One Law For the Rest of Us

by Peter Murphy

‘Did Father Gerrard ever tell you who these men were, or why you were there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then, what happened?’

  ‘One of the men – he was a bit taller than the other man – asked me my name. So I told him.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘He said I looked very nice. The other man said, yes, I did look nice.’

  ‘Did either of the men do something?’

  She hesitated for some time.

  ‘Girl A, do you need a break, or…’

  ‘No. I’m all right.’

  ‘I was asking –’

  ‘The taller man was standing close to me. He loosened my nightdress and pulled it up.’

  ‘Then, what did he do?’

  ‘He pulled it almost all the way up, so that they could both see me.’

  ‘Girl A, what were you wearing under your nightdress?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What did he do then?’

  ‘He… touched me…’

  ‘The taller man?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How did he touch you? Can you tell us?’

  She nodded. ‘He put his fingers in my…’

  ‘Don’t lead her, please,’ Norris whispered. Ginny shot him a look of contempt.

  ‘Do you know the grown-up word for it? If not, use whatever word you would use at home.’

  ‘My… vag…’

  ‘Your vagina?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I told you not to lead,’ Norris snarled in a whisper.

  Ginny took two steps to her left and bent down close to whisper back.

  ‘For God’s sake, Norris. This isn’t the time to get technical. You’ll get your chance to cross-examine.’

  Norris laughed quietly. ‘Technical? Oh dear, we are getting fraught, aren’t we? Have I caught you at the wrong time of the month?’

  She got right in his face. ‘Why don’t you just fuck off?’

  ‘I only wish I could. This isn’t my idea of fun.’

  ‘Is there a problem, Miss Castle?’ Judge Rees asked.

  ‘No problem at all, my Lady,’ Ginny replied, returning to her side of counsel’s row. ‘I’m just explaining the rules of evidence to Mr Norris. If you remember, Girl A – and I understand that you may not remember exactly: but can you tell us how many fingers the taller man put inside you?’

  ‘Two, I think,’ she replied.

  ‘Could you see whether either of the men was doing anything else?’

  ‘I couldn’t see much because my nightdress was pulled up. But I could see that the shorter man was doing something.’

  ‘What was he doing?’

  ‘I don’t know, really: rubbing himself by his private parts.’

  ‘Could you see that clearly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could you see his private parts, or were they covered by his trousers?’

  ‘They were covered by his trousers.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘But another time when I went to the room, and there were two different men, they did take their private thing out of their trousers, and I had to touch them there.’

  ‘I see,’ Ginny said. ‘Well, let me ask you about that time, then. How long was that after the first time?’

  ‘Two or three weeks.’

  ‘In between your first and second times, were there times when Father Gerrard chose another girl to go with him?’

  ‘Yes, once or twice.’

  ‘And when you went the second time, the two men weren’t the same men as the first time?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Could you see their faces?’

  ‘No. They were wearing masks again.’

  ‘The same Lone Ranger masks?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you tell us anything about them?

  ‘They were a bit older than the first time. One was quite fat.’

  ‘And was the second time different from the first time, or did the same things happen?’

  ‘The same thing happened. But also…’

  ‘Take your time,’ Ginny said encouragingly.

  ‘I had to touch one of the men’s private thing – not the fat man, the other one.’

  ‘Touch it with your hand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘I rubbed it for a while, and it got all sticky, and then he took it away.’

  Ben was moving closer, to say something.

  ‘I’m sorry, my Lady, would you give me a moment?’

  ‘Of course, Miss Castle.’

  Ben whispered for some time. Ginny nodded.

  ‘Girl A, I’m not going to go through all the four times with you. I just have a few more questions. First, when the men were touching you, where was Father Gerrard?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. Somewhere in the room.’

  ‘He didn’t leave the room?’

  ‘No. He had to take me back upstairs to the dorm when they’d finished.’

  ‘Did Father Gerrard ever touch you himself, or did he ask you to touch him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘All right. You mentioned other girls who were chosen by Father Gerrard. I don’t want you to tell us their names, but did you give the names of the other girls to the police when they asked you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How many names did you give the police, do you remember?’

  ‘Three. They were –’

  ‘That’s all right, Girl A. I don’t want to ask you anything else about that. I only have one more thing I want to ask you. How did it make you feel when the men did those things to you?’

  Finally, her composure melted away in a flood of tears.

  ‘Twenty minutes,’ Judge Rees said, as the female usher led Emily out of court along the corridor behind the bench.

  After the judge had left the bench and the jury had retired to their room, Ginny walked quickly over to Norris.

  ‘If you ever speak to me again like that in court, you shit,’ she said, ‘I’ll put my knee somewhere where it will make your eyes water and make it very hard to breathe. And then I’ll report you to your benchers and have you disciplined. Do I make myself clear?’

  She walked away without waiting for a reply.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Ben asked anxiously when she joined him at the door of the court on his way out.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ she replied, perfectly calmly. ‘I just had to sort something out with Norris.’

  ‘I was very frightened,’ Emily said. ‘I didn’t understand what they were doing, and I thought they might really hurt me. And I thought it was wrong.’

  ‘And I’m sure the masks must have made it even more frightening for you?’ Ginny asked, with a look in the direction of Anthony Norris that dared him to object to her leading the witness. He remained silent, staring straight ahead of him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘After the four times, or about four times, when Father Gerrard took you to the library, did you tell your parents what had happened?’

  She nodded. ‘I told my mum when I went home for a weekend.’

  ‘Why did you tell her?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want it to happen any more. I was frightened.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Ginny replied comfortingly. ‘What did your mum say?’

  ‘She told me not to be frightened, and she said I didn’t have to go back to that school. Ever.’

  Ginny glanced at Ben, who nodded.

  ‘That’s all I want to ask you, Girl A,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very brave. Thank you very much.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Norris,’ the judge said.

  To Ginny’s surprise, any trace of aggression in Norris seemed to d
isappear as he stood to cross-examine. He suddenly adopted his quietest and most charming manner.

  ‘My name’s Anthony Norris, Girl A. I’m one of those older men who doesn’t have much hair left,’ he smiled. ‘That’s why they make me wear this silly wig.’

  She laughed with him.

  ‘I’ve only got a couple of questions for you. I won’t take long. Before the first time when you say Father Gerrard took you, had any of the other girls been taken from your dorm?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t want you to say their names, but can you tell me how many?’

  ‘Two,’ Emily replied.

  ‘Two. All right. So, you weren’t the first?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And before you say you were taken, did those two girls tell you what had happened to them?’

  Emily nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Girl A, the court reporter has to make a note…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They told you they’d been touched, and they’d had to touch a man?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. And, if that’s true, you must have known what to expect when you were taken: isn’t that right?’

  ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘I’m sure it must have worried you – in fact, I’m sure it must have worried all the girls in the dorm?’

  ‘I didn’t think it would happen to me. I hoped it wouldn’t.’

  ‘No, but it must have worried you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Before you say you were taken the first time, had you ever heard your mum talking about anything that happened to her while she was at school?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you know now, don’t you, that your mum says the same thing happened to her, many years ago, when she was at school?’

  ‘It did happen to her.’

  ‘What I’m asking is, whether you ever heard your mum talking about it, before the first time you say you were taken?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure? Are you sure that what you’ve told us today isn’t just something you heard from someone else?’

  ‘Something someone told me?’

  ‘Yes, exactly. And perhaps you got confused and thought it had happened to you? It’s quite understandable. Is that what happened?’

  ‘No… it did happen.’

  ‘Is it fun to have a mysterious name like Girl A, and say things from behind the screen where Father Gerrard can’t see you?’

  ‘No…’

  ‘My Lady…’ Ginny protested.

  ‘That’s enough, Mr Norris,’ Judge Rees said.

  ‘I have nothing further,’ Norris replied.

  There was a silence for some time. Then there was the sound of a chair falling over, and the witness pushed her way past the screen into open court. The usher tried to stop her, but Emily was too quick for her. Emily stared into the dock at Father Gerrard.

  ‘I’m not Girl A, Father Gerrard,’ she said. ‘My name is Emily Marshall. And it did happen. You know it did.’

  19

  ‘My first point, my Lady,’ Anthony Norris said, when they resumed at two o’clock, ‘is this: there’s no point in keeping the names of the witnesses from the jury, now that Girl A has publicly identified herself in open court.’

  Emily’s sensational revelation had taken everyone in court by surprise. Witnesses who were entitled to withhold their identity rarely proclaimed it in the courtroom, and they certainly didn’t proclaim it as dramatically as Emily had. It was a novel experience for judge and barristers alike, and Judge Rees had adjourned until after lunch to allow everyone to recover from the shock, and to decide what, if anything, should be done about it. Before adjourning, she had warned the press not to report Emily’s identity; but she was not even entirely sure that she was right to do that, and she knew that a lunch hour of work in chambers or the court’s library lay ahead.

  ‘My Lady,’ Ginny replied, ‘it’s a matter that each of the witnesses must decide for herself. I will ask Mr Caswell to speak with them in the light of what has happened. It may be that in the circumstances, they will agree to their names being used; but equally, they may not.’

  ‘The jury already know that Woman A is the mother of Girl A,’ Norris pointed out. ‘My learned friend Mr Schroeder opened that fact to the jury – as he had to: it’s an essential part of the prosecution’s evidence. So it’s particularly pointless in her case.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean she automatically forfeits the right,’ Ginny replied.

  Norris scoffed. ‘In that case, my Lady, can we call Father Gerrard “Priest A” for the rest of the trial?’

  Judge Rees shot him a disapproving look, but then turned to Ginny.

  ‘Mr Norris does have a point, Miss Castle, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Anonymity is a matter of law, my Lady. It doesn’t come to an end because my learned friend or I – or, I venture to say, with respect, even your Ladyship – may think that it’s no longer necessary. But, as I have said, I will cause inquiries to be made. We shall have to see what the witnesses decide.’

  ‘Yes, very well,’ the judge replied. ‘But that must be done before you call the witnesses, Miss Castle. I must give the press directions that make some kind of sense about what they are, and are not, allowed to report.’

  ‘I see Mr Caswell leaving court now, my Lady,’ Ginny replied. ‘Both witnesses are in the building, and I would anticipate that we will have an answer quite quickly.’

  ‘What else, Mr Norris?’

  ‘My Lady, I’m very concerned about the evidence the prosecution proposes to put before the jury. It’s unreliable and dangerous.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, let’s take Woman B. She’s come forward at the last minute, saying that she wants to give evidence, despite having told the investigating police officer on a previous occasion that she wouldn’t. I’ve been provided with a statement she’s made, which suggests that, like Woman A, she’s claiming to have been abused in the early 1940s. The two women were at school at the same time. Unlike Woman A, she says that her memory has continued uninterrupted throughout the long period between the 1940s and the present time, and that obviously raises the question of why she would choose this particular time to come forward.’

  ‘Which you will no doubt ask her about when you cross-examine, Mr Norris,’ the judge smiled.

  ‘Yes, my Lady. I can deal with it in that way, but it’s hardly satisfactory.’ He paused. ‘And then when we come to Woman A, there are even greater problems.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘My Lady, Woman A says that she had no recollection whatsoever of the abuse she now says she suffered, until her daughter told her what she has told the jury today. She was so blissfully unaware of what these men had done to her in the 1940s that she didn’t think twice about sending her daughter to the same school as a boarder in the 1970s. But – lo and behold, abracadabra – as soon as her daughter utters the fateful words, she instantly remembers everything in excruciating detail – including the identity of her three abusers, whose photographs conveniently appear in The Times soon afterwards.’

  ‘Again, Mr Norris, those are matters you can ask her about in cross-examination, aren’t they?’ Judge Rees suggested, but not without some hesitation.

  ‘Well, I can ask her, of course. But there comes a time when that is not sufficient. If evidence is so thin that it’s little more than speculation, it’s dangerous to leave that evidence to a jury; and if it’s dangerous to leave evidence to the jury, your Ladyship has a duty to exclude it. There’s no other way to ensure that Father Gerrard has a fair trial.’

  ‘I can direct the jury to treat her evidence with great caution and analyse it carefully. We do that all the time in criminal trials.’

  ‘With respect, my Lady, t
hat’s rather like letting a rat loose in the jury box and then telling the jury to ignore it. It’s asking too much of them.’

  Judge Rees smiled, but did not reply.

  ‘The problem,’ Norris continued, ‘is that there can be no guarantee that Woman A’s memories are accurate. What if it’s her imagination at work, rather than her memory? What if none of this ever happened, except in Woman A’s mind? What if her memories have been created, rather than recovered?’

  ‘Created by what?’ the judge asked.

  ‘By what her daughter said; by something she once heard Woman B – or Woman C or Woman D or Woman E – say at some time in the 1940s; by something she read somewhere in the course of the last thirty years; or by suggestion of any kind: that’s the point – there’s no way for the jury to know.’

  Judge Rees nodded. ‘Miss Castle, I’m not entirely unsympathetic to Mr Norris’s concerns. We are in uncharted waters here.’

  ‘In my submission, your Ladyship’s first reaction was correct,’ Ginny replied. ‘These are all matters my learned friend can ask about in cross-examination, but at the end of the day, they are matters for the jury to decide. There is no reason not to trust the jury to weigh up the evidence and form their own view about it.’

  The judge was silent for some time.

  ‘With some reservations,’ she concluded, ‘I think that the justice of the case requires me to allow the evidence to go before the jury. So that’s what I’m going to do.’ She looked at both counsel in turn. ‘But – and I emphasise this, Miss Castle – I’m going to see how the land lies after she’s given evidence. If at that stage I feel uneasy about it, I will discharge the jury and order a retrial – without the evidence of Woman A. I hope that’s clear.’

  ‘Perfectly, my Lady,’ Ginny replied. ‘I’m much obliged.’

  20

  Audrey Marshall

  After Emily’s humbling, shaming display of courage this morning, I can no longer be Woman A. I am Audrey Marshall; I am Emily Marshall’s mother; I am Joan Patterson’s sister; and I am Ken Marshall’s wife; and I’m proud and honoured to play, and to have played, all of those roles. My daughter has made herself the conscience of the case. By stepping out of the shadows, she has shown me the way, and I will no longer hide behind a screen or an anonymous letter of the alphabet.