‘But he wasn’t alone. Plenty of other officers from other stations knew what was going on. They’d be given a tour and get to watch us while we played. There was one I think you know, DI Clarke. Retired now, of course, same as Fleck. I’ll be naming more names in due course, lots of them. But you know who I’m talking about here. The sarge loved him, loved the way he’d spent his whole career “getting away with it”. He’d tell us all the stories – this was after we’d passed the initiation, of course. By then we were ripe and ready, ready to do whatever was asked. Fit somebody up? Alter evidence? Intimidate witnesses? All that and a lot more besides. Backhanders from criminals, sometimes even doing their dirty work for them. Perjuring ourselves in court – well, that became standard procedure. We were bad cops, and some still are. We know where the bodies are buried, and it won’t be a pretty sight when they’re dug up. All because we’d been made to feel that we’d get away with it. Go ask your friend – he got his fair share. He was wallowing, same as us. And you know what? The way the world’s turning out, maybe that’s the only method that makes sense. “Police hard,” the sarge used to say. That’s the culture I was introduced to. That’s why I turned out …’ He sought the right word, ‘disordered.’

Silence filled the room as Haggard leaned back in his chair. Clarke turned her attention to the lawyer.

‘This is what you’re taking to court?’

The palms of Haggard’s hands came down hard against the table. ‘Nothing’s going to court! The chiefs are going to shut you down!’

Leckie’s fingers landed gently on his client’s forearm. ‘Francis, please.’ Then, to Clarke, ‘Mr Haggard continues to meet regularly with a therapist to try to deal with these issues. He is heartily sorry that his temper got the better of him on that one occasion with his wife.’

‘A lot more than one occasion,’ Clarke corrected him.

‘You have no evidence of that.’

‘Neighbours tell a different story, one they’re willing to share from the witness box.’

‘Those vegan arseholes,’ Haggard muttered. ‘They’ve had it in for me from day one.’

‘Your wife’s sister kept all the text messages sent to her about your abusive behaviour.’

‘Nonsense, the lot of it.’

‘The procurator fiscal doesn’t think so.’ Clarke turned back to the solicitor. ‘This was a waste of our time, Mr Leckie. Do better, please.’ She got to her feet, signalling the end of the meeting. Esson stopped the recording, following Clarke to the door.

‘DI Clarke … please …’

Clarke stopped and turned to face Haggard. He seemed suddenly cowed and exhausted.

‘Ask yourself why I’m doing this, burning bridges, turning friends into enemies.’

‘You tell me.’