‘I hope your lines are better than his,’ I say.
Jason laughs out loud, then leans back into to my ear.
‘You gotta tell me one of the lines he said to you.’
I try to think back. I remember them being explicitly cheesy, yet can’t remember any of them word-for-word.
‘Oh something like ‘Is your dad a boxer, because you are a knockout’.’
We both burst out laughing; so loud that the couple standing next to us at the bar stop talking just to stare.
‘Ah Jason Kenny,’ the fella says, holding his hand out. ‘Ye bloody legend!’
I play with my hair, try to keep calm. But I’m excited. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to go out with someone famous; someone other people look up to. I just stand back and watch as the fella stands with his arm wrapped around Jason while his girlfriend takes a photo of them together. When they’re done, I lean in to Jason – just to let everyone know he’s with me. Jee… I am changing. I am lightening up. Maybe Jason is Mr Right for me. I’ve never felt this comfortable in any man’s company before. It’s so strange — we’ve only known each other for about ten minutes.
‘So… can you beat that?’ I ask him as he leans back on the bar.
‘Beat what?’
‘Is your dad a boxer?’
We laugh again. Almost in sync.
‘I think I can,’ he says.
I raise my eyebrows, signal to him that I’m ready to hear what he has to offer.
‘Well, let me ask you this first: what are your plans tomorrow?’
Wow; now that is a good opening line. He’s already talking about the future. Our future.
‘I eh… I say,’ swiping strands of my hair away from my eyes. ‘I don’t have any plans tomorrow.’
‘And eh.. do you have any photo ID on you tonight?’
‘Huh?’ I say, wrinkling my brow.
‘Do you have photo ID with you?’
‘Yeah… why?’ I ask, really slowly.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘We’re flying to Newcastle tonight and you’re coming with us.’
8
A light knock rattles the door. Number Nine — being nearest to the door — stands up, takes three steps and opens it. The other jurors can’t see the face on the other side of the door, just the paperwork being handed over to their peer.
‘Thanks a mill,’ Number Nine says, offering the young man dressed in black a polite smile.
She strolls back over to the table and stretches across it to hand Number One the notes.
‘Okay, here we go,’ he says, licking his finger and then flicking through the three sheets.
‘It was about half-way through his testimony,’ says Number Twelve, trying to be helpful.
‘Hang on,’ Number One says, before humming to himself as he tries to speed-read through the pages. ‘Got it.’
He sits more upright, both elbows now resting on the table. ‘“They were laughing and joking all the time,’” he reads. “‘They looked like boyfriend and girlfriend” – and then Mr Ryan asks: “Yes, but that was just your assumption, right? That they were boyfriend and girlfriend?” – Scott answers, “Yes, of course — my assumption. That’s what I even told police when they interviewed me. I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend, found out much later — when the investigation was going on — that they weren’t.” Ryan then asks: “You told Gardaí that even though you assumed they were boyfriend and girlfriend you thought she — and I quote — “wore the trousers”, yes?’’ Okay – and this is the sentence we’re looking for… Scott then answered: “she was in control, laughing, joking. I can’t remember what they were saying, but I got the impression she was having more fun than him. She was doing all the laughing.”’
‘Ah, so – “she was having more fun than him, she was doing all the laughing” – I knew it was something like that,’ Number Twelve says. ‘So… what does this tell us?’
‘Well, it contradicts her testimony, doesn’t it?’ Brian says. ‘Sabrina said she was trying to get Zach away from her, that he kinda made her go onto the rickshaw; that all she wanted to do was go back to the club.’
The jury room falls silent. Each juror trying to soak in the opposing testimonies of Sabrina and an eye-witness called by the defence – a Mr Donagh Scott. Scott was only eighteen when he pulled up in his rickshaw outside Copper Face Jacks at ten-forty on the night in question, to be met by Sabrina and Zach running towards him.
Scott testified on the stand that it was indeed Zach who called to him first, that he didn’t notice whether Sabrina was reluctant to get on the rickshaw or not. But he did testify that she seemed more than comfortable when she was taking the ride.
‘She wasn’t just comfortable, she was enjoying herself, I thought,’ Scott said on the stand. ‘I remember her laughing and joking.’
He admitted he remembered Zach and Sabrina clearly from that night, because he thought the girl was ‘particularly attractive’. He remembered thinking Zach had ‘done well for himself’.
‘This Donagh guy isn’t the first witness to contradict statements made by Sabrina. The photographer Patrick Clavin, Donagh now — and obviously the other two; Jason and Zach — they all contradict almost everything she has said. She is the common denominator here… perhaps she is just a consistent liar?’
‘Well of course Jason and Li would contradict what Sabrina is saying. She believes she was raped, they don’t believe they raped her. Of course they have opposite views — that’s bleedin obvious,’ Number Five says.
‘Yesh, but Patrick Clavin the photographer and Donagh Scott — they’re both independent witnesses. I mean they don’t need to lie, do they? They don’t gain anything,’ Brian says, offering up his opinion for the first time in two minutes, an unusually quiet break for him.
‘Well, we could say the same about the journalist guy that testified against Jason and Zach — what’s his name again?
‘Frank Keville,’ says Number One.
‘Yes, Mr Keville — he is an independent witness too and he has differences of opinions to Jason Kenny and Zach Brophy. Does that make them consistent liars too? And… for the record, this Donagh Scott guy — nice as he is — his testimony is kinda pointless, isn’t it? It’s all assumption. If he assumed Sabrina and Zach were boyfriend and girlfriend — and we know for a fact that that assumption was wrong — then maybe all of his assumptions are wrong. Maybe his assumption that Sabrina was enjoying the rickshaw ride has been wrong all along too.’
‘Yeah — that is a point Sabrina’s lawyer raised in court. How valid is this guy’s testimony anyway?’ asks Number Six.
‘Well, if the judge allowed it, it’s valid. He was an eye-witness in the middle of the night in question. We have to take on board what he said.’
Scott’s testimony didn’t do the prosecution any favours. It painted Sabrina in a bad light, suggesting she was flirting up a storm with Zach. If any jury member felt it was accurate that she was flirting with both Zach and Jason during the night in question, then it enhances the argument that the intercourse that took place later in the hotel room was consensual.
‘I just… I can’t,’ Number Four rubs his face with his palm. ‘My mind keeps changing. I keep feeling sorry for Sabrina, thinking these men raped her, then the next minute I think she’s just a liar.’
‘Everybody,’ Brian says, rotating both his arms as if he is a preacher addressing his congregation, ‘we keep falling into the trap of making ashumptions, opinions. It’s not about what we feel. We can’t pass judgement based on how we feel. We need to go by the evidensh.’
‘Change the record, Brian,’ Number Five says.
‘It needs re-emphasi—’
‘Hold on,’ Number Twelve says, interrupting Brian’s comeback. ‘Brian is right. We take each piece of evidence at its merit. Here,’ he says pointing at the sheets of paper in Number One’s grasp, ‘we have an eye-witness testifying that Sabrina wasn’t uncomfortable on that rickshaw, okay? We have to put that
in our pocket and move on. It is evidence that perhaps suggests Sabrina isn’t always truthful.’
‘Well, we could put it in our pocket — as you say — as evidence that doesn’t paint Sabrina in a good light. But I will put it in my pocket as evidence I won’t consider too strongly,’ Number Eleven says.
It’s been a while since Number Eleven voluntarily offered her thoughts.
‘Donagh Scott’s testimony is all based on assumption,’ she continues. ‘He doesn’t know how Sabrina was feeling. He can’t have known. Yes, we should all put it in our pocket as evidence, but not necessarily how you see it, Number Twelve. How we individually see it — and that may be differently. We all have our own perception on this.’
Number Eleven’s starting to grow in confidence as deliberations drag on. She, too, sick of listening to the same voices over and over again.
Number Eleven has had a strong feeling that the three men raped Sabrina. She was particularly disturbed by the doctor’s evidence towards the end of the trial.
Doctor Dermot Johnson examined Sabrina two days after the alleged rape, testifying on the stand that Sabrina had suffered an internal cut on the night in question. But he also emphasised that this type of cut can appear as a result of consensual sex, not just forced sex.
Even so, Number Eleven was appalled by his testimony. The images Sabrina’s lawyer showed in court of similar internal cuts, tattooed Number Eleven’s mind. From the moment Doctor Johnson left the stand, Number Eleven was convinced Jason, Zach and Li raped Sabrina.
Number Eleven is a forty-one-year-old mother of three from Tallaght called Magdelena Andris. She’s been a resident in Dublin her whole life after her parents emigrated from their home city of Saldus in Latvia back in 1973. She is highly creative — works as a graphic designer for a popular digital company called ebow in the centre of Dublin — but lacks in other areas. She can’t piece all of the evidence together bit-by-bit like some jurors do. She can only see the bigger picture. It’s the way most creative brains work. The doctor’s testimony, although not supposed to be taken as any proof of rape whatsoever, has been making her decision for her. She is firmly in the guilty camp. Hasn’t wavered.
‘Let’s move on,’ says Number One. We can all take Donagh Scott’s evidence as we see fit. There are differences of opinions, but that’s why we’re here — to argue this case. We are getting to the key part of the night — the decision to go to the airport. What do we make of this?’
Number One turns to his nemesis, Brian, as he asks this. It’s a gesture of goodwill. He is beginning to feel their spat needs mending if he is to eventually persuade everybody to agree with him and find the three men guilty.
‘Oh me?’ asks Brian a little taken aback. ‘I think it’sh quite telling that Sabrina was up for something. She was certainly up for flying to Newcastle, right?’
‘Doesn’t mean she was up for sex with all three men?’ Number Three says, tapping her fingers against the armrest of her wheelchair.
‘True,’ replies Brian. ‘But I’m just stating a fact. Sabrina admitting she was keen to go to Newcastle with the three men does shay a lot, don’t you think? She was certainly comfortable in their company at that stage.’
Sabrina had admitted to police during their investigation, as well as on the stand during the trial, that she had fallen for Jason in Copper Face Jacks and hoped a relationship might form between the two of them. When Jason suggested all four of them fly to Newcastle, and back to his house for the night, she felt accepting this invitation would help her get to know him more. She said she liked Li, thought he was a nice man: “harmless” was an adjective she used. But admitted that Zach “kinda unnerved me a little bit”. She said she wished at the time that it was just her and Jason who were flying back to Newcastle. Either way, she felt comfortable enough in all three men’s company to take them up on their offer; felt she had got to know them somewhat. The possibility of being raped never entered her mind.
It’s estimated by the Rape Crisis Network that in eighty-five per cent of rape cases, the victim is known to the accused. This particular case is a grey area when it comes to that statistic. Sabrina barely knew each of the three men she was accusing of rape; had met them only five hours previous to the incident. Although she admits to being “comfortable enough” in their presence, this case would be added to the statistic of the fifteen per cent of rape cases where the victim does not know the accused. It’s unusual that random rapes occur. Most sex crimes are premeditated, normally by a family member or a friend of the victim. In fact, most rapes aren’t necessarily motivated by attraction, but more so by opportunity and a lust for power men crave over women. This case was slightly more unusual than a regular rape trial. Especially so, given that there was a major celebrity involved.
‘So, Sabrina admitted that she fancied Jason by this point and was quite intrigued when he suggested they all fly to Newcastle, back to his house for a party,’ says Number One. ‘What was she thinking?’
‘Eh… that she was going back to a footballer’s house for a party,’ replies Brian.
‘And would that be a decision most women would take? I mean, I find that hard to believe—’
‘I can’t speak on behalf of ‘most women’ but I do think a lot of women would be interested in an invite back to a celebrity’s house,’ Number Eleven says, interrupting Brian.
A ripple of argument races around the table. Most jurors feel Sabrina’s position here was justifiable; that it certainly didn’t point to any agreement to having sex with all three men. Her lawyer justified her statements on this when he cross-examined Jason and Li; made sure both men admitted on the stand that no talk of sex had occurred at this stage of the evening and that everybody was in agreement that they would just fly to Newcastle to have some fun. Despite this, Number One was adamant that Sabrina’s actions at this point in the night were incredibly suspicious.
‘I think she knew what she was up to here,’ he says. ‘She knew something kinky was going on. She meets a guy one night and a few hours later she decides to go back to his house? C’mon guys… what sensible girl would do that?’
‘I would,’ Number Eleven admits. ‘In fact, I have done that.’
‘Me too,’ says Number Five.
The jury room falls silent, except for the sound of some jurors shuffling in their chairs.
22:50
Sabrina
I take a peek at my phone as Li turns to face us, arguing that there is no way we can make the flight. And if we do, photo ID may not be enough to get us on board.
‘It’s ten to eleven,’ I say. ‘The flight’s taking off in just over half-an-hour, right?’
Jason nods his head.
‘Yeah – we should be boarding now,’ Li says.
‘Shut up, Li, relax will ya — we’ll get there,’ groans Zach.
I turn my head, just to look out the window as we speed up the N1. If I got out of the taxi now, I’d only have about a twenty-minute walk to the comfort of my own bed.
‘Guys we’re supposed to be boarding around now, and we’re a fifteen minute drive from the airport, we still have to go through security, walk to the gate…. I don’t think we’ll make it,’ Li says, still staring over his shoulder at the three of us in the back seat. I’m on the left side of Jason, Zach to his right.
‘Let’s just see…’ Jason says. Then the taxi falls silent.
I try to soak in what’s going on. I’m practically by-passing my neighbourhood to head to the airport, in order to catch a flight to Newcastle — what am I doing? I have no plans for the weekend, won’t be letting anybody down — but this is a little crazy, especially for me. Maybe I’m coming across as desperate. I’ve observed girls being desperate before and it’s really cringeworthy. I’ve seen models practically sell their souls to get ahead in life. I never thought I’d be one of them. Not in a million years.
I close my eyes, rest my head back on the chair and think my actions through again. I’m trying to comprehe
nd whether going to Newcastle or not will make Jason fall for me. If I go, I’ve got his attention. But if I ask the taxi man to pull over now, to let me out, that’s it, isn’t it? I’ll never see Jason again. He assured me we’d get time alone once we got to his place, that his house was so big that the other lads would most likely just crash out in the cinema room while we got to know each other a little better. I assume sex is on his mind. Why wouldn’t it be? I’ve already tugged at his penis. I think I will have sex with him. It could be my first step on the ladder of me trying to lighten up. I’ve only ever had sex with two men before. That’s quite disappointing, especially for someone who looks like me. I have men come on to me all the time, but barely give any of them more than a polite smile and a shrug of my shoulders. I don’t intend on being slutty, but maybe I should adopt a bit more of a personality. Become more outgoing. More fun. Begin to live the life I want to live, not the one that I live in fear of other people judging me. When am I ever gonna get a chance to have sex with a celebrity anyway?
My head starts to spin. The angel on my shoulder is urging me to retreat into the quiet little hermit I’ve always been — the person I don’t want to be anymore. The devil on my shoulder is telling me I am the complete opposite of that; young, free, single. Up for fun. Up for the craic. I’m pretty sure nine out of ten girls in this situation would have sex with Jason Kenny. Why can’t I be one of those nine? For once. But mostly I want to be with Jason Kenny because… well, I want to be with Jason Kenny. Not just tonight, but beyond tonight. I know I’m attracted to his fame, to his lifestyle, but why shouldn’t I be? If that is part of who he is then I’m entitled to be attracted to it. But if I want Jason Kenny long-term, what should I do short-term? What should I do tonight? Play hard to get? Doesn’t that make me that one out of ten who doesn’t have sex with the celebrity… the frigid? Doesn’t that just make me the Sabrina bloody Doyle I don’t want to be?
I open my eyes, lift my head from the back of the chair and look at him. He stares back, smiles then rests his hand on my knee. A wave of warmth washes through my stomach. That’s made my mind up for me. I’m really into this guy. Fuck it. I check my phone again, then sit more upright.
She Said, Three Said Page 15
