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"Your Lordship may think he would make a very good barrister." (His Lordship, as it happened, did not.)Certainly John possessed the determination and industry necessary for success.From four in the afternoon to seven in the morning, he typed his inventions into his laptop. When he stopped going downstairs for meals, his slight frame shrank even further.For days he lay on a respirator, treated with painkillers and antibiotics, saying little.In Wythenshawe Hospital, where he spent more than a week, John asked to see a psychiatrist, but this was Britain, home of the dilatory National Health Service.Early 20s, wearing a black hooded jacket and black jeans.An all-points bulletin was issued by Detective Chief Inspector Julian Ross, 43, a terse, authoritative figure with an iron jaw and a manner to match.After reviewing the tape, the police arrested Mark for attempted murder.
Everything is as it was that June day when Mark carried the six-inch knife they had bought together.
It is clear he doesn't have much sympathy for the boy whose brush with death prompted the unprecedented charge.
"I would say, of the two teenagers, John was the more wicked and more criminally culpable."For months John had corresponded in an Internet chat room with Mark, a bland-featured 16-year-old who possesses as his most striking traits a vast forehead, a tendency to open every sentence with "Ermmm," and, it would later be claimed, an almost infinite store of credulity.
Despite his mother's pleas, the teenager was put on a waiting list. When pressed by police, the boy would finally concede, reluctantly and only after changing his story several times, that it was his best friend, Mark, who had stabbed him, though John said he had no idea why.
(These are not their real names.)"I love you, bro," Mark told his younger friend as he plunged in the knife."Mark did it once, stood up, holding me, did it again," the victim told police. People will hear, please be quiet," the older teenager told him."You've killed me!