Extradited by Andrew Symeou Read Free Book Online Page A

photographers started to take photos, following me as we crossed the road. I walked towards the huge crowd of people and I received many hugs. As I looked around, I saw people crying and hugging each other. I noticed people who I never thought would have turned up to support us, which overwhelmed me to the point where I couldn’t hold back my emotions. I could see my mum hiding away at the back of the protest. The media attention had left her feeling far too much out of her comfort zone and she couldn’t cope with the exposure. I was a bit like her in that respect; I was grateful for the support but uncomfortable with standing in the spotlight.
    My solicitor John Tipple also made a statement to the BBC and ended it with something I wasn’t expecting – screaming‘JUSTICE FOR ANDREW!’ at the top of his voice continuously as the supporters responded. As much as I didn’t like the attention, it was made clear how serious and wrong the situation that I had been put in was.
    After around half an hour of hugging and thanking everyone who came to support me, I got back into our friend Sim’s cab. ‘That was the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced,’ I said to Riya and my family as the cab drove away. I turned my head and looked out of the rear window, watching the horde of supporters become smaller as we drove down Horseferry Road. I looked at my mum, whose face was pale and exhausted. Sophie and Riya were still wiping away the tears that were running down their cheeks. ‘I think after today’s dramas, we deserve pizza!’ I said.
    As we pulled up outside our house, I noticed my auntie Teresa and uncle Les had beaten us home. I walked up the driveway, comforted by the knowledge that it was over. For now , I thought.
    We watched the BBC News piece at 6 p.m.; about thirty of us crowded around the television in my house. I thought the piece was well-rounded and successfully highlighted my plight. Mr Hiles made a statement, telling the press that he wouldn’t like to be in our family’s situation and expressed that it must be difficult. I appreciated him saying that greatly.
    He also said, ‘I don’t know if Andrew killed my son … I expected to hate him, but all I saw was a frightened boy … If he did do it, then I want him to stand trial for it. If he’s found guilty, fine … and if he’s innocent, that’s OK.’
    The fact that I would be held in a foreign prison pre-trial wasn’t a concern of his.

7
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THE SOUTH WALES POLICE STATEMENTS
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    T he five weeks between the hearings were exhausting, stressful and monotonous. My family and the ‘Bum Squad’ had become additional lawyers, working towards building the best case and campaign possible. The online petition had grown to over 4,000 signatures and another protest was being arranged for 12 August.
    We’d received the South Wales Police statements a couple of days after the adjournment. I remember feeling uneasy as my dad opened the large brown envelope. What we were about to read had the potential to determine my destiny. He pulled out a hefty wad of documents and I sighed with relief when I saw the first page; it was a list of the people who’d made statements and every one of Jonathan’s friends was there. My dad and I spent an entire day reading them.
    Unlike the word-for-word identical statements the Zante police had written, the statements that the five had given to the British police each gave detailed, subjective accounts of the events that surrounded the attack. The statements presented an accurate description of the first day of their holiday.
    They had landed in Zante on the morning of 19 July 2007 then made their way to their hotel. Taking a little while for the staff to prepare their rooms, they waited at the hotel bar area andhad a beer or two. After dropping off their bags and walking into town for some food and drinks, they showered and met up again in the hotel bar. Following a few more drinks and after playing some cards, Mark