Tuesday morning, 31st November 2015
Dearest Friend,
During the night James called me from his telephone back up North to see how I was doing. He was very determined to get to the core of my feelings…
Saying “I’m fine!” just isn’t acceptable in James’s reasoning. In his eyes, to say fine is to deny truth…
And so I naturally surfed deeper into my soul and told him where I was at emotionally.
The most nerve-wrecking for me was the idea that I would slip up on the stand from emotional intensity and cause a blow for everyone else – I really had to be clear and not let things get blown out of proportion…
So then I went over my statements, bearing in mind that He and the attorney have access to all that was said, and recounted my answers with James.
There were a few areas which James felt might cause doubt; how I can describe an action while having my back turned but not actually “seeing” it and that I should only describe my fear and what I heard; not go too into detail of what He did because the attorney can surely corner me if I do…
James added “And it’s not that I doubt you were accurate in what you said, Jay, but to give evidence in court and bearing in mind that your back was turned, the attorney can persuade the jury that you were imagining it; so please be very specific and don’t dwell too deep while giving your answers… It’s just to protect yourself.”
The following morning I “woke up” at 7:30. Mum kept calling me throughout the night and we stalled outside the hotel for a coffee break while Mum smoked – neither of us could sleep. Anyways, I headed down to the reception floor where I met Mum and we went in and had a nice Irish Breakfast.
To tell you the truth, we both looked a state – eyes bloodshot, barely conscious and barely concentrating, but only our mouths were in motion, chewing the food.
Mum said she thought she was dying in her sleep – she hyperventilated and couldn’t breathe – this must have been mostly subconscious – and she recalled having nightmares of poor Cindy suffering under the hands of Him.
I had no words; of course I could relate, having dreamt the same in the past, but this wasn’t the time nor place to discuss all that madness. I just comforted Mum and asked her if there was anything I could do, and went to retrieve our cups of tea on the counter.
But we also tried to talk about lighter topics, such as my course efforts, Mum’s enthusiasm on finding a job in Sligo and turning her life around. I wanted to believe what she was telling me, but I couldn’t retain that old hope I had for her. I just smiled and said “Really? I’m happy for you, Mum. I hope it works out.”
This wasn’t the first time Mum spoke of good possibilities, but always she would become distracted by her peers and typical lifestyle.
I know I sound harsh, but it’s annoying that she should excite me but later on disappoint me because it was easier to play it safe and do nothing. Anyhow, if Mum proves me wrong I take that back!
My sister Cindy wasn’t staying in the hotel during our time in Dublin but was in the care of her aunt outside in the country of Dublin, with M.I. at her side of course.
As we were munching away at our breakfast, Mum received a sudden phone call from M.I. with uneasy news.
We were told that Cindy was in a disturbed state last night, waking up screaming and was dripping in sweat.
Everything that happened appeared before her eyes, and all the adults could do around Cindy was give hugs and be comforting through giving affection.
As you can imagine, this was deeply upsetting for everyone to take in, and we all felt hopeless we couldn’t do more to prevent further tears…
Before leaving the hotel, Mum and I spoke outside at the smoking area and there we went more deeply into things; it was the first proper time we really spoke so intimately…
Mum had poured her heart out to me as she exhaled deep puffs from her cigarette, and always our stare was examining the environment around us; never long into each other’s eyes.
I guess the kept-in pain is more revealed by giving each other eye contact, and even my gaze was wandering whilst speaking.
I encouraged Mum to stay strong for Cindy; that we haven’t the privilege to run from this one, and this trial we are experiencing will be overcome as a family...
All we can do is walk through it – we haven’t the time, nor are in a place to discuss possible outcomes, or point the finger – our only focus is keeping a brave face and performing our moral duty and confronting this injustice because in all aspects it is facing this which is for a force much greater than us: Law of the Land…
This is something none of us can any longer deny or shed under the carpet by verbalizing “safe codes” to deem the abuse as less traumatic for those in denial.
And then Mum surprised me; she went on to praise me (perhaps more than was necessary!) and pointed out a strength she sees in me as unbreakable.
I argued that when challenges arise, we aren’t necessarily always in the advantage to ignore that which needs to be confronted.
“But, Jay, you have dealt with this for years and haven’t given up on your ambition. I mean, look at you: all dressed smart in that suit, heading off to college, being so independent and are the brains of this family!”
Although I humbly replied that Mum was far too nice in her complimenting, I was secretly amused at Mum’s surprising understanding of my personal growth.
And then I passed on some advice, in terms of career opportunities Mum might apply to, and she responded positively; that she has had help creating “professionally crafted” curriculum vitae’s to send off and how Dublin might be her spot to shine.
She especially wasn’t happy with her life in Sligo; what with everyone gossiping and only seeing Mum’s bad points.
I could only explain that everyone talks; the important part is that Mum proves those people wrong by improving on herself and doing the things she wants because she knows its best, not to satisfy the masses or her judgmental peers.
I felt a pang of disappointment surge through me, as it’s pitiful Mum must run from her identity and put on this indestructible face to everyone; for example, with changing her name and being more concerned about the impressions of outsiders rather than the needs of her family and loved ones.
But, hey, I’ve said enough.
I’m sure it’s becoming a bore to you that I share these mixed hopes and regrets upon Mum, especially when the results are little out of reach and the worry only harms me, emotionally. I’m not full of expectation; rather, I’m a bundle of nerves and the cause is not the possible court procedure but actually from taking in everyone’s vulnerable outpourings…
It’s more painful when it’s personal, and this court trial is very formal!
Adieus Amigo,
Jay.
The same day.
There was a bit of panic after breakfast because we worried the taxi wouldn’t arrive to pick us up on time.
At the reception Mum was trying to do everything all at once – reorganize her bulging suitcase with clothes hanging out, speak to the receptionist after dealing with a big line of customers and trying to speak with the taxi driver via mobile.
The people looked at Mum oddly and I returned to them with the same cold stare; these posh residents are far too uptight and should let their hair down a little!
During the taxi drive to the court house, Mum spoke to me about her Christmas list and her intention on buying everyone fancy things. She asked me what I would like, and I was speechless. Now just wasn’t the time to discuss merrily happier times but I made no sign that I thought just as much.
“Oh, I know what you’d like for Christmas!”
Mum burst in, “A diary, am I right?”
“Ah, Mum don’t worry. You don’t need to get me anything…”
“Do you still keep up the writing; how is it coming along?” “Eh, not since I went to college…too busy,” I lied.
I thought it was best Mum not to know I’ve been writing as of late, as I feared the threat she might question the content of my recent jottings, and I just felt now wasn’t the time to discuss my diaries; it was uncomfortable enough that Mum would even question presently, given the intense circumstances.
What good would have added to our troubles if I were to say I have been documenting the abuse and court procedure closely, especially given its heavily personal nature and family break-down.
“Thanks any way for asking, Mum,” I added.
She smiled before looking out the cab window; realizing how close we were to approaching the court gates!
Once there, you could see plenty of people dressed formally, standing outside the court house. Well, obviously we weren’t the only case attending court today.
As Mum and I approached the entrance anxiously, a pair of male photographers gave us an eyeful and hurried towards our direction and quickly took pictures of us.
We did our best not to show eye contact. Once inside they then scurried away back to their corner.
At the inside of the court house we were first frisked during a security check, to make sure we hadn’t any weapons or some sort. Then M.I. arrived not long afterwards with Cindy; looking very stressed and very determined all the same.
We all exchanged hugs and were then introduced to two ladies who I would later learn to be Cindy’s social working team. I presumed by their state of dress and presence of authority that they were informants of our legal team and overlooking Cindy while on trial.
Overlooking and protecting they certainly were, but not with the purpose I had thought.
M.I. rambled on nervously with these two ladies, questions about today’s trial but without any satisfactory answers.
We so badly wanted to be clear in our speaking as witnesses, and M.I. more worried how I would be approached.
She pointed out to the social worker that I suffered the same abuse and how I was warned to be very particular in my testimony or else it could result in Him getting off trial.
As if the social worker didn’t know this already from case files dealing in our family, but she went on listening to M.I. as though she were oblivious to the fact.
Occasionally the social worker would look down at Cindy and give her a brilliant smile and ask if she was okay; who was looking around the big court hall curiously and holding M.I.’s hand while listening to the adults. Well, the social worker spoke back and forth more with M.I. while Mum and I listened and observed intently.
It really gave me a horrible feeling to see how little Mum was approached in all this; she was hardly in the serious conversation and was left biting her nails upon watch… It was obvious that M.I. was regarded as the parent here.
Well, it does make sense – what with her being the care-giver and guardian – but Mum still should be allowed the dignity to be taken seriously and involved in this issue.
However, it didn’t help that Mum was behaving more like a playful friend to Cindy and made silly jokes about irrelevant things. Then again, it was me also that was left on the side-lines and going off in a trance – the whole thing was affecting me in a big way – and that resulted in me being sadly impassive.
Come to think of it, perhaps the others were dealing with the circumstances a lot healthier than I was, but there’s no denying that what everyone was asking of me was hurtful and truly traumatic on an emotional capacity…
At about 10a.m. we all took the glass elevator upstairs to the top floor, where could be seen platforms for each given room for court trials; every door were large in height.
We all stood waiting around outside on the hallway like we were all in need to be omitted to a mental institute for rehabilitation; the strain could be read on all our faces.
M.I. suddenly ranted on whatever came into her head, warned Cindy to stop hopping near the wall railing, where beneath could be seen a view of the whole court house, and kindly asked me to bring Cindy away from there. We all looked at M.I. with concern and I patted her gently to show I sensed her upheaving stress.
Cindy, although innocent, was struck by the gloom and dead silence that she moved away from hanging off the railing.
To think that was bad, soon after Mum had a nervous fit and said she didn’t think she could go through with this.
M.I. didn’t even blink twice; she took one look at Mum and said: “You’ve no choice. You have to do this for your daughter.”
Mum, ashamed of her own weakness, looked away as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“It’s okay, Mum. You’ve got this!" I said, in an attempt to comfort. At this stage she couldn’t look any of us in the eye and observed the marble floor beneath our feet.
M.I. then silently reminded Mum what she was here to do; to admit she had a drug addiction, certainly left Him babysitting in those earlier years and admit she let her children down. Observing this, it seemed too farfetched that Mum would go ahead and take the responsibility that she never had before, and to surely be disgraced by the attorney, with his/her attempt to give the jury doubt in Mum’s testimony. It was foretelling that Mum would be left with a broken heart leaving court.
All around the court house could be seen cops, barristers with odd wigs on and impatient witnesses; all standing outside the doorways waiting for the trial proceeding to begin.
High above could be seen an electronic timetable, like the sort you find on train platforms, with red digits. His full name was displayed at the said time, for 10:30.
Deep nervous seconds soon changed into many minutes and we still hadn’t received any contact or seen the physical presence of our legal representative.
This was too much for M.I., the nervous wreck, who seen to it that we hear some news. She approached one of the policeman that was on the door and he went into the court room to ask about our inquiry on the long wait.
Shockingly, the judge himself came out to us at the door and had some bad news. Because of our trial being very case-sensitive, that the slightest doubt could cause the entire sentence be that He be let off out of not enough evidence or the statements all contradicting each other (I really don’t know why, but I can only suspect).
But the court had no choice but to temporarily release Him on probation (I think it’s called?).
Well, all that aside, yesterday after He was released he fled and the police were now all out searching for him.
You could tell from the facial expression of the judge that even he had no say but to go by the court formalities.
I found it rather sweet the way he first greeted Cindy gently and explained to her, child appropriately, that we wouldn’t be expected to attend court until further notice...
We were all extremely unsettled hearing this news, and actually Cindy got very upset. Thankfully, spoilt with hugs and reassuring words, Mum helped pick Cindy up from this sadness. This sudden news wasn’t enough for me, who wanted further clarification but received none. I was told to put it out of my head until we received an update!
Everyone completely devastated, we all left the court house surely thinking this was unjust. Not very sure what to do with ourselves, we took a stroll into the town centre, to do anything that would keep our minds busy.
M.I. and I hurried on upfront while Cindy and Mum staggered sluggishly behind, holding onto each other as we sauntered… M.I., now peeved off, called all her friends and acquaintances to report the unfortunate turn out.
“The scrawny rat has walked… Can’t get over how the court would even let him out. Well, I tell ya something… Unless he’s left the country He hasn’t many places to run back to. The least he could do is show up and admit to what he’s done!”
What does this mean now? I so badly wanted to know, but unless He’s discovered there is little possibility in the trial going ahead…
As M.I. and I were walking ahead of the others through O’Connell Street she told me that herself and Mum previously had a terrible argument days before going to Dublin over what Granny M said to me about “Praying for Him”.
Mum was adamant that I made it up and, understandably, defended Gran as M.I. told her off. Mum’s refusal just infuriated M.I. further and she shouted over Mum’s voice and the two were madly aggressive; just vocally, thank goodness!
I was very uncomfortable hearing this but the day before going to court Mum apologized to M.I. and both agreed they didn’t want to be enemies, so the issue is settled between themselves. Even so, M.I.’s opposed views of my family can’t have changed.
Reflecting back over things, it was sad to realize Mum’s overly-friendly nature was partly false, in the sense that she would have to push herself to get along better with me throughout the court case.
There’s no denying in the whole process that I remained my own steady, introverted self.
Well, there’s not much else for me to say today. Mum took the next train back to Sligo, and will be back Thursday when we should hear some update here in Dublin.
I was also offered to tag along but I decided to rest in the hotel room. I’m feeling very dizzy and nauseous, so I should stop writing and rest for a while.
I’m very unhappy with today!
Yours, Jay.