate considering the setting, not to mention how he’d treated her thus far. The way he’d spoken to her on that first day, sneering at her as if she’d just dribbled on herself, acting as if she were some sort of student in need of etiquette training, still made her blood boil. Any physical attraction she’d harboured when she first saw him – sleek and elegant in his tailored Armani suit, his longish hair lending an air of recklessness to his otherwise immaculate appearance – had been quashed by his disgusting attitude. She’d enjoyed the look on his face, when Judge Vincent told him who she really was. She’d enjoyed even more being able to shut him down and embarrass him, throwing his words back in his face.

She’d been more than ready to forget about him altogether. But then, while she’d delivered her talk, her eyes had drifted to him more than once. She’d expected him to be dismissive, texting or working on other matters, barely listening. Instead, he had been listening intently, nodding along with some of her points, frowning in disagreement with others. Of all the distinguished men and women in that room, Belle had known she had his full attention. He watched her like she was the North Star, like he couldn’t look away, and she’d known he’d understood and appreciated every word he’d said. When she’d confirmed he’d even read her literature, that he was as well read and sharp as everyone had warned her, more than a match for anything she could throw at him, her attraction to him had returned in a dizzying rush.

He clearly wasn’t a very nice person, and there was no excuse for being that rude even if she had been a junior or a student the way he’d clearly assumed. But when she’d caught him afterward, the way he’d questioned her points and talked to her like an equal, the way he’d clearly enjoyed every moment of their interaction even when she’d been dressing him down, was hard to forget about.

There was a push and pull he gave her, a spark of challenge that she found addictive. She felt more alive arguing with him than she did agreeing with anyone else.

It helped that he was so handsome, in a distinguished, prickly sort of a way. She thought there was someone else underneath that irritable, standoffish façade, someone who really enjoyed needling her, and who had very little enjoyment in his life otherwise. There was such a sad cast to his face, when he thought no one was looking. She wondered how lonely he must be, that he got so much pleasure from riling up a woman he barely knew.

But then, how hard up must she be, if she was squirming in her seat just watching him give his closing argument? She knew it had been a while – over a year, at least – since she’d so much as been on a date. Not that she wanted to go on a date with Mr Gold. Her thoughts toward him tended far more carnal than dinner and a movie.

His fingers moved so elegantly, tracing a line of argument for the jury. She watched them with a dry mouth, and wondered how they’d feel inside her.

Three days. Three days this trial had rumbled on, and thankfully it was almost over. There was no way he’d want anything to do with her socially, after this, so she could finally get her peace of mind back once he left the courtroom. At least, until the next time his name appeared on a new case sheet.

That was unless she could get up her nerve and just ask him to dinner. She’d worn her nicest underwear and stockings to court today, on the off chance she’d find the courage to ask, and he said yes. She didn’t imagine she’d get much past dinner without throwing herself at him and all but ripping his clothes off, but the pretence was respectable at least.

Mr Gold sat down. The jury were excused, due to return in an hour unless they required more time. Belle wondered how much of that hour would be needed to make a decision, and how much would be spent idly discussing their families and hobbies, waiting to be allowed back in.

The courtroom emptied out, Mrs Feinberg led back to her cell after a brief consultation with Mr Gold, the clerks scurrying off to file the paperwork, Judge Vincent long since gone back to her office. All of a sudden, Belle realised she was alone with Mr Gold, and she didn’t have a word to say.

“How long do you think it’ll take, then?” Gold asked, while she packed away her things. Belle’s head shot up, and she met his warm dark eyes with a shiver down her spine.

“What?”

“The jury,” he explained. “How long until they realise Cara did it?”

Belle’s eyebrows shot up, and she wondered how many ethics rules he’d just broken with that one admission. “Maybe fifteen minutes?” she suggested. “If they take advantage of the free tea and coffee first?”

He laughed, a low rich chuckle that reverberated through her bones.

“Why did you take the case?” she asked then. “If you know she’s guilty?”

“She was offering an obscene amount of money,” he replied, with a crooked grin. “Well, her solicitor was. They’d charged her a fortune to take her on, and so my hourly rate went up as well.”

“That’s highway robbery!”

Gold shrugged, “You read the bundle, do you believe Mrs Feinberg to require legal aid? She could have taken a legal aid solicitor, pled guilty and gotten a third reduction on her sentence. Instead, she put us all through this dog and pony show. Excuse me while I line my pockets with her hard-stolen money while she does.”

That shocked a giggle out of Belle, and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up when she laughed, how his gaze flicked to her mouth and back up again. “I’m almost jealous,” she admitted. “My CPS salary doesn’t vary when the case gets harder.”

“I’m sure you’re far above such petty tricks, Miss French,” he waved a hand, dismissively, wrinkling his nose as if in disgust at his own tactics. “You’re too good for such things.”

“Mr Gold, my name is Belle,” she said, stepping closer, unsure why she did. It was as if he exerted a gravitational pull on her: no matter what he said or did, he pulled her in. “And I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“For once, it wasn’t an insult,” he replied. Gold sighed, and lowered his head. He’d taken his wig off, and his long hair fell in his eyes, obscuring his expression as he leaned heavily on his cane. “I just meant that you clearly work for a better purpose than I. Your motivation comes from above the bottom line. It’s almost inspiring.”

“Sometimes it’s not so easy,” she admitted. “I didn’t start out in white collar, and it’s hard not to feel for some defendants.”

“This line of work can be easier in that sense,” he shrugged. “I can’t imagine you’ll be overwhelmed with guilt when Cara Feinberg gets sentenced.”

Belle giggled through her nose, “No,” she admitted. “I can’t say I will. That’s why I do this job, you know? To get a sense of justice being done.”

“That’s almost heroic,” he remarked.

“And that was almost a compliment, Mr Gold,” she said, now so close to him her feet were almost touching his, and she could feel the warmth of his body through their robes. “Could it be you’re losing your edge?”

“Maybe questioning a few positions,” he admitted. “Your influence, no doubt.”

“Mine?” She heard her voice come soft and questioning, disbelief slipping in through her usual confidence. She’d known him a week, in a purely professional setting. She had no idea what he could mean by her ‘influence’ working on him.

“It’s not so easy as it seems, being the one fighting to keep Cara Feinberg free and clear,” he explained. “Imagine being Hannibal Lector’s barrister, and you come close. It must be nice to get a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day.”

“Considering a career change?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “The fearsome Ephraim Gold QC changing sides?”

“I prefer to negotiate my going rate,” he replied, with a small, crooked smile. “The CPS can’t afford me.”

“Like you said, some people care about things other than the bottom line,” she replied. “But I should have guessed that didn’t include you.”

“Self-righteousness has never quite been my forte,” he retorted, and she had to laugh at that.

“No, but towering arrogance more than compensates,” she replied, and he laughed at that. She wanted to trace the smooth curve of his soft lips with her tongue. “Or at least, arrogance covering for whatever lies beneath.”

“Nastiness, unpleasantness, and a deep lack of empathy for the human condition,” he informed her, briskly.

“I don’t believe that,” she replied. He rolled his eyes.

“Then you don’t know me, Miss French,” he replied. “I suppose all you’re made from is beauty, bravery and goodness.”

“How are you capable of making such a lovely compliment sound like a terrible insult?” she demanded, her eyes searching his, seeking out that hidden place inside she’d seen once or twice, the softness she knew lurked beneath the surface.

He was staring at her, and she wasn’t sure if he was even listening. His eyes ran over her face, from her mouth to her eyes and back again, as if he were trying to make up his mind about something, as if she threw his brain for a loop.

Belle went stiff with surprise when suddenly his hands were cupping her jawline, and his mouth covered hers, swallowing her shocked little noise, his lips working urgently against hers. Belle moaned, her mind finally catching up with what was happening, and she felt her eyes slip shut as her hands wound into his thick hair, and she was kissing him back.

One of his hands moved to cup the back of her head, and she felt her wig fall from her head onto the bench. She didn’t care: she was too busy teasing the seam of his lips with her tongue, swallowing his little groan when he opened for her and allowed her entrance. He tasted like coffee and tobacco, an oddly pleasant flavour, and suddenly the kiss had turned into a passionate, desperate thing, her hands clawing at his hair as he pushed her back against the bench.

Belle hopped up to sit on top of it, spreading her knees so he could stand between them, and suddenly everything was heat and pressure, his mouth plundering hers, his hands sweeping behind her head, mussing her neat bun and making her grateful she could cover it with her wig.

“You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” he told her, his mouth trailing kisses from her mouth and across her face, down her neck, nipping at the juncture between throat and shoulder and making her whimper.

“Same to you,” she gasped, rolling her head back, “You seem to go – oh!” he sucked at her pulse point, making her groan and clutch at the back of his head., “You go out of your way to wind me up!”

“You’re stunning when you’re angry,” he told her, kissing her mouth again, making her moan and shudder against him. His hand had left her hair and was now sliding up under her robe, up her thigh to the top of her stockings. When his fingers met the lacy tops, he paused. “Stockings?” he asked. She nodded.

“I was going to ask you to dinner,” she admitted. “Maybe.”

“Stockings… for me?” he stammered, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath on her lips. He looked wrecked, as if he could barely comprehend what was happening. Belle completely knew the feeling.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since we met,” she admitted, her voice high and breathy as his fingers traced up over her thighs, teasing the bare skin and along the line of her knickers. “Shouldn’t have,” she admitted. “You were such an arsehole that day, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“I’ve thought of nothing but you since,” he confessed, and her heart leapt, racing in her chest. “Something about you sets me on fire.”

She nodded: she knew the feeling. His fingers dipped under the gusset of her underwear, and found the evidence of her reaction to him since well before he’d kissed her. “You’re wet for me, sweetheart,” he murmured, and oh she loved to hear him call her that, his rich accent caressing the word, melting her insides. She nodded.

“We’re in the courtroom,” she whispered, regretfully. She glanced over his shoulder at the doors, terrified she’d see some security guard or clerk catch them in the act. They were still alone, thank god. “Anyone could see.”

He shook his head, “No one will come in until the jury are done,” he replied. “They never do. We have a little time.”

“Good,” she said, fervently. “Good, don’t want to wait, please…”

He nodded, as if he couldn’t think of anything else. She kissed him again, quickly becoming addicted to the taste and heat and softness of his mouth, how right and good it felt to kiss him, to claw at him, to channel the fire he ignited in her into something better than arguing. Her hands scrabbled to yank up his robe and find the flies of his trousers beneath, regretful now that they didn’t have more time, that they’d see so little of one another even during the act.

She couldn’t help it: she needed him now, had needed him for hours, and she was afraid he’d pull away from her if given time to think it over. She vowed she’d make him come to dinner with her tonight anyway, and then take him back to her apartment and see everything his robe and three-piece suit were hiding from her now.

He was hard, when she cupped him through his fine wool trousers, and she loved how he stiffened all over, how his head sank to rest in the crook of her neck, this powerful man undone by the feel of her hand on his cock.

It was the work of a moment to have his flies undone, and his hard flesh resting in her hand. She gave an experimental tug, and heard him keen against her throat, the noise hidden in her neck. “Please,” she heard him groan. “Please, Miss French…”

“Belle,” she insisted, gripping him a little tighter and enjoying his full-body shudder. “Call me Belle.”

“Belle,” he agreed, and she knew she’d never get enough of hearing him say her name like that, his accent thick and rough, wrecked and undone. “Belle, please, please let me, please, I need you, please…”

She nodded, her knees shaking with the thrill that gave her, how hot it was to hear him beg her like that. She wondered if he’d let her tie him up sometime, tease him for hours, make him beg and plead with her for mercy. She hoped he’d do the same to her. She fervently needed there to be a next time, she thought, for this one chance was never going to be enough.

She moved her free hand between her legs, and hooked her fingers under her underwear, moving the gusset aside and out of the way. She lined them up, and then guided him forward, his hips thrusting as he sank into her. Belle kissed him to muffle her low, long moan of completion. He felt amazing inside her, perfectly sized, filling her up and making her whole body heat and tremble.

She kissed him again, biting at his lips, her fingers digging into his hair – she couldn’t get enough of his hair, so soft and thick, so good to cling to – as he set up a deep, hard, fast rhythm, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place as he pounded into her. The fingers holding her underwear apart slipped upward, and she rubbed her thumb and forefinger over her slippery clit in time with his motions inside her. She was already a livewire, already so keyed-up and on edge, that she was close to coming before she even realised it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her, his voice huffing against her ear in short sharp breaths, “So bright, so good, lovely Belle…”

“Yes, yes, please, there,” she moaned, kissing him with tongue and teeth, grasping at him, trying desperately to keep from screaming. “Please, Gold, please…”

“Yes, yes!” he grunted. “Yes, that’s right, come for me, please, Belle, let me see you come, beautiful Belle, please…”

His words sent her over the edge, and she bit her lip so hard she broke the skin as her head snapped back, and she felt herself clench hard around him, over and over, waves of pleasure breaking inside her as she came and came around him. The pleasure was so intense she could barely see, and she felt him kissing her open mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, anything he could touch of her.

She felt him redouble his efforts, drawing out her orgasm and short, sharp aftershocks as he chased his own climax, finishing inside her just a moment later.

He slumped against her, breathing hard as she fought to calm herself, limp and boneless in his arms. It was a miracle no one had come in and seen that, she thought as she came down from her high. She hoped no one ever reviewed the CCTV.

She felt a hysterical giggle leave her, and he laughed too, his arms coming around her in something like a hug as he helped her to her feet, his cock slipping out of her and leaving a trail of wetness against her thigh. She straightened her robe as he fumbled with a tissue, tucking himself away and setting himself to rights as she did the same. Her wig would cover her mussed hair, and her robes were only a little rumpled. She’d need to go to the bathroom to fix her hair, however.

“I ah, need to go to the ladies’,” she told him. “Clean up, you know.”

“Of course,” he nodded. He seemed as staggered as she felt by what had happened. She’d just had sex in a courtroom, with her opponent, in the middle of a trial, on a Friday afternoon. She was sure stranger things had happened, but nothing came to mind right then.

“But after the trial… would you like to go to dinner?” she asked. “Bear in mind the grievous insult you’d be doing me by saying no, after you just fucked my brains out in semi-public.”

His mouth fell open, either at her invitation or her candour, but he nodded. “With that in mind, how can I say no?”

“You can’t,” she told him, sunnily. “Meet me outside at seven?”

“S-seven it is,” he stammered, and she grinned, and pecked him on the lips.

“Wonderful,” she said, feeling lighter than air. “I’ll see you for the verdict, then,” she beamed, and all but flew out of the courtroom, her heart soaring in her chest.

Regardless of whether Cara Feinberg was found guilty, Belle had definitely won her case today.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelleorderinthecourt #rumpelstiltskin #belle french #rumplestiltskin #belle gold #mr gold #ouat #once upon a time #fanfiction #fanfic #fic: closing arguments

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confrontingbabble-on · 8 years

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The delusion that fundamentalist religious belief instills...can have devastating consequences...on innocent dependents...

“Calgary – The painful death of a diabetic boy who was so emaciated he appeared mummified could have been avoided if his parents had not isolated and neglected him for years, a judge said Friday in finding the couple guilty of first-degree murder.

Justice Karen Horner said Emil Radita, 60, and Rodica Radita, 54, were equally guilty of murdering 15-year-old Alexandru.

The boy, who was one of the Raditas’ eight children, weighed less than 37 pounds when he died in 2013 of complications due to untreated diabetes and starvation.

“Mr. and Mrs. Radita intended to and did isolate Alex from anyone who could intervene or monitor his insulin treatment aside from themselves,” said Horner. “Alex died as a result of bacterial sepsis brought on by extreme starvation. His physical condition at death was not a sudden or quick occurrence but rather took place over months and possibly, probably years.”

Horner said by isolating Alex he was unlawfully confined and totally reliant on his parents. She said it was also clear that the Raditas knew what they were doing in denying him a sufficient amount of insulin and the long-term consequences.

“The evidence underscores that the Raditas were well aware how ill Alex was and still refused to treat his medical condition with proper insulin protocol and medical care,” she said.“They knew he was dying.”

Neither parent showed any emotion or had a comment during sentencing.

Justice Horner sentenced them to life in prison with no chance of parole for 25 years.

“Your actions in starving your son Alex to death are beyond comprehension. You persisted in arrogant confidence…until he was dead.”

Witnesses testified that the Raditas refused to accept that their son had diabetes and failed to treat his disease until he was hospitalized near death in British Columbia in 2003.B.C. social workers apprehended Alexandru after his October 2003 hospital admission and placed him in foster care — where he thrived — for nearly a year before he was returned to his family, who eventually moved to Alberta.

Patricia MacDonald, the B.C. social worker who fought against Alex being returned to his parents, was in court for the verdict.‘I’m happy with the verdict. I think that it really is justice for Alex. He went through a horrible ending to his life and I’m glad to see his parents being held accountable,” said MacDonald.

She said she wanted to see the Raditas one final time.

“I just feel like they’re so empty. They’re void of any kind of emotion, any kind of feeling. I’ve never met parents like them in my life.”

Testimony also indicated that after the family moved to Alberta, he was enrolled in an online school program for one year, but never finished. There was no evidence that the boy ever saw a doctor, although he did have an Alberta health insurance number.

The trial heard that the parents’ religious beliefs included not going to doctors.

The day the Alexandru died, the family went to church and said that the boy had died, but that God had resurrected him.

“This was a really difficult case for all involved. The facts that Justice Horner found were such that you really did see the magnitude of Alex’s suffering, how long it was and how extensive it was,” said Crown prosecutor Susan Pepper.

“Certainly the evidence that was presented in court does show that the system and the social safety net in our province and in our country did fail Alex.”

Pepper said she hopes that Alex’s case eventually leads to changes in how children in care are tracked in the future.”

http://edmontonjournal.com/storyline/they-knew-he-was-dying-parents-guilty-of-1st-degree-murder-in-sons-death

#atheist #agnostic #secular humanist #skeptic #Religion #Christianity #religious insanity

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atlanticcanada · 6 years

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Halifax man sentenced after assaulting woman, killing dog

An 18-year-old old man accused of killing a dog and assaulting the dog’s owner in the Spryfield area of Halifax has been sentenced to almost a year in jail.

Cameron Robert Dolan appeared in provincial court for a sentencing hearing Thursday morning.

Dolan pleaded guilty to assault, property damage, and other counts that resulted in consecutive sentences.

Dolan is facing a total of 362 days in jail and three years of probation. His sentence includes 270 days for the killing of Cindy Beaver’s yorkie-chihuahua mix, Tucker.

Beaver says she believes Dolan’s sentence isn’t enough to provide justice for her family.

“I don’t think it’s enough, especially with the past that he’s got and he’s probably getting out sooner than that,” she says. “He should’ve got federal time for it.”

The court heard victim impact statements from the family about the trauma that followed Dolan’s alcohol-fueled rage over his break-up with a girlfriend in January.

The family dog had his legs broken before being beaten to death. Family members found his body nine days later. A pet bird in the home was stripped of its feathers and suffered a broken leg.

Dolan was sentenced to 90 days last year for maiming a pig.

The judge made a blunt assessment of Dolan’s future, saying that if he doesn't change, he risks being locked up for life as a dangerous offender.

Some of Dolan’s convictions were for breaches of court orders and he faces more court prohibitions after his release. Dolan is faced with a DNA order, an order prohibiting him from owning or being in a household where there is a pet for life and a weapons prohibition for certain items.

Crown Prosecutor Ron Lacey says the case’s details were shocking.

“I don't think I’ve ever had a case like this, they do come up from time-to-time, there are cases involving cruelty and causing death to animals,” says Lacey.

Beaver says no matter what the sentence may be life for her family will never be the same without Tucker.

With files from CTV Atlantic’s Ron Shaw.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/2quiGLt

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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megamorbidrealityblog-blog · 4 years

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NICHOLAS CRILLEY - VILE HUMAN

April 22, 2020 : A sadistic banker burned a woman's genitals, forced her to eat her own vomit and raped her daily for three weeks - leaving the victim on the brink of death and with her face infested with maggots.

Nicholas John Crilley, 34, subjected the 21-year-old woman to 'physical, psychological and sadistic violence' over 23 days in June 2017 at his townhouse in Bulimba, Brisbane.

Shocking details of the sickening torture can be revealed after the former Commonwealth Bank worker pleaded guilty to 54 offences, including grievous bodily harm, deprivation of liberty and torture.

His assaults left the woman so severely injured paramedics initially thought she was dead, the Brisbane District Court heard on Tuesday.

Prosecutor Sandra Cupina told the court Crilley raped the woman daily, set her on fire and poured burning water on her genitals.

He used a cigarette lighter, acetone and boiling water to burn her body.

The victim was also forced to eat her own vomit and faeces, and made to sleep on the floor or outside.

Crilley also made the woman, who cannot be named for legal reasons, choose how she wanted to die - being shot or in a car crash.

'I've pummelled her so hard… she cant talk anymore,' Crilley bragged to a friend.

The 34-year-old then 'hid' her for five days at the nearby Tower Mill Metro Hotel.

The beatings became so severe the woman's upper lip detached from her face.

'He increased and escalated the methods he was using to harm her, boiling water then acetone then setting her on fire,' Ms Cupina said.

She suffered multiple broken bones, deep lacerations to her face, including the 'degloving of the skin', and burns to 46 per cent of her body.

'The tissue on part of her face was so severely infected it was also infested with maggots,' Ms Cupina said.

'If she had not been treated in hospital she would have died.'

Crilley eventually called triple-zero before fleeing the Brisbane home where most of the offending occurred. (000 is Australia's primary emergency call service number)

She was found barely alive in his house on July 2, 2017, so badly injured police who found her thought she had been involved in an explosion.

Police thought she was dead until she groaned.

He was taken into custody eight days later following a dramatic police chase involving several stolen cars.

The woman was placed in an induced coma and spent eight weeks in Royal Brisbane and Women's Hospital recovering, which included learning to walk again.

Ms Cupina said Crilley's violent attacks were sustained, brutal and vicious, and increased in intensity over time.

'The horror (she) would have been experiencing is almost unimaginable,' she said.

Crilley appeared in court via video link from jail, while the brave woman described the torture as feeling like 'hundreds of small ants' were biting her.

She said her lifelong facial scars have made her feel 'unworthy of human interactions,' and said strangers look at her like she is a 'monster'.

The woman said it took her seven weeks in hospital to work up the courage to look at her deformed face in the mirror, fearing what she would see.

'When I finally did, I was so distraught. I didn't look like myself at all. I was unrecognisable. My whole body throughout hasn't felt like my own,' she told the court, the Courier Mail reported.

Her muscles wasted away so much she had to learn to walk again, and her little finger was amputated.

The woman, who is now 24, also went through weeks of agonising treatment for burns on nearly half of her body.

Her teeth are broken from endless beatings at the hands of Crilley.

She now has to wear a wig after losing chunks of her hair due to a badly burned scalp.

The bridge of her nose had to be removed because it was shattered into pieces, and her vision has been reduced due to burning liquids being poured in her eyes.

Defence lawyer Malcolm Harrison said Crilley was in a methylamphetamine-induced delusional state during the prolonged assault.

He said Crilley believed the woman had been part of a drive-by shooting that targeted him, but it was not based on reality.

'This is a dreadful and extremely serious example of violence against a woman,' he said.

'The offences were sadistic in nature.'

However, Mr Harrison reminded the court Crilley had called triple-zero.

'That is probably the one factor in his favour,' he said.

Crilley will be sentenced on May 1. The Crown has asked that he be jailed for life.

#truecrime #brisbane #australia #torture #psychological #horror #violence against women #death

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diarynz · 5 years

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Douthett murder: Michael Douthett jailed for shooting dead his wife

New Post has been published on https://diary.nz/douthett-murder-michael-douthett-jailed-for-shooting-dead-his-wife/

Douthett murder: Michael Douthett jailed for shooting dead his wife

The four children of a man who killed his wife say they still love and support their dad and know he wouldn’t have committed such a violent murder if he wasn’t suffering depression.

Today Justice Anne Hinton sentenced Michael Douthett to life in prison with a minimum non-parole period of 10 years after previously pleading guilty to the murder of his former wife, Patricia (Trish) Douthett, 50, on November 26 last year as well as a charge of dangerous driving.

As his sentence was handed down before a packed gallery, Michael Douthett, 57, was motionless in the dock.

Michael Douthett shot and killed his wife in the couple’s family home they shared during their 25 years together. It was also the home where Trish grew up as a child.

Despite Michael Douthett’s children and own family being supportive of him, the court heard Trish Douthett’s two sisters who were not.

Youngest sister Barbara Wallis read a victim impact statement that said she always feared Michael Douthett would kill her sister one day.

She said she hoped Michael Douthett would now be controlled in the same way as she said he controlled his wife.

During sentencing at the High Court in Rotorua, Justice Hinton read letters of support from the Douthett children.

In it, youngest son Mark Douthett said he knew his dad and knew he wouldn’t be capable of doing what he did if he wasn’t suffering from depression.

“I will never get over what he has done … I loved my mum but I also love my dad and I have lost both of them.” Mark Douthett’s letter said.

Justice Hinton also read a letter of support from Nicole Douthett, Michael Douthett’s daughter, who described her concern for her father’s deteriorating mental health.

Judge Hinton said from reading medical evidence it was clear Michael Douthett had been suffering from a severe depressive disorder.

She said he had been hearing voices in his head and on the day of the murder he heard voices saying “hurry up get it done”.

She said Michael Douthett had undergone several examinations by medical experts and she concluded that while his mental health was causative, it was in no way an excuse.

Trish Douthett had left her husband a few months before she died but she had to return daily to their family home to run the farm.

According to a summary of the facts, Michael Douthett loaded a rifle and hid it in the bed of the master bedroom.

Trish Douthett returned to the house after milking and went to the office. That’s when Michael Douthett grabbed the rifle from the bed and went to the office, shooting her in the head, reloading and shooting her again.

Michael Douthett then rang the police and told the call taker: “I have murdered my wife, I shot her”. He got in his vehicle and drove towards Rotorua, trying to drive head-on into a logging truck to end his life.

Police at the Douthett family home on the day of the murder. Photo / File

When that didn’t work, he lay down on the road in front of another truck in an attempt to kill himself but the truck braked heavily and didn’t hit him.

Michael Douthett was picked up by someone he knew who drove him to the Rotorua Police Station where he confessed.

In reading her victim impact statement to the court, Barbara Wallis said she threatened to go to police about the gun Michael Douthett kept at the house.

On the day of her sister’s death, she got a text from her elderly father telling her to get to the farm as soon as possible.

“I was meant to be picking Trish up from town, I knew something terrible had happened. I should not have been on the road. So scared, screaming, panicking and then telling myself off for being a drama queen – dangerous to myself and others.”

She said she took one look at her father and knew her worst fears were true.

“Dad was devastated – broken.”

“Since you so cowardly killed her, I’ve been left making decisions I never dreamed I would have to make. I’ve stepped up … with running what is now your farm. The farm that was purchased by my parents in 1964.”

Barbara Wallis said she used to call Michael Douthett “octopus”.

Police on Whirinaki Valley Rd on the day of Patricia Douthett’s murder. Photo / File

“Severe one tentacle and there will be another seven coming from different directions to maintain control.”

She said her sister had “stepped up” in the last few months before she was killed.

“She helped tremendously with dad, easing my load. Since she had got away from your control, she was a very different person to the sister I had known my entire adult life. The new Trish was lighthearted, carefree and funny. I never realised what a great sense of humour she had.”

She said it was her who took the Power and Control wheel to her sister to make her understand how bad she needed to be out of that relationship.

“No one really understood what really went on behind the scenes.”

Barbara Wallis said her stress levels were now huge having to look after two farms, their father and her own family.

“For the first part it was rage that kept me going. Now I just miss her more than I would have dreamed. I cry every day.”

She also regretted not pushing harder to keep her away from her husband, but she knew the farm was her life.

“Since Trish died my dad has been absolutely broken, he can’t bear to be at either farm. Fifty-five years of being in the Ngākuru district and we’ve moved him away. In Dad’s eyes, that farm was my sister’s death warrant.

“I hope you never see the ocean again. I hope now you will be controlled in the way you controlled her. I hope you realise the pain you’ve caused your four kids, my family and your sister’s family. You have put us through hell.”

Trish Douthett’s other younger sister, Rosie Wallis, also read a victim impact statement to the court. She said they were very close growing up and she remembered feeling lonely when her older sister went to school.

She said Michael Douthett created a distance at family gatherings like Christmas and as a result their children were closer to his family.

Trish Douthett in action on one of her many horses. Photo / Supplied

“I knew for several years she wanted to leave him. When she finally did, I was happy, really, really happy because I thought that she would have 30 or more years of happiness and freedom. If there was ever anyone who could be on their own, it was her.”

She said on her way back to Auckland from one of the court hearings, she passed trucks involved in the Great New Zealand Trek – an annual event Trish Douthett took part in every year since 2005.

For a week each year she would ride one of her horses as part of the trek from Cape Reinga to Bluff, which was a fundraiser for Multiple Sclerosis.

“Trish should have been going too, completing the final leg of an epic ride that she started … I still tear up every time I think of this.”

Trish Douthett in action on one of her many horses. Photo / Supplied

She said she never thought her sister’s decision to leave her husband could end so “catastrophic”.

“Not only have I lost my sister but also my childhood home. Our lives have been thrown into turmoil … Outside of court I hope I never have to see him again.”

Douthett’s lawyer Max Simpkins told the judge the children still supported their father and hoped to have a relationship with him when he was released.

Simpkins said Michael Douthett had been suffering from depression for a long time and had told his sister, who had made him a doctor’s appointment for the day after the murder.

In a letter to his children and Trish’s friends and family, Simpkins said Michael Douthett knew the word sorry was not good enough.

He said he would never forgive himself and understood he had caused trauma and heartache to his family.

Michael Douthett’s letter said although he was suffering from depression, he was not using that as an excuse.

“There will never be an excuse for what I have done and what I have taken from you all.”

Amanda Gordon was the Crown prosecutor.

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gyrlversion · 5 years

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How Britain, Ecuador and US plotted for six months over Julian Assange

Diplomats from Britain, Ecuador and the US hatched a secret plot over six months to have Julian Assange dragged kicking and screaming out of hiding, it has been revealed.

A series of highly-confidential talks between the three nations led to the Wikileaks founder being arrested yesterday inside the embassy where he has spent nearly seven years.

In extraordinary scenes, eight British policemen hauled a bearded and dishevelled Assange, 47, to a waiting police van after Ecuador ended his asylum status.

The country said it was tired of his ‘discourteous’ behaviour and poor personal hygiene, which reportedly included smearing faeces on the walls of the embassy.

In a shocking turn of events, he was then charged by the American government with hacking 750,000 classified documents, which carries a five-year sentence.

Scroll down for video

The arrest of Assange (left) followed talks initiated in June by Foreign Office minister Sir Alan Duncan (shown right, yesterday with Ecuadorian Ambassador Jaime Marchan)

In extraordinary scenes, eight British policemen hauled a bearded and dishevelled Assange, 47, to a waiting police van after Ecuador ended his asylum status yesterday

The arrest was a culmination of an international diplomatic process initiated in June last year by senior Foreign Office minister Sir Alan Duncan.

The British politician opened talks with Ecuador on revoking Assange’s asylum status, which eventually led to discussions with the US about a possible extradition.

A breakthrough in discussions was finally reached when the US gave assurances that Assange would not be given the death penalty should be face justice in the states.

Sir Alan told The Telegraph: ‘We don’t extradite anybody to a country where they might face the death penalty without that routine assurance. We restated our policy.’

US authorities are reportedly set to file further charges in the coming days, including espionage, which can carry a 20-year sentence.

Assange now faces up to a year in a British jail, thought to be Wandsworth prison in south London, while rape allegations in Sweden from 2010 still hang over him.

His lawyer Jennifer Robinson and Kristinn Hrafnsson, Editor-in-chief of Wikileaks, address the media outside of Westminster Magistrates Court yesterday

Moments after the arrest, Wikileaks said Ecuador had acted illegally in terminating Assange’s political asylum ‘in violation of international law’

Following six months behind bars his fight against extradition to the US would begin, with legal experts warning this process could take anywhere up to two years.

His legal fight began yesterday afternoon, when Assange was hauled in front of a judge at Westminster magistrates’ court for breaching bail.

The judge described him as a ‘narcissist’ unable to get past his own ‘selfish interests’ and sent the case to crown court. He faces up to a year in jail for the offence.

His comments caused Assange’s mother to hit out at the British legal system in a series of posts to Twitter, where she promised to ‘fight like hell’ to free her son.

Christine Assange tweeted: ‘UK judge should NOT be making statements like this! This is (a) rubbish Legal process!’

She added that Prime Minister Theresa May was ‘trying to divert attention away from her Brexit dog’s breakfast by cheering on the thuggish, brutal, unlawful arrest of my courageous, tortured multi-award winning journalist son Julian!’

Assange’s arrest came just 24 hours after Wikileaks accused Ecuador of an ‘extensive spying operation’, adding that it assumed intel had been handed over to Trump’s administration

A police van sits outside the Ecuadorian Embassy in London, after WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange was arrested by officers from the Metropolitan Police and taken into custody following the Ecuadorian government’s withdrawal of asylum

The Wikileaks founder (pictured over a seven-year period) finally appeared in court today after he was sensationally expelled from the Ecuadorian embassy in London, where he has been claiming political refuge

Mrs Assange, who lives in Australia, also addressed Ecuador’s president, Lenin Moreno, tweeting: ‘Shame on you @Lenin £Moreno! May the Ecuadorean people seek vengeance upon you, you dirty, deceitful, rotten traitor!

‘May the face of my suffering son haunt your sleepless nights.. And may your soul writhe forever in torturous Purgatory as you have tortured my beloved son!’

Meanwhile Swedish prosecutors said they would consider restarting the rape investigation which caused Assange to first seek refuge in the embassy.

The alleged victim’s lawyer declared she would ‘do all we can’ to get the case reopened.

A second woman, who accused Assange of sexual assault, said she was willing to appear as a witness.

Last night, a source close to Wikileaks claimed seven years holed up in the embassy had left Assange with a raft of health issues, including bad teeth and osteoperosis.

Fidel Narvaez (left), former consul of Ecuador to London, looks at some of the footage, alongside WikiLeaks editor in chief Kristinn Hrafnsson and barrister Jennifer Robinson yesterday

The Wikileaks founder was dragged out of the Ecuadorian Embassy in handcuffs yesterday by a large group of officers as stunned supporters and protesters watched on in central London

The source told the Mirror: ‘He is fighting on, but his health is compromised because he’s been in an embassy for however many years, and he’s not had sunlight and he’s not been able to move around.

‘I don’t think people understand that it’s a very small space, the Ecuadorian embassy. They’re not a country with a massive pile in Knightsbridge, it’s a few rooms.

‘I’ve seen him and he’s…you know, he’s suffering. He’s a human being, he’s suffering. Whatever the reason for that, it’s a fact.’

The embassy saga began in July 2012 when – having lost a battle against extradition to Sweden over two allegations of sexual assault – Assange entered the Ecuadorian property in Knightsbridge.

He was given asylum and later made a citizen of Ecuador. But events took a dramatic turn soon after 9am yesterday when police suddenly turned up at the doors.

What is UK’s extradition agreement with the US and how long could it take to send Assange to America?

The UK to US extradition process is in place to seek justice for serious crimes affecting both countries and its citzens.

It protects the rights of those accused and victims.

The latest version of the treaty updated the formal extradition relationship between the US and UK following changes in the UK’s own extradition laws and corrected a previous imbalances.

It was previously required that the US would have to present its evidence in ‘prima facie’ form, when the US had never required that from the UK.

A van with a ‘Free Speech’ placard and the images of Wikileaks founder Julian Assange and Chelsea Manning on its side, outside the Ecuadorian Embassy in London earlier this month

In the case of Assange experts have now said that he is likely to receive a custodial sentence in the UK and that and extradition to the US will follow.

Extradition lawyer Thomas Garner: ‘Given Assange’s public statements in the past it is clear that he would attempt to raise many bars to his extradition.

‘The extradition court here would not come to any conclusions on the merits of the US case in the proceedings here.

‘Its sole concern would be whether there are any legal bar to his being extradited to stand trial in the US. The process would take many months to conclude.

‘If there were an extradition request from the US, given the likely complexity of the case, it is doubtful that any final hearing would be heard this year.’

They were met at the embassy, a few streets from Harrods, by the ambassador whose government had decided to revoke their guest’s asylum.

Officers tried to introduce themselves to the Wikileaks founder, but he barged past them and tried to return to his private room, which can be locked by a secret code.

He resisted being put into handcuffs and exclaimed: ‘This is unlawful, I’m not leaving.’

Back-up officers were called in and ultimately, a team of eight officers bundled him out of the building by his arms and legs at around 10.15am.

As the scene unfolded, Ecuadorian President Lenin Moreno released his statement saying Assange’s stay at the embassy was ‘unsustainable and no long viable’.

Interior minister Maria Paula Romo accused Assange of smearing faeces on the walls during his stay.

She added: ‘Behaviour of this kind that is far removed from the minimum respect a guest should have in a country which has generously welcomed him.’

Soon after his arrest, police announced Assange had been held for breaching bail and over an extradition request from the US.

Sporting a long grey beard and a ponytail, the WikiLeaks founder smiled and waved to supporters in the public gallery from the dock in court yesterday.

But the smirk vanished when district judge Michael Snow described his defence to breaching bail as ‘laughable’.

In a final barbed remark, the judge suggested Assange should ‘get over to the US’ and ‘get on with your life’.

Meanwhile, the United States Department of Justice yesterday unsealed charges against Assange that had been secret.

He has been charged with ‘conspiracy to commit computer intrusion’ – hacking – after allegedly agreeing to break a password for a US government computer.

He is accused of working with Chelsea Manning, a former intelligence analyst in the US Army, who downloaded classified records to give to WikiLeaks.

Between January and May 2010, Manning downloaded four databases containing 90,000 reports on the war in Afghanistan, 400,000 reports relating to the Iraq war, 800 Guantanamo Bay detainee assessment briefs and 250,000 US Department of State cables. Many of them were classified but still released by WikiLeaks.

Manning was convicted by court-martial in July 2013 of violating the Espionage Act and was sentenced to 35 years – but that was later commuted by President Barack Obama and she was let out in 2017. She was jailed again in March this year for refusing to give evidence about WikiLeaks.

If he is extradited and convicted of the more serious charges, Assange could even end up in the notorious ADX Supermax Federal Prison in Colorado.

His extradition is likely to be appealed through the chain of the Court of Appeal, the Supreme Court and potentially even the European Court of Human Rights.

His legal team said he was facing ‘what appears to be an unprecedented effort by the United States seeking to extradite a foreign journalist to face criminal charges for publishing truthful information.’

Supporters of Julian Assange outside the Ecuadorian Embassy in London last Friday

Diane Abbott faces furious backlash for defending Julian Assange by saying his ‘real crime was to have embarrassed the US military’ and ‘we all know it’s not about the rape charges’

Diane Abbott was accused of ‘dismissing’ sexual assault allegations levelled at Julian Assange after she said three times this morning: ‘Charges were never brought.’

The Shadow Home Secretary yesterday called for the UK to block the Wikileaks co-founder’s extradition to the US for revealing sensitive military information.

She told John Humphrys on Radio 4 today that there may be human rights grounds on which to oppose the hacker being taken to the US after he was ejected from the Ecuadorian embassy.

Diane Abbott (pictured, right) has sparked fury online after comments this morning saw her accused of ‘dismissing’ sexual assault charges levelled at Assange (left)

Abbot (left) has sparked outrage as she was accused of dismissing sexual assault charges relating to two women (right)

The BBC presenter challenged the Hackney North MP, telling her that Assange had skipped bail and only sought diplomatic immunity in the building when he faced sexual assault allegations in Sweden and refused to go to the country.

She responded ‘those charges were never brought’ before Humphrys pointed out that Swedish law prevents suspects from being charge in their absence.

Abbott then repeated her assertion and said the pursuit of Assange had nothing to do with alleged rape.

‘The allegations were made but the charges were never brought,’ she said. ‘We all know what this is about. It’s not the rape charges – as they are – it’s about the Wikileaks and all of that embarrassing information about the activities of the American military and security services that was made public.’

Pictured: Assange after he was arrested following a seven-year stay at the Ecuadorian embassy yesterday

After saying for a third time that ‘charges were never brought’, Abbott said Assange should face justice if the Swedish government comes forward with charges, despite Humphrys having outlined why charges can’t be brought with Assange outside the Scandinavian country.

‘Much of the information he brought into public domain, it could be argued, were very much in the public interest,’ the Labour politician added.

Abbott’s remarks sparked outrage on social media as people took to Twitter to point out that Assange had ‘escaped’ charges by seeking immunity in the embassy. It’s not the first time the gaffe-prone MP has come under fire for comments made in an interview, with previous controversies including her assertion that dictator Chairman Mao did more good than harm.

Labour’s Jess Philips and Bridgett Philipson joined Tory Anna Soubry to condemn Abbott’s comments online. It comes after yesterday their leader, Jeremy Corbyn, called for Britain to ‘oppose’ any attempt at extraditing Assange to the states.

Shadow home secretary Diane Abbott, pictured, told the House of Commons today Julian Assange was only being pursued by the US for ‘exposing wrongdoing’

Supporters of Assange’s activism point to him releasing footage of American troops firing on civilians, but his opponents highlight instances of revealing the identities of Afghan informants working with the US to topple Islamists.

It came after she joined left-wing campaigners in condemning Assange’s arrest yesterday.

The WikiLeaks founder, 47, is facing 12 months in a British prison after being hauled out of the Ecuadorian embassy in London after a seven-year stay and brought before Westminster Magistrates’ Court, where he was found guilty of skipping bail.

Assange’s fashion designer friend Vivienne Westwood, pictured, joined supporters outside court to protest against his arrest

Westwood, pictured outside the court today, has previously designed t-shirts with slogans supporting Assange on them

Human rights campaigner Peter Tatchell, pictured, called Assange a ‘hero’ and said his actions were ‘far from criminal’

In a sensational turn of events, he was also charged by the US government with conspiring with American whistleblower Chelsea Manning ‘to break a password to a classified government computer’ in 2010, for which he could be jailed for five years.

What are some of Diane Abbott’s other gaffes and controversies?

2008: Abbott told Andrew Neil on BBC show This Week: ‘I suppose that some people would judge that on balance Mao did more good than harm. We can’t say that about the Nazis.’

2010: Accused of playing the ‘race card’ after she defended sending her son James to a £10,000-a-year school claiming: ‘West Indian mums will go to the wall for their children.’

2012: Outrages cab drivers by tweeting: ‘Dubious of black people claiming they’ve never experienced racism. Ever tried hailing a taxi I always wonder?’

2017: Told LBC Radio it would cost just £300,000 to hire 10,000 more police officers over four years – a grand total of £30 for each.

2017: Wrongly claims 16-year-olds can fight for their country and should therefore be able to vote.

2017: Refuses four times on the Andrew Marr Show to say she regrets past support of the IRA, adding: ‘It was 34 years ago, I had a rather splendid afro at the time. I don’t have the same hairstyle and I don’t have the same views .’

2018: Angered London Police by criticising their tactic of knocking moped muggers off their vehicles, tweeting: ‘Knocking people off bikes is potentially very dangerous. It shouldn’t be legal for anyone. Police are not above the law.’

2018: Posts fake image of an Israeli fighter plane bombing Iran in a tweet slamming Britain’s airstrikes on Syria.

Ms Abbott joined the likes of Pamela Anderson, Edward Snowden, Vivienne Westwood and Peter Tatchell in voicing their concern for Assange.

Ms Abbott told the Commons: ‘Julian Assange is not being pursued to protect US national security.

‘He is being pursued because he has exposed wrongdoing by US administrations and their military forces.’

US whistleblower Snowden warned the arrest was a ‘dark moment for press freedom,’ while fashion designer Westwood protested outside Westminster Magistrates Court.

Snowden, a former CIA agent tweeted: ‘Images of Ecuador’s ambassador inviting the UK’s secret police into the embassy to drag a publisher of-like it or not-award-winning journalism out of the building are going to end up in the history books.’

Snowden is currently living in exile Russia having fled the US after leaking a huge cache of declassified documents back in 2013.

Assange’s close friend Pamela Anderson also blasted the arrest on Twitter, calling the UK ‘America’s b****’ and claiming it was a ‘diversion from Brexit’.

And the Russian Foreign Ministry claimed the move was ‘the hand of democracy squeezing the throat of freedom’.

Speaking in the Commons, Ms Abbott said: ‘On this side of the House, we’re glad that Julian Assange will be able to access medical care, treatment and facilities because there have been worrying reports about his ill health.’

She added: ‘Even though the only charge he may face in this country is in relation to his bail hearings, the reason we are debating this this afternoon is entirely to do with the whistleblowing activities of Julian Assange and WikiLeaks.

‘It is this whistleblowing activity into illegal wars, mass murder, murder of civilians and corruption on a grand scale that has put Julian Assange in the crosshairs of the US administration.

‘It is for this reason that they have once more issued an extradition warrant against Mr Assange.’

She also compared his case to that of Gary McKinnon, who hacked into US military computers from the bedroom of his North London flat.

It came as Mr Corbyn dodged the opportunity to praise the arrest when it was brought up in Parliament by Prime Minister Theresa May earlier today.

Westwood is surrounded by photographers including a glamorous woman in a red hat and large sunglasses

There were huge crowds of journalists and protesters outside the court today as the Assange case drew attention from around the world

Ms Abbott claimed a ‘UN panel’ ruled Assange was being ‘arbitrarily detained and should be allowed to walk free’ from the Ecuadorian embassy.

In response, Home Secretary Sajid Javid said ‘the whole country will be pretty astounded by the tone she has taken’, saying Ms Abbott was ‘suggesting that we should not apply the rule of law to an individual’.

He accused her of ‘not giving quite correct information’ over her claims the UN had ruled in Assange’s favour, saying ‘the UN has no view on the Assange case’.

Human rights campaigner Peter Tatchell said the US was leading an attack on the press and freedom of speech by arresting Assange, and the slammed the British government for cooperating.

Speaking on Sky News, he said: ‘What Julian Assange did was publish information that had been leaked by Chelsea Manning.

‘He was not the leaker. He published the information in the same way the Guardian did and the New York Times did.

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