by Ava Reilly
I was left standing alone with the police car lights flashing around me. Suddenly I felt like getting involved with Hugh was the biggest mistake of my life. He couldn’t help me; I was in this alone. No one could protect me.
I felt like I was playing Russian roulette without knowing the stakes. My sanity? My life as I knew it? The only person I had ever truly loved?
How was I going to get through this alone?
#TwelfthConfession
#COAMMPlaylist:
‘Feels Like Home’
Chantal Kreviazuk
The night before I was due to fly out for the hearing, I lay in bed awake until well after one o’clock. Even though I had a flight at seven-thirty—after landing at nine-thirty I would then have to race into the city for the ten o’clock hearing—I couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep.
Adding to my stress was the fact that I woke up late and almost missed my flight. As I made my way through the skies I tried to keep panic at bay by focusing on my lawyer’s words. I had chosen not to have legal representation in court as I was only being called as a witness. Under any other circumstances I would have wanted a lawyer with me on the day, but I knew I didn’t have anything to be worried about when it came to my lack of involvement.
‘Don’t go into the personal relationship with Hugh. If they try to talk about it, then object and ask what the relevance is. Remember, the judge isn’t actually on your side. This is a secret hearing and it isn’t like a normal court case. The judge and counsel want to find a way to nail Hugh. Be honest and remember that you need to protect yourself.’
The only thing I wanted to do was protect Hugh but I had no idea what I was protecting him from. As I walked through the terminal I looked around at the people passing by and for the first time I thought about how complicated my life had seemed to become since I met Hugh. I hadn’t asked for this, and there was a chance it could ruin my career prospects but I really didn’t care. What I did care for was Hugh—so much that no matter what happened, it all seemed worth it.
It had been a week since the detectives interviewed me, and in that time the media had jumped on the case and decided to paint Hugh as the villain. These vultures knew that good guys don’t sell newspapers, but the image they were presenting to the public was nothing like the person I knew Hugh to be. The so-called facts that they kept reporting were far from the truth, and because Hugh was a very private person they could only manage to report the same story over and over again with rarely any new developments.
As the cab pulled up outside the courthouse I felt a wave of relief to not see any reporters. I had no idea who knew about this hearing but what I did know was that leaks happened all the time and I couldn’t afford to have my face or name attached to a case that had been splashed over all the media in every corner of Australia, especially considering I had a personal relationship with the primary person of interest. Over the past week I had kept my distance from Hugh but there was no way we could cut all contact, so we made sure that we only communicated through a number that was not associated with him. We didn’t talk about the court case in any detail and it was only through television and newspaper reports that I had seen Hugh turning himself in when charges were officially laid. I saw the detectives raiding his office for computers, phones and any anything else they could get their hands on. It seemed so invasive and made me feel even more protective towards him.
As I pushed through the second set of glass doors I was faced with an X-ray machine and armed federal police officers. I felt like a criminal even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. My hands trembled and tears welled in my eyes as the enormity of the situation hit me in full force: this was real. I couldn’t stop myself from panicking at the thought that Hugh could go to jail for something that in my heart I didn’t think he had any part in.
Passing through the final security doors and signing in, I felt like everything was in slow motion. Armed police officers and officials passed me in groups of two as I was asked to sit and wait. My nerves ramped up in anticipation of the unknown. I had spoken to police prosecutors all week and yet they really hadn’t prepared me mentally for what I had to face. I was so young, and I had no idea that any word I spoke could be used against me in court. Luckily, I might have been young but I wasn’t naive. I planned on making sure that I thought about everything carefully before I allowed anything to come out of my mouth. I wasn’t going to be a part of the hanging committee for someone I personally deemed to be innocent.
Twenty minutes later I was escorted through two large oak doors and into a wide open space that had a row of wooden pews, a long desk occupied by four people with their computers at the ready, a judge sitting high up at a raised desk, and directly opposite him another desk, which I was motioned to sit at. The room was empty apart from the officials, making it truly feel like a secret hearing. I seemed to be the only person set to take the stand.
A few minutes later I was instructed by the judge that I had to take an oath, and it was then that I had to make a choice: would I do anything to protect Hugh, or would I tell the complete truth regardless of the consequences?
As I uttered the oath I knew in my heart that I would tell the whole truth, no matter what it cost me. I suddenly felt that regardless of what I said that day my words would end up being used against Hugh, and I instantly felt guilty. I decided that although I might not be capable of lying I was going to make sure that I chose my words carefully, to spare him as much pain as possible.
In the beginning I was made to feel at ease with simple questions about my knowledge of the events that had transpired and whether I had any involvement in them. All I really knew was what the media had reported to have happened but I wasn’t one to get involved in salacious gossip or even believe it for that matter. I knew in this industry that if you were in the public eye the media would paint you in one of two lights, a victim or a villain, and they were making damn sure that Hugh was painted as a villain. These questions lulled me into a false sense of security because they made me think the prosecutors were beginning to realise that I really didn’t know anything. The rug was pulled firmly out from underneath me, however, when the prosecutor began to ask me very personal questions about Hugh and our relationship. My lawyer’s words echoed in my head as I objected profusely to the line of questioning. Fortunately the judge agreed and I wasn’t forced to answer the questions. The prosecutor seemed pissed off at not being able to pull a fast one on either of us, and he quickly changed tactic and asked in a very roundabout way the same questions he had tried to ask before—and this time I was forced to answer.
I reiterated that I knew nothing about Hugh’s business dealings, and this became even more evident as their questions repeatedly ended in the same answers. Just as I thought that the truth of my statements was sinking in, they decided it was time to pull the ace from their sleeve to top off an already shitty day.
‘Ava, we would like to discuss a text message that you received from Mr Montgomery on the day in question,’ said the pissed-off prosecutor. I looked at him blankly. Surely we had covered this already? How many more ways could he ask me what it had meant?
‘Yes,’ I responded frostily. This was going round and round in circles and he was no longer the only one who was angry. He looked away from me with a smile on his face and turned to the judge.
‘We would like to take Ms Reilly’s phone to have our technical analysts try to retrieve a copy of the information we believe is relevant to this case and any information that may have been deleted.’
I was floored. They couldn’t just take my phone—it was my business and my lifeline to Hugh. I wasn’t going to let them win without a fight. My flight was only three hours away and what they were proposing would mean that I would be leaving the state without my phone.
‘I object,’ I said coolly, looking the judge directly in the eye. ‘They already have copies of my text messages, as is evident by their line of questioning. I cannot leave without my phone; it
would cost me quite a lot of business.’
Judging by the expression on the prosecutor’s face—his eyes and mouth were wide open—he hadn’t expected this response from me.
‘Noted, Ms Reilly,’ replied the judge. ‘We will take a short recess to discuss the options and will return in one hour.’
Once I walked outside I knew that I should eat something but my stomach was doing backflips. Despite feeling ill I lit up a cigarette and felt the nicotine immediately calm me. With shaking hands I pulled out my phone and dialled Hugh’s private number.
‘Hey, baby, how are you?’ he answered with such a delightfully soothing tone I almost collapsed on the street. I desperately wanted to tell him everything but knew that legally I couldn’t. I needed to see him, to feel safely wrapped in his arms even if it was only for a little while.
‘I’m okay. I’m in town actually. What are you up to?’ I tried to keep my voice calm, but he didn’t miss anything, and he knew that something was up almost as soon as the words left my mouth.
‘Ava, where are you?’ he said with determination saturating his voice.
‘I’m in the city. I’m just on a quick break and I fly out this afternoon. Are you around at all?’ I asked, hoping he was close enough that I could zip away and just see him for even five minutes.
‘I’m on my way to a meeting in the northern suburbs. Ava, how long are you here for?’ I could hear the concern in his voice. We both knew that I would never come to town without telling him first, and I was glad that he knew to play the conversation game wisely enough that anyone listening wouldn’t pick up on the unspoken words we were exchanging. Hugh knew that I wasn’t being transparent. I don’t know how we had managed to figure out our own little language without even speaking to each other but for some reason I felt like he knew why I was there and wasn’t pressing me for any further detail over the phone.
‘I leave at four this afternoon,’ I said as confidently as possible.
‘Can you reschedule your flight? I really want to see you.’ I knew what he was asking, and it wasn’t just about changing flights.
‘I can’t, Hugh. I’ll be back soon, unless you plan to fly into town any time soon?’ I said, hoping I had given him enough to work with, without actually saying anything about why I was really there and why the time constraint.
‘I will. I promise.’ The sadness echoed down the phone. I knew he understood exactly what I was going through and he was devastated that he couldn’t be there for me.
We hung up a short time later and when I looked at my phone I realised the hour was nearly up. I returned to the courthouse and was called in almost immediately.
I took the stand again and was informed that the judge had granted the prosecutors the ability to take my phone and retrieve what they could but only in relation to Hugh. In return for my cooperation I would be provided with a loan phone and accommodation in town for the night while they retrieved what they needed to. I knew immediately what it was that I wanted to do with my spare time—I knew I had to see Hugh. I had to gauge what was going on in his head and a little part of me wanted to see if anything they had said was true.
I was strongly advised not to see Hugh, but their advice was not something I was prepared to take. They may have commandeered my phone but I wasn’t about to let them tell me with whom I could spend time.
An hour later I checked into the hotel and once safely in the room I called my lawyer. He told me that under no circumstances was I to let Hugh into my room, because it could be bugged. He also stressed that the temporary phone I had been given was surely bugged, so I shouldn’t take it out with me or talk with Hugh on it about anything.
I was definitely going to take his advice, but I was also going to get to the bottom of this with Hugh one way or another.
I called Hugh and told him that my phone was in for repair and that I had a temporary one. I made sure to keep the phone calls short and sweet and made sure that all text messages were cryptic: Hugh would know exactly what I was saying but it would take anyone else a while to figure it out. We agreed to meet for dinner that night, and after the stress of my day I began to really looking forward to it.
Because I wasn’t expecting to stay overnight I hadn’t packed any clothes and so later that afternoon I went shopping to pick something out. I chose a black cardigan and an orange maxi dress, and when I got ready for dinner I let my jet-black hair flow down onto it.
A few hours later I went down to the lobby, leaving my phone in the room as instructed. I felt so relaxed and surprisingly at ease without a phone. I felt free and finally able to talk to Hugh without worrying about anyone else hearing our words.
As I walked out of the hotel towards Hugh’s car I felt the familiar electricity burn up and down my spine. I couldn’t believe where I was or the situation I was in but in that moment none of it mattered. As he approached me I realised that just looking into his eyes, feeling his touch as he placed his hand on the small of my back or the safety I felt in his presence was worth every moment of pain I was feeling. He had changed my life, broken down my walls, and in that instant all the worry left my mind and body. He was exactly what I needed.
We drove to the restaurant in silence. He had not let go of my hand from the moment we got into the car and as I gazed out the window at the beautiful night sky he squeezed my fingers. I looked towards him and felt his eyes lock with mine. I glanced away immediately, afraid that he would see past the front and deep inside my soul, which was hiding one of the biggest secrets I had ever been forced to keep.
Dinner was incredibly rich in experience and flavour. I had never had Indian food before, so during the courses Hugh made me close my eyes and fed me some of the most delicious food that I had ever tasted. He said he wanted me to experience every flavour the only way you should ever try something new: blind.
Despite our closeness, our conversation was stiff, and I felt like a fraud not being able to share with him everything that I had learned that day. He asked a few questions about why I was in town and why the sudden change in my plans to stay. I answered the most honest way I could—I told him that I wasn’t going to lie, so he shouldn’t ask me any more questions. I told him that I was there because I had to be and that was all he needed to know. I knew it was killing him that we couldn’t just discuss everything, but he didn’t ask again.
I felt so close to him and yet so far away. I didn’t want the night to end and I needed to feel his arms around me, have him inside me, connecting with me, because the distance was breaking my heart. I knew, though, that this couldn’t happen—not this night.
When we arrived back at the hotel he placed his hand on my chin and kissed me with such force and passion that it knocked the wind out of me. When he pulled back he ran his thumb across my jaw, and I knew what he was saying without him uttering a word. He said it all with his eyes.
I reluctantly moved to climb out of the car but he tugged on my hand to bring me back to him.
‘Ava,’ he said quietly. ‘I understand. It doesn’t change a thing and it will never change the way I feel.’ He ran his thumb across my knuckles and my throat began to burn. I wanted to scream, I wanted to tell him the truth but I knew I couldn’t. I nodded and turned again to leave. My hand slipped from his grip and at the same time it felt as though my heart was being ripped from my chest.
That night in my room I couldn’t stop the tears. It seemed as though I was never going to be allowed to be happy. I kept asking myself if it was karma for everything that I had ever done wrong. Was I never going to be able to breathe deeply and calmly, knowing I was safe?
#ThirteenthConfession
#COAMMPlaylist
‘Breakeven’
The Script
The next morning I woke up to find myself praying for it all to be over. I dragged myself out of bed and had a shower, but not even standing under the hot water could break down the anxiety that had built up over a restless night.
When I arrived at the court
house I had no idea what was going to happen; all I knew was that I wanted my phone back and to return to reality. I walked in and sat down, waiting for someone to return my phone so I could go home. I was a mess inside but I managed to remain composed enough to stop myself from fidgeting. Thirty minutes later a woman approached and told me that they had not been successful in obtaining the information they required. Apparently my phone had crashed their systems multiple times and they needed to keep it until they got what they needed. I knew it was horseshit, but what could I do?
I argued with her for what felt like an eternity, and after talking with the judge she returned with a court order to say that she could keep my phone and that it would be mailed back to me. This was the final straw, and I burst into tears. I wasn’t crying over the phone, I was just exhausted and really wanted it all to be over.
The entire flight home I found myself slipping into a low state. As soon as I landed I arranged to meet with my lawyer to debrief about the trip.
As I sat in his city-view office finishing the story of what had happened he leaned back in his chair behind his mahogany desk and soaked up every sordid detail from the motel room to the court case.
After a few moments of silence as he watched me carefully and clearly thought about his next words. ‘What the police did,’ he began, ‘taking you to that motel, is a serious offence. We have a number of options. We can go after them for the severe stress it has obviously caused you. Or . . .’ He paused and took in a deep breath, which made me feel very uncomfortable. I was desperate for him to spit it out!
‘The conduct of the detectives while here in town is extremely questionable. It could be the very thing that gets this case thrown out.’ He then went on to tell me that because of their questionable interrogation techniques, the detectives who interviewed me might also have behaved inappropriately with other witnesses, which might cast enough doubt over how other testimonies were taken to pull apart the case against Hugh.