From: [email protected]
Subject: Fwd: Urgent instructions for cascade to LRBS employees ONLY
Forwarded without comment, Batul
Dear Senior Managers
I am writing to inform you that former student, Jonty Carruthers (0075692), was today released from police custody without charge. You may remember that he was the only LRBS student among those arrested at the anti-Magdalen Arch riot on 13 June.
While we are all pleased that he will not be charged, with the attendant negative publicity a trial could bring, it remains the decision of the Business School to expel this former student. If he attempts to attend classes, use LRBS facilities or otherwise makes a nuisance of himself on the campus, this will be a matter for the security team who may choose to escalate to the police.
On no account are any LRBS employees to discuss in any way this individual with anyone external to the organisation, except where there is a clear operational requirement. If in doubt, employees should refer to their line manager.
Any media enquiries, whether from media organizations, other organizations or individuals via any medium, should be referred to our Media Response Team within Co-ordinated Communications Hub: [email protected] / (01865 66)7344
If you are aware of this former student’s presence on campus at any time, please contact the security team immediately on (01865 66)9009.
Carl Mattick
Head of LRBS Security
Proudly serving our students
On behalf of Professor Magnus Jenkinson OBE, Dean of London Road Business School, Oxford
—
Sylvie stands at the window and watches Jak half walk, half run in the direction of the bus stop. She is soon out of sight.
It is an overcast morning, grey clouds heaving across a grey sky. More October than July. Sylvie clutches her half-drunk mug of tea, sits back in her dressing-gown on the sofa and taps ‘Oxford Outcast’ on her YouTube favourites list.
‘1 new episode.’
A close up of a kettle. It starts to whistle shrilly. The whistle echoes and the camera pulls back to show that the kettle is on a tiny camping stove sat on a toilet cistern. A hand reaches in, from out of shot, to flush the toilet. The kettle continues whistling, but the cistern just gurgles and groans.
A woman in leathers and a motorcycle helmet turns off the stove and pours the kettle’s boiling water down the toilet.
“When I told my producer – trade secret reveal: I don’t make these videos all by myself – that I wanted to open this report with a ‘steamy scene’, he seemed a bit dubious. But as you will see, my dear viewers, it was all entirely journalistically justified.”
The scene changes to the woman, still wearing the motorcycle helmet, sat at a news desk in front of a screen with an overhead photograph of a reservoir.
“On Sunday evening, witnesses suggest around ten o’clock just as it was getting dark, two explosions were heard near Farmoor Reservoir in Oxfordshire.
“It is believed that pipes connected to the sewage treatment facility were targeted and extensively damaged. The Oxford Outcast has spoken to an employee at Farmoor, who, under condition of absolute anonymity, confirmed that sewage treatment has, for the time being, been suspended.
“The condition of the water in the reservoir is currently unknown but with treated water no longer available to supply it, and water levels still very low following the recent drought, with a so-called emergency still in force, the supply of clean water to Oxford is clearly at risk.
“More on this story as we get it. A bonus edition of The Oxford Outcast may well be coming to a streaming social media platform near you soon. In the meantime, I’d recommend investing in bottled water and wet wipes.
“In other news, protestors arrested under so-called terrorism legislation have been released from police stations around the county. The protesters were arrested for trying to prevent the construction of The Magdalen Arch, better known as The Wall, back in early June, when, you may remember, another protester sadly died from a heart attack after chaining himself to Folly Bridge Gate in a related incident.
“One protester, the only one detained in a police station within the Oxford Authority area, remains in custody. No charges have been brought against any of the protesters.”
Sylvie scowls at her now lukewarm tea. She would like to make a fresh pot, water supply permitting, but Itchycoo has curled himself up on her lap and nestled into her fluffy dressing gown. And she doesn’t want to disturb him, his quiet purr makes everything just a little bit better, even cold tea.
—
Fresh Jazz: So @LetsTalkLRBS your student @JontytheJust has been released without charge 😇 but you’ve expelled him anyway. Because why? Say it aint so…
Jonty the Just: Ai so im afraid. Thank for support @FreshJazz @AliceinChinos Donny @MooniesPubEastOx
Alice in Chinos: Shocked not surprised. @LetsTalkLRBS you are a moral disgrace. We’re here for you Jonty 🤗
—
Sylvie Churchwell: Taps just dribbling again. Explosion at reservoir. Could you get bottled water on way home babe, ta.
—
Donnie fixes a handwritten sign to the door leading to the toilets.
‘Water is off. No flushing. Wee-wees only please. By order of the Authority.’
Meanwhile, Jazz writes on the blackboard outside the Moonshine, in as big letters as he can, ‘FREE bottle of WATER with every pint. While stocks last!’
It remains a quiet night though. And Donny and Jazz leave the bar in the hands of a new kid they both like and trust.
Upstairs, in their tidy kitchen-diner, Donny gets a couple of cans from the fridge and sits down. Is there trouble coming? Or are they just spectators as what plays out in the big world, plays out?
“Alright,” Jazz puffs up the stairs, “I think he’s got all the info he needs. And he’s got my number. What do we need to talk about then, Donny boy?”
“Have you seen the Outsider today?” sighs Donny.
“Yep. So do we think we know who was behind it?”
“I don’t think Sticks would do that, would he? I know he was more for direct action than us but both of us, I mean both he and myself at any rate, have always thought a campaign needs a mix of soft and edgier tactics, an alliance of hardened activists and the ordinary community.”
“Blowing up a reservoir?” Jazz’s voice is filled with scorn, “not sure the community’ll welcome that!”
“But he was in here, in Moonies, on Sunday night. He can’t have been in two places at once,” objects Donny, “even a man of mystery like our friend Sticks.”
“He was your friend, is your friend,” Jazz’s voice has become tenser, “not mine.”
“Sure,” Donny takes a deep breath, “I helped him, when he got out the army, mentored him. I think we both shared things with each other that brought us close. We’ve drifted again, sure. That happens in life. But we’ve still got our politics, our beliefs, and we both still care about each other…”
“Aye, he cares so much he’s using us as his alibi.”
“Is he? Can you be sure?” Donny pleads with Jazz, “maybe he just came for a drink. He had a friend, maybe she was more than a friend, with him. Could’ve been his first date for years. I don’t remember anyone before. So he’s probably a bit nervous, so quite reasonably takes her somewhere familiar, somewhere people will say ‘hi’ to him. Could be. Why not?”
Jazz shakes his head but tries to make light of it, “oh Donny darling, you’re such a soft heart!”
Donny opens the cans, hands one to Jazz and takes a swig from the other, “yes, but even if he was using us as an alibi then he wasn’t at Farmoor, was he? So he couldn’t have done it himself. And he’s hardly going to have got someone else to do it for him. I mean, he’s always on about his contacts and his old army mates with security jobs. So maybe he just knew something was happening and was worried he might get fitted up for it?”
Jazz nods, “maybe. You think there’s someone bigger involved?”
“Yes, I do. There must be. Someone with reach and resources, an organisation.”
“And that Sticks was involved but not the main man.”
“Or not involved at all.”
“Then why was he in our pub exactly when the explosions were going off? He must’ve known about it.”
“Like I say, maybe he’d heard something on the grapevine. Or he was just on a date. Even an innocent man has to be somewhere when a crime is committed. Having a drink with a woman in a pub hardly seems that suspicious.”
“Okay then,” Jazz remains sceptical, “let’s say for now, it had nothing to do with Sticks. That’s good for us. He won’t need his alibi. And we can just keep his presence here to ourselves in case they are sniffing around him. They probably will be.”
—
‘Explosions? Mum said? With sticks of dynamite? Sticks? Is that why he’s called that? He was in the army. Of course. Acting all shifty like he’s got something to hide. Oh for fuck’s sake Jak, why didn’t you work it out.
‘Is Tabs’ uncle is an actual terrorist? Fucking hell.
‘Do the Authority know about him? Was that why all those questions yesterday morning? Do they know you’ve been at his house? They didn’t ask about it. Or do they know dad was? Oh God, where the fuck is he? He’s never answered my message. Oh fucking fuck.’
Jak Churchwell: You ok dad?
Paul Robertson: Yes