‘How long have you known Dr Marshall?’ I asked Cornwell. I was back at the station after my mother’s cryptic conversation, and he had sobered up a lot since my last view of him, but adrenalin was still pumping round his system. His hand shook as he dabbed the blood from his face, a reminder of his earlier violent encounter; most of it belonged to my client. ‘How long have you known Graham Marshall?’ I asked again. I turned to Bancho for some assistance. It could be argued that the police had stood back and allowed my client to be assaulted in the police cells. Unless you had been there, you would never have believed the mild-mannered psychologist could move so fast or so viciously.

‘I don’t know any Graham Marshall,’ he smiled, his lips forming a hard, obstinate line. To be truthful, after the first consultation with my client, I’d felt like punching him myself. But I did object to being taken for a fool. Years of dealing with unstable patients probably helped Dr Cornwell make his next decision. He sat down next to me; the smell of drink was overpowered by the scent of fresh perspiration and blood. ‘I’m telling you the truth when I say that, when I say that I don’t know Graham Marshall. The man in that cell is Kevin Milne, and it doesn’t matter what the courts allow him to call himself, that’s what he will always be to me.’

Kevin Milne.

Dr Graham Marshall had boxed me into a corner. I’d taken his retainer and now I was forced to defend…whatever he was. The anger building up inside was bringing acidic bile to my throat. I had to blame someone. The only person I could think of in the whole sorry saga to heap it on was sitting right next to me, staring at his bloodied hands. I walked over to the victim board and, with great care, peeled the photographs given by the families away from the Blu-Tack. I carried three of them over to Gerry Cornwell. The picture of Alan Pearson was uppermost. I laid the other two down on the desk and handed him the one of the Newcastle man. ‘At one time you must have written a report stating that…’ One glance at Cornwell out of the corner of my eye told me he would never permit Graham Marshall to be called anything other than Kevin Milne. I started again. ‘At some time in the past you told a court that Kevin Milne was not a danger to the public.’