We were led into the witness area of the court. We sat in a small room and waited. MORE WAITING. The barrister was going to come in and explain what would happen. He went through what would happen. What to expect. He would be first than his defence. If anything was unclear, ask to have it explained again. Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I started to freak out. I couldn’t breathe. I started crying. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop it. It just came like lightening. Once I had calmed down, everyone left. I was left to watch my video.
I sat in the room and watched my video. The policemen I watched it with commented I should be prepared for them to ask me – why I was so jovial in my telling of what had happened to me. In truth, this was the moment I felt completely let down by them. It haunts me to this day. And even more so when I knew we had to go through it all again. I started to panic.
You are lead into the dock with the police and the usher. Asked to make your confirmation. Then you take a deep breath and pray.
For what seemed like a lifetime, you are asked a million questions. You bat back your answer. You try to keep calm. But it’s not always easy. By the end of it, you are in tears.
I left the courtroom feeling so pleased. I had spoken my truth. I had looked up and seen one of the jury was crying with me. She must have believed me. They must believe me.
I went home, still shaking. When I got home I told my husband what I had been through, how I thought they had believed me. There I was again. On cloud 9.
My husband warned me to be gentle with myself. I might not be there for long. Still I felt great. We didn’t go into work on the Friday. It was too raw. I wasn’t going to be able to handle my work. I needed some space. We went for dinner and celebrated that at least it was over. I had done all that I could. It was up to the Jury now. And what a mess they made of it.