The Islanders

Cheoner RAIN SHADOW

From File No: KS 49284116, Criminal Records Office, Cheoner Municipal People’s Court.

My name is KERITH SINGTON I was born on the island of CHEONER, in the town of the same name. I am male. I am twenty-seven years old. I fit the description of tall, well-built, dark-haired, blue-eyed, no extraneous facial hair. I walk with a slight limp but have no other disabilities.

This interview is taking place in the offices of the Policier Seignioral, in Cheoner Town. Serjeant A is my interviewing officer. Caporal B is attending as Independent Policier Witness. The interview is being recorded and will be transcribed by Serjeant A.

I have no complaints about the policier treatment of me since my arrest.

I am not legally represented, but I was offered the opportunity of being represented pro bono by a member of the Procurator’s Department in Cheoner Town, which I declined. I am of sound mind and body and am making this statement freely and of my own accord and not under duress.

I understand that I have been charged with murder and that this statement may be produced in court as evidence.

I have been asked to describe my personal background before I was arrested.

I was born on RAIN SHADOW [Cheoner]. I had two brothers and one sister, but one of my brothers died when I was still little. I went to school in the big town on Rain Shadow [Cheoner Town]. I was very happy indeed at school, and I think I did well. I was always popular with the other boys. All my teachers spoke well of me, and they are willing to come to court to give evidence on my behalf.

I did have some trouble with older boys, who were always picking on me. I deny that I got into trouble. I deny that I was accused of stealing things from three other students and one of the teachers. I deny that I was involved in the incident in which another boy had to go to hospital. I deny that I had to leave the school early.

My mum and dad always loved me, although after dad went to live on RED JUNGLE [Muriseay] I didn’t see much of him any more.

After I left school I spent a lot of time looking for a job, but no one would employ me. In the end I got a job as a deckhand on one of the ferries that travels between Rain Shadow and Red Jungle. I liked this job but it never paid me much money. I used to do odd jobs to earn extra money. I deny that I was involved in any crimes. I do admit that I would sometimes take messages for other people, or carry things for passengers on the ferry if they didn’t want to have their luggage searched. I deny that I made any money doing this. I agree that I earned extra cash from time to time in ways I am not willing to describe.

[Detained Person (KS) is shown a print-out from Muriseay Policier Seignioral, but Serjeant A has to read it to him.]

I agree that I have a record of criminal offences, but I will say on oath that they are all minor offences which were either committed by other people, or I was involved with the people who committed the crimes when I wasn’t there. They weren’t violent offences, except one or two of them were. I deny that I have ever physically attacked any policier officers. I do not carry a knife or any other weapon. I agree I was once charged with carrying an automatic pistol, but there were reasons for that and I was let off. I deny that it was mine.

I do not think that the policier are trying to victimize me or intimidate me. I have been treated well, given food and drink three times a day, I am allowed to exercise in the yard and I have experienced no punishments from the officers on this station.

I agree that I have been to SLOW TIDE [Nelquay] and CHILL WIND [Goorn], but I did not stay long on either island. Anyway I was working on a ferry which meant I called at many islands and I cannot remember all their names. I deny that I made friends on Slow Tide. I agree that I was questioned by the policier on Chill Wind.

I do have friends who are travellers. I do have friends who are known to the policier as street drinkers. I have never been a traveller or a street drinker. My friends travel about the islands and I agree that I have sometimes been seen with them. I agree that these friends are known to use narcotic drugs, and that all of them have served time in prison. I cannot tell you the names of these friends because I either did not know them or because I have since forgotten them. One was called Mack. I have never been to prison myself.

[Detained Person (KS) is shown a detention record from Muriseay Category 4 Prison, which he denies is his. Serjeant A reads it to him, but Detained Person (KS) claims it must be someone else with a similar name.]

When I went to the island called Chill Wind [Goorn is part of the Hetta Group], which is a long way from Red Jungle but it is on the route which my main ferry job takes me, I did not intend to kill anyone. I was short of money and one of my friends gave me some. I spent the money on food and the clothes I was wearing when I was arrested. I deny that I stole those clothes. The money that was found on me is mine. That is not the money my friend gave me, but some other money.

I agree that I tried a few of the pills my friends had with them, but they were medicines for headaches. I have many problems with headaches and blackouts. My friends often help me by giving me something for the pain. We also had several alcoholic drinks, and I drank a few of them myself. We were having a good time and a lot of laughs and I was not angry with anyone. I did not have another blackout that day or at any time that the offence was committed. I can clearly remember what happened and I promise I am telling the truth.

Until I was arrested I had never heard of the man called Akal Drester Commissah. I have never met Akal Drester Commissah. He has never done anything to me. I have never had any dealings with him. I was not angry with him about anything. I did not owe him any money. I had not seen him before that night. I now know more about him. I have been told that he was a performer of some kind. I think he was an actor, but no one would tell me. He used the name ‘Commis’ when he was on stage.

I agree I was in the theatre at the time of his death. I deny that I went in without paying. One of my friends must have paid for me because I think he worked in the theatre. I agree that I went backstage.

I don’t know how I found the sheet of glass. One of my friends must have given it to me. Three of my friends helped me carry it. It was me who told them where to carry it to. It was my idea all along. I am completely responsible for what happened.

I was angry with Mr Commissah but I can no longer remember why. He might have picked on me, but I don’t know why. No, I could not carry the sheet of glass on my own. It was large, too large for me on my own. Yes, I am strong, but not that strong. It’s not true that I carried it on my own, but I did tell the others who were helping me where to take it. We made a lot of noise but no one heard us because people in the audience were laughing and there was music playing. It was an orchestra, not a record.

No, I cannot remember what tune they were playing. Yes, I can now remember the tune they were playing. It was called The Sea Flows By. I know the tune because it is a favourite of mine. I recognize it from the recording you played me, but I could not remember the title until you reminded me.

It was me who told the others to drop the glass on Mr Commissah. Yes, they heard me over the noise of the music. My actual words were, ‘Let’s kill the bastard now.’ I am certain those were my exact words. Yes, I am certain. I might have called him something else, more offensive. I can’t remember exactly what I said. I agree I might have used the word ‘asshole’ instead. Yes, I am certain of that. Yes, I use both words to describe people I don’t like. I often use words I’m not supposed to.

We were in the place above the stage where there are a lot of ropes and other stuff. I can’t remember how we got up there. I think we climbed. I went first and my friends followed me. I can’t remember how we carried the sheet of glass up. I think it was up there already. I don’t know why it was up there. Yes, it might have been in the yard at the back of the theatre and we carried it up there. I think we climbed up ropes. If you say there was a ladder, then I remember we climbed that. I followed my friends up the ladder.

All I know for certain is that when I reached the top they were already there with the sheet of glass. Yes, I was wearing gloves, which is why my fingerprints do not appear on the glass. Yes, I always wear gloves when I am out with my friends. I don’t know why. No, I don’t have those gloves with me any more.

I can’t remember why I wanted to kill Mr Commissah. I don’t think I intended to. We were having a laugh. It was a sort of joke. The people in the audience were laughing. We held the glass until Mr Commissah was beneath us. Then I said the words I just told you, and we let go of the sheet of glass.

I can’t remember how I escaped from the theatre. No one saw me as far as I know. I remember running away down the road. No one chased me. I can’t remember where I ran to. I probably ran back to my ship, where I worked. I didn’t see my friends again, and I can’t remember their names. I think they were from Chill Wind. I think some of them were from Red Jungle, but I’m not sure any more. Yes, they were also from Slow Tide. They were all the same age as me, or older. They looked like islanders, not visitors.

No, I don’t speak the patois of Chill Wind. No, I have never been to Chill Wind. I have never been to the town of Omhuuv. Yes, the ferry I worked on did occasionally call at Omhuuv. Yes, I do recognize the words Teater Sjøkaptein, but I don’t know what they mean. Yes, they mean ‘The Seacaptain Theatre’. That is the theatre I went to, where I murdered Mr Commis. I am definitely telling you the truth.

I was excited by what I had done, but I did not speak to anyone else about it. I saw something about it on television, and by then everyone knew all about it. I carried on with my life and had forgotten all about it until I was arrested. I am very sorry for what I have done. I didn’t mean it.

This statement was dictated by the Detained Person (KS) in the presence of two officers of the Cheoner Policier Seignioral, and transcribed by Serjeant A, the arresting officer. It was read to the Detained Person, Kerith Sington, and all necessary corrections and amendments were made to his instructions. He has initialled every page of this transcript, and has placed his mark below.

X

his mark, Kerith Sington . . . . . .

From Cheoner Chronicle, 34/13/77:

The execution of Kerith Sington, the murderer of the mime artiste Commis, was carried out by guillotine this morning at 6:00 am in Cheoner Category 1 Prison. His execution was witnessed by a jury of twelve volunteers, and the death was confirmed and certified at 6:02 am by the prison doctor. All procedures of mitigation and appeal had been scrupulously followed and applied. Sington made a full confession to the crime and during the trial witnesses came forward to corroborate what he admitted. A last-minute appeal to the Seignior for mercy was turned down.

Gooden Herre, the prison governor, said to reporters outside the prison gate: ‘With the execution of this evil young man, the entire Dream Archipelago has been rid of fear. The execution was carried out properly, expertly and in humane circumstances, and is intended as a deterrent to others.’

Sington was born on Cheoner, and educated at Cheoner Technical School. His parents separated while he was still a child. He began his life of crime while still a teenager and committed many different offences, some of dishonesty but mostly of petty violence, usually in concert with others. He spent many periods in detention, but after he found a job with Muriseay Marine his offending appears to have declined.

Sington’s murder of the distinguished mime artiste, Commis, was carried out while Mr Commis was performing on stage in the

Sjøkaptein Theatre

, on the island of Goorn, part of the Hetta Group. Kerith Sington committed the murder with three others, but the identity of these people has never been established. Sington is known to have been the ringleader. All four were drug addicts and on the evening in question they had been drinking alcohol to excess. Members of the audience gave evidence at the trial that they had seen Sington running away from the theatre in the aftermath of the crime.

The policier are still searching for Sington’s accomplices, who are believed to come from Goorn, or from somewhere else in the Hetta Group, or from Muriseay. There is also a connection to Nelquay, but the policier say they are no longer making enquiries there.

Extract from the Report of Judicial Enquiry into the Murder of Akal Drester Commissah, by Seignior Putar Themper, Attorney Supreme, Muriseay. The murder of Akal Drester Commissah, followed by the confession, conviction and eventual execution of the perpetrator Kerith Sington, continues to cause concern. This concern is felt not only in certain sections of the judiciary and the press, but in a significant proportion of the general public. Several books of investigative journalism have been published about the case, highlighting evidence that was not available to the original judge and jury. More is now understood about Sington’s background and mental state of health than was known at the time. Serious questions about the safety of Sington’s confession have also been raised.

As senior presiding judge I have been commissioned to review all the papers and evidence that remain on file, and wherever possible to track down surviving witnesses.

As these events took place more than forty years ago I was not able to trace any witnesses who are still alive or capable of giving reliable testimony, so I have depended on the trial papers and other bundles of prosecution evidence. All the defence papers are intact. Because of the notoriety of the case the papers have been preserved in good order and I am not aware of any omissions or replacements since the trial was concluded.

The murdered man, Mr Commissah, appears to have been an innocent victim, who was in no way connected with the convicted man. It is not likely he did anything that would provoke an attack. He was respected and admired and to the present day the few performances of his that are available as visual recordings are appreciated and enjoyed by people of all ages.

I turn now to the background and character of Sington, which is where much of the anxiety about this case has arisen.

Kerith Sington was born in a poor part of Cheoner Town. His father, Ladd Sington, was a petty criminal, an alcoholic and a drug addict, and was said by many people, including neighbours, to conduct a violently abusive relationship with his wife. The wife, Mai Sington, mother of Kerith, was also an alcoholic and worked as a part-time prostitute.

The house in which Kerith grew up was always in bad repair, filthy inside and soiled with food waste and animal faeces. Throughout his childhood Kerith was the subject of neglect, abuse and violence, although none of this appears to have come to the attention of local agencies at that time.

Sington grew up to be a young man of exceptional size, with long arms and a large head. He was always tall for his age. Because of his unusual appearance and subdued manner he was bullied at school. Medical examination of Sington while he was in custody established that he was profoundly deaf in one ear, had a mild speech defect and because of a boyhood accident always walked with a slight limp. His eyesight was poor but he did not wear spectacles. His manner was reported by several professional psychologists to be meek and submissive, easily influenced and coerced. When drunk, Kerith was known to become loud, boastful and aggressive, and given to sudden outbursts of rage. He had a record of self-harm and both of his forearms were scarred.

He was a petty criminal, and made frequent court appearances. After the courts had tried a variety of non-custodial sentences, Kerith Sington did serve two short sentences in prison, both for acts of violence against the person, and while in the company of others.

His behaviour improved noticeably after he obtained a full-time job as a seaman with Muriseay Marine, for whom he worked as a deckhand on certain of their inter-island ferries. He remained impressionable and of a dependent character, and staff officers of at least two of the ships Sington sailed with filed statements about their concerns. When he was given shore leave of longer than twenty-four hours, Sington tended to drift into the company of others. On several occasions he returned shipboard in a drunken or drug-induced state, and was not able to perform normal duties for several hours. However, at least two of the officers stated that this was a recurrent problem with members of the ferry crews and that they had ways of rostering deck teams after shore leave. Sington was not considered to be a special risk to the ship or the passengers. He was in fact commended several times for his dedication to deck duties. In view of what soon happened, this trust turned out to be misplaced.

A serious but unrelated incident involving Sington occurred not long before the death of Mr Commissah. The trial judge disagreed with the defence that this event was admissible, so the jury did not hear it. I believe it had a significant impact on Sington.

Two weeks before the murder of Mr Commissah, the steamship Galaton, the inter-island ferry on which Sington worked as a deckhand, was involved in a collision with another ship outside the harbour wall of Muriseay Town. Both vessels were holed below the waterline and they foundered as a result. There was loss of life on both ships: fifteen people died on the Galaton, and two crewmen were killed on the other ship, the Roopah, a dredger stationed outside Muriseay harbour. Prompt action by the master of the Galaton prevented any worse death toll, but it was a serious disaster which raised many questions about the volume of traffic using Muriseay harbour at certain times of day.

Sington was on duty as a deck look-out at the time of the collision, and afterwards he was taken in for questioning about his failure to raise the alarm.

According to the inquest report, after the accident Sington was inconsolable, intermittently blaming himself or one of the other crewmen (who was drowned in the incident), but in general admitting that the accident had largely been caused by his inattention. At the time of his arrest as a suspect in the Commissah case, Sington was still being investigated for criminal neglect causing death, but no prosecution papers had been drawn up or served.

Several independent journalists and criminologists have attempted to unravel the Commis mystery over the years, declaring it to have been a miscarriage of justice. Perhaps the most notable was the book called Sington: Death in Error?, which was the first to raise such doubts. The author of this was the remarkable social visionary, Caurer. It was a matter of fundamental concern to Caurer and the other journalists who followed her, as it is to the present enquiry, that none of the circumstances surrounding this marine accident was placed before the jury at Sington’s trial for the Commis murder.

It was Caurer who revealed that the investigating officer in the Galaton incident, who detained and questioned Sington about his role in the collision, was none other than the policier officer known only as ‘Serjeant A’. This officer appears to have been convinced that Sington was involved in some other illegal matter at the time of the collision, but Sington would not admit it. When Sington became a suspect in the Commis case, the officer made assumptions he should not, and obtained the confession from Sington about his alleged role in that.

Why Sington should deny complicity in a marine accident (albeit a most serious one) and yet be willing to admit responsibility to another offence (just as serious, but with drastic consequences for himself) has made the suspicion of policier intimidation too unreliable as evidence. This was almost certainly why the trial judge ruled the matter as inadmissible.

It was Caurer who argued, and I concur entirely with her, that when Sington’s impressionable and sometimes boastful psychology is taken into account, it becomes increasingly likely that this unhappy young man might have seen one case as providing mitigation for the other.

In addition, it concerns me that I have been unable to locate any policier or court records dealing with the fatal collision between the Galaton and the Roopah. The only official record is the inquest report, but that of course mainly concerns itself with the manner in which the victims died. Why have these important records been lost, removed or in some other way made inaccessible?

I turn now to the concerns over Sington’s confession.

In common with most indigenous island people, Sington in effect spoke two languages. Officially, his language of everyday function was demotic Archipelagian, the common linguistic currency. From the trial transcripts we can divine that Sington was not at all articulate, that he clearly struggled not only to understand what was said to him in demotic, but that he had difficulty in expressing himself. We also know, from the same school records, that Sington was illiterate in demotic when he left school. There is absolutely no evidence or commonsense chance that Sington learned to read and write after leaving school.

The language he spoke was the patois of urban Cheoner. We have evidence of this from school records. Patois is of course street vernacular. Patois is purely oral, with no written tradition.

The confession Sington allegedly made to the policier officer could not have been written down in patois. If Sington spoke in patois, then it must have been the recording that was later interpreted or translated by one or other of the policier officers, and written down in demotic. Yet the confession which was admitted to the trial was presented as his own evidence, dictated from his own lips and faithfully transcribed. The confession contributed greatly to his conviction.

Several observations can therefore be made about his allegedly written confession, all of which give rise to juridical anxiety.

In the first place, the confession was obtained by interview with two policier officers, at least one of whom, unknown to Sington, had already been involved in the search for Commis’s killers as well as investigating the ship collision. We know that a recording of the interview was made, and then transcribed in some fashion, presumably by ‘Serjeant A’. Was it then read to Sington aloud? In the demotic which he barely understood?

Sentences in the confession which begin with ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ look like the answers to direct or leading questions. There is also evidence that Sington was led or guided through certain other parts of the confession. For example, he cannot remember the music allegedly being played in the theatre at the time of Commis’s death, until the officers play a recording for him and provide him with the title.

In cognitive screening applied to Sington after he had made his confession, but before the trial began, he was tested for his comprehension of certain terms. Sington did not understand any of the following words, all of which appear in the confession with relevant use: ‘extraneous’, ‘procurator’, ‘duress’, ‘accord’, ‘victimize’ and ‘narcotic’.

Even more disturbingly, he was found not to understand the differences between the words ‘deny’ and ‘agree’, and appears to have used them interchangeably.

Sington was measured as being below ten per cent of average intelligence, and his mental age was estimated to be that of a tenor twelve-year-old boy.

The results of these tests were not admitted as evidence during the trial, and therefore were not known to the jury.

Finally, I consider the actual events which led to the death of Mr Commissah. These were closely examined during the trial, but it is still uncertain as to what really happened.

All that is known for sure is that Mr Commissah, a professional mime artiste who used the stage name ‘Commis’, was performing his act at the Teater Sjøkaptein in the town of Omhuuv, on Goorn in the Hetta Group. At the time of year when this happened, Teater Sjøkaptein was used as a palace of varieties for summer visitors. During his performance, Mr Commis died when a large piece of plate glass fell suddenly from the rigging loft above the stage. It landed directly on him and he was killed instantly.

Several working men had been seen around the theatre in the days before this, they had been seen in the theatre on the day of the incident, and some of them, supposedly including Kerith Sington, were seen to be running away immediately afterwards. Several members of the audience, and representatives of the theatre’s staff and management, all gave evidence in court to corroborate this. It was never clear what motives there were. Nor was it clear how the plate glass (which was exceedingly heavy) could have been carried up to the loft. And it was never clear how the glass was dropped on or aimed at the victim below.

In the end, the existence of the confession, garbled and self-contradictory as it might have been, was seen to be the principal incriminating evidence, and the judge directed the jury accordingly on the weight they should give it.

One of the matters that came up briefly in evidence at the trial, but was not followed up due to the absence of the crucial witness, was an incident that occurred shortly before the death of Commis.

It seemed that the ship of the line for which Sington worked — Muriseay Marine — had hove to in the fjord outside Omhuuv, and was undergoing routine repairs. It was alleged by the prosecution that Sington had been transferred to this ship after the Galaton was lost. All the crew, including Sington if he were part of it, were given shore leave.

It is then alleged that as was his wont, Sington fell in with a group of others. These young men had apparently been given casual labouring work by the Teater Sjøkaptein, which involved clearing rubbish, moving pieces of unwanted scenery, transporting performers’ equipment to and from the station, and so on. They had the use of an antiquated truck. The job gave them access to the theatre and almost certainly accounts for the number of times they were seen in the vicinity of the building.

On the day of the fatal incident the young men were tossing some wooden flats on to the carrying compartment of the truck, and were making a lot of noise. This was witnessed by several passers-by, two of who later gave evidence in court. One witness said he was convinced the men were all drunk, or high on drugs. What then happened was that a third passer-by, irritated by the amount of shouting and banging going on, called up to the men to work more quietly. The group of men shouted back at him, using obscenities and taunting him.

The other witnesses, who did not become involved in the brawl that followed, were clear in what happened.

The third passer-by — to identify him clearly — was of distinctive, not to say eccentric, appearance. He was short and squat (one witness said he was heavily muscled), had a lot of facial hair, and was wearing brightly coloured leisure clothes, unsuited to the early-spring weather. Both the witnesses who gave evidence felt that his remarkable style of clothes almost certainly aggravated the situation. Several of the taunts that were heard were about the way he was dressed. In any event a fight quickly started, with all four of the young men, including, it was alleged, Sington, punching and scrapping in the street around the truck. The third passer-by fought violently and effectively, knocking at least two of his assailants to the ground and briefly winding the other two. At one point the third passer-by was himself knocked to the ground, but he recovered with what the witnesses testified as ‘frightening furiousness’. Many other blows were landed, but the scrap was halted by one of the witnesses shouting that the policier had been called. At this, the four young men climbed into the truck and drove quickly away.

The third passer-by calmly picked up the bag he had been carrying, brushed himself down with his hand, then carried on walking away down the road. Although the description of him was clear and unambiguous, and several townspeople confirmed that they had noticed this oddly dressed man on other occasions, no one was able to identify him and he was never traced. He was not known in the town. He did not come forward in answer to the appeal for witnesses. Finally, it was presumed that he must have been a visitor to the town or a tourist, that he had no connection with Omhuuv and after the street incident had continued on his travels.

The salient point was that this man never came to court to give evidence, so neither prosecution nor defence was able to make much of the fight in the street as a preliminary circumstance for the alleged perpetrator.

However, with hindsight and access to the chronology of events, we can see that this fight happened only a few minutes before the main incident. The young men drove away from the scene of the fight, but then turned around and returned to the theatre. They made their way inside. As a performance was about to start, members of staff instructed them to leave. The four of them said something insolent and walked down through the auditorium, where most of the audience was already seated, waiting for the show. They were highly noticeable and intrusive for a few moments. They then made their way backstage. Having worked in the theatre for a couple of days, they knew their way around.

They were not seen again until immediately after the glass crashed down on to the stage, when most people in the audience saw them running away.

It seems to me that the fight in the street had a direct impact on the behaviour of these four young men. The prosecution said that it inflamed Kerith Sington into a homicidal rage, but they were depending on the unsafe confession to assume that Sington was one of the four. There is absolutely no evidence that he was. Even if he was one of them, now that Sington’s background, mental state and general level of intelligence are known, it is just as likely the scrap had instilled terror in him. Whatever the reliability of those conclusions, his presence in the theatre on the day has not been proved beyond reasonable doubt.

The fact that the four young men ran away afterwards was emphasized as a way of incriminating all of them in general, and Sington in particular, but it’s just as possible that they were running away because of the frightful event that had just taken place. It’s worth noting that many ordinary members of the audience also ran away from the theatre in the immediate aftermath

So, taking all of these matters into account, the inevitable conclusion I draw is that Kerith Sington might or might not have had a part in the attack on Mr Commissah, but there was no evidence to incriminate him, and much of the evidence that was produced against him was flawed and unsafe. A jury in possession of all the evidence, and properly directed, would certainly have acquitted him.

When first arrested Sington claimed as an alibi that on the day of Commis’s murder he was on the island of Muriseay being interviewed by the Policier Seignioral about the sinking of the Galaton. He maintained he was nowhere near Goorn or Omhuuv at the time. He later abandoned this alibi for an unknown reason, but it now appears to be closer to the truth than anything else that was said about him.

I therefore find and pronounce that Mr Kerith Sington was the inadvertent victim of the most serious kind of miscarriage of justice, and I shall pass the file to the Seignior’s Department on Cheoner with the recommendation he be given an immediate posthumous pardon.