My impressions so far.
In my very first week as an observer of the sleaziest parts of everyday modern life, I fell into a court case that happened to make papers all over the world.
Looking over running tables for local courts, I found at least fifteen other cases that stuck out to me as far, far uglier and more shocking. But this was the one that made the cut, because it tickles people’s gossip bones. Everybody is a village numpty more or less deep down.
It’s the case of a woman teacher who, apparently, laid one of her form pupils when he was just turning 16. Putting the legal age of consent aside, the kid was clearly of sound mind when it happened and is not particularly traumatised by the experience which was probably deeply pleasurable for him. I mean, which teenage boy gets to sleep with an experienced 33 year old on the reg? The thrill must have been awesome. For me, just thinking of the day-to-day excitement gives me the chills.
Of course, when you are trying to study and you are infatuated with someone inaccessible whom you happen to have to see every day, that can be a real unhealthy distraction. I recall even at 19, when 33- or 34-year-old T----- would fuck me majestically and then tell me to keep it under wraps and cruelly leave without a kind word, it smarted a little bit. But it toughened me up, wasn’t such a big deal in the grand scheme of life – in fact, some of those memories with him are invaluable to me.
But anyway, this one is quite a bit different. The kid was sixteen and in her class.
I do not get why they make the poor kids say in excruciating detail exactly what they mean by things like “anal” (what do you mean by anal? he put his willy in her bum) and “fingering” (put his fingers inside her. Inside her what? Her vagina). When did children get so adept at sex talk? What are we growing into, as a species? Is it good, maybe? Maybe we were meant to start sex early, considering our age of biological maturity.
Standing outside the court room with the woman a few feet away from me, knowing she knows I’m writing the next salacious story about her that’s going to be the gossip of all the land, was deeply awkward. She behaved very coolly, I must say. Maybe her sharp solicitor has been keeping her spirits up.
The solicitor, phew, there’s a doozy. A heavy woman with nearly thirty years experience, she picks up every tiny detail and turns anybody into a pathological liar if she wants to. I would not want her on my case, though that third boy witness was quite snarky and managed to throw her a little. Her demands for comforts and covid-related hygiene were obnoxious as hell, but I think it’s all a part of the imposing and self-important character.
“I suggest that you lied. I suggest you never slept with her at all.”
Very damning, very cruel to a teenage boy, though they too are notorious for being cruel…
My god, what to think? Whom to believe? It’s like watching a play, only real… With the main character, the centre of all attention, sitting quietly at the back in a glass box, ignored yet intricately scrutinised all at once.
The bumbling prosecutor, chatty and a bit amused by the whole situation, a bit too easygoing. He stumbled over his words I think, one too many times. Eh, why not. He is benevolent.
The chipmunk-faced judge, adorable and formidable. He doesn’t take any nonsense. He has to keep things running to schedule, but he also has to ensure a fair trial. He will pipe in politely – and my god, how polite they are, when they interrupt each other, sometimes I feel Ms Defence Lawyer is on the verge of cursing somebody out but she keeps ultimate respect and calm with the judge no matter what – to clarify anything he did not understand, even if it is basic, just for the jury’s sake. That is what he is for! To make sure the jury understand all in a clean, honest manner.
I befriended the covid cleaner, a nice man from Pakistan who brought me a slice of pizza when I was so hungry. He then became a bit too clingy, saying he’d seen me in a dream and wanted to keep serving me things. Why must my kindness be so gravely misinterpreted? The elite tend to ignore the cleaners, and I treat them just like anybody else. So they like me. Just like children.
...Is that such a demeaning thing to say, when I am the only one actually talking to them and looking them in the eye? Well, it could be argued that I am the one being a phony in this case. But my original perspective honestly was that he was a regular Joe just like any of the big-shot lawyers. It is once I gleaned his pathetic nature that I changed my mind and realised that his attention towards me had indeed been similar to that of a child. So I maintain my high esteem of my own virtue: it is he who proved my good faith in him wrong.
Regardless of such exceptions, I do find janitors and other workers interesting, as they have a very different perspective on things that are happening around us. This cleaner says he delivered food to the now-famous defendant, who lives in the town nearby. A knowing smile suggested that he might have some insight into her character. He can hear the cases from his janitor’s closet, I think I understood him saying. I bet nobody would ever suspect him of anything if he did ever listen in…
Note to self: think about chatting to workers about important people.
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