Court 3, where the dock was inside a glass enclosure, was already in session. Court 2, where Crisp’s case was listed, had an antiquated open dock. Defendants had escaped from this court’s dock before, and once out of the courtroom there were only a couple of security staff, who would be too preoccupied checking people coming in to prevent any absconder from running out into the busy street and away. Short of bringing the doctor in chained with manacles – which his defence counsel would never have allowed – the court security would be hardly adequate at best, with just two security staff in the dock with Crisp – and that worried Grace.

33

Thursday 9 May

A modern, neat-but-soulless red-brick housing estate, opposite a garage, on the outskirts of Chichester. Carer Denise Clafferty, doing her daily round, rang the doorbell of number 23, a small three-bedroom detached house, dropping in on sweet Stuie Starr.

The thirty-eight-year-old, with Down’s Syndrome, had been living on his own for nearly six months since his brother had been arrested and was currently in prison on remand, awaiting sentencing. Stuie couldn’t understand why his brother hadn’t come home since travelling to Germany to collect a car, a Ferrari that Stuie had been excited to see.

Every day when Denise visited him, to check on his welfare and the state of the house, Stuie persistently asked her the same question: ‘Is Mickey coming home today?’ Then he would add, proudly, ‘We are starting a fish and chip shop!’

Some days, the way he said it broke her heart. She had tried to explain that it would not be for a while, to manage his expectations, but nothing she said could dim his sunny enthusiasm. Every day when he opened the door, he was all smiles for an instant, all expectant, then he would burst into tears when he saw it was her – or on occasions one of her co-workers – and not his brother.

At least the trial of Terence Gready, Mickey’s alleged co-conspirator, was now under way. Sentencing was just weeks off. Hopefully the judge would take into consideration that Mickey Starr had pleaded guilty, that he’d already served six months and that he had a brother who needed him.

There was no response to her ring.

She rang again. Waited.

Still no response. Unusual. Normally, Stuie opened the door within seconds. He had been coping pretty well, ordering his groceries and essentials and getting them delivered, and he kept the house scrupulously, obsessively tidy. For Mickey, he said.

Maybe he was on the loo, she wondered. Or asleep. She rang again and waited. Several minutes passed. She glanced at her watch. Another six appointments today. Reluctantly, using the key she had – much preferring for his self-esteem for him to let her in himself – she unlocked the front door and entered.

‘Stuie!’ she called out.

Silence greeted her.

A silence she did not like.

‘Stuie! It’s Denise!’ she called.

There was no response.