Dancing to a New Beat 12

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CHAPTER 12
There was murmuring from the jury, but His Honour stared straight at them so intently it stopped dead. He turned back to the Clerk, and nodded.

“In the matter of… How do you plead?”

Cooper shot our group a furtive glance before looking down at his hands again, then, standing in the dock he gave the first of a complete and unbroken series of almost inaudible responses. “Guilty’, ‘guilty’, ‘guilty’--- no exceptions. The only deviation was when Deb’s pain was aired again; he looked up again, over towards her, and I swear I saw his eyes wet.

Our jury members were looking at each other at the end of it all, several shrugging, and the Judge had to open his mouth this time.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please be patient. Would Learned Counsel please be so good as to explain?”

Defence rose.

“I beg Your Honour’s pardon?”

“While I believe your instructions emanate from the far North West of the country, I do not actually believe it is that far away from the Inns of Court that modern custom and practice of jurisprudence will have escaped their perception, attention and compliance. We have assembled here today, at great expense to the public, and no little inconvenience to the twelve people good and true of the jury, in order to receive a plea that would more properly have been delivered at first instance! That is what a Plea and Direction Hearing is for. Would Counsel be so good as to remind his instructing solicitors how things are done in the rest of the country”

Ouch!

The Judge’s eyes scanned the Public Gallery, as well as our little group sitting in the body of the Court, and I swear I caught a sly wink from the old bastard. He clearly knew exactly what had cracked Cooper, and most of those reasons were called Elliott or Dennahy.

“No matter. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this matter would not normally have been presented in this way, but I thank you for attending today. There will clearly be no need for your customary role here, but I believe we will have a number of what are called Victim Impact Statements that are to be delivered. You will have by now a clear idea of the foul nature of the crimes for which Charles Cooper has now admitted, and I would beg your indulgence to bear witness to their resolution. You are now discharged as a jury, and may leave if you wish”

The jury had a quick chat, but none rose, and the Judge nodded in acknowledgement.

“What does Learned Counsel have for this Court?”

Our man stood, after a quick nod to Peter and Ben.

“Your Honour, as you surmised we have a number of Victim Impact Statements for consideration, three in all. Arthur Henry Bowles provided a further statement, which lies on file in Jury Bundle Four. May we commence?”

“Proceed”

The usher led Peter Nicol-Clements to the witness box after Ben’s quick hug, and Peter stared back at him for a few seconds before turning back to the bench. His Honour smiled at him, and gave a nod. Peter shrugged, shuffling the papers he held, then put them down again.

“My name is Peter Nicol-Clements, and I have been married to Ben under one description or another for thirty-one years. I watched him abused by the police, I saw him nearly crack as vindictive and malicious liars accused him of molesting children, and I have held him, for nights beyond counting, as he sobbed or shouted in his sleep. I have tried to help him through his self-harming sessions, I have struggled to cope with his OCD, but above all I have loved him more than anyone else I have ever known.

“When he cracks, when he spends a week tidying one part of one room, I have stood by as a species of safety net, because beneath all of his oddities and twitches he remains the same man I have known and loved for so many decades. Kind, generous beyond any concept of fault, incapable of harm. I thought I knew him, and then, one day, two police officers, those two there sitting with my Benny, turned up on our doorstep. In my ignorance I assumed it was yet one more nasty little liar trying to extort something from an old puff. I learned better, though. Perhaps I should say that I learned worse”

He grimaced, waving the bundle of papers.

“All this is what Benny sat and wrote down with Jon and Diane there, two honest coppers at last, two people who bloody well care about justice. I could read it all out. I intended to, as my Benny simply could not face doing so, but I find that I similarly lack the capacity. You will hear more of it, as I well know. Deborah there lived through it, as did Brian, as di Steven there, and I know now that it was because of Steven’s courage that Cooper is already locked away from the humanity he did so much to destroy.

“I will say two things only. Firstly, there are more victims than the obvious ones. All here are victims, either immediately, as with Benny, Stevie, Brian, Deb, or vicariously, from the damage done to a loved one. I have lived with Benny’s pain without ever fully understanding its origin, and that family there, their friends; so have all of us, for we have to share the same planet, breathe the same air as Cooper.

“I will leave you with one image only, one that still leaves my beloved man crying in his sleep. You are ten, or eleven, and living somewhere that is supposed to be a place of safety, and every night, EVERY night, you hear the sound of creaking stairs, or a footfall in the corridor outside your room, and you pray to your God that the steps go past, that Cooper or whichever of them it might be continues on to some other child’s room and rapes them rather than you. Those were Benny’s prayers at ten or so years of age? Please, God, not me, not tonight, please let it be one of my friends instead”

He dropped his head, the usher ready with tissues as he just muttered “Sorry. Enough” and walked back to his husband, who wrapped him in his arms. The jury to a man were staring at Cooper, who was slumped, head bowed, as the two security men with him exchanged their own twisted looks.

Our man was back on his feet.

“We have a VIS from Brian Dennehy, if it please the Court”

The judge looked at Peter and Ben for a long moment, then nodded.

“Messrs Nicol-Clements are thanked by this Court for their courage and service in this matter. Mr Dennahy?”

Brian walked over to the Box, and I looked across at Stevie, whose gaze was fixed on the Dock. I didn’t need to read his mind. Brian coughed.

“Could I have some water, please?”

The usher obliged, and he took a sip, then smiled at the jury.

“Aye, I know. I’m not exactly unknown in some quarters, so bear with me. This is not an easy thing to own up to, and I have kept the details from my family all this time, but it is time I owned up. I was a criminal, a petty thief, from a very young age. Bad crowd, wrong friends, whatever you want to blame it on, but it was me that did the stealing, so no dodging the blame. I ended up in an Approved School for a couple of years, and it turned out to have what can be called connections.

“After that man in the dock, that rapist, after he had finished destroying young lives at poor ben’s place, well, he moved on, to somewhere that was even worse. That place was Castle Keep, in Carlisle, and I know all about that shithole. Sorry, but, well, words are hard to find. My best friend is sitting there, my greatest friend apart from my wife, and he spent years there, years with Cooper and his kind. That senior copper sitting up there in the Public Gallery, I know for a fact that he was one of the poor buggers that had to dig up the bodies. What Peter said, aye? More victims than are obvious. When I found out where they had Stevie…

“I was eleven when I went to the school. I saw them bring the kids over from Castle Keep, colour-coded shirts and all. I watched as Cooper and his mates handed off the boys to our own screws for a bit of leisure time, horizontal relaxation, every kid nicely broken in by Castle Keep. How much did you fucking get for each kid, Cooper?”

He stopped, shaking his head again, hands trembling as he took another drink.

“Sorry, Your Honour. Not easy, is it?”

“This Court understands, Mr Dennahy. Thank you for your bravery”

“Me? I hid this from everyone for years! I kept my nose clean, in the end, because what I saw, what I dreaded, was leaving tat school for somewhere far worse. I was lucky, in the end, spotted by a scout, football apprenticeship, well, I think many of you will know the rest. Lovely wife, wonderful kids, the best friend sitting over there that any man could ever dream of, and so nearly lost forever. Yes, Cooper raped Stevie for years, but he’s already doing time for that. This one’s for me, me and my self-respect. Things I could never find the courage to tell my wife, things I hid even after we found my mate there, things that stopped me loving freely and openly until Stevie and Emily and Karen showed me how it could be done, and then those two coppers there, Jon and Diane, well. It’s been said. Proper terriers, them they don’t stop digging, and all credit to them for that. Where was I?

“Sleepovers. Sort of thing you get in Yank sitcoms or teenage girls’ stories. Well, they did them for us, or rather to us. I think Charlie over there got bored every so often and needed fresh meat, so we’d get to spend a few nights away from our own dorm. I did that three times, and I met Charlie, and Alf, and Don, and thank all that’s holy that one of them gave me a dose of gonorrhoea in the arse because I really, really wouldn’t have been able to survive a fourth stay, and by the time I was clear of that dose of clap I was being signed up by Carlisle United.

“I was lucky. I never saw the cellar. Stevie can tell you all about that place, as can that senior policeman I pointed out. Three times I was raped, three times only, and two of them are dead, but not Cooper. It’s odd, you know? I should wish him dead, it’s the traditional thing, but I don’t. I wish him a long, healthy life, full of the knowledge that every decent human being in existence knows exactly how foul he is.

“Live in hate, you piece of shit”

He looked up once more at the Bench, and the judge nodded.

“Thank you, Mr Dennahy. I feel that we need to breathe some fresher air after such testimony. Accordingly, this hearing is adjourned for one hour”

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Comments

Painful

Tying up loose ends here, but my characters are real people to me. This one hurt to write.

Re: Painful

I'm not surprised, I'm sitting here with what feels like a lump in my throat after having read this chapter.

I've been there, or damn close to it myself, raped three times by older and much larger boys in a group home when I was fifteen years old.

I can very easily understand the anger, shame, grief of sorts and hatred that came out in those two victim impact statements. I wish I had been able to do that after what happened 36 years ago, but the group home wouldn't allow me to testify against the one who was charged.

Very well written and a very necessary part of the story that needs to be told. Well done.

Edited to add: I wasn't expecting it, I've read the rest of the story with no issues, but now I'm having flashbacks. Not fun at all.

Thank you

I do my best to write reality.

Re: Thank you

You do it very well. Keep going, I want to read more of this, I guess because I can feel it right here: *touches chest over heart*

=[

Huge hugs to you, yes they are real people to us too, they're either us, our best friend, our sister, our brother, but regardless, they are us.

It's been almost 30 years since I had my skull used like a basketball to facilitate my compliance in my rape. I sit here thinking, I've typed more in comments on BC to stories, that I've ever told my family... But I can only remember something I told someone at work when asked why do all the domestic violence victims trust me? I think we find each other.. we sense the damage in each other, and know that person isn't going to hurt you...shared pain makes us brothers and sisters I think.

I'd like to think some good came out of what happened to me, trying to help others. I just sit here with sadness that I never got to face my goliath on fair terms... it helps seeing someone else get their moment.

Sara

Thank you all.

You have, of course, seen through my not-so-cunning plotting, to why Diane is so driven and, for what is still a comparatively new copper, so good at getting through to people like Benny.

There is a style in men's conversations, and of course I have seen them from both sides, which usually manifests itself as willy-waving, one-up-manship. My story is bigger than yours. It manifests itself most commonly as simply talking over the other person in a bid to dominate the conversation, but at its best it is companionship. "Yes, I understand your pain, and if I show you my own scars you will be able to see why".

Football (the term used by all of the world except two countries in North America) is the home of stupid, testosterone-addled dickheads. Far too much money, far too young, handled by far too few brain cells, in what, to my displeasure, is the biggest sport in the world, produces awful results for everyone around, particularly for young women. It amuses me when I see it depicted as a game for girls. Brian is a product of that, via what amounts to juvenile prison. He knows a lot of what Stevie went through in Castle Keep, but he has never, ever been able to talk about it because of that other corrosive emotion that abusers of all kinds are so good at inculcating: shame.

It is shame that is driving him now, shame that he did nothing for so many years.

Ripples.

It Hurts To Read

joannebarbarella's picture

And so it should. It must have hurt to write but all your compassion and humanity is on show. Real people, yes.

Stronger than steel

Jamie Lee's picture

Impact statements told in a public forum takes a strength that's stronger than steel. The shame, anger, and embarrassment the person feels is laid open like a fresh cut to the skin.

Their telling is actually reliving the experiences, likely shocking those listening and leaving them wonder how anyone could live through such experiences.

After listening to just two impact statements it's highly probable that Cooper will never be a free man. It is highly likely he will die behind bars, either from natural causes of angry inmates once word gets around why he's in prison.

Others have feelings too.