The Trial

So a year ago today I pushed the door open and walked into the court room, I was holding my bottle of water tightly in my right hand, the tightest I’ve held onto something so insignificant in my whole life, a bottle of half empty water. It was the only part of what was outside that door that I could bring in with me. It was like my safety. I walked straight in and the smell of the room I can still remember. It didn’t smell bad just different. I looked up at the judge who gave me a warm smile as to say ‘it’s okay’. I looked ahead of me and saw a small desk and chair and the judge looked at me again and indicated for me to take a seat. The chair was red and cushioned, it looked comfy which I was happy about. I sat down and then plucked up the courage to look ahead of me to the jury. They were all so normal looking. A mixture of men and woman, young and old. I then looked over to the two ladies who would be my main focus for the next few days. The prosecutor and the defence lawyer. I had met them both briefly before, they were nice, as nice as they could be.

There was a silence, no one spoke for what felt like forever. I didn’t know if I should start talking or if they were going to start asking me questions. In that silence I heard a movement from behind the big grey curtain. The curtain that was hiding him from me. He was in his wheel chair and as he moved the wheel chair made a creaky noise and I heard his breath. The sound resonated through me and suddenly I felt this feeling, a feeling I never want to feel again in my whole life. It was a feeling of true fear, I had never felt so vulnerable. I felt like I was that 9 year old girl again sitting on a huge red chair and everyone was watching me.

“Please state your full name to the court room.” came a voice. “Er, my name is Chloe.” I said nervously.

“Thank you, but please state your full name to the court room.”

“My name is Chloe Cuthill.”

‘Thank you, now I am going to start by asking you a series of questions, if you don’t understand please say so and I will repeat it, is that okay?”

“Yes.” I replied.

From that point I can not tell you what was said as I don’t remember. The whole day was the biggest blur. I was only in the room for an hour or so as I didn’t start till late that afternoon. So I was needed the next day.

Going home was the best and most comforting thing. Seeing my mum who I had left that morning in tears, running into her arms was my safety. I then had to switch off and become a mum myself that evening. Pretending I wasn’t breaking inside, forcing that smile in turn to make my baby feel safe just as my mum had made me feel.

The next day was the same. I arrived at the crown court and I was in the waiting room, I was looking outside the window and I saw a car pull up, a silver Mercedes and I saw a woman step out, she was talking to someone who was still in the car. A man started to struggled out of the passenger seat and as he did he turned around and I saw his face. A face I hadn’t seen since I was 12. He looked exactly the same. I quickly sat back down. I was then filled with a sense of power, I had seen him but he hadn’t seen me nor will he. I needed that. Knowing I had a bit of him helped me to walk back into that court room and sit back on that red chair.

The prosecution asked me question after question, I had to tell my story all over again. The realness of what happened. The detail I had to go into with strangers all around looking at me. All 15 pair of eyes pinned on me and what I was saying, digging into more and more detail. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, my hands were sweating, my leg began to shake. I was breathing uncontrollably, my eyes darting from prosecutor to the defence to a jury member to the judge to the grey curtain that hid him from me. I looked at the judge again and I shook my head and tears appeared from nowhere, I was a mess. I couldn’t breath, I had to get out of this room, I had to run as far as I could and not turn back.

“Do you want to stop?” The judge said.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t.” I said.

“Let’s break here and back in 15 minutes. She said. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” I murmured and I stood up and walked towards the door turned back towards the judge and nodded and I walked out. I went back to the waiting room and sat for 15 minutes and composed myself.

The questions started again, some I could answer some I couldn’t. After telling the court what he had done to me and the process of the abuse the questions became more factual. Things about my parents, timelines, the car he drove, his age and the way he looked. It then went on to my witness statements and what they had stated when asked a year or so ago when this whole process started. After this the jury were shown my diary inserts and pictures of me as an 9 year old girl, different pictures of me in school uniform to pictures of me with my family on holiday. A three year photo album of vulnerability.

Finally the words I was longing to hear, “no more questions your Honor.” I have never felt a sense of relief. It only lasted about 5 seconds and then I remembered its not over, I now have to be asked questions from the defence lawyer. The one person in this room that will try and make me out to be a lier. She stood up and looked at me with a stern face and my heart started to beat out of my chest again, I could see my jumper moving from the motion, the vibrations of my heart beat. I looked down at my bracelet that my mum had bought me and I took a breath, I looked up at her and from that moment on I have no idea what she asked me or what I said. All I remember is her stating “I’m going to suggest to you that that isn’t what happened. I’m going to suggest that...” every time I answered a question of hers. She would turn the whole truth into the biggest lie. As a victim of abuse the one main reason you do not go to the police or tell people is the fear of not being believed, the fear that people will turn it around and make excuses for it. That is exactly what she did.

The questions went on and on and she repeated herself a lot. The constant judgment in her eyes the viciousness of her voice and the determination in her questions were too much for me to bear and I thought I was about to break, I wanted to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs “I’m not lying!” I was at breaking point I could feel the pressure in my body I could feel the anger building. I wanted to tear open the curtain and shake him and punch him and scream at him and hurt him..

The questions stopped and at that moment court had adjourned for the day. Before the judge could say anything I was up out of my seat and I ran towards the door, I flung it open and ran out. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t stand. I have never cried like that in my life.

I was back the next day, all the same, more questions more lies from his defence. She kept on making me out to be a lier and I kept telling her that I wasn’t. That day ended and I was done. I had stood up to the man who controlled me for 20 years, the man who determined how I felt, how I loved, how I expressed myself. A whole 20 years of being his victim and being his prisoner had finally started to ease. I had told them what he had done and how much of a monster he truly is. I couldn’t do anymore.

The next few days went on and on, my parents had to testify then it was his turn. It wasn’t until the 13th December I received a call from my detective and he said the jury had found him guilty of all counts. Then on the 17th December I was told he was sentenced to 9 years in prison.

The whole process was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my whole life and probably will be for the rest of my life. You can watch court room dramas and you can hear about it on the news but until you experience something like that you will never be able to understand it.

The last year has been tough for everyone for obvious reasons. The year 2020 really hasn’t been great. But I have grown as a person and I have finally realised I can live without him controlling me. I am finally free. I defended myself against a monster who consumed me for 20 years. That is something I will be proud of forever and 9 year old Chloe is finally smiling.