1946

I spotted the guy looking at me when I stepped off the train after it pulled into the station at Swindon. He walked up to me as soon as I saw him and greeted me with a cheery ‘Hullo!’. I have to admit that I had no idea who he was at all.

- Hello there, I said. – Can I help you?

- Oh that’s a good one, he said to me. – I think you’ve helped me enough!

I was getting quite lost here. I would have thought him some passing nutter but for the fact that I suddenly had a clear recollection of his face from some time ago and that curiosity got the better of me. Was he someone I knew from school?

- Do I know you from somewhere?

- Maybe not, but I know you.

- Really? So who am I?

- Second row back… , he paused to think – and third on the left from me.

- I’m sorry, I said – but I think you are mistaken.

- Not at all. You put me away for four years.

- I’m sorry?

- Southwark Crown Court, July 18^th 1993. You were on my jury. The name is Neville – you convicted me for fraud. Remember now?

I certainly remembered. He had grown a bit broader in the intervening years and he looked less like a bank manager and more like a cattle rancher. I was rightly apprehensive.

- So…how have you been?

- Oh fine. I did my time in three different prisons and came out, got myself a job training guide dogs and have remarried. I’m living in Stoke.

- Living in Stoke... I said the words as though they had some great meaning. As though Stoke was some form of an afterlife. – So are you doing okay for yourself?

- I’m doing great. You did me the best favour anyone has ever done me, you know.

- Really?

- Oh yes. I’d have stuck at that nonsense for years had you not prised me off it when you did.

- I see.

- Can I ask you something?

- By all means.

- Did you think I did it? I mean, did you really think I did it?

- You know, I find it hard to remember, but I seem to…

- No, you can remember alright. Just be honest with me. The verdict was not unanimous; my lawyer told me that much. So did you think that I was guilty?

- I really don’t know. Were you?

- Guilt and liability are not the same thing, are they?

- No, I suppose not.

- So do you think that I did it? That I filched the money from the retirement home and stuck it all away in some private accounts and all that stuff?

- Well…now you mention it, I think you are right. I think I did say that you were guilty.

- Interesting. What made you say that?

- I wonder if it’s ethical for me to speak with you like…

- Oh it’s all done and dusted now, is it not? So tell me that much at least.

- Okay…I thought you were guilty because you dressed like a spiv in the court, shifted in your seat a lot, couldn’t look at many of the prosecution witnesses and had a stammerer for a counsel.

- And when did you start considering that I was guilty?

- On day one, if I remember correctly. The trial went on for three days, didn’t it?

- Four. So on day one, you assessed my guilt without hearing anything of the evidence?

- Well, I suppose it must sound like that but…

- And that coloured the rest of the evidence for you?

- Well, I was there and heard it all but I…

- Yes, but what you heard was based upon you hearing the arguments of a man you already thought was guilty.

- Well…perhaps…

- And so it sounded like a series of excuses and not the case for the defence, right?

- That’s very unfair of you to characterise it all like that…

- I know, but the point is that you made up your mind from the outset and failed in your duties as a member of the…

- Now hang on, I said – I hardly ‘failed’ at…

- …and failed in your duties as a member of the jury to judge the case solely on the evidence you heard.

- Not at all.

- Well you just said as much!

- Yes, but…well…court is all about presentation isn’t it?

- Yes, but presentation of evidence, and not anything else.

We paused. I had to say what else was on my mind.

- Are you going to hit me?

He seemed appalled by the suggestion.

- Hit you? I hardly think so. I just wanted a few answers to a few questions, that’s all.

- Well…alright, but you realise that I can only speak for myself.

- Oh I know that, but you’ve said the same thing as four others in the jury at that trial so there must be some ground in it.

- Four others? You mean you have bumped into four others from the jury?

- Seven, actually. Three of them disagree with you. They were ‘won over’, or something.

- Good Lord. Have you been stalking us or something?

- Well…do you really think that this meeting is some sort of accident?

- Good grief! This has to be illegal!

- I doubt it. Maybe immoral, but not illegal. At least not in any conventional sense. Not that it makes a lot of difference to me.

- Immoral? I’d say so! You cannot go hunting down members of the jury who convicted you, can you?

- Well, it turns out that most of those I spoke to didn’t ‘convict’ me in any proper sense of the word. Do you think I might have some reason to be aggrieved by all of that?

- Maybe you do…but that cannot excuse your actions.

- Why not? We’re just talking. Two guys. Just talking. If I’d have come at you with a hatchet it might have been different, but we are in a crowded railway station. I’m not threatening you, am I?

- No, not really.

- I saw the others in bars and restaurants and public places. I’d have done the same with you but for the fact that your habits and a bit more frugal than theirs.

- How long have you been following me, exactly?

- Oh, about three months. On and off.

- On and off? How did you find out where I live? Or who I am?

- Look…I lied about the business about guide dogs, alright?

- So what do you do?

- Nearly nothing. I am independently wealthy.

- Really? So why did you pull the fraud?

- Do you think that was the only one?

- You mean…that you did others?

- Sure did. And no one has found out about them. I have the money stashed away and am living off it very happily, thanks very much. The one with the retirement home was a small one where I fell down badly. The others were much bigger. And better. And no one will suspect me of them because I seem to be a small-time loser who turns over retirement home accounts.

- And didn’t the police catch you for those others?

- No, of course not. So now I am a convicted fraudster who has served his time and is now struggling to make ends meet, apparently, after getting out of jail and doing all that ‘rebuilding his life’ rubbish you hear about. You made a mistake – and now I am redeeming you.

I was flabbergasted.

- So why are you following the jury members about the place?

- To laugh at them. And mock the system that has managed to hide my real guilt from scrutiny. Like I said, you did me the best favour anyone has ever done me. I must be going now. Nice to have met you. Cheerio!

We shook hands. Mr. Neville turned and was swallowed up into the crowds of people getting off the 5:40 from Bristol. I sometimes wonder if he ever met the dark-haired woman I was sitting next to in July 1993. I sometimes wonder if she asked him about me. I think of her often.