a police interview. We're here to listen to what you have to say, not to judge.' She felt Alison bristle, the detective in her refusing to entertain the idea that their visit was anything other than a sop to a troublesome and bloody-minded priest. 'We'll start at the beginning, shall we? Eva Donaldson was killed on the night of Sunday, 9 May. I believe you were released from prison on Thursday, the 6th.'
'That's right.'
Alison coughed pointedly. Jenny sat back in her chair and let her officer take over.
'Where did you go when you left prison, Mr Craven?'
He stalled before answering, requiring a nod from Father Starr to prompt him. 'The probation service fixed me up with a bedsit.'
'Address?'
'19b Clayton Road, Redland.'
Alison wrote it down in laborious longhand, determined not to put him at his ease.
'And what did you do once you were installed at this address?'
Craven shrugged. 'I stayed inside mostly, went to the shops once or twice, saw my parole officer on the Friday - she'd sorted my paperwork and that, told me where to go to collect my benefits.'
'And on the Saturday?'
'I don't remember ... I think I stayed indoors. And the next day.'
'Did you communicate with anyone?'
Craven shook his head. 'No.'
Father Starr said, 'Paul lost contact with his family when he was ten years old. He was taken into care.'
'Where were you on the Sunday evening?' Alison asked.
'Inside. I didn't go anywhere.'
'Were there any neighbours, or anyone else, who might be able to verify your movements?'
'I never saw them to speak to.'
Alison frowned. 'And when did you make your confession to the police?'
Craven looked down and shook his head.
'It was on the following Wednesday at about midday,'
Father Starr said. 'I received a phone call here at my office from Detective Inspector Goodison. He handed me over to Paul, who asked me to find him a lawyer. I arranged that for him.'
'Why did you turn yourself in to the police, Mr Craven?' Alison asked.
Jenny watched him twist the fingers of his cuffed hands together as he struggled to explain.
'I wanted it to go away ... I couldn't take hearing about it any more.'
'What did you want to go away?' Alison said.
'The pictures on the television. They didn't stop. She was everywhere . . . looking at me.'
Alison carefully wrote down his answer. 'You're saying you went to confess to Eva Donaldson's murder because you couldn't bear seeing her picture on television?'
Craven didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the table between them.
'Did you explain this to the police?'
'I can't remember.'
'What happened when you went into the station? What did you say?'
He shook his head.
'Do you remember?'
'Kind of.'
'Had you been drinking, taking drugs?'
'No.'
Jenny leaned forward, lightly touching Alison's arm as she interrupted her. 'We've read your police interview, Mr Craven - was what you told them true or false?'
He lifted his face and met hers with his child's china-blue eyes. 'It wasn't true. I didn't kill her, I didn't. I didn't. That's God's honest truth.'
'Then why tell the police you did?'
Craven's eyes flitted to Father Starr, then back to Jenny. 'Because I was weak. Because I let my faith weaken.'
There were many leading questions Jenny would like to have asked but they all fell into the category of cross- examination, which wasn't appropriate unless or until she held an inquest. A statement had to be an unprompted narrative by the maker, and they had already strayed too close to putting words into his mouth. But there was one direct question she could properly ask him: 'You told the police in interview that you urinated outside Eva Donaldson's house. They later claimed to have found traces of your DNA on the mat outside her front door. Can you explain that?'
Craven slowly shook his head.
Father Starr said, 'Samples get confused or contaminated at laboratories, it happens all the time. Even experts can be mistaken.'
Alison said, 'Do you have anything to say about the DNA evidence, Mr Craven?'
'It's wrong. I never went to her house. The only times I saw it was on the TV. That's the truth.' Agitated, he turned to Starr. 'That's right, isn't it, Father? Tell them. That's God's honest truth.'
Starr reached out and put a comforting hand on Craven's. 'That's what Mrs Cooper is going to do, Paul. She's going to find out the truth.'
Losing patience, Alison kicked Jenny's ankle under the table.
Ignoring her, Jenny said, 'Do you have anything else to add, Mr Craven? This is your one chance to speak to me directly. We won't be meeting