Three points on a triangle

He was outside. Banging on the door again,  shouting obscenities with drunken breaths. Responsibility and a sane mind had left him on the fourth glass and by the seventh , he had turned into the stranger we despised. We had no understanding nor sympathy. A hell of his own making yet he subjected us all to his misery. 

Fear pervaded our house, seeping under the doors and through cracks in the window frames. The safety of the last few hours was shattered in an instant . From the warmth of  my curled up foetal position, I listened. Waiting for the inevitable. Someone would, as always,  get up and let him in before he woke up the neighbours. Who felt the most responsible for not drawing attention to our family affairs? Who tried to keep up the appearance of happiness and control? I knew the outcome of this story. The drama had been played so many times but the consequences remained the same. 

With every angry expletive or kick on the door, I sensed  the house shudder,  recoiling from the violence it knew was coming. From the room next door, I heard her sigh, followed by a soft metallic click and wood pushing against carpet. My mother’s light steps padded down the stairs and I strained to hear how the following minutes would play out. Would he retreat into stupor to awake, bleary and dazed in the morning or would his perceived grievances against the world be taken out on us? Would we be lucky or not? Would I again be sent to school with a letter to explain and instructions to relate to anyone who asked about the late arrival and the bruises?

Below me, the front door was opened and heavy boots stomped into the hall. A quiet voice, hardly audible, tried to pacify and cajole the lumbering monster that stood swaying in the hall. This could still go either way. In the darkness, I waited, ready for action. 

A crash, glass breaking. That would be the vase on the bookshelf. No matter. A trip to a charity shop would find a replacement. Still no real damage done. I lay, reluctant to move. Anxiety held my eyes open, staring into the night. 

A blow to the wall, then another.  Gasps of pain as flesh met metal edges. A thud…the sound of something falling. Then silence. I had loved him once but now Survival took over. I couldn’t leave my mother at his mercy. Adrenaline rising with every step I took towards him, I tried to block out the countless times we had been here before. He always triumphed; we were always the victims. Nobody ever realised. How long could this continue?  Yet over the years, I had grown stronger, bigger. I was almost a match.  

He was coming up the stairs towards me, head down, eyes blurred, the over powering odour of whisky enveloping us both. As he reached out his arm to push me away, years of tolerance and passivity melted away. Incensed by the injustice of it all, this time I no longer accepted. I  pushed back. How easy it was. As if in slow motion, I saw him fall. It had been me so many times. I watched him hit the floor, relief oozing into my befuddled mind. This time, I had won. 

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At 3.30am on January 1^st 2019, I arrived at the address in question, to find a woman, named hereafter as Mrs Anne Baylis, in her 40’s lying unconscious in the hallway. She was in a state of undress, with her nightwear seeming to have been ripped by one of the other persons in the house. There seems to have been a struggle with an unknown assailant as there was bruising to her head and body with a superficial cut to her left leg, bleeding through her garments. Also lying on the hallway was a large man, identified as Mr Robert Baylis,, approximately 18 stone and probably in his late 40s. It can be reported that he was under the influence of alcohol and possibly some recreational drugs at the time of the accident due to his obvious state of intoxication. He suffered a major blow to the head on falling down the stairs. It is not known how this occurred due to a lack of witnesses. 

Also present, was a young man aged 16, who claims to be their son, Mr James Baylis. He was  unharmed and in a state of hyper vigilance. Being the only person conscious, he was taken to the station under custody to be detained and interviewed as soon as possible. Mr and Mrs Baylis have been taken to St Andrew’s hospital for further attention although initial examinations suggest that the former may have fared worse and serious, possibly fatal, injuries may have occurred. Investigations are ongoing in the local area to ascertain the background to this case. 

DCI Harding

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“And so your honour, members of the jury, you have heard the evidence of the Defence council who have attempted to paint a picture of a broken family. A father who had,  for many years,  been abusing his family in secret. A man who by day, presented the image of a hard working member of society and yet at night, repeatedly and violently beat and inflicted injuries so distressing that the son was forced to lie to his school and teachers as to how they had occurred. A mother and son living daily with stress and fear, yet struggling to maintain the face of normality and with no means of escape. A situation where the son, robbed of a living father, had no choice but to hit back and who now stands unjustly accused of assault with intent to cause bodily harm.

However, do not forget the words of the Council for the Prosecution in their summing up statement, relating the interview with a local neighbour. Remember their comments for the character witness of the father. This witness, Mrs Atkinson, stated that she had never seen Mr Baylis in a drunken state in the six years she had lived next door and that he had always been the most respectable of gentlemen towards her and other neighbours. There had never been any reports of unrest at the address to the police in the last ten years and the local community report being extremely surprised by this event and send their sympathies to Mr Baylis. The witness for the Prosecution also wanted it to be on the record that James Baylis, the son, had become more reclusive, morose and even rude to neighbours,  often shouting at them for no reason and seemingly violent towards their property at times.  

These differing opinions, you must take into account when deciding whether it was the intent of James Baylis to deliberately attack his father that night or whether it was indeed just the spontaneous action of a troubled and abused teenager. 

QC Cartwright