"What's wrong, Clara?", inquired Angela.
Clara, Devi, Angela and Lily were all standing in a lengthy queue, waiting for their annual COVID-19 vaccine.
"Are you OK, Clara?", asked Devi, putting her arm around Clara's shoulders.
"Is it because of the Nationals losing the pennant?", teased Lily.
But it was not the Washington Nationals losing 4-0 to the LA Dodgers in the National League Championship Series that was bothering Clara.
"No", she sighed heavily. "It's not that, it's the election."
All three looked at her quizzically.
"Crawley's gonna win, ain't he?", Clara continued.
"I never thought you were into politics, Clara", remarked Devi with a surprised smile.
"You're turning into Angela, Clara!", laughed Lily: Angela threw her an irritated look.
"I'm not", Clara replied, answering Devi and ignoring Lily, "but I've always been a Democrat, my Mom's always voted for them, and so did all our neighbours when I was growing up, so I kinda went with the flow. But I really don't want Crawley to get in again, so could you please, for me, not vote for him?"
Angela smiled sadly at Clara. "I understand how you feel, Clara", she said, but it's not as if the other guy is any better . . ."
Angela pointed to a giant screen across the street, about 20 feet above their heads: Clara had to seriously stretch her neck to see. The screen was showing the previous night's rally by Bradley Markiewicz, Senator for Florida and the Republican Party's presidential nominee. A tall, blond, broad-shouldered man, Markiewicz was holding out his arms, lapping up the applause and the cheers from an adoring crowd, many of them wearing tattered and worn baseball caps inscribed with the words "Make America Great Again".
"And so", Markiewicz pronounced, once the hall had quietened down, "in my first act as President, I shall designate Black Lives Matter as a domestic terrorist organisation."
Loud cheers resulted: a black man, sitting in full view of the cameras, enthusiastically waved a "Blacks for Bradley" placard.
"And all its leaders and all members of Congress who support it", continued Markiewicz, "shall be thrown into jail."
More cheers.
"For too long have these Marxists stirred up trouble for this great country, for too long have they attacked our brave police officers, for too long have they tried to subvert our political and economic system, and all with the full support of the Democrats. No more. Once I take the Oath of Office, all this will stop, folks. Forever."
The crowd roared its approval.
"And as for that Angela Brown . . ." Loud boos greeted the mention of Angela's name: it was a couple of minutes before Markiewicz could resume his speech. "Maybe the prison barber can get rid of those ugly lumps in her hair. That'll teach her to attack the police in the heart of our capital!"
Deafening roars and chants of "Bradley! Bradley! Bradley!" Angela involuntarily touched her braids. Clara was horrified: Devi looked disgusted, Lily shocked.
"And also", Markiewicz concluded, "I shall change our immigration laws so that we take in more people from countries with higher GDP. That'll make sure we only get people who will work hard and fit in well with us! I'll also completely ban abortion. There will be no more baby murders once I become President! Thank y'all."
The crowd gave him a standing ovation: the hall shook to chants of "USA! USA! USA!".
"Well", said Devi, her voice shaking, "I don't think we've ever had a worse choice than this year. On the one hand, a corrupt President who sanctions murder, on the other . . ."
"A racist", spat Angela.
"But please", begged Clara, "if you can't vote for him, can you please . . ."
"Do you really think, Clara", smiled Devi indulgently, "that I would vote for Crawley, after what he did to you?"
"Have you voted before?", asked Angela.
"Yes", replied Devi. "I'm a Democrat and so are my parents, we voted for Crawley four years ago. Which obviously I regret now", she hastily added, after Angela threw a disapproving look. "though to be fair, it was either him or the Trump gang. I'll abstain this time, I think, and I'll try and get my parents to do the same."
"Well I've never voted for either of them", said Angela proudly. "I've always abstained, and I'll do that this year as well."
"And what about you, Lily?", asked Clara pleadingly.
"I'll abstain as well", replied Lily. "I couldn't vote for Crawley, not after what's happened to you."
But there was little doubt that Crawley would win a second term. He had always been very popular, owing to his good looks and his folksy charm, to the booming economy, and to the many jobs that had been created under his Back to Work programme. In addition, while Markiewicz excelled at firing up an cheering Republican crowd, he was rather less sure-footed in the more testing environment of the televised debates. He responded to any uncomfortable questions with barely concealed irritation, unlike Crawley, whose reaction was to smile and make light of it. In contrast to the jovial Crawley, Markiewicz was a stiff and awkward performer. He was easily angered, and Crawley made sure, in every debate, to get under his skin: every time he tried this, Markiewicz would angrily lash out at his opponent, and a beaming Crawley would address the audience directly, remarking how this proved that Markiewicz was unfit to be President. Crawley easily won all three debates, and he also enjoyed far more favourable media coverage, partly owing to the long years he had spent winning them over, and partly because of Markiewicz's extremist views.
Sure enough, when Election Night came, Crawley swept the board not just in reliable Democratic strongholds such as New York, California and - of course - Washington, DC - but in all the swing states, such as Michigan, Georgia and Arizona, winning by a landslide. His margin of victory was so comprehensive that Markiewicz, who had repeatedly claimed that only fraud could deprive him of victory, was forced to concede just hours after polls closed. In addition, riding on the back of Crawley's popularity, the Democrats won comfortable majorities in both Houses of Congress.
"The silent majority has spoken, and they are on our side", boasted Crawley in his acceptance speech. "After months of the most horrible lies against an innocent man, we have prevailed. Tonight we have seen that, in America, elections are decided by the American people, and not by liars, vengeful girlfriends or fake news reporters."
The noise of the crowd was so loud that Crawley's lectern vibrated.
"I mean", Crawley continued in a mocking tone, "the holes in her story were so obvious, she would have us all believe that Dave would be interested in her? Or that he was able to do whatever he wanted to her, yet, when she felt like it, she ran away from him? Or that a van driver would just come along for her and pick her up? What utter garbage! But then", he added, "she doesn't seem to be good at much, so it's not surprising she's not a good liar either!"
He burst out laughing, and the crowd sent up the chant "Clara sucks! Clara sucks!".
Clara and Devi watched the election results unfold on TV. Clara buried her head in her hands as the results came in. How was this even possible? After all she had experienced, and the American people would not believe her? Devi, who switched off the TV in disgust as soon as Crawley began attacking Clara, tried to assure her that this was not a judgement on her, but a response to the Crawley's personal popularity, the state of the economy and the Back to Work programme, as well as progressive voters' revulsion at Markiewicz, but this brought Clara no comfort.
By contrast, Clementina whooped with joy when the results were confirmed, and cracked open a bottle of champagne.
20th January, Inauguration Day. Crawley confidently strode down the steps of the Capitol Building, placed his hand on his large, ornate Bible, and took the Oath of Office:
"I, Thomas John Crawley, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God."
In the course of his second inaugural speech, Crawley remarked, "There is someone I wish was here today but sadly can't be, because of lies and a rigged police investigation", and called out, "Hang on in there Dave, you will soon be free and back working for me."
But all of Crawley's blustering could not prevent the forward march of justice: just a fortnight after his inauguration, Clara, Devi, Angela and Lily alighted from a bus on Indiana Avenue. Clara could not forget the unpleasant experience she had had the previous occasion she had visited this place, but they were not heading to the police station now. Instead their destination was the nearby H Carl Moultrie Courthouse, headquarters of the Superior Court of the District of Columbia. Inside, they were greeted by Officers Grundy and Rodriguez, who introduced them to a smiling, dark haired woman of about the same height as Clara.
"I assume you are Clara Hewson?", she asked.
"Yes", said Clara tentatively.
"Pleased to meet you", said the stranger, offering her hand. "I'm Monica Gonzalez, and I'll be the prosecuting counsel in this case.
"OK", said Clara, in a wary tone.
"You'll be all right with her, Clara", Devi assured her. "Holly's told me about her, she's very big on fighting the abuse of women. You couldn't have asked for anyone better."
Feeling slightly more confident, Clara shook Monica's hand: Monica then shook hands with Devi, Angela and Lily, who all introduced themselves. They all then walked up the narrow aisle of the courtroom, before Monica and the two police officers sat down at a table on the right hand side of the aisle, in front of the front row of seats. Clara sat down in the middle of the front row, with Devi on her right, Angela on her left, and Lily sitting next to Angela. Clara looked all around the courtroom, wondering what type of paint had been used on the walls. Then she noticed, in front of the seats on the left hand side of the aisle, another table, and there she saw Dave Trampler, with Brian Conti sitting next to him. Clara froze: images flashed through her head of him barking insults at her, violating her, dragging her into the van, running after her. She pointed him out to her friends, who did their best to assure her that he could not harm her in here.
Holly was sitting in the press gallery: as the other reporters arrived, she threw a cold glance at those who had written favourably about Crawley, and had ignored or played down Clara's story. Clementina sat towards the back of the courtroom, still as convinced as ever that her daughter was a liar.
Suddenly, the murmurings of the spectators were rudely interrupted by a shout from the clerk:
"Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Today is the opening day of The District of Columbia v David Ronald Trampler. The Honourable Judge Mervyn Scales presiding."
Clara looked up and saw a bald, frowning, well-built man taking his place on a raised bench against the back wall. A jury of seven men and five women was empanelled, and then Monica gave her opening speech, telling the jury of the witnesses she was going to call, and of how, once they had heard all the evidence, they could have no reasonable doubt that Dave Trampler was guilty of the abduction and attempted murder of Clara Hewson.
Officers Grundy and Rodriguez were the first witnesses, both testifying that they had been assigned to the case by Commissioner Russell, that they had then interviewed Clara, and arrested Trampler. In cross examination, Conti questioned them about whether Clara's interview with Holly had influenced them: they replied that they had never read the story, and had simply followed Russell's instructions. They were followed by the man who had rented the van to Trampler: Monica showed him photographs of the van recovered from the Piedmont Plateau, and he readily identified it as the one that Trampler had hired, noting that the registration number was the same. Those who had sold the ropes and spade were the next to take the stand. Conti attempted to suggest to all three of these witnesses that Trampler was not the man they had seen, but they all positively identified him, noting that he was easy to recognise. Mr. Morris the van driver told the court how he had picked up a young woman near the Piedmont early in the morning of 5th July 2032, the day after the crime: Monica then asked a nervous Clara to stand up, and Mr. Morris agreed that she resembled the woman in question. Conti elicited from him that the young woman had not told him her name or what had had happened to her, but he was confident that she had been genuinely distressed by something.
Devi, Angela and Lily were next, all of them giving evidence about how they had found out about Trampler's abusive behaviour towards Clara, and how she had told them of his attempt to kill her. Devi and Angela both became quite angry in their testimony, and Monica had to gently remind them to remain calm in order to impress the jury. In his cross-examination of Devi, Conti seized on her evidence that she had suggested to Clara that she go public with her story, putting it to Devi that she had encouraged Clara to lie about Trampler in revenge for his having stolen her girlfriend. Devi furiously denied this, making no secret of her contempt for Conti, and both Angela and Lily corroborated her testimony that Clara had told them about the crime before she had told Devi.
"We need to come up with something different, Dave", whispered Conti after he returned to the defence table.
Clementina was feeling confused. She could not deny that the prosecution evidence was looking impressive, but she still clung firm to her belief in Trampler's innocence: let's see what the defence evidence is, she told herself.
Clara was starting to feel hopeful, but then she heard the clerk's voice booming out:
"Clara Amelia Hewson."
Clara was shaking as she got up from her seat.
"Good luck, Clara. Be brave", Devi advised her, planting an encouraging kiss on Clara's lips.
"Don't let that Conti get to you", said Angela, hugging Clara.
"You'll be OK, Clara", smiled Lily.
Clara tried to smile, but it was difficult: she slowly shuffled over to the witness stand. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the courtroom, all these strangers, bearing down on her. The idea of telling her story in such a public setting was daunting, but it had to be done, if there was to be justice. She sat down on a chair next to the bench, and took the oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Going through her experiences for what she desperately hoped would be the last time, Clara, in answer to Monica's questions, told the court the whole story from her first encounter with Trampler to her interview with Grundy and Rodriguez. At first she spoke in barely more than a whisper, and Monica had to gently ask her to speak up so the jury could hear her. Gradually, Clara grew more confident, though she had to do her best to avoid Trampler's intimidating glare, and also struggled when having to talk about her brush with death.
Clara felt relieved when her evidence came to an end, but then she saw Conti stand up and walk over towards her.
"Ms. Hewson", he said deliberately, "you say that you were in a relationship with Ms. Bose, is that correct?"
"Yes", replied Clara: she felt annoyed but did her best to sound polite.
"And you are still together, are you not?", he asked.
"Of course", said Clara, fighting to remain calm.
"And do you enjoy each other?", inquired Conti.
"What do you mean?", asked Clara, feeling both baffled and irritated.
"Answer the question, Ms. Hewson", commanded Judge Scales.
"I mean", said Conti, "do you enjoy making out together?"
"Objection, Your Honour". Monica had got to her feet. "This question is completely irrelevant to the case."
"Overruled", said Scales. "The witness must answer every question put to her."
"But he's asking me about my private life, You Honour", pleaded Clara. "Why should I have to answer that?"
"Because, Ms. Hewson, if he thinks your private life is important to his client's defence, he has the right and the duty to ask you about it, and you must answer."
"But it's uncomfortable for me."
"That's not my concern. My concern is to enable both sides to put their case as they see fit. Proceed, Mr. Conti."
Monica sat down, shaking her head: Clara could see Trampler smirking at her.
"I shall resume, Ms. Hewson", said Conti. "Do you and Ms. Bose enjoy making out?"
"I suppose we do", sighed Clara, now just desperate for the cross-examination to end.
"And what is your favourite position?"
"You shouldn't ask me that." Clara's voice was trembling with anger.
"The judge said you should answer my every question", Conti reminded her. "But as you have decided not to answer that one I think we'll let it pass."
Despite herself, Clara noticed that Conti seemed to be rather awkward with his brief: he was pacing up and down, looking at the floor, and seemed mightily relieved to move on to a different line of questioning.
"You are positive that you know Mr. Trampler?", he asked.
"Yes", said Clara, who was now finding it harder than ever to keep a lid on things.
"He definitely came to your apartment?"
"Yes."
"But how would he know where it is?"
"I don't know."
"You admit you don't know?"
"How am I supposed to know that? But he did come to my apartment."
"And he raped you, you say?"
"Yes", said the increasingly exasperated Clara: she was annoyed by the words "you say".
"And he stopped you going out to the County Line?"
"Yes."
"And he stopped you seeing Ms. Bose?"
"Yes."
"And, one night, he kidnapped you?"
"Yes."
"And he tied you up in a van?"
"Yes."
"And he told you he would kill you?"
"Yes."
"What reason could he possibly have to want to kill you?"
"I've already said, he had seen me reading the article, and he knew about me and Devi."
Conti went on, demanding that Clara confirm every detail of that night. Finally, he said to her:
"I put it to you that you have never spoken to Mr. Trampler in your life."
"I wish I hadn't, but I have."
"I put it to you that you are lying to get compensation from Mr. Trampler."
"I am not!". Clara could no longer stop herself from shouting. The judge hammered away with his gavel, repeatedly shouting "Ms. Hewson! Ms. Hewson!", but Clara was past caring.
"I told the truth!", she shouted. "Everything! Everything I have said is the truth! That man", she pointed an accusing finger at Trampler, "he raped me, he kidnapped me, he tried to kill me! Please believe me", she added, turning to the jury box, "I told the truth, please believe me!"
"Order in the court!", shouted Judge Scales, still banging the gavel. "Ms. Hewson, you have given a disgraceful exhibition of yourself today! No respect at all for this court! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Please, Your Honour", said Clara, "please believe me, I told the truth, and after all I've been through . . ."
"That is for the jury to decide. And even if you are telling the truth, whatever you may or may not have gone through, there is no excuse for you to behave like that. Any further questions, Mr. Conti?"
"No, Your Honour."
"Right then, court is adjourned."
Clara saw Conti walking back to a grinning Trampler: she then glanced at the jurors, and saw frowns on their faces. She got up from the witness stand and joined her friends and Monica as they left the courtroom.
"I'm so sorry I messed it up, Monica", said Clara abashedly. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that, and now we've lost."
"Well", said Monica, who was clearly trying to be as tactful as possible, "I understand how you felt on that stand, Clara, but I'm afraid you're right. So many times I've seen a man accused of rape or battery or attempted murder walk free, because the woman did not 'behave herself' in court."
"But why should she 'behave herself' after all that's happened to her, and when she's being so horribly slandered?", demanded Angela angrily.
"Because", sighed Monica, "I'm afraid that's the way the world is. It shouldn't be that way but it is."
"Well it's not right", said Angela. "You were absolutely right to say what you did, Clara."
"You came across well, Clara", said Devi. "You came across as a truthful witness defending yourself against slander."
"Are you sure?", inquired Clara doubtfully.
"Of course", smiled Devi. "And remember, Clara, he accused you of lying to get compensation."
"Of course I remember it", said Clara, seething.
"But before that", Devi continued, "he was claiming that I was the one who had made it all up, to get revenge on Trampler, remember. The defence has changed tack, Clara, and the jury will notice that and they won't like it. Have faith, Clara."
Clara wasn't so sure.
