IAN SUTHERLAND SEEMED subdued when they rang his bell and came quietly. He didn’t even protest his innocence more than once. He said little beyond what he’d already said, once they got him into an interview room.
‘You don’t deny that you knew about the money you would receive from your father’s life insurance policy?’
‘No. I knew about it. And yes, I needed the money. You saw how my business is fixed. But I didn’t kill him for what I’d get out of him. I’m not guilty and you can’t prove I did it.’
‘People have been convicted on less circumstantial evidence than what we’ve got on you,’ Rafferty told him. ‘You were on the spot. With evidence that you loitered in the gents’ toilets, which you denied, and we’ve got the fact that you and your father didn’t get on.’ He pointed to the now fadin
