Page 61 of Claim

“Risk to you,” I corrected. “Which is now demonstrable.”

He shifted. Winced. Didn’t argue.

“You’ve been refused bail once, which means we can’t reapply unless there’s been a material change in circumstances.”

“And this counts?”

“This,” I gestured to his face without looking at it again, “counts.” Then I flipped the page, scribbling the things I needed to know on it. “You were moved without explanation. Placed in proximity to known adversaries. Injured in custody. Then denied immediate access to counsel.” I peered up. “That is a failure of duty of care. And it alters the balance.”

“So what happens?”

“I draft an urgent renewed application. Filed to the Crown Court. I’ll argue that continued remand now presents an unacceptable risk to your safety, and that the prison has demonstrated it cannot adequately mitigate that risk.”

“And the fight?”

“I contextualise it. You didn’t seek violence. You reacted to it. And, crucially, you were placed somewhere it was foreseeable.”

Razor glanced away. “They’ll say I’m dangerous.”

“They always do. Which is why we get ahead of it.”

Razor turned back. “How?”

“I’ll propose strict conditions. Curfew. Residence. Reporting. Whatever they want. Short of an ankle monitor surgically attached, we’ll offer it.”

“And that works?”

“Often enough. Judges don’t like it when the state creates risk and then uses that risk to justify detention.”

Silence settled again.

Razor shook his head. “My last defence didn’t offer any of this.”

“No. I doubt they would have.”

“Why?”

“Because they were never equipped to push back. And because you weren’t meant to get someone who would.”

Razor chewed on that. “Why not?”

“Because someone in a high place took a disliking to you…when you took what they wanted away from them.”

We held each other’s gaze, with Razor chewing on his lip. He blew out a breath from his nose, then shook his head in realisation.

“And if I get out, what then?”

“Then you stay exactly where I tell you.” I shut the file. “You don’t go near anyone connected to this case. You don’t respond to provocation. You don’t solve this yourself. You let me.”

He studied me. “You really think you can get me out?”

“I think that keeping you in here is becoming legally indefensible.”

His expression shifted then. Not hope. Not yet. More cautious. Dangerous.

“When?” he asked.

“Soon. Days, not weeks.”