The Time I Was a Witness in Court
- Rachel Roberts
- Mar 6, 2020
- 8 min read
Updated: Mar 7, 2020
It was a normal Saturday afternoon when my older sister and I were walking home from the train station after a morning of shopping in Birmingham City Centre. We regularly hopped on the 20-minute train journey to explore the Bullring and come home with bags of high street and vintage goodies. It was around 3:00pm and a bit rainy and cold when we left the station and began to make our way. We reached a side street and waited to cross over whilst a red Volvo waited to pull out on to the main road.
The man behind the wheel had tanned skin and a dark, short shaven beard. His dark eyes starred up at us from the side window. He held his stare for a few seconds and continued to drive out. We didn’t think much of this until we reached the next side street and he somehow appeared before us again. I laughed this off as a coincidence, “Rach, we’re being followed.” My sister starred back at him with suspicion. “No don’t be silly, he probably just had to do a turnaround, it’s fine.” Maybe this was a little naïve of me, but it was only 3pm, what maniac stalks girls in the rain and cold on Saturday afternoon? Surely that’s something that older, much worse looking men do when its dark and late at night. This man was handsome and looked in his early 30s.
Apparently, I was wrong. Maniacs did exist at 3pm.
Every turn, every time we went to cross a road, walk down a new street, there he was; making awkward turns, going all the way round the roundabout just to come back on himself to drive past us one more time.
As I stood on the edge of the pavement ready to cross over, the red Volvo appeared yet again before me, slowing right down, with his dark eyes staring up at mine, as I realised one of his hands was elsewhere other than the wheel, and I don’t mean the gear stick, but somewhere that made my stomach feel like it had shrunk up inside me, and I was going to throw the whole thing up on the pavement beside me.
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed in hysteria, repeatedly yelling what I had just seen to my sister. To anyone passing by, I probably sounded rather potty-mouthed and quite funny. Whilst my sister explained that she hadn’t seen the full view which I had the delight of experiencing, she did tell me she saw his arm moving in an up and down motion which wasn’t the way in which one would usually move a steering wheel.
Panic set in and we had never walked so quickly to get home, my sister had her phone out on record discreetly by her pocket and captured him driving past us yet again, whilst I memorised the number plate. We saw him one last time before we got home and at this point, I was livid. I swore and yelled with my middle finger right up at his window, what are you gonna do, huh? I thought. Stop the car, I dare you. I wasn’t even thinking about the danger I was in at this point. I questioned why this was happening since I had definitely had better looking days; my hair had been rained on all day, and I was in jeans, a t-shirt and a denim jacket, not exactly looking like a porn star. Even still, I should be able to walk down the street in a mini skirt if I so damn pleased without something like this happening.
We got home and rang our mum straight away; she sent her partner (at the time) to come pick us up and take us to the police station where we told an officer behind a desk what had happened.
The following weeks consisted of giving statements in separate rooms to each other, continually adding details and signing my signature everywhere; I always hoped that if I ever ended up constantly signing my signature as an adult it would have been because I was a famous author or musician or something, so this was a rather bleak turn of events. As well as a witness statement, I provided a Victim Personal Statement, explaining how I was now terrified to walk anywhere in my neighbourhood and how I had dreamt about suspicious cars following me around.
The process of the investigation was long, longer than it should have been, the original officer who took our case left and it was ages before another one picked it back up. For months I would travel to police stations or have the officer phone me, “Are you okay to talk?” they would ask when I picked up which basically meant ‘Are you alone? Because we are about to talk about the tragic circumstances of you and some strange man’s phallus that is currently ruining your life’ but by this point I had gotten used to waiting until I got home to answer the ‘no caller ID’ calls.
As it got closer to the trial after many tedious months, Witness Protection took my sister and I on a tour of the court room and explained what would happen on the day. We had requested a screen to be put up to prevent both us and him from being able to see each other and got to read the oath we would have to say. I chose the none religious option out of the laminated cards stating each oath for each faith, because if God was real I would have liked to believe he wouldn’t have made such a gross man in the first place or at least have struck his penis with a fierce bolt of lightning when he thought it would be a good idea to get it out mid-drive.
As I was taken into the room and was shown where I would have to stand, I burst into tears. I was ugly crying on a whole new level with a blotchy red face, streaming make-up and a snotty nose. The two, very kind Witness Protection ladies were horrified and tried to comfort me with words of encouragement, they showed us the way out and I walked off ahead of my mum and sister to the car to avoid anyone seeing me looking so dreadful.
The following weekend I was moving away to university. Yup, what a roller coaster. My family drove me down to my halls of residence and helped me unpack for the new chapter in my life whilst the idea that I would have to come home in 3 days for a court date was looming over me.
It was most definitely the worst ice breaker ever: ‘Hey new flat mates! Nice to meet you, just letting you know I won’t be attending Fresher’s Fayre or the T-Shirt Tour night out because I have a hot court date! But hey, I’ll be back soon!” The sweet girls I was now living amongst would reply with an “Oh” when I gently tried to ease this bombshell into a conversation and hoped they wouldn’t think I was weird.
When the day arrived, we waited as he gave his plea, hoping that he would just say guilty and I could go home, but this wasn’t the case and I was called in first to give my version of events. I read out the oath, pausing mid-way to swallow hard, a man in a suit asked the magistrates if I could sit down, he could clearly see I was terrified. I had to explain the story from start to finish, whilst another man in a suit asked me questions now and then.
It was then time for a different man in a suit (this one looked strangely like Gus from Breaking Bad) to ask me questions but this time to defend the creep I was up against. He challenged me on road names, suggesting it wasn’t possible for him to drive around to certain roads quick enough and other things to squash the story in his defence. Usually in movies when this happens, these guys are sassy and vicious, but this guy was being pretty gentle. He took his time to go over my statement and scrutinise it, leaving little silences in between. I looked down at the fresher’s wristband around my wrist, ‘Warrior’ it read. Really, this was the title of the package I bought would get me into all the fresher’s events, most likely suggesting you’re a warrior in fighting hang overs and finding the energy to go out every night for two weeks straight. However, on this day I was a real warrior. I was an 18-year-old girl sitting in a court room, holding a grown-ass man accountable for his actions and fighting for justice. I was preventing other women from dealing with this same B.S. And with that, I got confident. I stopped gulping from my cup of water and feeling sorry for myself. I answered sharply with a NO when he tried to suggest parts didn’t happen.
“Could what you have seen been a mobile phone instead?”
“What? No, definitely not.” This last question left me baffled, on what planet does somebody’s penis look like an iPhone? I also wasn’t sure who moved their phone up and down in such a vigorous motion when using it. Oh, and not to forget that using a phone behind the wheel is just a tad illegal.
I returned to the little room, crossing my sister on the way, not being allowed to say a word to each other as she went to give her statement next. The rest of the day was full of small talk with the Witness Protection ladies and waiting around to find out what would happen next. When the decision was made my mum went to sit in the room to find out whether he would be found guilty or not.
After a while, she returned through the door, with tears in her eyes, “We’ve got him!” She said, “Guilty!” And with that I felt lighter, almost as if some heavy, gloomy ghost had been in my body all these months making me feel heavy and anxious and it just floated it of my mouth up into the air. The room was full of ‘Yes!’ and ‘thank God!’ and we left, knowing that he would soon have a sentencing and we would find out what his punishment would be.
I sat in the back of the car as my mum drove me back down the M5 to university and the sky was pink and everything felt right. We stopped at a Beefeater and had a celebratory dinner, even a pudding. After a week or so, we were informed that the man who has caused me hell for nearly a year would be put on the Sex Offenders Register and would have to complete community service and various other punishments.
If you ever unfortunately find yourself in a similar situation, if you can find the strength to tell the police, please do It. It’s not easy and a lot of people can’t and that is also okay. If you end up having to go to court, know that you can ask for a screen to protect your identity or so you don’t have to see that person again, you can even ask for the magistrate or judge to be dressed in normal clothes without the fancy wigs and outfits, if that makes you feel more comfortable! Witness Protection are a great service, they are kind and they will make sure you know exactly what to do on the day. No matter what the result is, know that you are brave for standing up for yourself and be proud for speaking out. You will be okay, and you can handle more than you think! Time always heals, it will get easier little by little every day.
A useful link which explains what to expect as a witness:
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