Mummy Where Are You? (Revised Edition, new) (28 page)

              I set off for home, tears in my eyes and found somewhere safe to pull in and park. I made the call with my hands trembling and my heart beating fast.  Please God it would not be the news that I suspected.  It was.

              In the summer holidays we'd had a school reunion.  Friends from our year had gathered for a meal and then a lunch party at Mag's home.  Some of us had not seen each other since school, some thirty years earlier.  Despite it being a happy occasion, I was sad to hear that one of my closest school friends was having a very difficult time with an extremely acrimonious divorce.  I don't feel that this is the place to tell her story, other than to say that the man in question was someone who had been described to me in very negative ways by those who had met him and who it seemed had violent tendencies.  The news I received that fateful last contact before my trial, was that my close school friend was missing presumed dead.  

              You can only imagine the shock of this.  I sobbed all the way home and don’t know how I made it back.  I could barely see through my tears, my own grief and despair now overtaken by the immense shock and worry for my friend and her own children.  My reaction was immediate and the tears that I had held back and tried to bury in order to keep going, now poured forth in an unstoppable surge.  I howled for my friend, for M, for her children and for mine. I cried for the injustice, for the sins of the Family Courts.  I wept for the loss, despair, powerlessness and helplessness.  I couldn't stop the torrent of waves of emotion that tumbled forth, even when I got home.  Whilst some may say that there was still hope for my friend at this point, I didn't feel it.  I'd had text messages from her only days earlier wishing me luck for my trial and ironically saying
the truth will win out in the end
; in my heart, I knew, as I had known the very moment my sister had gone brain dead on a life support machine, that my friend was gone.                Nonetheless,  just as I had willed my sister to come out of her coma when all hope was lost, I continued to text and phone in the vain hope that my friend may still be out there somewhere.

              My friend Liz came round to try and comfort me, knowing I must appear in Court for the verdict of my trial the following day.  She called my GP out too, who gave me words of sympathy but could do no more.  It was hours before I stopped weeping.  This was the catalyst for the grief I had been holding back for so long.  I thought I would never stop crying and would never make it into Court the next day, but somehow by dawn, I showered and dressed and set off to face the outcome. 

              Phillip and the Prosecutor addressed the Jury for the last time and the Judge gave direction, reminding them again that their role was not to consider whether abuse had taken place and impressing on them that the Judge at the Fact Finding Hearing had found for "No Abuse."  They must consider only whether I had a reasonable defence and whether they were sure beyond all reasonable doubt that I was guilty of Child Abduction.

              Phillip had been very strong in his summation, stating forcefully that if child abuse had been covered up in our case, one had to wonder how many other cases on the Island were also being covered up.  He raised again my messages on
Facebook
and
Twitter
and my obvious sense of despair and desperation to demonstrate my state of mind at the time that we ran.  I felt he did all that he could and I was convinced that with M’s evidence, his summation and my own heartfelt evidence, that they had to return a verdict of "Not Guilty

              My heart pounded hard in my chest as the Jury were sent out to consider.  I was allowed to go for lunch with my friends and they bought me a brandy and coke to try and calm my nerves, all convinced that I had nothing to fear and would be home later that day with this behind me.  Despite their optimism, I had a nagging doubt and the now familiar premonition that I may not go home for some time.  I tried hard to push this thought to the back of my mind, telling myself it was just fear and anxiety getting the better of me.  As I'd prepared for Court that morning, I had had a strong feeling that I wouldn't see it again for some time and I'd cuddled the puppy hard and long before handing him over to Liz to look after him. 

              Dad drove me to the Court, both of us in a very anxious state and ending up shouting at each other.  The whole stress of the situation was too much to bear and I'm sure he felt as helpless and powerless as I did.  He didn't hug me when he collected me, even though I badly needed it but I guess he feared he might break down if he did so.  Fortunately my friends were waiting in the foyer to provide hugs, shoulder rubs and reassurance as we waited to go in. 

              I stood up as the Jury filed back in and remained standing as indicated. The spokesperson approached the bench to deliver the verdict to the Judge.  Time seemed to stand still as I waited while he read it, my heart beating ten to the dozen as I listened for the words that would seal my fate.

              The Judge's voice echoed through the deadly silence of the court, as he asked the jury if they had reached a unanimous verdict to which they all assented.  He then looked straight at me as he pronounced coldly – “on the charge of Child Abduction you have been found  GUILTY.”

Chapter 12

              The Judge reserved sentencing until the following day.  This would allow my QC to put forward arguments in favour of leniency and to plead for a non-custodial sentence.  I was granted bail for that night with the agony of waiting to see what my penalty would be.  I was so shocked I could barely walk as I left the dock and came out of the Court where my friends were expressing outrage and my father was in tears.  When the verdict was read out he'd crumpled visibly in his seat and leant against the wall.  Others had let out gasps of horror - especially those closest to me.  The courtroom had been so full that they'd had to bring in extra chairs.  Some were there to support, but many were there for a different reason - to see me get punished - representatives from the police and the Department left the Court with self-satisfied looks on their faces.

              My four loyal friends were waiting outside and each in turn hugged me tightly.  We then headed to a bar to have a much needed drink. 

              Phillip, Elaine, Brian and Julie walked with us and ordered a couple of bottles of wine.  If this was potentially to be my last night of freedom, then I was going to have a few glasses and try to get through this as best as I could.  My father noticed that Phillip had gone to one side of the room on his own and was in tears.  He showed his humanity at that point and I knew he genuinely cared about us and felt terrible for the outcome which he had tried so hard to prevent.  I suppose he knew better than I did then, that the chances of a custodial sentence were quite high, but nonetheless they all reassured me that I would most likely get a suspended sentence. 

              I have to say we all then went on to drown our sorrows and Phillip was the first to leave with Elaine, the Junior barrister, to prepare my mitigation for the next day.  He told me to pack a bag ready to go in, “just in case.” 

              I was due to have a phone call with M that evening and this was the only time I declined to do this.  I was too upset and having had a few drinks, I didn't want to worry M.  I asked Brian to contact the Department and tell them I was not able to speak to him that night, but would speak to him tomorrow when, if Phillip was right, I would be home. It was a decision I would later regret but at the time, I had to weigh up how he might feel if he sensed how frightened and anxious I was, against my need to hear his voice.  He knew me too well not to pick up on my state of mind, our bond was so close.  Any nuance in my voice could be interpreted badly and rightly or wrongly, I thought I should protect him from my fears.

              After leaving the bar, Dad and I went to see Sophie who lived nearby.  We stopped en route and bought more wine and I bought some cigarettes having not smoked in over ten years. Dad, who would normally have chastised me for this, said nothing, understanding it was a case of anything that got me through the night.  I went into the off-licence and ironically got chatted up by the man behind the counter. I was visibly upset and told him of the huge injustice.  I needed to tell someone. I would never see him again, so it didn’t matter. He knew Sophie, as she and her husband were well known on the Island.  He had read about their case and was sympathetic to us both.

              I bought Donner Kebabs for both Dad and I, despite my total lack of appetite and Sophie and I drank wine and smoked.  She too, tried her best to reassure me I that I would retain my freedom.  Whilst it was bad enough to have a conviction, it was not a foregone conclusion that I would lose my liberty.

              We ate what we could and then headed home. It was still relatively early but I wanted to be alone, pack my bag and spend time with the dog.  I took him for a walk on the beach, wondering if that would be the last walk we'd have for a long time.  As I stared out over the waves which were dark and foreboding on a cold October evening, I thought of our house in the States and the last time M and I had been together and happy.  It seemed a lifetime ago.

              Packing for prison was really difficult as I had no idea what one wore or was even allowed.  I didn't know anyone, other than Sophie, whose husband was in prison, to ask.

              I put toiletries, jeans and warm sweaters in my case, as Sophie had told me that it was cold in the cells which were in the far North of the Island.  I put in thermal vests, photographs of M and I together, T-shirts, trainers and books.  I also packed writing paper and pens as I never go anywhere without these.

              I have always written since a very small child and I am always equipped to write down my thoughts wherever I am.  As I placed the various items in my case, I tried to convince myself that it wasn't important what I  took, as I would be putting it all back in the wardrobe later that day. 

              Naively I packed as if I was going on a short trip, make-up, a hair dryer, clothes for the gym, should there be one.  I then shut the case and put it downstairs so that I wouldn't have to look at it and after bathing, headed to bed with the dog and curled up under the duvet with a hot water bottle for added comfort and watched a film on television.  I don't recall now what it was as I took nothing in.  I didn't cry – I was numb.

              The night passed slowly and the screen flickered in front of me.  I was unable to close my eyes and sleep was out of the question.  Various friends sent text messages of support, horror and outrage at my fate.  I didn't know how to respond.  All I could do was thank each one and get through the dark hours, whilst awaiting my fate. I tried again to text my friend who was still missing and prayed hard that she was safe.  I prayed for my M and my long-suffering father and thanked God for the support of my friends.  I pleaded for leniency so that I could still see M.  I feared jail would be the final nail in the coffin as far as him coming home was concerned.  I hoped with all my heart that he hadn't heard the outcome.

              At last came the dawn and I made a cup of tea, showered and dressed for Court.  Dad arrived looking ashen and tired and my neighbour, the dear elderly lady who'd become a close friend, came out of her house, in tears, to hug me.  Liz then arrived to pick up the dog, his bed and other bits and assured me he would be well looked after should the worst happen.  Once again, I gave him a last cuddle and he licked my face and then I silently got into the car next to Dad.

              The Court assembled once more.  The Jury were not present this time although they had been told they could come in for the sentencing and I half expected them to be there to claim their prize  – the seven people who'd sealed my fate but would now all be getting on with their own lives, without any concern for what would happen to me.  The Prosecutor was walking around with swagger and bombast, his chest pushed out like a proud peacock having gained his conviction.  He even had the audacity to bid me "good morning" as he walked past me.  My hell - was his success.

              I stood in the dock as the Judge re-entered and tried to search his face for any indication of how harsh his sentencing would be - but there was no sign of his mood whatsoever.  I sat trembling whilst my QC pleaded my case for mitigation, stating that it was my first offence and seeking leniency.  Again there was nothing in the Judge’s bored expression that indicated what penalty he might now impose.

              Finally, I was told to stand whilst he sentenced me and the room was again silent.  Many of my friends and witnesses had come into Court to support me and once again they had to bring in extra chairs as the public gallery was full.  The
BBC
had also arrived and had spoken to my father and Brian, but not to me.  The journalists from the
Times
and the
Telegraph
were in their usual places.  The reporters gave me sympathetic looks.  R's lawyer was also there, no doubt to report back to him - as were the lawyers for the Department and the Guardian Ad Litem.   I hoped that someone kind would report the news to M, rather than any of the inhumane characters who had helped to seal my fate.  The police officer who'd arrested me and social workers were also all present.  It seemed everyone was interested in the sentence – some because they cared about me, but many because they hoped I would be severely punished.  I didn't look at any of them. 

              Before Court began, Sophie had taken back the bracelet she had leant me.  It was very special to her and clearly if I was sent down she wouldn't want it going with me as it would no doubt be taken off me.  I understood that, but it also felt like my symbol of protection was gone at the time I needed it most.  Having said that it had not brought me luck up-to-date, so perhaps there was little point in keeping it on.  Where was God now?  Where was faith now?  I no longer had any.

              The Judge read out again the crime with which I was charged as I stood shaking in the dock.  After what seemed like ages, his booming voice seemed to come from miles away as he announced, “You've been found Guilty of Child Abduction and I now sentence you to nine months in prison."  My legs turned to jelly as he uttered his final words - "Take her down.” 

              I barely drew breath as the
G4
guard  led me down the steps from the dock to the cells below.  I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to my father who I learned later had collapsed against the wall with the horror of what had just happened. 

              One by one, I made my way down the concrete stairs and once there, I was put in a cell.  The door slammed shut and was locked from outside.  I was overcome with a sense of panic and terror as my claustrophobia took hold and I began to sob. At last a guard came and told me my lawyers were there and would speak to me.  Terrified, I was led into a small room with a table and four plastic chairs and within minutes Brian, Julie and Phillip came in.  My first thought was of M and how he may receive the news and through tear-filled eyes, I asked Brian who would tell him and how.  I couldn't bear the thought that the cold, hard Miss Whiplash would do this. 

              Phillip told me that they'd  asked the Department’s lawyer to allow my father to go to the school and tell him.  I later learned they'd refused this request.  Not one small shred of humanity or compassion was shown to M, instead he learned it from his father, who no doubt had taken great pleasure in this.  After all, it was he who had brought the charges against me, it was he who had yelled at my father when he'd tried to reason with him, “your daughter needs to be put in jail.”  He now had his wish. 

              Each of the lawyers in turn hugged me and Phillip assured me he would get straight on with working towards an appeal, believing we had strong grounds.  He would also seek bail as soon as possible.  They all encouraged me to be brave and to  hang on.  Phillip went on to say that I would shortly be taken in the prison van up to the jail but I would have to travel in the box .  This was a small container, barely big enough for one adult and this terrified me even further.  I was having enough trouble coping with the cell, without being locked into something the size of an aeroplane toilet.  Unfortunately they were taking some men to the prison and they would be seated at the back of the van, rules dictating that men and women had to be segregated. This latest news did nothing to lessen my mounting anxiety. 

              I didn't want the lawyers to leave me, but they had planes to catch to get back to the UK.  They promised they would be over to see me and discuss the appeal as soon as possible. They told me Dad had sent his love and was badly shaken.  They also said they would straight away get on with trying to organize for M to be brought in to see me.  Then they were gone and I was led back to the cell that would become so familiar to me over the next few weeks.

              I barely remember the journey to the Island's prison.  I remember only my fear and that the
G4
guard had been kind.  Once we were on our way she'd opened the door of the box a crack and talked to me for most of the journey.  I have no idea what we discussed- but I was grateful for the distraction of another human being.  I tried to get on top of my panic.  Fortunately I had slipped a beta blocker in my pocket that morning which had been prescribed by my GP for emergency use.  I swallowed this quickly in the hope it would somehow calm my nerves and my breathing. The journey to the North of the Island seemed endless and I shook with exhaustion, fear and the bitter cold. 

              From inside the box, I could hear the voices of the men at the back.  They sounded unperturbed and were in good humour.  I expect for many of them this was not a first offence and the experience was a familiar one.  I, however, had entered a world I knew nothing about and for which I was totally unprepared.

              As we travelled towards the place that was to be my home for the next four and a half months, one usually serving half one’s sentence, Phillip's earlier words of warning rang in my ear, "It has to be your decision, but I have to advise you that if you plead “not guilty,” you could end up in jail.”  At this moment in time, I would have given anything to turn the clock back and have taken the plea.  Anything rather than be heading to prison now. I was at my weakest and all my bravado at wanting to fight the injustice had gone.  I was destroyed, frightened and heading into the unknown. 

              The van bumped and jolted as we headed along the winding roads.  I could see nothing from inside the box and was thrown from side to side.  I remembered the letter the Prosecutor had written to my legal team when he'd offered leniency in return for the plea of my guilt.  His words had seemed as bizarre to my lawyers, as they had to me.  He had likened me to his wife, saying I was someone “who had lost my way.”  He described a scenario where I was in a revolving door and hadn't  known which exit to choose.  We had laughed as we had read it and wondered what his wife would have had to say had she known her husband saw her as someone with no sense of direction.  Now, it didn't seem at all funny.  Was I still in the revolving door?  Had I chosen the wrong exit?  None of it mattered now.  I had done what I had done and there was no escape from the rattling van, the coarse laughter of the men who seemed not to care and the gentle rambling of the guard who tried to calm me against a background of noise from the radio coming from the driving seat - announcing my imprisonment.