Bec said, ‘It doesn’t sound as good though, does it? Seeing as that’s what happens.’
‘That’s not true. Most criminal trials reach a guilty verdict.’
‘Because the DPP doesn’t even bother to prosecute all the rest.’
Mabey shrugged, called for the bill. Said she had some shopping to do. It was the being patronised Bec disliked most, and she considered calling Mabey on it and having what Chevon called a big conversation. But Mabey did not seem up to a big conversation right now.
Knight rang that afternoon and Bec told him about Harris’s cross-examination.
‘How’d Brian take it?’ he said.
‘He left straight away, didn’t speak to me.’
‘How’re you finding Brian?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘He’s an interesting character.’
Cryptic. Suddenly she was sick of Knight. ‘What does that mean?’
‘You don’t want to get too carried away by Brian. Or anyone else.’
‘Yes, but what do you mean?’
‘You’re an intelligent woman.’
Someone had once told her: If you want respect, you have to earn it. ‘Get fucked.’
‘What have I done?’
‘Person. I’m an intelligent person.’
‘Whatever. Forget gender. I’m sorry. But you need to think a bit harder about the facts.’
Not going how she’d expected.
‘I’m sick of the mystery stuff. Sir.’
‘Yeah, well. I have to go.’
He hung up. How could you argue with that?
Later in the day, her South Australian friend called. Knight was advising on the brief of evidence against the owner of the brothel. Seemed odd it couldn’t have been done by phone.
‘But I don’t know that for sure,’ he said.
The knowledge problem.
She decided to stop thinking about Russell Knight. She’d tried learning from him, tried conversing as an equal, even challenged him. Nothing got her through the door. She’d pull back now, do as she was told, see the trial through and return to Liverpool. Maybe it was a little dull, but at least she knew where she stood. There she could be a good cop, and that was the most important thing. She was living for Tiny. Maybe that was an excuse but she couldn’t think about that right now.
Mate, two weeks before Rafiq’s trial was to begin I get this text from Farid on a safe phone saying: R + u meet me Gallipoli Pk 7 2nite. I was thinking, one, This is crazy, why does he want to meet us there? and two, Why is he wanting Rafi to break his curfew? I’m telling you, the jacks had been coming round to the home at all hours, banging and shining torches through the windows to make sure Rafi was not breaking the curfew which was 6 pm. It was driving the mama crazy with the knocks on the door at 2 am and stuff. I could see the jacks sitting in Macca’s at night and thinking, Nothing’s happening what can we do now? I know, let us go and wake up those fucking Arabs. So Salim rang the police commissioner to complain about harassment, but it did not stop or nothing.
Actually, before I talk about the meeting in Gallipoli Park I got something to say I just been waiting to say in the right place. That time I found the gun in Rafi’s car, two weeks later the family was at the local court for something else and I was walking back to my car by myself, just thinking about engines and stuff when I ran into Mr White. Like I bumped into him because of all the thinking I was doing, and only after I had bumped into him did I see who I had bumped into. He was puffing but when he saw me he stopped like he was really glad to see me.
We had a bit of a chat just standing there on the footpath. I was worried some of the family would see us if they drove past but then I got caught up in the conversation because he is asking me how Rafi’s business is going. Oh Mr White, I said, do not ask, there is so much trouble about the whole thing. And Mr White just smiled and it is such a smile you think he understands things not just about which forms to fill in but about life. It feels so good to be talking to him and I hear someone telling him all about the gun in the car and I start to panic and think, Who is saying this out loud? Then I realise it is myself and try to stop and I do but by then the words are said.
Mr White looks at me and says nothing. This is not good because he is always talking. If a thing will keep old Whitey quiet it must be a powerful thing. Then he says, You cannot be telling me this John do you understand? When I was your lawyer you could tell me anything and I did not have to tell the police. Now if you tell me anything illegal I have to tell them. So you have not told me this thing, do you understand? I say, Yes yes, and he says, Where would the police be getting the gun from, if it is the one that killed Jason Teller?
This is pretty funny after he is just telling me not to talk about it, but anyway I explain to him how Farid thinks Sam Deeb popped Teller for cheating on him, and planted the gun and told the jacks, it is like a present for them they is hating the family for shooting up Roselands Police Station. This will be good for them Deebs and bad for us Habibs.
I have been reading about this war with the Deebs in the papers, says Mr White. I hope the family are all right? I say yes and think it is time for me to be moving on but Mr White says, What about you John, my man in the middle? How are you feeling about all this? Well I have never talked about my deepest feelings to any person but suddenly I is talking from the heart and I is saying, I is worried all the time about my other brothers ending up just like Imad. First I was worrying about Farid and now Rafi. I do not want to lose my other brothers. I am feeling more and more now every day all alone.
What is it your father says? says Mr White. You should call him, I say, and Mr White says the jacks is bugging the phone and he is not wanting Farid to know he called the papa. I ask how Farid could know and he tells me Farid has some jack he pays every week to keep an eye on stuff. So, John, Mr White says, about the line in the sand, are you feeling you are the only one left on your side? When he said this I was amazed that he could be seeing into my heart so far and I was feeling sorry again Mr White was not our lawyer anymore. I nodded my head and felt like I was going to cry, and started to tell him how Farid and Rafi no longer treat the papa with respect and laugh about him going out to the garden all the time. Then I look up and our Commodore has stopped across the road with the papa and mama and Danielle in the back seat, and they is all staring at me.
Mr White puts his hand out like he is going to touch my shoulder but Danielle is getting out of the car and he does not. He drops his hand like it is very heavy. I think I should get away from this place but my feet is not moving. Mr White says, People’s contact with the law is only part of who they are. And people can change, remember that. I hear these words then turn my head because he is looking over my shoulder and I see this Bentley stopped there and a man is getting out and it is Farid and he is looking angry. Oh shit, I say quickly to Mr White and he smiles and says, Time to go. You know, your father has not called me once since I stopped being his lawyer. He called me every week for eighteen years. Sometimes it was every day.
Farid is standing next to us now, looking from me to Mr White me to Mr White like he is at a tennis game. What have you been saying to him? he says to me and he is hot, he is letting his anger show because he thinks this will scare me. And I see it scares Mr White and this makes me feel unhappy. We is just talking about my career at Auburn Toyota, I say. He says, I do not want you talking to Mr White anymore, do you understand? Because he is not our lawyer now there is no legal privilege if you tell him anything. John you are a fucking idiot. I look at the ground because I know Danielle is there too. Tell him you know, she says, you know old Whitey is not your lawyer anymore. He is just an old poof.
Shut up! I say, looking up at her, and she just lifts her chin up and stares away like she does. I say to Mr White, I am sorry, and Farid says with anger, Do you understand? And I look at the ground again but it is not because I am scared. I am angry and this is a new feeling with Farid and I am not knowing what to do at that
moment. He understands, Mr White says, and Farid yells at him, Did I fucking ask you? Did I fucking ask you to speak? He raises his arm in the air and Mr White steps back like he is scared again and I say, I understand. Because I do, suddenly I understand a lot now. Then Mr White walks away and we is just standing there. I is so ashamed but there is no other way for it to be at this moment, and I know Mr White will be understanding of this.
So anyway, a few weeks before the trial I get the text from Farid about Gallipoli Park and we leave the house, Rafi lying in the back seat with a blanket over him and me waving at the shed the builders have put up in Mrs Billecki’s front yard across the street. Fifteen minutes later we is at Gallipoli Park and Farid’s Hummer is already there, Ahmed and Romeo from his crew leaning against it like they is in some music video. Farid is walking slowly in the park, looking at the ground while he is thinking. And in that moment seeing him all by himself like that there is no anger and I see how lucky I am to have a brother with such an intelligence. Imad was always exciting to us other brothers but Farid, you ask him anything and when he tells you you will know it is the truth. He is like the internet but it is all inside his head.
Hello John, he says and he is warm and we are doing the hug we always do with our hands on the other guy’s back. Then he is doing the same thing with Rafi and he is even more warm, saying, Rafi my little brother, how are you? We are all trying our best to help you. Rafi says, I am good, preparing myself mentally for this trial.
When they stop hugging Farid keeps hold of Rafi’s right hand and is looking right into his eyes saying, This is a terrible thing the jacks making this fake telephone intercept to Jason Teller pretending it is you talking here at the park. Oh yes, says Rafi, but you see what they done with the gun there is nothing they will not do to make their revenge on the family.
Farid nods and lets go of Rafi’s hand, it is just the three of us standing in this park now in the dark except for a few lights. Rafi looks at me and I see he is wondering too why we are here. Farid says, I had a meeting today with Salim and that greedy cunt Ferguson about what the Crown are going to tell the jury.
It is all lies, says Rafi. Ferguson will tell them that.
Salim got this expert to listen to the tape, Farid said, like he had not heard Rafiq speak. He said he couldn’t go into the box and say it was faked. Rafi says something else and Farid just keeps talking. So Salim reckons it is too dangerous for you to say that in court. The jury will just look at you and the jacks and think You fucking lying Leb.
Rafi says, Can’t you talk to them? Farid says, What, the jury? Rafi nods like this is a great idea. You is watching too many American movies, Farid says. We will not even know their names. I listened again to the tape today. They must have faked Teller’s voice too. There is a calm in his voice now and I could have told Rafi to be careful but I could not. Yes, says Rafi, or the person who faked me is ringing him up and pretending to be me so it is Jason’s voice really.
But if you had never planned to meet him here, says Farid, why would he be having such a conversation with you about that anyway?
Well, says Rafi, because this fake guy called him and set it all up and it was never me but he is tricked to thinking it is, right from the start. He has never heard my voice before so he is thinking it is me.
At that moment I is feeling very sad for Rafi, and for the family. He has never heard heard your voice before? says Farid. This man you just called Jason?
Jason Teller, says Rafi, Jason whatever, no way he has heard my voice before.
Oh, Rafiq, says Farid, and Rafi goes, What, what? Farid’s voice has gone quieter and I see Rafi has realised now something is up but he is trying not to show it. Do you know, says Farid, that in a trial the prosecution has to show its whole case to the defence before it starts? This has just happened with your trial and Salim has seen the statements from all the witnesses the Crown is calling against you, the jacks and all.
Those fucking lying jacks, Rafi starts to say, but Farid holds up his hand. He says, They have photos of you buying drugs from Jason Teller at the City East Gym.
No, no, says Rafi in this voice that sounds like his throat is not working properly.
And then Farid hits him. He hits him in the gut and Rafi looks amazed and then he drops down, which is the smart thing to do. Rafi is smart, but he is not a lot of other things and I am looking at him with a heavy heart as Farid goes on with this conversation, talking to our brother on the ground. Why did you not tell us about the car? he says, still with his quiet voice. He is rubbing his fist while I wonder what he is talking about with the car. Farid says, Teller took the Porsche from you and you is not saying a word to me. Is he saying a word to you, John? I shake my head and there are tears in my eyes as I start to see all the lies Rafi has told the family. Sometimes you have to lie to the world, it is a question of survival. But you do never lie to the family.
While Rafi cries, Farid explains all the stuff the jacks know about the car. They know the person who shot Teller must have taken his keys because an hour later someone drove the car out of Teller’s garage and the jacks have CCTV from Rafi’s block of flats to show the Porsche was brought back soon after Jason Teller was killed. Fifteen minutes after it left The Surry, says Farid to Rafiq. Which is the time it is taking to drive from Surry Hills to Alexandria where you was living.
Rafi is crying a lot now and it all comes out in a rush like he was being sick that time at Roselands. He says he lent Teller his car and Teller was not giving it back, but he is never doing the drugs with him. Then Teller rings him and says he can have the car back if he comes to Gallipoli Park to collect it, which is why Rafi was there but he was not killing Teller he was dead when Rafi got there and Rafi just picked up the keys and ran away.
So Rafi is not smart, even though he’s got them marks at the uni. As Farid starts to yell and kick him on the ground, I am wondering what he is at all.
Lies, Farid yells, as I move in to stop the kicking. Fuckin lies lies. To me!
Addicts, Karen learned, were always either stoned or concerned with getting stoned soon, always on the brink of panic in case they lost their supply, therefore always obsessed with themselves. They lived in a narrow band of emotion, but it was intense. In its own way this was a form of clarity.
A few months after the business of the stolen books, Ian announced he wanted to get clean. He moved in with them— Stephen agreeing reluctantly—and re-enrolled at university. Promised that none of his addict friends would come to the house. He was on the waiting list for a methadone program, and in the meantime asked Karen to hold the heroin he bought twice a week, with her money now, and dole it out to him.
Actually, she offered to do this, breaking the law in the house of the attorney general, who of course could not be told. Karen wasn’t sure if she was now engaged in personal betrayal or political necessity, but sensed Stephen would understand. He probably did already.
Ian said his fear was he would buy his week’s supply and use it in a few days. ‘I’ve got this problem with self-control,’ he said to her, quite seriously.
There was no point in thinking of him as you thought of other people, those of his age who worked as solicitors or airline pilots or junior surgeons. It was excruciating. But she took his wretched little packets, doled the stuff out, hid what was left behind the pasta on the top shelf of the pantry. She became a different person, and at first resented this bitterly. Cried a lot, but in private.
Ian would go into his bedroom to have his hit, and call her on his mobile when he was done. The deal was that if he didn’t call after five minutes, she’d ring for an ambulance. For a month it worked, in a strange sort of way. She learned that heroin was not like alcohol, the actual taking of it affected you only for an hour or two of the day; for the rest of the time you functioned normally. Over the weeks Ian got some colour in his cheeks and even put on a little weight. The arrangement was difficult for her, and yet it began to seem normal. Perhaps one could get used to mor
e than one had ever imagined.
Then one Sunday afternoon Stephen opened the front door to find two young men wanting to see Ian. Unshaven, tattooed and bleary-eyed, one with mascara. The other was munching on a hamburger; Stephen knew it was from McDonald’s because there was a wrapper lying on the path. An old car double-parked in the street, engine still running.
‘Ian’s not home.’
‘Just called him, man. Hey, don’t I know you from the television?’
Afterwards, Stephen told Ian if it happened again he’d have to leave.
‘I don’t know how they found out the address,’ Ian said. ‘I swear.’
‘Bullshit,’ Stephen said slowly, looking from him to her.
She saw he knew. The whole thing was breaking her heart.
A week later, Ian moved out. Stephen didn’t want to talk about it anymore, to try to work out what had happened. The situation was not, he said, responsive to reason. Ian had left a note: It was never going to succeed. I am too weak. A few days later he rang Karen and asked if he could move back. She talked with Stephen, and to her surprise he said yes. But he was withdrawing from her, she could sense it, and she couldn’t blame him.
‘You do see it can’t go on forever?’ he said. ‘It needs to end somewhere?’
She twisted out of his grip, knowing these things but not wanting to. Maybe hoping, in some dark recess of her heart, to have the decision made for her.
She rang Ian and told him he could come back, and he sounded excited, said how different things would be this time. Detected the caution in her voice. ‘You’ve got to have faith in me, Mum. No one else does. You’re what keeps me going.’
He asked her to pick him up that night from an address in Rozelle. When she arrived he wasn’t waiting outside and she had to park a kilometre away. At the house a man like a gypsy opened the door, said Ian was out. Someone had keyed the Jaguar by the time she got back to it. Ian called her the next day to apologise, he’d had to take a friend to hospital. And now he wasn’t moving in after all, he’d changed his mind.
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