Gerry Cornwell scanned the court. Every seat seemed filled by a journalist ready to record and put a spin on whatever he said. Thankfully, Donna Cook was not in court. She attended most sessions, but on some days she was judged by her doctor as too fragile to attend. The sight of Renee Smith and Kevin Milne rendered her unpredictable, no matter how high her dosage of Valium. Gerry thought of his home visit to Donna Cook. ‘Poor but proud’ was how his own mother would have described her. The statistics didn’t give her or Matthew a chance, but he thought differently after that visit. In his opinion, Matthew Cook and his mother had had a chance, a very good chance, of escaping Shank Town. But now, thanks to the work of Kevin Milne and Renee Smith, neither Matthew nor Donna would live again.

‘Could you repeat the question, m’lord?’ Gerry asked. His mouth tasted of the last cigarette he’d smoked in the witness room. When his name was called he’d rushed to finish it and now he felt sick. A hot fever was flushing through his body and he felt dizzy. Kevin Milne’s eyes were on him. The boy was playing a game, a very clever game. He looked stupid; different in a harmless, village idiot kind of way–an image that Gerry knew from the shocking IQ results could not be further from the truth; he seemed totally different to the boy Gerry had got to know. Kevin was crying and simpering through the trial as the defence and prosecution teams questioned the witnesses. His blue eyes were glazed. He turned to stare at the world’s press as if he didn’t know where he was. He’d worn the same stained trousers and jumper for fourteen days, and he’d chewed a hole in the jumper sleeve.

The jury were buying into his act. Kate Milne stood up in her seat and reached into the box to stroke his greasy, lank hair and give him drinks of water. Tears ran down her face, but Gerry wasn’t fooled. He had been to the house. He’d seen the holes she’d punched in the partition walls in drunken fits, witnessed first hand the barbaric cruelty between the siblings, who were allowed to bite and torture one another while Kate ignored them.

Sir John Limington QC, barrister for the prosecution, coughed. ‘Dr Cornwell, in your professional opinion, is there any condition which would explain the behaviour of the two accused?’ The queen’s counsel half turned and waved his forefinger in the direction of the dock, as if anyone could be in any doubt about whom he was speaking.

Renee Smith, or child Y, as she was now known, was playing with her hair as her involvement in the killing was discussed. Gerry Cornwell turned and faced the jury box. He made sure his eyes connected with every single juror.