by Kia Abdullah
‘I know. Thank you.’ She leaned back in her chair and drained her glass, failing to notice the two Asian men behind Safran, watching them both intently.
Chapter Nine
Zara stood by the bathroom sink and peeled off her waterfall coat, shaking the rain off the soft cream folds. The damp sleeves of her smart black sweater clung clammily to her wrists as she rifled through her bag and pulled out a paddle brush. She swept it through her hair, swallowing up the tiny wisps of frizz and leaving it sleek once more. She gathered it up in a neat bun, taking care to secure the few stray strands. The reporters outside had already stolen a hundred pictures of her today but she wanted to look immaculate in the courtroom. More than ever, she needed her armour of poise.
Soon after she took her seat in the gallery, she heard a noise to her right. A man – white, balding and in his mid-forties – imitated grabbing her arse and shoving his crotch into it. Zara averted her gaze and fixed it on the judge. In her periphery, a marshal marched out the offending man while the reporters gleefully scribbled in his wake.
Judge Braun met Zara’s gaze. Something in his expression dislodged a distant emotion: an unspoken yearning for forgiveness tinged with bitter shame. She choked it down and looked away.
‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘I trust you have had an eventful weekend.’ A brief pause. ‘Before we start, I would like to take a moment to repeat what I said at the beginning of this trial. It is your duty as members of the jury to disregard anything related to this case that you see, read or hear outside this courtroom. This applies to everyone including the victim, the defendants, the counsel and even myself. I may look like a boring old codger but I have some interesting habits, I can tell you.’
A shock of laughter rose across the courtroom. Zara flushed with gratitude. The judge’s words, deftly delivered, had defused the stifling tension.
Stark stood for his opening speech. ‘Members of the jury, thank you for being here today. I’d like to start with a question if I may. Do any of you have teenage daughters?’ More than half the jurors raised their hands. ‘Then you’ll know that there’s no obsession stronger than that of a teenage girl’s. Mine? She loves a boy called Tyler King. He’s an American YouTube star of all things. I don’t understand it but millions of teenage girls are in love with him. They watch his videos religiously, they send him messages of love on Twitter, tag him in provocative pictures on Instagram, send him marriage proposals and fan mail. They are, to all intents and purposes, genuinely in love: a normal teenager’s way of processing the feelings of love before maturing.
‘Amir Rabbani is no YouTube star but he’s had a taste of obsessive attention. Jodie Wolfe is obsessed with my client and has been so since they started secondary school five years ago. We will call witnesses that will corroborate this; witnesses that know Ms Wolfe better than any of us.
‘Now, what does an obsessed teen do when a boy ignores her advances? She escalates her behaviour. She sends him suggestive images, she corners him at parties and she persists. She may even get him alone and offer him oral sex and relay it in all its descriptive glory. Amir’s only mistake was relenting to Jodie. After five years of issuing rejection and rebuffs, he finally gave in to her. They went to the warehouse together and there, she proceeded to fulfil those promises she had so enticingly whispered in his ear. After the fact, when she saw that Amir’s friends were watching, she realised that this wasn’t the beginning of a blossoming romance, but a fleeting, purely physical encounter. She realised that Amir wasn’t going to whisk her off her feet and announce to the whole school that now the cricket captain was committed to her and her only. She knew she would be ridiculed for offering herself up and so she hit back in the only way she could: she threatened to ruin their lives.
‘Amir was too scared to admit the consensual sex he had with Jodie because he is exceedingly aware of the great expectations placed on him by his family. Amir was trying to protect his parents from pain. Jodie Wolfe lied because she was hurt – emotionally, not physically. Nobody forced her to do anything.
‘Members of the jury, these four young boys are from honest, hardworking families. Farid Khan’s father is a greengrocer and his mother runs a women’s group that meets every week to learn English. They have worked their whole lives to give that boy the opportunity to pull his family out of poverty. This summer, he was awarded ten A-grades at GCSE. His request to defer his place in college because of this trial has been denied.
‘Amir’s father is a local businessman and has donated thousands to charities over the years, most recently saving the Brockney Bridge community centre. Amir’s mother was a parent governor at his school for five years, heavily involved in policy.
‘Mohammed’s father is a local butcher who has worked for years in the community. His mother is a tailor and runs a small business of her own. Hassan’s father works in a restaurant and his mother supports the family. These are good, hardworking people who have brought up their sons to be diligent and dedicated. To think these boys would throw it all away for a tryst with Jodie Wolfe is an insult to their families. You have a great responsibility. You must choose: do we opt to ruin four boys’ lives because of one girl’s unproven tale – sad as it may be – or do we listen to what the evidence actually proves? Again: do we listen to what the evidence actually proves?’
Stark regarded the jurors gravely. ‘You must choose the only tenable verdict in this case. Amir Rabbani and his friends are not guilty. That is the only verdict that is just and fair and right. You must choose a verdict of not guilty. Thank you.’
Zara’s heart felt leaden in her chest. Stark was an extraordinarily skilled barrister. Presenting the boys as products of the immigrant dream was deeply affecting. Their parents’ struggles in the country and their efforts to raise good children chimed with Zara’s own story. As she looked to the jury, she saw that they felt the same. They sat, still and solemn, in a patchwork of empathy and doubt. Could they really convict four promising young boys based on Jodie’s word? How could they know for sure? Stark took a moment to allow his words to echo. Then he called his first witness.
Nina Sahari entered the witness box, dressed in a cream smock dress with a pale blue Peter Pan collar. Her silky black hair was tucked chastely behind her ears and her bare skin was radiant despite the sickly fluorescent lights.
She looks like a fucking choirgirl, thought Zara, unnaturally angry at Nina’s betrayal.
‘Ms Sahari, may I call you Nina?’ asked Stark, pausing for permission. ‘Nina, you went to the party in question on Thursday the twenty-seventh of June 2019. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who did you go with?’
‘With Jodie, my best friend.’ Nina’s voice was calm and measured, her Valley Girl exuberance dialled down to zero.
‘Did you meet her at the party?’
‘No, I picked her up at her house. I was lending her some clothes.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, I was lending her this red lace top I thought she would look really pretty in. She asked me to bring these low-rise jeans I always wear at home. I—’ she hesitated. ‘I told her that she couldn’t wear underwear with them because they were so low but she had a new pair she wanted to try out: a black thong.’
The courtroom stilled. Zara sat rigid as she watched Nina’s wide-eyed innocence and false hesitation. She cast the jury a glance and was disheartened to see them entranced.
‘And was there anything else unusual about that night?’ asked Stark.
Leeson stood up to object. ‘My Lord, highly ambiguous.’
The judge agreed. ‘Mr Stark, ask something answerable please.’
Stark apologised and turned back to Nina. ‘Did Jodie often wear clothes that exposed her underwear?’
‘My Lord!’ cried Leeson, back on his feet. ‘This is appalling! Are we really to resort to victim blaming?’
‘The Crown has a point, Mr Stark,’ said the judge.
Stark bowed his head
in contrition. ‘I apologise but, My Lord, I’m not calling into question Ms Wolfe’s morality. I merely want to establish if she was behaving out of character that night; if perhaps the party spirit had induced her to take actions she would not normally take.’
Judge Braun frowned. ‘Okay, Mr Stark, but you’re treading a fine line.’
‘Thank you, My Lord.’
Zara stewed in her seat. The genteel parlance and joshing overtures of the British courts were charming on the surface but glossed over things so ugly. ‘Appalling’ is not the word she would use to describe Stark’s question. Outrageous, disgraceful or fetid were more fitting.
Stark turned back to the witness box. ‘I’ll repeat the question: did Jodie often wear clothes that exposed her underwear?’
‘No, she didn’t,’ said Nina. ‘She … was embarrassed about the way she looked.’
‘Can you tell me about Jodie’s relationship with Amir Rabbani?’
Nina hesitated. ‘Well, it wasn’t really a relationship. Jodie was in love with Amir but it was entirely one-sided.’
‘And do you have proof of this?’ Stark picked up a piece of paper as if it were written proof.
Nina shrugged. ‘Well, she would tell me. She would send him messages online and stare at him in the cafeteria. Everyone knew it. They teased Amir about it but he tried not to respond.’
Stark bowed his head a touch. ‘Thank you for being honest, Ms Sahari. I know you’re Jodie’s best friend so this can’t be easy.’
Zara exhaled a long, low breath. Was there anything as cold as the gilded betrayal of a teenage girl?
Stark continued: ‘On the night of the twenty-seventh of June, did you see Amir with Jodie?’
‘No, I lost her a little while after we arrived. I thought maybe she got bored and went home.’
‘Did Jodie tell you what happened the next day?’
‘No.’
‘The day after that?’
‘No.’
‘The day after that?’
‘No.’
Leeson sighed loudly from the prosecution table. Zara would have done exactly the same.
Stark moved on, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘When did she tell you?’
‘About a week later.’
‘And what was your reaction?’
Nina grimaced. ‘Honestly? I laughed. Everyone knew she was in love with Amir so I thought it was a joke.’
‘My Lord.’ Leeson was on his feet. ‘The witness cannot possibly know the thoughts of “everyone” and she certainly cannot present it as testimony in court!’
‘I’ll accept that,’ said Judge Braun. ‘Members of the jury, please disregard the witness’s last statement.’
Zara glared at Nina in the witness box. The damage had been done. It was clear that Jodie’s best friend didn’t believe her story. With that fact established, Stark happily handed the floor to the prosecuting team.
Leeson stood without greeting and said: ‘Ms Sahari, would you say that you are insecure?’
The girl blinked in surprise. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Would you say that you are insecure?’
She frowned. ‘I would say all sixteen-year-old girls are.’
Good answer, thought Zara. There was more to this girl than her sweet smile and perfect hair.
Leeson remained stony-faced. ‘Can you answer the question?’
‘Not especially insecure, no.’
Leeson looked to the judge. ‘My Lord, if you will indulge me, I’d like to ask some tangential questions to establish the credibility of the witness.’ He paused for permission, then turned back to Nina. ‘Ms Sahari, are you asked out on a lot of dates?’
She shrugged. ‘Yes, I guess so.’
‘Has Amir ever asked you out?’
She stilled, eyes flicking to the dock. ‘No … why?’
‘Is it true that you asked Amir out to year ten prom and he said no?’
Nina reddened. ‘I didn’t ask him out. I—I just suggested that we could go together.’
‘And did you go together?’
‘No.’
Leeson feigned surprise. ‘I see. Would it be fair to say that Amir Rabbani is one of the few boys at your school that you couldn’t have?’
Nina faltered. ‘I never tried to have him so I wouldn’t know.’
‘Did it irk you when your best friend told you that Amir had forced himself upon her? The same Amir who had summarily rejected you?’
‘No. Of course not!’
‘Nina, isn’t it true that you were involved in a physical altercation – a catfight – with the girl Amir did take to the prom?’
‘It wasn’t my fault. She started it.’
‘There is evidence that during this fight, you shouted the words “back off him, you bitch, or I’ll kill you”. Who was the “him” you were talking about?’
Nina’s eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t think she was good for Amir.’
A murmur rose in the courtroom. Zara tried not to smile as she noted the change in Nina’s body language: chest puffed out defiantly, chin held high haughtily.
‘And you were good for Amir?’ asked Leeson.
‘It wasn’t like that.’ Nina’s sweet tone was now testy.
‘Yes, it was, Ms Sahari. You imagined yourself with Amir – together the Queen and King of your school – but he repeatedly rebuffed you and when you heard that he forced himself on your best friend, you were livid, weren’t you?’
‘No!’ The word snapped with disgust.
‘You were consumed by jealousy weren’t you, Nina? That’s why you’re here? To discredit Jodie for your own gain?’
‘No.’ Nina’s face flushed with colour.
‘Why are you lying, Nina?’
‘I’m not.’ Her voice grew high.
‘You are lying. Why?’
‘I’m not!’
‘You are.’
‘I’m not fucking lying!’ Nina’s voice rang high and clear across the courtroom, cutting through the hushed surprise.
Leeson nodded once. ‘I have no more questions, My Lord.’
Zara caught the trace of victory dancing on his lips. With a glance around the courtroom, she too allowed herself a smile.
In the court cafeteria, Zara spotted Mia a few tables over. She picked up her tray and headed over. ‘Please don’t say you’re here to see me. I’m not sure I can handle another surprise.’
Mia shook her head and swallowed a mouthful of lasagne. ‘No, I’m testifying on another case.’ She gestured to the seat opposite and waited as Zara slid in. ‘The crowds are quieter today.’
Zara shrugged. ‘It’s still early.’
‘You want me to stick around this evening? I heard things got ugly on Thursday.’
Zara felt a jolt of unease. There was something uniquely alarming about a mob on the edge of control, but she refused to be intimidated. ‘Thank you, but I’ll be fine.’
Mia studied her for a minute, then set down her fork. ‘Listen, one thing I’ve learnt in this job is that it’s okay to take slack when you get it. You don’t always have to be clutching the end of a rope and desperately dragging yourself up. If someone offers you a respite, it’s okay to accept.’
Zara nodded. ‘I know.’
Mia pushed away her tray. ‘I don’t think you do. I’ll spare you the life story but I’ll tell you this: when I joined the force, I wouldn’t give an inch. I knew I had to be twice as good to get half the praise. I knew I couldn’t show weakness. I knew I had to be brave. I knew I had to be amazing every single day of every single week. Or so I thought. I’ve seen grown men break down after a harrowing interview, throw up at crime scenes, drink on the job, go mad with insomnia. I’ve seen a six foot four hulk of a cop huddled in a corner, sobbing out his guts. So let me repeat myself: it’s okay to take slack when you can get it.’
Zara swallowed. After a long moment, she said, ‘You’re right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘You’re right and I’d be really bloody grateful if you could w
ait for me tonight.’
Mia nodded once. ‘I’ll be there.’ She glanced at her watch, then gathered up her trash and left Zara at the table, head hung low and shoulders hunched forward.
The anticipation was almost predatory in vigour. The court reporters sat poised like jackals, their bodies angled forward as if readying to pounce. Zara recognised one in the front row: the haughty blonde who had chased her way into Jodie’s home. The woman sat there now, chin high and pen poised as if she missing a single word would shake the very foundations of truth and justice. Next to her sat a wizened broadsheet reporter. His markedly aloof stance was betrayed by his eyes which darted left and right, then back and forth, restless in expectation. The twelve jurors waited in silence. The older Asian woman in the front row held her scarf to her chest like a concerned mother watching her son. Amir stood in the witness box with his green eyes lowered, solemn and respectful. Dressed in a grey suit, salmon shirt and thin black tie, he looked handsome and wholesome, an exemplary mix of East and West.
‘Amir, I know this has been a difficult time for you,’ started Stark. ‘It’s not easy to stay calm like you have, so for that I commend you. Today, I will ask you some difficult questions and I want you to answer honestly and as accurately as possible. Does that sound okay?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Stark nodded his thanks. ‘Four days ago, we heard the testimony of a young woman called Sophie Patel with whom you had an encounter two years ago. Do you agree with her opinion that you assaulted her?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And why is that?’
Amir bit his lip. ‘Because I thought she was okay with it. I’m not the kind of person that would force myself on a woman. I have never done that.’
‘Ms Patel admitted that she said no only after the fact. Is that correct?’
‘That’s right. As soon as I realised she didn’t want to go any further, I stopped.’
‘Thank you. Now, I want to take you to the evening of Thursday the twenty-seventh of June 2019. When, in the evening, did you come across Jodie Wolfe?’
Amir frowned. ‘I saw her sitting on a wall outside the party. The boys and I had had enough of the bad pop music and just wanted to relax. They were heading over to the warehouse and I said I would catch up.’