Verity nodded, “What’s left for today?”
“It’s almost over. We just have to give our closing statements. I always let the opposition go first so I can answer any of their claims. The Defence knows his client is guilty, and his argument is weak. That’s why I don’t take on guilty clients. I can’t lie for them, and I don’t want to help them work their way around the law just because I know how they could. They don’t deserve leniency and I refuse to let a criminal walk. What do you want the outcome of the case to be?”
Verity looked at the darker spots that her tears had made on the napkin. “I don’t want him to do this to anyone else. I don’t want him to get away with what he did, but in a way he already has. I want them to understand the impact on me, and to show him that it’s not acceptable. I want to show other men it’s not acceptable.” Verity looked up at Nicholas, “What do you think?”
“Too easy,” Nicholas said, “See you back in there.”
“I hope he isn’t waiting for me,” she said softly.
“The blonde guy who called you names?”
Verity sighed, “You heard that, huh?”
Nicholas gave a nod, “I doubt he’ll be out there. He ran into me and I told him to watch where he was going. I also told him that if he came near you or entered the courthouse again today, he’d been leaving the city via ambulance but not necessarily in one piece. I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be, and I don’t make empty threats. I think he got the message.”
Verity smiled and watched him walk to the counter where he stood next to an equally good-looking man in a suit. What a man to do that for her. There were good men out there, and that made her smile. He and his brother were smiling too and looked happy to see each other. They might have been twins. He had a brother. He probably had sisters too. He might even have a wife and kids. Verity had no one. Her mother wasn’t her mother. She had no siblings, no boyfriend, and no close friends. She had an aunt and three cousins that she hadn’t seen since she was about eight, and they were related to her mother who wasn’t her mother. She had her father’s friend, Uncle John, but she didn’t want to burden him too much. What she really wanted was her best friend, the love of her life, to be here. If he was here, this wouldn’t have happened. And if he was here right now, she’d at least have a shoulder to cry on.
Verity had a deep ache inside and she felt lost. There was a hole in her heart. Kissing his pictures and talking to them wasn’t enough. She needed to know where he was and why he never contacted her again. They were in love. They were each other’s everything for years, and were going to be together forever. If he was dead, she wanted to see his gravestone and lay flowers there. If he’d forgotten who she was, she wanted to touch his soul until he remembered. She didn’t want to let him go, she couldn’t. Verity didn’t even know she was crying until the tears dripped onto her forearm. She looked down at her arm and wiped the tears away. She picked up a napkin and wiped her face. She had discussed the stages of grief with Christine. She was in and out of the stages constantly. There was no pattern like they’d talked about. She’d done her best to move through the stages to deal with her rape and torture, and about the death of her father, but dealing with the hole in her heart was another story. She’d been through shock and denial, through pain and guilt, through anger and bargaining, depression and loneliness, and she still had hope. There was no acceptance. She was never going to accept that he was really gone from her life forever.
She blew her nose on the napkin and picked up the Mocha again. She sipped it and thought it tasted like mucous with a hint of coffee and chocolate. She didn’t feel like eating anything, and she didn’t even really want the coffee anymore. She drank it quickly and walked outside the café. She had some time before she had to be back in the courtroom but she had nowhere else to be and thought that the courthouse was actually the safest place for her. She walked through the doors into the court, and put her handbag on the conveyer belt. Security nodded her through the metal detector and she collected her handbag on the other side. She looked up at the people a few steps ahead of her on the stairs, and thought one of the men seemed familiar. She walked faster so she could get next to him and look at him sideways.
He glanced at her and stopped walking, “How are you?”
“Hi, I thought that was you.”
He looked around, “We’d better not stop for a chat on the stairs. It’s a hazard. Come up to a side room.”
Verity smiled. It was a friendly face. She followed him up the stairs and he led her to an unoccupied side room. He slid the sign across to ‘in use’ and closed the door.
“Hi,” he said, “What are you doing here? Are you in trouble with the law? I thought you looked shifty when you came into my Station.”
“Hi, Adrian, no, I’m still a law abiding citizen. I’m here for my rape trial,” Verity said.
“Oh, shit. That’s today? How are you feeling?”
“It’s been a really long day,” Verity nodded.
“I bet it has. You know the truth, so don’t lose sight of it.”
“Thanks, I’ll be really happy when it’s over and I don’t have to talk about it anymore. I only really want to have to talk about it one more time, with someone special, and then never again. It’s hard to know he’s right there in the room and probably enjoying reliving it, but I’m not.”
“Don’t let him control your life,” Adrian said, “Don’t let anyone control your life. It’s yours to enjoy. Are you still seeing Brandon?”
“Yes, but I haven’t told him about this.”
“So was he just being polite when he said he hadn’t scored with you?”
“You asked him?”
Adrian shrugged, “Locker room talk. I’m sorry. It was a completely inappropriate question for me to ask right now considering the circumstances.”
“It’s fine, I appreciate it when people are upfront. He hasn’t scored with me, no.”
Adrian smiled, “He said you were definitely wife material but not ready for him.”
Verity smiled too, “That’s actually kind of sweet. We’re friends, and I leave it up to him to contact me. So what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to give evidence for the Police Prosecutor. Have you got a good lawyer from the DPP?”
“They have one filling in. He seems really good, and he’s nice to look at and listen to too.”
Adrian smiled, “Well, thank heavens for small mercies. What’s his name?”
“Nicholas Day,” Verity said.
“You’re in very, very good hands. He’s never lost a case and he won’t let the Defence get away with anything stupid.”
“He’s been good, really good, but I can’t ask him for a hug and I really need one. I know you don’t know much about me as a person, and we only spent a few hours together once, but we have hugged before and you’re the closest thing I have to a friend right now. Would you mind just hugging me and telling me I can do this?”
Adrian shook his head and smiled. He opened his arms to her and she stepped close. He put his arms around her and she put her arms around him. He was strong but gentle, and he oozed masculinity. There were good men. She knew there were. He continued to hold her firmly and it was the longest hug she had ever had in her life. At least a minute had gone by, maybe two, and Verity was feeling energised.
“Thank you,” she said, taking her arms from his back, “The last time I was hugged like that was a goodbye, but you’ve made me feel good. Thank you.”
Adrian kissed her on the cheek, “You can do this. Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” she replied, and watched him walk to the door. “Wait, Adrian, in case I don’t see you again, I want to tell you something. I think you’re a very attractive man, with an amazing sexual ability and a lovely personality. Thank you for sharing a night with me. I’ll cherish it always, and I hope you have a categorically happy life.”
Adrian laughed and turned around, “You’re not dying, Verity. It
’s just a trial.”
“No, I’m not, I know that, but I could have died. From now on I want to make sure people know how I feel in case I don’t see them again. I know someone who always did that, and I never understood why until now. I always left things too late and I don’t want to do that anymore. So, that’s all. Thank you again. Your demeanour and your kisses are something else.”
Adrian walked over to her and kissed her on the lips for five seconds, merging his mouth with hers in gentle arcs. “You’re welcome.”
Verity blushed. “Thank you. Thank you for reminding me again that there are good men out there.”
Adrian smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Verity smiled too. She didn’t even know his last name, but he was the man who showed her that men could be good, that sex could be incredible, and that people cared. The warmth of his embrace and the touch of his lips filled her with courage. She adjusted her jacket and picked her bag up from the floor. She looked at her watch and decided to go to the bathroom, get some water, and then brace for the impact of the Defence’s lies.
Chapter 13
Verity wiped the tears from her face. If the jury believed what the Defence lawyer had portrayed, they might let Ray go free. He’d been behind bars since he was arrested, and this was something the Defence had repeated as if the jury should feel sorry for him. He expected the jury to believe that all Ray Farmer was doing was having a relationship with a woman who had kinky sexual tastes. She wanted to vomit. No doubt Ray was sitting there smiling smugly but she couldn’t even look up from the table. The Defence had been convincing in some ways, but the photos and the witness testimony and the hospital reports were true. It was up to the jury to decide if they believed him or her. She looked at the Prosecution lawyer beside her, hoping he was as good with closing statements as he had been with the questions and Brad.
Nicholas nodded to her and stood up. He walked over to stand in front of the jury. “I want you to look again at the face of the woman with her arm around her father. This was the last day that Miss Sharpe and her father were together. Look at her face. That was the face of a woman who was about to start a new job, the face of a woman who felt hopeful and free, the face of a woman who had not been violated,” he said, holding up a picture. He held up another picture in his other hand, “Now look at the picture of her at the hospital. Look at the fear in her eyes. Look at how she went from weighing sixty kilograms to weighing thirty two kilograms in the fourteen weeks between the two pictures. Look at this picture and you will see a woman who had been debased beyond comprehension. You’ll see a woman who would rather die than put up with another minute of the abuse she’d been suffering at the hands of Ray Farmer.”
He walked back and put the pictures on the table. “A person under any circumstance has the right to be free of sexual violence, and this woman in particular had the right to reside in her home and to sleep at night feeling safe. This man took that away from her,” he said, pointing at Ray. “Has he been remorseful? No. Has he offered any kind of excuse or reason to justify his treatment of his supposed friend’s daughter? No. And why not? Because Mr Farmer wants you to believe they were in a consensual relationship. He wants you to believe that she was willingly in this relationship with him. While I concur with Defence that age is not a barrier to a relationship, I want to point out again that Miss Sharpe was twenty one at the time this occurred, almost twenty two, and Mr Farmer was fifty three. Mr Farmer celebrated his birthday at the pub, shouting everyone drinks, and Miss Sharpe spent her birthday in agony, fearing for her life.”
Nicholas moved towards the jury and folded his arms, “Let’s go back to the start of this alleged relationship. Let’s go back to February eighteen last year. This date is important for two reasons. The first one is that this is the date that Mr Farmer was advised that Mr Joshua Sharpe, Miss Sharpe’s father, was deceased. The second one is that this is when, at approximately eleven forty five in the evening, Mr Farmer found Miss Sharpe asleep in her bed and decided that he was going to have sex with her. Without even waking her up first, without any kind of seduction or precursor, Mr Farmer decided that he was going to have sex with Miss Sharpe. Just let that sink in, because those two circumstances are linked and you know they are.”
Nicholas picked up another photograph and held it up. “Miss Sharpe was held down and taken against her will with her own underwear, which Mr Farmer had removed from her, shoved in her mouth. I’m not sure how the Defence keeps leaving this part out. This was recorded and documented by Police as an Event, and an Event number was issued. This was not in any way, shape or form a consensual liaison. Mr Farmer’s Defence wants you to believe that this was just a joke, that Miss Sharpe just sparked an Event with the Police for fun. He wants you to believe that an intelligent, educated woman, who had recently graduated from university with a degree in Commerce, did this for fun. He wants you to believe that they were in a relationship and that it was consensual. And yet, for the twelve weeks after that report was made, no one saw Miss Sharpe. Not the job that she had accepted, not the neighbours she had seen in passing, not the dog that always barked at her as she passed by on her way to the bus stop, not the local café where she liked to get a morning coffee, no one.
“However, Mr Farmer was seen in the community. Mr Farmer was seen going about his daily routine without a care in the world. Friends of Mr Farmer comment that he was ‘happy’, ‘had maybe come into some money’, ‘ was being very generous’, and he expunged the details of why he was now enjoying a, and I quote, ‘fulfilling sex life’. But what of Miss Sharpe? Miss Sharpe didn’t have any friends who could comment on her demeanour at this time. She’d been at university interstate for the previous four years, and her father had relocated to a new suburb in her absence, so she didn’t know the area or any people. She had no one who knew her well. And Mr Farmer knew she had no one. Conveniently, he was in contact with Miss Sharpe’s mother, or step-mother as it turns out, and he had arranged and attended Joshua Sharpe’s funeral. Yet, his alleged loving partner, who was supposedly in a consensual relationship with him according to him, and who was the deceased man’s daughter, did not attend the funeral. How odd, ladies and gentlemen.”
Nicholas stood for a few seconds in silence then rubbed his chin, “No, it’s not adding up for me either. As you recall, there was a Police report made on March nine. This was the report in evidence from a woman by the name of Krystal Valques. Mrs Valques contacted the Police to report that a woman was missing and she was concerned for her wellbeing. Unfortunately, with so many cases of missing people and urgent matters to attend to, the Police were not particularly concerned about the fact that Miss Sharpe had not attended work towards the end of February as agreed. However, when Krystal Valques phoned the Police every day, twice a day, for a week, asking if Miss Sharpe’s whereabouts were known, the Police agreed to do a welfare check at her address.”
Nicholas held up another piece of paper. “You’ve all seen the Police report from March seventeen. You heard and read how two Police Officers attended Miss Sharpe’s address and were advised by Mr Farmer … what? Were they advised that she was in a loving relationship with Mr Farmer? No. Were they advised that Miss Sharpe had gone to the grocery store? No. Were they advised that Miss Sharpe was at work? No. They were advised that Miss Sharpe had gone on holiday overseas, was not contactable, and would be back in a few weeks. This is the statement in evidence to address the Event raised by Mrs Valques, and as a result of Miss Sharpe apparently being on an overseas holiday, the Event was closed. Had it been examined more closely, it would have been discovered that not only was Miss Sharpe not overseas but that she had never owned or applied for a passport. Of course, this was just one of the many lies that Mr Farmer and the Defence has told you.”
Nicholas put the piece of paper down and folded his arms. “So where was Miss Sharpe really? You know the answer. Miss Sharpe was locked in her bedroom, with no clothes and barely enough food to survive. In
response to questions she told you that she was fed two to three times per week. Not three to six meals per day seven days per week. Not even once a day. Two or three times a week. In fact, Miss Sharpe, having nothing to do in her bare room, not even a television to watch, took to marking her days on the wall of her bathroom and marking her meals on the side of her dressing table. In eighty four days, she was fed on twenty eight occasions. Twenty eight. The average person has four to six meals per day, so let’s say five meals a day. Small meals, sure, but the average person eats five times a day. Over eighty four days she could have and should have eaten up to four hundred and twenty times. But no. She was fed only twenty eight times.
“What difference do you see in the photographs from February to May? Do you see that her body was desperate to keep her organs functioning and started breaking down muscle and fat to survive? Do you see bones protruding where flesh used to be? Do you see sallow cheeks where a smiling face used to be? You’ve read the reports and you’ve seen the photographs and you’ve heard the evidence. You’ve seen the latch and padlock on her bedroom door, the absence of clothes or possessions in her room, the sheets that weren’t changed the entire time that she was in there, and you’ve read the condition that Miss Sharpe was in when she was brought into the emergency department, and you’ve seen the photographs.
“There can be no doubt from that evidence that Miss Sharpe was unlawfully detained. There can be no doubt from the hospital records that Miss Sharpe had been assaulted, resulting in, hold on, let me get the list of injuries so I can read you some of them. Yes, here it is on the discharge summary. A fractured occipital bone, broken teeth, a broken nose, perforated uterus, a torn perineum, ecchymosis of the vagina, bruised and torn labia, lacerations on her scalp, bruising to eighty percent of her body, a broken bone in her forearm, and blood pathology showing both urinary tract and kidney infections, malnutrition and a severe deficiency of iron which, left any longer, would have prevented oxygen from traveling around her body causing certain death.”
Running Rings Page 11