Liar Liar

by Nancy Boyarsky

  Doshan’s attorney, George Goodman, was a tall, grey-haired man with a smooth voice and an air of authority. He explained that he would prove there had been no rape. “This encounter was nothing more than consensual sex between two adults. For her own reasons—embarrassment, shame, or something we don’t know—Mary Ellen Barnes invented this fiction of forcible rape.”

  Each attorney spoke for about a half hour. The rest of the morning was taken up by a forensics expert, who introduced the evidence furnished by Mary Ellen’s attorneys. One item was the underwear she’d been wearing the night of her encounter with Doshan. She’d brought it, unwashed, to the university health center when she reported the rape, two months after the event. The expert said there was semen on the underwear, but no blood. He read from a DNA report, which identified the semen as Doshan’s.

  Next, the forensic witness used a projector to show photos of bruises on Mary Ellen’s arms. These were selfies she’d taken after the rape. The photos had been downloaded to a computer and printed out. Each was stamped with the date it was taken. The witness explained that the bruising was consistent with Mary Ellen’s being grabbed and held by someone stronger than herself, someone with large hands.

  Under cross-examination by Goodman the forensics expert agreed that, aside from these photos, there was no other evidence that Mary Ellen suffered any physical injury.

  “Can you tell us with complete certainty when these photos were taken?” Goodman said.

  “Well,” the witness said, “the date stamp says January 22, which would be the day after the alleged incident.”

  “Isn’t it true that date stamps like these can be changed on a cellphone or computer?”

  “On some. Yes.”

  “So, this date is open to question, isn’t it?” Goodman said.

  The witness seemed unwilling to concede the point. “I suppose you could say that.”

  “‘Yes’ or ‘no’ is the proper answer,” Goodman said.

  “Yes.”

  Goodman turned away. “No more questions for the witness at this time.”

  The judge banged his gavel and said they would break for lunch and reconvene at 1:00. Nicole and Mary Ellen were shown to a private waiting room. After a few minutes, Alise bought them some plastic-wrapped sandwiches and soft drinks from the cafeteria. All Mary Ellen would take was a Coke. Alise was brusque to the point of rudeness. She seemed angry, no doubt because of her demotion from Mary Ellen’s caretaker to waitress. After asking if they needed anything else, she left.

  Lunch was all but inedible. Nicole’s chopped-egg sandwich turned out to be soggy and tasteless. She took a few bites, rewrapped the remains, and threw it in the trash.

  There was no conversation. Mary Ellen was busy texting on her phone, and Nicole wondered who the girl was communicating with. She wasn’t supposed to discuss the trial with anyone, and there was always the danger that the paparazzi had hacked her phone and were reading her texts as she wrote them.

  Nicole was about to ask her to stop when her own phone dinged with a new message. It was from Josh. “I’ve got some time,” it said. “Want to meet for lunch? I could be there by 1:00.”

  She bit her lip, trying to think of a way to tell him she’d ended up in court with Mary Ellen without provoking him. But there was no way around it. “ME had a meltdown in the limo,” she typed in. “Refused to go to court unless I came with her. I’m stuck for the day.”

  Almost instantly, a reply popped up. “Shit! I knew it!”

  “I know. I hate myself for agreeing to do this,” she wrote. “You were right. I should have listened.”

  “The media knows you’re there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn it!” he wrote back. Then, “I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait!” she texted. “Call me.” He didn’t reply, nor did he call.

  After a few minutes, she decided to call him. But she couldn’t do it in front of Mary Ellen. She’d know Nicole and Josh were fighting because of her, and that would add to the girl’s burden. Nicole got up. “I’ll be right back,” she said. Mary Ellen was too busy texting to look up.

  Nicole went into the hallway that led back to the courtroom and closed the door. She tapped in Josh’s cell number. It rang several times and went to voicemail. She tried his office number with no better result. Had he seen her caller ID and refused to pick up? She called him again and left a message: “On top of everything that’s gone wrong today, I can’t stand having you mad at me. Please call.” She looked at her watch. It was 12:30 p.m. “Make it soon,” she added. “Court resumes at 1:00, and I’ll have to turn off my phone.”

  She spent the next half hour in agony. Her phone didn’t ring, there were no messages from Josh, and she felt like crying. All too soon, the bailiff arrived to escort them back.

  When the judge called the court to order, Mary Ellen took the witness chair, and Geneva got up to question her. “Can you explain what happened on January 21st of last year?”

  As she began, Mary Ellen’s voice was shaky. “It was around 10:30 on a school night. I’d been studying and was getting sleepy. I had a lot more work, so I decided to get some fresh air. I planned to take a ten-minute walk, then come back and study. It was nice out, and there was a full moon. I should have circled the building and gone back to my room, like I’d planned, but instead I headed down the hill toward the ocean. That’s when I noticed a bunch of students sitting on the beach across the highway. I normally wouldn’t hang out with people I don’t know, but somehow, that night…” she paused and looked at Geneva.

  Geneva nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

  “When I got there, I saw they were, like, drinking beer. I don’t drink, but one of the guys offered me lemonade, so I sat down and had some. Actually, I had, like, two glasses. I didn’t really talk to anybody, and I should have left. But—” she paused and looked over at the jury. “—I think they’d, like, put something in my lemonade—liquor or I don’t know what. I fell asleep right there on the sand. That’s not like me at all.

  “When I woke up, most of the others were gone. The only ones left were these guys from the football team. It made me nervous. They have a reputation—you know, with girls. Doshan saw I was awake, and he came over. He said he’d walk me back to my dorm.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “Well, I didn’t really know him that well, but he was polite and seemed concerned, so I said ‘Okay.’”

  “You said you didn’t know him that well. Had you met him before that night?”

  “Yes. He came to Bible study a couple of times.”

  “What did you talk about when he walked you home?”

  “Bible study. He said he was really interested but couldn’t come much because of football practice. Then he told me about his grandmother’s rosary. She’d left it to him when she died. He told me how much it meant to him and that he kept it locked in his desk. When we passed his dorm, he asked if I’d like to go up to his room and see the rosary. I was feeling more comfortable with him by then, so I said yes. When we got to his room, he closed the door and locked it. I asked about the rosary, and he just laughed. I said I wanted to leave, but he threw me on the bed and got on top of me.”

  As Mary Ellen was saying this, Nicole glanced at Doshan. He was looking down, shaking his head. His lawyer reached over and gripped his shoulder, as if to steady him.

  “He put his leg between my knees …” She began to cry and put her hands over her face.

  Geneva’s voice was gentle. “I know this is hard for you to talk about,” she said. “But you’ll have to say what happened next.”

  “He forced himself on me.”

  “Can you be more specific? What do you mean by ‘forced himself?’”

  Mary Ellen was still crying, her shoulders shaking. She dropped her hands, and her face was wet with tears. She drew in a ragged breath and mumbled something.

  “You have to speak up, Mary Ellen,” Geneva said. “We can’t hear you.”


  Mary Ellen pulled a tissue out of her pocket, wiped her face, and blew her nose. Her eyes flickered briefly to the back row of the room, where the two athletes were still sitting. Then she said, quite clearly, “He pulled down my underwear and raped me.”

  “Is the person you know as Doshan in the courtroom today? Can you point him out?”

  Hesitantly, Mary Ellen lifted her hand and pointed at Doshan. For a brief moment, their eyes locked. Doshan’s jaw was tight; he was clearly angry.

  “Did you scream or call out?” Geneva said.

  “No, I was too scared. I couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like a bad dream, like you’re paralyzed and can’t even scream.”

  Geneva bowed her head for a long moment, as if contemplating her next question. Finally, she said, “But you didn’t report this to the university right away.”

  “No.”

  “Did you tell your friends or anyone else about it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  By now Mary Ellen had somewhat regained her composure. “I was too embarrassed and ashamed. I felt it was my own fault. I shouldn’t have been out there with kids who were drinking. I shouldn’t have gone to his room. Later, the counselor at WAR told me a lot of girls blame themselves. When I said ‘no’ he should have respected that. He should have stopped.”

  “Thank you, Mary Ellen. That’s all we need for now.” With that, Geneva returned to her seat.

  Doshan’s lawyer, George Goodman, stood up and walked over to Mary Ellen.

  “Now, Mary Ellen.” His voice was kind, sympathetic. “Everyone in this courtroom understands how difficult it must be for you to talk about what happened. I hear that you’re an observant Christian. Is that true?”

  “Yes, sir.” She looked confused and was studying his face, as if trying to figure out whose side he was on.

  “And you believe that it’s a sin to bear false witness,” Goodman went on.

  Mary Ellen blinked and looked away. “Yes, sir.”

  “Especially when that lie could ruin another person’s life,” he added.

  Tears had begun to leak down her cheeks. “I’m not ly-lying,” She choked on the word.

  “Maybe you’re just confused. I want you to think back about what really happened.” He paused, as if expecting her to search her memory and come up with a different story. “Isn’t it true that it was you who asked Doshan to walk you back to your dorm?”

  She shook her head. She was crying in earnest now, covering her face with her hands.

  Nicole noticed that Geneva had tensed as if she were about to stand up. Sue reached over, grasped Geneva’s arm, and shook her head. Geneva pulled away. She looked annoyed but sat back in her seat.

  “You need to answer the question ‘yes’ or ‘no,’” Goodman prompted. “For the record.”

  She dropped her hands. “No! That’s not—” She gulped back a sob. “That didn’t happen.”

  He kept talking in the same calm tone, “You were thrilled Mr. Williams had noticed you and invited you to his room, weren’t you? He asked if you were willing to have sex, and you said yes. Isn’t that true? The encounter was consensual.”

  “No!” she said. “It wasn’t like that. I vowed in church to save myself for marriage.”

  “All right, let me ask you this: You let—” He consulted his notes before he went on, “two whole months pass before you went to the authorities. Why did you wait so long?”

  “I already said. I was ashamed. I was—” She broke down again, and her next words were unintelligible. She wilted against the railing in front of her and began to sob.

  Geneva stood up. “Your honor—”

  “Yes, yes,” said the judge. “The witness appears too distraught to continue.” He consulted his watch. “We’ll take a forty-five-minute recess and be back here at 3:30.”

  Mary Ellen got up from the witness chair and stumbled over to the table where her lawyers and Nicole were sitting. The girl put her head on the table and continued crying. Nicole took her by the hand and led her to the waiting room. Sue, Geneva, and Alise were close behind.

  “She’s exhausted,” Nicole told the women. “She didn’t sleep last night.”

  “Do you think you can calm her down?” Sue said.

  “I’ll try,” said Nicole, “but it would be easier on my own, if you don’t mind.”

  After they were gone, Nicole said, “The worst is almost over, Mary Ellen. I know you can pull yourself together and finish the cross-examination. Otherwise, you’ll just have to come back tomorrow and answer Mr. Goodman’s questions.”

  The girl blew her nose and said in a shaky voice. “I’ll try. Can you get me a glass of water?” Nicole remembered seeing a restroom sign in the short passage they’d used to get there from the courtroom. Lunch had been cleared away, but an unused plastic cup had been left on the table. She took the cup and went to get some water.

  Moments later Nicole returned to an empty room. She could hear some kind of commotion from behind the room’s other door, which led to the main corridor. The door opened, and a very pale Mary Ellen stumbled backward into the room. Reporters and paparazzi were crowded around her, shouting questions and shoving microphones in her face. With the help of the guard stationed outside, Nicole and the girl managed to shut and lock the door.

  “Where were you going?” Nicole said. “You weren’t trying to leave, were you?”

  “No, ma’am. I needed the lady’s room.” The girl flushed and looked away. She’s lying, Nicole thought. She had every intention of leaving.

  “The women’s room is back here.” Nicole led Mary Ellen to the facility and waited outside until she was done. As sorry as she felt for the girl, who did seem genuinely distraught, Nicole reminded herself that Mary Ellen couldn’t be trusted. Back in the waiting room, they sat for the next fifteen minutes without speaking. Nicole checked her messages again, but there was still no word from Josh. At last the bailiff opened the door and announced that the trial was about to resume.

  Nicole linked arms with the girl and led her back. She was pale and her expression unreadable, but she did seem calmer.

  Once Mary Ellen was back in the witness chair, Goodman resumed his questions.

  “Before the break, you said you didn’t report the alleged rape for two months because you were ashamed and afraid no one would believe you. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you first contact the Women Against Rape organization?”

  Mary Ellen looked confused. “I don’t remember exactly.”

  “Was it before or after you filed your complaint against Mr. Williams?”

  “Before. I called them for advice after I saw something about them on TV. Like how they help campus rape victims. They had me talk to a counselor. She said I should report Doshan to the university.”

  “Did she help you work out what you were going to say?”

  Mary Ellen was quiet a moment. “No. I mean, I can’t remember what she said because I was so upset. It was the first time I’d told anybody.”

  “I understand you’re staying in a suite in a boutique hotel near the beach,” Goodman said. “That’s a pretty fancy place, isn’t it?”

  Geneva Ford stood up. “Objection. Argumentative.”

  “I withdraw the question,” Goodman said. “Who is paying for the suite you’re staying in?”

  “WAR. I mean Women Against Rape.”

  “You also have a paid companion, a limousine to drive you, and what appears to be a new outfit. Who is paying for all this?”

  Geneva stood up again. “Objection. How is this relevant?”

  “I’m just trying to establish that Women Against Rape, which is an advocacy group, may have had undue influence over a naïve young woman and convinced her that she was raped when she, in fact, agreed to the encounter.”

  “Your honor!” Geneva said in an aggrieved tone.

  “Mr. Goodman,” the judge said. “Please limit your
questions to establishing facts and stop fishing for admissions to back up theories about what might or might not have happened.”

  Without missing a beat, Goodman was ready with the next question. “Let’s go back to the night of the alleged incident,” he said. “Did you have anything to drink or any drugs?”

  “I don’t do drugs,” Mary Ellen said. “And I don’t drink alcohol. I just had some lemonade.”

  “Did the lemonade make you feel funny?”

  “I guess. I mean, I got sleepy all of a sudden.”

  “What time did you wake up?” he said.

  “After midnight. I checked my watch.”

  “What happened next?” he said.

  Mary Ellen repeated what she’d told the court earlier.

  “So you found yourself alone with those young men. Is that when you asked Doshan to walk with you?”

  “No. He came over and asked me if I wanted him to take me back.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I’d appreciate it if he would do that,” she said.

  “Was that true? Did you appreciate his offer?”

  “At the time I did. He was polite and seemed concerned.”

  The lawyer was quiet for a few moments, studying the floor as if considering what to ask next. When he looked up at her, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Now think back to when Doshan invited you up to his room. You went willingly, knowing you were going to have sex with him, didn’t you?”

  “No!” she said. “He said he wanted to show me his grandmother’s rosary. But when we got to his room, he locked the door and attacked me. You saw those bruises. That was from when he grabbed me and threw me on the floor.”

  “Floor?” Goodman looked at his notes. “Earlier you said it was the bed.”

  “Yes. I meant the bed.”