Close by Martina Cole Page A

be adhered to by the people who had sworn to uphold it. Criminals broke the law, the boys in blue nicked them, that was how the world worked. No one liked it, but it was accepted. Once that all broke down of course, it was a different ball game. A plastic judge was a menace to society in far more ways than the man he relegated to prison. If they put away a body that they knew was innocent then it stood to reason that they knew the real villain was still walking the streets. It also cast aspersions on every case they had ever been in contact with: if they fitted up one person, how many more could be in the frame?
    To uphold the law the judge had to be beyond reproach, something that did not apply, of course, to the men they were not only judging, but sentencing to prison. They were expected to lie and cheat, that was all part of the game. There was nothing worse than being lectured in a courtroom by someone who you knew to be morally bankrupt. A jury trial was about the police making sure that they had enough evidence to convict the accused; the jury had to have enough facts presented to them to convince them of their guilt. These laws were brought about to safeguard innocent people who, through no fault of their own, may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police had to establish not only a motive but also gather enough evidence to put the person on trial in that right place at that right time.
    Just because someone might look good for a conviction didn't mean they deserved one. The law was there to give them a fair trial. You expected the alleged criminals to lie, you did not expect the trial judge to already have reached a verdict before the evidence was shown or for a policeman to take an oath yet lie, knowing that the job they held made people assume they were telling the truth.
    Honesty was supposed to be their forte. Unfortunately, the consumer society they inhabited and the relaxing of the gambling laws had soon put paid to that. This was one of the main reasons why the police and judges were being sought out and bought up, not only as an early-warning system in the case of the police, but also to even out some of the judicial playing fields when court appearances could not be avoided and bail was a necessity.
    Lomond was about to find out that, like any grass, filth or criminal, once you perverted the course of justice for your own ends, no one wanted you. No one trusted you and no one cared what happened to you. By the very nature of your dual lifestyle you were well and truly on your own. Lomond was now neither fish nor fowl. The strength of his position had overnight become his biggest weakness. He was now like a tame guard dog. If he worked well enough, he might get fed. But he would also be made to realise that there were plenty more puppies from the litter he came from.
    'You don't think he is gonna die do you?' Dicky said.
    Lomond was breathing with difficulty now.
    Pat shrugged. The man on the dirt-strewn floor disgusted him. 'Who cares.'
     
     
    Lily walked into the prison and felt her stomach heave.
    She hated the smell of the place and she hated the feeling of confinement. The walls were grimy, the aroma was putrid and to crown it all, she was here to pass on a message to someone she didn't even like. Kevin Craig was a man with little imagination, a vicious temper and a vindictive personality.
    He suited his surroundings as far as Lil was concerned. Wormwood Scrubs was a shithouse although Du Cane Road had been a nice place in its day. Hammersmith Hospital was next door and there were still some nice houses around and about. She liked the area but hated the prison. Every time she stepped inside she felt as if the walls were coming in on her and she wondered how anyone stood it.
    To be locked up was, to her, the worst thing that could happen to anyone. To have no say whatsoever over your life was a terrifying thought, and she should know, her home life had been the same.
    The whole place