Dr Gerry Cornwell was hanging his head and shaking it from side to side. ‘No, sir,’ he said, ‘that was not what shocked me.’ He held the book up again. ‘You see, the drawing you asked me to look at is on page eight. But there are four other murders detailed before this, and sixteen after.’ He placed the book down. Defence counsel was on his feet shouting objections, but Dr Gerry Cornwell wanted the jury to hear this so he shouted even louder. ‘Every time Child X kills, he puts a big red tick.’ He showed page eight and the murder of the toddler. He then held the pages aloft so the jury could see the murder of pensioner, the murder of perverts, the murder of black girl and the murder of retard.

It was Kevin’s wish list.

Chapter Thirty-Five

On the twenty-first day after the trial of Child X and Child Y for the murder of Matthew Cook began, the jury returned a verdict. The pair sat in the dock and stared straight ahead at Lord Justice Edward Hunter. Even Kevin Milne had stopped crying and chewing his jumper. There was no point in acting any more: the verdict was now out of his hands.

Lord Hunter stared as the foreman of the jury stood up and handed the usher a folded white piece of paper. It had been an unsettling trial for all involved; the evidence of the children’s teachers about their pupils’ home circumstances, and the attitude of the ‘Edmonton 38’ had shocked the world. If only one of those adults had intervened, there would have been no case, no trial and no murder. Matthew Cook was two years of age and by no stretch of the imagination was it his time to die. Some had said that, perhaps in the long run, it would be a good thing. Lessons would be learned that would save other children, other families. Nonsense, he thought. There was no extra funding to be put into the desperate environment in Shank Town that had spawned this tragedy. Nothing would change. All he could do was try to ensure that Kevin Milne would never be free again, and if that meant Renee Smith would have to suffer the same fate, then so be it.

‘Have the jury reached a verdict?’ Lord Hunter asked.

The foreman nodded and the other eleven members of the jury stared at the judge. Experienced members of the press pack knew Lord Hunter would give nothing away as he read the verdict over, so they in turn stared at the individual members of the jury. The long and harrowing trial had taken its toll. The unnatural pallor and the shadowy bags under the eyes of most of the jurors told their own story.

‘Would the accused please stand up?’