Page 93 of Broken Silence
Frank had a photo of me.
It could be out there still, getting shared and exchanged on the dark web. Nothing was ever really removed from the Internet, right?
Don’t think about that.
I didn’t even bother looking at Linda’s face. No doubt she would be wincing at my knee-jerk response, which was exactly what the defence wanted.
The photos existed. Iknewthey did.
“Every phone, tablet, PC, and laptop in your father’s positionhas been searched, Miss Farrell. I can assure you that there aren’t any pictures of you to back up your claim.”
I didn’t know if I should be pleased they were gone and no one would ever see them or frightened that them being gone backed up Dad’s story.
“It happened,” I whispered. I looked to the jury.
Please believe me.
“Miss Farrell, could you at least tell me what camera was allegedly used? Or was it a phone?”
“Camera. Silver and square, but I don’t know the make.”
“Of course,” he replied.
“Were you there?”
He flashed a smile. “And was this the family’s camera?”
I deadpanned. “My father’s sick, not stupid.”
Linda stood up. “Your Honour, can we take a break please?”
John the Arsehole objected, but the judge agreed and called a recess since court had been in session all morning.
“Back in fifteen minutes.”
I followed Linda out of the box and out of the room in a daze. The world was spinning around me, but I felt like I was dead still. We went into another room to talk privately.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, dropping into the seat in the little room where I’d passed out a few days ago. “I know I messed up, but he makes me so damn angry.”
She grabbed me a bottle of water.
“Thanks.”
“Oakley,” she said, sitting down beside me. “You’re doing great, but you need to try to keep your cool. Their whole argument is that you’re a troublemaker who craved the attention. Unfortunately, any sign of anger or temper from you—however understandable in the circumstances—will mean that you’re playing right into their hands. I know it’s frustrating. I’ve beensitting there, wanting to throw my laptop at him, but I can’t. Youhaveto stay calm.”
I nodded and roughly ran my free hand through my long hair. “I know.”
She was right. If I let John get to me, blowing this chance of getting Dad and Frank sent down, then I would mess up the whole reason I’d spoken out in the first place.
I had a drink, sipping water slowly, feeling my heart-rate simmer down.
For me and all the other girls, I had to do this right.
“I’ll be fine now,” I told her once I’d calmed down. “I won’t let him get away with it.”
She smiled. “Good. You can do this. He can’t trip you up because you’re telling the truth.”
“Yeah.”
