by Kia Abdullah
‘Thank you. And the bruises – could they have been the result of some overzealous but consensual play?’
‘There was sizable muscle contusion so it would have to have been some pretty overzealous “play”.’
‘But it’s a possibility?’ pressed Stark.
‘Yes.’
‘And did you find anyone else’s semen on her blouse?’
‘No.’
Stark arched his brows as if surprised by the answer. ‘So what we know is that the evidence – the tangible, hard evidence – shows that it could have been nothing more than an enthusiastic session of consensual sex with one defendant instead of the depraved orgy claimed by Ms Wolfe?’
‘The evidence doesn’t suggest that.’
‘But it’s a possibility?’
‘It’s possible.’
Stark looked to the jury. ‘So, just to be sure, nothing in the forensic evidence contradicts the testimony of my client. Nothing proves the complainant’s accusations.’
‘Is there a question in that?’ asked the doctor.
Stark turned with a smile. ‘Not a question – just pure fact.’
Barbara Grant shifted uncomfortably in the witness box. With shoulder-length brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses and a peach-coloured twinset, she was the epitome of a forty-something English teacher.
‘If all my students were like Jodie, my job would be the easiest in the world. She is a keen and enthusiastic member of my class. She is patient, diligent and extremely hard-working.’
Zara stiffened in her seat as she watched. They hadn’t sourced the witness for a report card recital. Boredom in a jury was almost as deadly as doubt.
Mercifully, Leeson shared Zara’s concern. ‘Ms Grant, I’d like to keep focus on the defendants if that’s okay,’ he told her in a kindly tone. ‘You say that you were their form tutor for five years. Did you see any examples of difficult behaviour during this time?’
Grant nodded, sending her tight curls bouncing around her chubby face. ‘Yes, I did. Multiple times. On one occasion, they were caught on security cameras throwing a chair through a classroom window. It smashed into the school greenhouse and shattered the glass.’
‘Smashing up a school building?’ Leeson sounded scandalised. ‘Was this typical of them?’
Grant cocked her head. ‘Well, there have been four or five recorded incidents of similar behaviour. They seem to have a problem with authority.’
‘I see.’ Leeson spent some minutes drawing out the details of the incidents in question. He painted a picture of a group of boys who feared and respected nothing, who scorned authority and acted on whim. These weren’t the respectable offspring of hardworking immigrants but insolent youths who cared for very little. With his message rendered clearly, he released the witness to Stark.
Amir’s lawyer stood up and regarded her with suspicion. ‘Ms Grant, you have been called here today to comment on the general character of my client, Mr Rabbani, and his co-defendants. As such, I assume you feel you know Mr Rabbani quite well?’
‘Yes. As their form tutor, I saw them every weekday morning and even taught some of their classes.’
‘“Even taught some of their classes,”’ echoed Stark. His patronising undertone was barely discernible. ‘So you know them well enough to make a judgement of their character would you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re a good judge of character?’
‘I would say so, yes.’
Stark turned to the lower bench. ‘For the court please, Mr Clerk.’ He held out a file for the clerk who passed it onto the judge. ‘If the court will indulge me, Ms Grant, can I take your mind back to September 2017?’
Grant shifted nervously. ‘Okay.’
‘Did anything significant happen then?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Not that I can recall.’
Zara grew rigid in the gallery. Stark had a poker face but she recognised the signs of triumph: the twitching curl of a lip, the gentle coaxing of a trap. What did he know that they did not?
Stark spoke patiently as if addressing a child. ‘Okay, can you now fast forward to December that year. Anything of interest now?’
Grant frowned, the lines thick and deep in her forehead. ‘No.’
‘Ms Grant, did you hire an Adam Pope in September 2017?’
The teacher’s face grew ashen.
‘Ms Grant?’
She took a shallow breath. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Is it fair to say you lobbied for him because as a NEET – for the court, that stands for ‘Not in Education, Employment or Training’ – he had neither the qualifications nor the experience to work in a school?’
‘I don’t know if “lobbied” is the right word.’
‘Campaigned? Championed?’ offered Stark. ‘Did you not tell the school council that you saw something in Mr Pope?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you know Mr Pope?’
‘I taught him.’
‘For how long?’
Grant glanced over at the jury. ‘Five years.’
‘For how many hours a week?’
‘I couldn’t say. Maybe about six.’
Stark nodded. ‘So is it fair to say you knew Mr Pope as well as you claim to know Mr Rabbani?’
‘I—’
Stark cut in: ‘Do you now recall what happened in December 2017?’
She swallowed. ‘Yes.’
‘Please do be so kind to share with the court.’
‘He—Mr Pope was removed from the school because he contravened the code of conduct.’
‘How so?’
‘He was removed because of inappropriate behaviour.’
‘Can you please elaborate, Ms Grant? There’s no point trying to evade the question.’
Grant’s chubby cheeks were now pink. She hesitated. ‘He had intercourse with one of our students.’
A gasp sprang forth from the gallery, almost as if Stark had planted it. Zara coiled tight with frustration. It was her team that had suggested Grant as a witness. Leeson would be livid.
‘And how old was she?’ asked Stark. ‘How old was the student that Mr Pope, himself twenty-one, had sex with?’
Grant looked beaten. ‘Fifteen.’
Stark spun to the jury. ‘Ms Grant with her excellent judge of character invited a sex offender into the school – campaigned for him even.’ His tone turned cold. ‘Ms Grant, if you are such an excellent judge of character, why did you not see that Adam Pope was a predator? If you were so wrong about him, what’s to say you’re right about Amir? What’s to say we can trust you on anything?’
Barbara Grant opened her mouth but remained at an utter loss.
Stark turned to the judge in triumph. ‘I have no more questions, My Lord.’
Judge Braun excused the witness and soon adjourned for the day. Zara stalked from the courtroom and immediately called Erin.
‘Madame,’ she answered in greeting.
‘Christ, Erin. I’ve just left the courtroom.’
‘What happened?’
‘I told you to vet the teacher.’ Zara’s voice was steely.
‘What happened?’ Erin was concerned but calm.
‘She hired a sex offender.’ Zara’s words were spoken quickly in short syllables that popped with anger. ‘Did you check her performance records? The school’s dismissal records?’
‘Of course I did. There was no mention of any of that.’
‘Well, Stark just fucked us. Come on, Erin. If he found out about it, we could have too.’ Zara knew that this would rile her.
‘Well, we don’t have huge pockets to pay every dickhead that might discredit a witness.’
‘Which is why we have you,’ snapped Zara.
Erin stalled, entirely unaccustomed to making mistakes. ‘Look, I screwed up,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry. Convince Sophie to talk. She’s due in tomorrow.’
Erin exhaled slowly. ‘Okay. I will.’
Zara hung up with a sigh. The teacher had unpicked the progress made by Dr Chase. The damage was done not by what she said, but that the prosecution chose her to say it. It signalled sloppiness and a lack of diligence – and if they were wrong about her, what’s to say they were right about the defendants? They needed Sophie to talk.
Zara slipped her phone in her bag and headed for the exit. Stepping outside, she heard a high-pitched male voice: ‘There she is!’ Across the street, a group of young teenagers – five boys and three girls – stood to attention. One of the boys snarled at her and then swore in a coarse Bengali, ‘Oi, sudowri, tuy kitha buzos beh? Amdar bhai-okol-tehrer jailor harayteh?’ The words were low and menacing. You fucking bitch, how dare you try to put our brothers in jail?
One of the girls spat on the floor in her direction. ‘Fungir-fungi,’ she shouted. ‘Boroh beti oygizos, na-ni?’ You think you’re a big woman now, don’t you?
The words struck Zara in staccato bursts, transporting her back to adolescence when her brother would use the refrain to belittle her. She felt immediately defensive and grappled with a need to explain. Here were people from her own community and she wanted them to understand why she was on Jodie’s side. It was easy to sit with Safran in a lavish restaurant and insist she didn’t care; it was entirely different to face the critics who mocked her so gleefully.
The teens laughed at her now as she stood in indecision. Before she could speak, two officers of the court crossed the street to clear them off. Zara cringed at her pathetic need for their approval. She swallowed the emotion like a stone, then squared her shoulders and stalked to her car, fully aware that reporters were recording her every move.
She drove to the Wentworth Estate with an update on the day’s events. In the stale smoke of Jodie’s bedroom, she recounted Barbara Grant’s testimony.
Jodie sat and listened, nodding only occasionally. ‘What happens if we lose?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Zara. ‘We’re a long way off from that.’
Jodie’s gaunt features were now lined in a frown. ‘Doesn’t the fact that Amir changed his story mean anything? He said I was nowhere near there and changed his story later.’
‘We’ll address that when he’s in the witness box. Please don’t worry. The fight is far from lost.’
Jodie grimaced. ‘Some days I wish I’d just forgotten the whole thing.’
Zara shook her head. ‘Jodie, it’s always worth the fight. Even when you lose, it’s worth it. Even when you know you’re going to lose, it’s worth it. One of my favourite lawyers said that true courage is when you know you’re beaten before you even begin, but you begin anyway and see it through to the end. You don’t often win, but sometimes you do.’
A soft smile spread on Jodie’s lips. ‘Atticus Finch? I didn’t expect sentimentality from you.’
Zara smiled too. ‘He was one of the good ones. I’m just not sure there are that many left in the world today.’
‘Lawyers or men?’ asked Jodie.
Zara sighed. ‘Both.’
Chapter Eight
Sophie Patel was a doe-eyed girl with the sort of inky lashes that made young boys falter. Dressed in a long-sleeved white blouse and baggy black trousers, she looked like a child playing dress-up. As she waited, her delicate fingers tucked and re-tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear.
Zara sensed Stark’s disdain over the admission of this witness. If her experience taught her anything, it was that he wouldn’t play nicely today. Still, she was relieved that they’d kept her on the witness list and that Erin had convinced her to talk. Sophie could prove crucial in revealing Amir’s nature.
Andrew Leeson stood and smoothed his gown. He turned to the witness and started: ‘Sophie, can you tell me how old you are?’
‘Sixteen.’ The girl’s voice was soft and fearful.
‘I believe you finished school at Bishop Patterson College in Acton Town this summer. What school did you go to before that?’
Sophie swallowed. ‘Before that, I went to Bow Road Secondary School. I left in 2017.’
‘Can you tell me why you left?’
Sophie’s gaze fluttered to the dock. ‘I got into some trouble at school and my parents didn’t want me there anymore.’
‘What do you mean by “trouble”?’
She hesitated. ‘Trouble with a boy.’ She glanced again at the dock. ‘He, um, Amir Rabbani, was in my class and kept asking me out. I kept saying no. My parents are very strict and never let me go out to the movies or anything like that, so he kept trying to get me to bunk off school. One day, it was inset day and Amir told me there would be a day-party at a warehouse.’ Sophie tucked a hair behind her ear. ‘I really wanted to go so I pretended I was going to school as normal. I changed clothes in some lifts down the road from where I live. Then I met Amir.’
‘What happened next?’
‘We went to a warehouse in Bow. There were a few other people there, smoking, drinking and getting off with each other.’ She gestured at the dock. ‘Amir and Hassan asked me if I wanted to smoke some weed. I had never had any before. I didn’t want to embarrass myself so I said yes. I smoked a little bit and tried to give it back because I was feeling lightheaded but they said I wouldn’t get the full effect unless I smoked it all, so I did.’ Sophie hesitated, trying to find her next words. ‘I felt really woozy. They told me to lie down because it would help and then … I felt his hands on me. Amir was undressing me. He had my jeans around my ankle and he took advantage.’
Leeson’s voice was gentle. ‘Can you tell me what happened exactly?’
Sophie took a trembling breath. ‘He put his hands in my knickers and began to push a finger inside me. I tried to move away from him but he told me to relax. He kept telling me to relax but I started to cry. A few others noticed but they didn’t do anything. He tried to stop me crying but I couldn’t help it. I felt like such an idiot but I’d never done something like that before. It was too fast.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘He got angry. He said I was killing his buzz and then he left me there on the floor of the warehouse.’
‘So, Amir and Hassan took you into a warehouse, fed you drugs, laid you on the floor and then Amir abused you. He got angry when you resisted and then he left you there. Is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you tell me what happened after that day?’
Sophie laced her fingers together, her childlike hands shaking perceptibly. ‘I tried to talk to Amir the next day. I don’t know what I wanted: a confession or apology, something that showed what he did was wrong.’
‘And what happened?’
‘He acted completely confused. He said he thought I wanted it and that he stopped as soon as I said no. He said he had no idea that I felt forced.’
‘And did you feel forced?’
Sophie grimaced. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘What was his reaction when you told him that?’
‘He brushed it off. He said I was making it into a big deal and it wasn’t one. He told me to “chill out”.’
‘And then what happened?’
Sophie blinked back tears. ‘Then I tried to do what he said. I tried to “chill out”. I tried to focus on classes but everything was in a jumble. I started to lose weight. I was having mood swings. I didn’t know who to talk to. Eventually I told my sister, and then my parents were told. The next thing I know we were moving away to the other side of the city.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the police?’ asked Leeson.
Sophie hesitated. ‘In our culture, these things don’t happen. We don’t talk about them. Me being there in the first place, that was bad enough. What happened to me – that didn’t bear thinking about.’
‘What are your feelings towards Amir Rabbani now?’
Sophie looked to the dock. ‘He ruined the person I used to be.’
‘And that’s why you’re here today?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t let him ruin someone else.’<
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Leeson nodded dolefully. ‘Thank you, Sophie. You’re very brave.’ With that, he concluded his questions.
Stark rose with a genial smile as his gown spread around him like a vulture’s wings. ‘Ms Patel, thank you for being here today. Before we go on, I want to tell you that I was brought up in a household of women. I have a mother but no father, two sisters but no brothers. I was taught to have respect for women so I take things like rape and abuse very, very seriously.’
Sophie nodded and visibly relaxed.
Zara tensed in her seat in contrast. Stark’s words were only borrowed platitude, a honeyed gambit designed to disarm. She willed the girl to stay wary but could see she was already yielding to his charm.
Stark frowned sympathetically. ‘I am saddened by the low conviction rate of rape. Unfortunately, the problem comes down to a “he-says, she-says” situation and without proof, we must always give the accused the benefit of the doubt.’ He paused. ‘Now, what’s happening here with you and Amir is slightly different in that you say A and B and C happened, and Amir also says that A and B and C happened. He doesn’t disagree that you went with him to the warehouse, that you chose to smoke marijuana and that he – with the zeal of a then fourteen-year-old boy – initiated physical activity. He agrees that you didn’t like it and he agrees that he stopped as soon as he realised you wanted to go no further. Now, can you tell me what in his version of events doesn’t tally with yours?’
Sophie hesitated. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Is there anything you say happened that Amir says didn’t happen?’
‘I—I’m not sure.’
‘So, for example, did he force you to smoke marijuana but is now saying he didn’t? Or, did he continue touching you after you said no, but is now claiming that he stopped? What is different between your story and his?’
Sophie considered this. ‘He said I wanted it and I didn’t.’
‘Did you tell him you didn’t want to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, so he starts to unbuckle your belt and you tell him no?’
‘Well, not then. I—’
‘Okay, so he goes a bit further and your jeans are around your ankles. Did you tell him no then?’