Page 82 of Broken Silence
He had to pay for what he’d done to me, my whole family, and those other girls.
Linda stood up and walked towards me. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun and she wore a cream suit. She stopped a metre away and smiled. “Could you please state your full name?”
I swallowed my nerves. “Oakley Ruby Farrell.”
“And how old are you?”
“Twenty.”
I was asked a few more straightforward, everyday questions.
What was my date of birth? Where did I live? Who did I live with? Where did I go to school?
It was easing me in. I drew strength from every confident answer I gave, speaking clearly.
But then things turned more serious, and I had to ground myself again. Linda straightened her back and glanced at the judge and jury.
No turning back now.
Refocusing, I set my mind on the end goal, to speak my truth and show him that it wasn’t my life that was over.
Keep going. You’ve got this.
“Miss Farrell, do you understand why we are here?” Linda asked. Her voice projected authority and confidence. The way she looked and moved was almost as if we had already won.
My heart constricted. “Yes,” I replied.
I wanted to elaborate and tell her, tell them all, exactly why we were here, but I couldn’t. I had to keep it simple, notgo into detail, and use one-worded answers whenever possible. She would get all of the information she needed the right way.
Don’t get overemotional.
“Did you grow up here?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you live when you were here?”
“Eighteen Turner Road.”
“Who did you live with at that address?”
“My mum, dad, and brother.”
“And how long did you live there?”
“Sixteen years,” I said.
My parents had moved there when Mum was four months pregnant with me. It was the only house I had ever lived in before we’d moved to Australia.
“You just mentioned your father. Do you see him in the courtroom today? Can you point and verbally acknowledge that he is in the courtroom, so our stenographer can enter your response into the court records?”
I took a deep breath and pointed to him. “Yes. He’s there.”
I was careful not to look directly into his eyes, though. I could feel him watching me, burning a hole in the side of my head, trying to put me off, to intimidate me into… what? Another panic attack?
To make me appear like I was crazy.
My back straightened. That wasn’t going to happen.
