[♪ 'I'm Fine' by Self Esteem]
♪ I won't rein in my need
♪ To be completely free... ♪
[♪ STOPS]
Thoroughbreds!
Every single one.
Primed for the race.
Every muscle pumped, trained and ready for the sprint.
Hold it together. Hold back.
Keep the blood at just the right temperature.
Just below boil.
Waiting at the starting gates, then...
'All rise!'
– Out of the stalls. Hold back. – [RHYTHM POUNDING, RISING]
Push forward.
Know when to have restraint, when to find an opening.
Ready to jump when the prosecution falters.
Poised. Watching.
Waiting.
Nerves taut, mind operating on ten tracks at once.
Blood pumping. Muscles tightly wound, waiting to spring. Waiting.
It's starting to open up, wait. Wait.
Careful. This is a measure of your skill set, the calm before.
And there it is.
Instinct pushes me forward. 'Your Honour.'
I am on my feet. Eyes zooming in on me.
'Application granted.'
Yes! Yes!
My client, big guy, looks, er, stunned.
He doesn't quite know that I've won a point, but he feels the shift, likes it.
My client hates the witness, but for me, the witness is just the witness.
I sit down. The prosecution finishes. Then it's time.
The judge looks at me.
'It's your witness, Ms Ensler.'
Yes. The witness is mine!
The witness breathes in. I stand up, slowly, do up the button on my jacket.
Courtroom silent, charged, waiting for me, the thrill of this.
Play it cool!
Yeah? Cool!
Voice, measured and confident. Play it.
Play it, it's yours. You're holding it in the pa-a-a-a-alm of your hand.
Play with it! Stretch it out, it's yours.
Cross-examination. It's the best part. All instinct.
Ask the question. Repeat the answer, repeat it again.
Watch the witness's face, let him think I am getting mixed up,
that I'm a bit slow in understanding what happened.
Flick through some pages, let him think I have lost my way.
Hear breathing. A snicker from the prosecution counsel.
Good. Good. Very good.
Again, flick through some pages.
My client shifts uncomfortably in the dock. Good.
Then I repeat the question, watch the witness relax.
Shoulders roll back.
'This one doesn't seem to know what she's doing.'
Judge, expressionless.
But this judge has seen me before, seen the likes of me.
Question one. Question two. Look worried about the answers.
This emboldens him.
Watch, yes, here he goes.
Let the witness talk, over talk. Let him 'clarify'. Good.
'Thanks for that, I wasn't sure...'
See his eyes dismiss me.
'This one must be straight out of uni or something. She's not that good.'
Oh, ho-ho. This... It relaxes him. He's got the upper hand.
He is now not careful, not afraid, no longer vigilant.
He says something inconsistent.
I let him explain it to me.
Nodding. I'm nodding, while he digs himself in deeper.
'OK,' I say, 'that's a bit clearer now, but...'
He volunteers more information.
I see the prosecutor put a finger to his own forehead.
He knows and I know, but the guy about to bury himself, he talks on and on.
I circle, nodding approval. 'Oh, I see, but why did that happen?'
Judge's face, a mask. But the judge knows.
There is blood in the water, and I let the witness swim on.
No one can help him. And he swims right into it.
He leans back, flash of confidence across his face.
I let him feel his control. Feel safe.
Then, tip toe, tip toe.
He crosses his arms as I approach. I circle. Circle again.
Stop, flick through some pages.
The judge and the other lawyers, they know what's coming.
They know, they cringe for him.
But they love it! They lean forward.
The jury, the people in the gallery, no idea.
And him, in the witness box, the one I'm talking to, no clue.
Still, no fucking clue!
'And, I'm sorry but, just to clarify,
'I do have one more question, I hope you don't mind,
'it will help me get the full picture.'
Was that an eye roll from him?
Perfect!
But if he was watching the prosecution counsel,
the guy turning his head down to the table,
he might know, he might sense.
If he wasn't so sure, so cocky, he'd feel it. Danger.
Something is about to go down
but no, he's in his element.
He thinks he is the cat and I am the mouse.
It is perfect.
The prosecution counsel looks up.
I stop moving. I stop paper shuffling.
I look right at the witness.
I ask my question. A strange flicker across his face.
He glances quickly to the prosecutor. Prosecutor can't say anything.
But his eyes!
His eyes are straining, trying to say,
'Don't. Don't. Keep your wits about you. Don't fall into this trap.'
And, my last circle. Then, bang!
– ♪ Ah-ah... ♪ – I fire four questions like bullets.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Face, shock. Utter annihilation.
And the look that I get,
dawning.
You fucking idiot!
You thought you had this.
But here I am. Watch the witness sweat.
Silence. People in the gallery lean forward.
'Wow! She's good!'
My client, the accused, is awestruck.
My eyes are on the witness's face.
Now for the first time, he actually sees me.
He is furious.
'Answer the question, please, Mr Bateman.'
Professional. The prosecutor sits at the bar table, head down.
It's all over now – he knows it, I know it, the judge knows it,
the witness is about to really know it.
[SWEETLY] 'Your honour, the witness is not answering the question.'
Sweetest voice ever.
The judge reminds Mr Bateman that he must answer the question.
'Answer counsel's question, please, Mr Bateman.'
A look of sheer hatred, at me.
He's cornered. He is fucked. His head is down.
He mumbles something. 'I'm sorry, I didn't hear that.'
Judge, 'You must speak into the microphone for the transcript recording, Mr Bateman.'
I smile benevolently.
'Is it a yes then, sir? So you agree with me then?'
The judge has had enough, the man is destroyed, he knows my tactics.
'You have your answer, Ms Ensler.' Yes!
I do. 'Thank you, Your Honour, I have no further questions.'
Judge, 'Any re-examination?'
The prosecutor stands, but no.
No, there is no point digging his witness in further. It's a no-brainer.
The witness walks past me, flashes me a look, utter confusion.
What just happened? It's not emotional for me. It's the game.
It's the game of law. I stand up again, completely professional.
I submit 'there is no case to answer', call for a dismissal.
The judge is swift.
It is all over now.
The barristers' rule is the winner can't flaunt it.
Every winner might be the one who loses the next day.
We don't call it losing. We call it 'coming second'.
Today, the prosecutor came second.
I pack up my files. Nod thanks to counsel for the prosecution.
Don't make eye contact, blah, blah, blah.
Motion for my client to up and leave.
Everybody watches my walk, leather satchel across my chest.
Undo my jacket button.
Saunter.
Turn at the door, nod to the judge, gesture for my client to do the same.
Outside the courtroom, he's free. He gets to go home.
His mother is weeping, she holds my hand to her heart.
I like the mothers, they know, they understand. I tell them, 'I've got to run.
'I've got another case to prepare. I don't want to see you in here again.'
My client nods, shakes my hand.
Respect.
Power.
Today, I was a winner. Today, I came first.
♪ Ah-ah ♪
Outside the court, I turn on my iPhone.
I call Alice to debrief on my case.
Someone else picks up. It's Jules. He asks me how it went.
'I won.' [MIMICS] 'What's new?' he says.
I throw files into a cab to the train station. I'm laughing on the phone.
I hop out, the cabbie calls me back.
'It's not an Uber!' I forgot to pay. Shit!
I hang up. I feel bad, I give the driver a tip.
I tell him my uncle drives a cab. Cabbie smiles at me.
Euston.
Catching the train to Liverpool, and I finally start to let it go –
the adrenalin, the pace.
I listen to some music.
It's a long ride to Mum's, and the gloss of this legal life melts into my seat
as the train makes its way to where I started out.
I walk up the high street, stop at the corner shop,
pick up Mum's favourite drink, a big bottle of Fanta.
The guy behind the counter remembers me.
We talk about how his business has slowed right down,
the new Tesco Express on the corner.
Mum is in the kitchen when I get there.
Little brother, 'Mick!' can't hear me, he's playing his PlayStation.
Older brother, Johnny, is in bed. 'Mum?'
'He had a big night last night.' Again.
The telly's on and the news is blaring.
Outrage.
Some poor family had been paid too much benefits.
Me mum lights up a ciggie, tells me the Fanta isn't sugar-free.
Fa-ail!
Asks me to chop the veg.
She's been cleaning offices all day, offices like the one I work in.
Chop. Chop.
Chop.
'I won a case today.'
'Oh, you got more criminals out on our streets then, did ya?'
No fucking point replying!
She goes out to her room, comes back,
hands me a hot-pink, 100% polyester shirt.
'I saw it on sale. It looks like what a lawyer would wear.'
– It's not! – (AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
But this is my mum's way of saying she is proud.
She is tentative, 'Do you like it?'
'I love it, Mum.'
I stop chopping. I put it on for her right there in the kitchen.
'Your brother, he got into a fight last night.'
'What? Not again!'
As I hug her, I feel her stiffen a little, she pulls away.
'Mum, he should be working full time.
'No, paying his way, not out at night drinking and partying.
'Mum, he's a fucking loser!'
I turn, there's Johnny, my brother, standing right at the door.
His face is contorted. Over his eyebrow is a dried bloody mess.
He erupts. He almost spits at me.
[MIMICS] 'Fancy fucking lawyer in your fancy fucking pink shirt, eh?'
Johnny lurches at me. Mum screams.
Micky can't hear anything with his PlayStation on.
'Go on. Go on, hit me. Show me what a big guy you are.'
And we are right back there.
He doesn't hit me, he's never hit me.
I feel bad that I've just said that. I just... I want him to be better.
Not be this guy, the one with a blood-encrusted forehead,
while breathing out last night's fumes as he speaks.
This man, he... He was once my best mate. He did everything with me.
Johnny swoops at the wall, vegetable pieces fly everywhere.
I am just gonna leave.
And the last thing that I see is my mum on the floor trying to pick them up.
Pieces of carrots and broccoli. On her hands and knees.
First day. University law school.
Cambridge! Yes.
Two hundred faces, each with three A stars at A-levels.
I mean, all of us, on almost perfect scores.
You know, all summer, everyone has looked at us as if we are 'something'.
No longer a spotty sixth former.
Now, someone to watch.
I mean, society tells us law school means you're important.
Everyone seems to believe it, except me. I'm still pretending.
We take our seats in the induction lecture. I look around.
Secretly fearful that perhaps I've fluked it,
that someone's gonna burst through the door of the induction hall,
call out my name and say, 'There's been a terrible mistake.'
But I get swept up in it all.
The Dean stands, telling us, [MIMICS] 'You are the crème de la crème!'
She actually said that. I mean, we like it.
Top law school, top city, top marks, top people.
We like to hear this.
'You will be the ones to change the country.'
Then just like a lawyer, she stops.
'But look to the person to your left.'
We do. Me, I'm shy.
Guy on my left is bloody gorgeous!
And confident, I can tell he is from a posh school, yeah.
He already knows he will be the one to change the country.
We nod at each other, he takes in my outfit, I wither...
It's obvious I'm not from where he's from.
[AS DEAM] 'Now look to the person to your right.'
The girl on my right has a haircut that screams 'private school'.
I hold back, but she gives me a warm smile and then pulls a funny face.
[SNORTS] I let out a small noise that is a laugh.
[AS DEAN] 'Look back and hear this. One of the three of you will not make it.
'Yes. One of the three of you will fail, make no mistake.
'You are all in competition with each other.
'You are not friends, you are fighting each other.
'The game starts now.'
I can't look at either of them.
One tick, two tick, third one gone.
The other two, they think it's gonna be me.
Yeah. Yeah, I am the one who won't make it because you can tell I don't belong here.
I get angry at them.
The girl starts typing on her phone, an expensive phone.
Oh, I can tell we won't talk again, yeah.
She'll be a top lawyer and won't remember my name. It's OK.
[AS DEAN] 'Out of those of you who even make it to the bar,
'only one in ten of you will get Pupillage.
'Only five of those might get Silk.
'And only one has the chance at being a judge each decade.'
I look to the boy to my left. [MIMICS HIM] 'Benedict.'
– Of course he's called Benedict. – (AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
He glances at me. He has already dismissed me.
Fuck you!
The Dean stands, talks the law.
[AS DEAN] 'Never assume anyone is telling the truth, even yourself.
'There is no real truth, only legal truth.
'Don't trust your gut instinct, trust your legal instinct.
'You will get it wrong if you think you know what will happen.
'You are the best of the best,
'prepare for the fight of your life because law school is just the beginning.'
The boy on my left, Benedict, he gets through, just as I predicted.
The girl on my right, Mia,
she drops out after first year to go to acting school.
But before she goes, Mia becomes my best friend – for life.
Yes!
Instincts can be wrong.
Never assume you're telling yourself the truth.
Don't trust what you think you know. This, this is not life, this is law.
Another three sentence matters and I head back to chambers.
Once I'm in my room, I go through the evidence of a big case tomorrow.
It's a complex matter, but it's in good shape.
It's been a long week this one.
– We head to the PUB! – [♪ DANCE MUSIC POUNDING]
There's a group there from law school.
Those from my chambers, Alice, Julian. Adam? Oh, he never comes out.
All of us there.
Too many bottles of Prosecco and, er...
..four tequila shots.
Each.
Julian's hand lingers on my back as he talks to me.
'Everyone up!' Dancing!
Suit jackets flung on the backs of chairs.
Noise. I smokes outside.
1 a.m. still dancing.
Julian's hand is on my waist.
He's telling me he's just won a...
a massive drug appeal, bloody incredible!
Said he manoeuvred his way around the rules in the Grove appeal.
Ooh, I'm dancing...
I'm dancing real sexy now!
Let go of it all!
What?
'Criminal defence barristers, yeah.
'We believe in the law. We believe in the system.'
Jules's eyes all over me.
'We believe in innocent until proven guilty.
'No, no, it's not just a catchphrase.
'It is the bedrock of how you keep a society civilised.'
Music has Jules up real close. I'm liking it.
'Prosecutors, you work with the police.
'No, no, no. You say you're fighting for justice.
'You, you are fighting for jail time!
'Defence is about human rights. Yes!
'Human rights!
'The right to innocence unless there is reasonable doubt.'
I put my hand on Jules's waist, move in close.
'Your liberty, your life is in our hands.' I toss my hair.
'You want the best of the best, yeah?
'You want the smartest, you want the most agile minds.'
I flick Jules's wandering hand.
'Hey, hey, everyone is watching!'
'Those... Those who do not pre-judge you, who trust the system, that is us.'
Jules is kissing my neck, it's nice.
Alice gives me a look. Eye roll.
'It's our job to find holes in the case, keep the police honest, protect society.'
Alice knows I won't go home with Jules.
I've got to be primed for a big case tomorrow.
Shit!
I peel Jules off me, I order an Uber, kiss Alice goodbye.
I grab my jacket and I stumble out of the bar.
By 8:30 a.m., after two soy lattes...
– [♪ DANCE MUSIC STOPS] – ..I'm back in chambers!
– (AUDIENCE LAUGHS) – Woo! Julian smiles at me.
He's already there. I, er...
I barge into Alice's room. She pours me a green tea.
Ooh!
Asks me what I'm working on.
'Um, well, a burglary for Monday,
'but then I've got two sexual assaults next week.'
'Mm, tough,' she says.
'I'll get them off.
'One of them has PTSD from Afghanistan, so I'll milk that if he goes down,
'make sure he's not potted.' Sent away.
'You're doing a lot of sex assault at the moment.'
'It's the cab rank rule.' She nods. 'I don't choose them, they choose me.'
If your court diary is free and you get a brief for anything in your field of law –
for me, criminal law – you have to say yes.
It's like at the airport. Cabbies can't pick and choose what ride they want.
They get what they get. It's the cab rank rule.
'You don't think they're using you because you're a woman and it looks better?'
'So what? Cab rank is cab rank.'
'I just... I think barristers tend to hide behind the rule, is all.'
'No, we play by the rules.'
Alice, she came second in her last four hearings, yeah? Not good!
I tell her I can flick her some small matters this week. I'm overbooked.
She nods. She's pretty anxious about work.
I wouldn't like to be her. You know the barristers' catchphrase?
'You're only ever as good as your last brief.'
Adam and Jules call me in.
'Need to pick your brain on a complex matter.'
Ah! I haven't lost a case in months.
I mean, it feels good.
Adam and I, we go down to the local Pret for lunch.
We're in the queue with the corporate lawyers.
Oh. Solicitors who specialise in company law.
Italian suits, nice. Like, really nice ties.
Women in silk shirts, group of five of them.
They are a different breed. They're all...
They're all corporate contracts. [SNORTS] Yawn!
You know, they think barristers are arrogant.
Yeah, well, I mean, maybe we are a bit.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Adam is talking about a law graduate who wants to come and work with him.
We laugh about the previous pupils we've had in chambers.
I tell him about Sophie. 'Young, new to criminal law.' He vaguely remembers her.
I'm supervising her in a client conference.
The client says he wants to plead not guilty,
and she says to him, no, I swear to you, she says,
'But tell me the truth, did you do it?'
Adam shakes his head. So I jump in, you know.
'Hold everything, Sophie.' Take her to one side.
'What the fuck are you doing?' She's all, 'What? What?'
I'm telling her, 'He's pleading not guilty.
'What if he now tells you he did it? It limits what you can say in court?'
She's goes, 'So?' No idea! Adam jokingly slaps his forehead.
'You're walking an ethical tightrope, Sophie.
'You don't get to ask him if he did it. You take his instructions and that is it.
'If he has a case, you run it. End of story.
'You don't play God! You don't decide or judge.'
Adam is laughing now. She said to me... No, I swear this is word for word.
'But what if he did it? Would I still have to defend him?'
Adam bites into his sandwich. 'Did she apologise?'
'Are you kidding? She left, and she never came back.'
[LAUGHING] We both laugh.
Adam and I, we got voted
the best criminal senior/junior defence barristers in chambers.
Well, I mean, I have to admit, Adam is the best.
Everyone knows it. He's a nice guy, too. Smart.
And Adam cross-examines so politely.
I mean, when he cross-examines a sexual assault victim,
an alleged victim, he gently moves them into thinking he is on their side.
He never goes in for the kill, he just lulls them with sympathy
and then analyses their answers.
His view is there is no need to cause pain.
They're usually so uncorroborated, and the law is the law.
If there is any doubt, then it's about uncovering it.
It's helpful for me to talk to Adam. I mean, it makes me a better lawyer.
Stand outside it, don't take sides.
Test the law. Test it. Test it.
And if the story has holes, then point them out.
Because it's not just your case, it's the law that is at stake.
And the law, it is there to protect everyone.
It's to protect those who accuse, protect those who are accused,
protect the police that don't cut corners, so the police that do are exposed.
We can't just pre-judge someone.
OK, OK, if a few guilty people get off,
it's because the job was not done well enough by the prosecution and the police.
Due process, it's everything.
But there is always that question every dinner party.
'How do you act for someone who you know did it?'
But a lawyer's job is not that grand.
Mm-mm, no, the job is not to know, it's to not know.
The only way the system works is because we all play our roles.
My role is defence. The prosecutor prosecutes.
We each tell a story and the jury decide which story is the one they believe.
They take the responsibility.
A good lawyer just tells the best version of their client's story.
Nothing more. Nothing else. Just a storyteller, a voice piece.
Never judge, never ever judge. Never decide!
The minute you do that, you are fucked!
You've lost. Well, you are lost.
Julian and I, we burn the midnight oil night after night.
We are both booked out for weeks.
Adam, he seems to somehow go home and work from there.
Adam, he has a kid now. I mean, I don't know how he does it.
He might just be the cleverest person I know.
He can recite whole sections of the Criminal Justice Act.
He's a fre-eak!
But I like that he sees me as an equal, a brain to trust.
Julian comes in,
asks me about his GBH case.
It's tricky. It looks bad for his client.
Should he plead it out and get a lesser sentence?
We head to his room, so he can pour us each a vodka.
If his client pleads, he'll definitely do a few years, he has a past.
But a guilty plea gives him a discount on the time he will serve.
On the other hand, there's a strong chance the facts don't work for the police.
It's a hard decision.
I spot something.
Looks like some of the officers fixed something to make it look better.
It is a fundamental mistake. We laugh. [CHUCKLES]
[CLOCK TICKING]
Jules's eyes are on me.
Moves in close.
Too much vodka... Woops!
I find myself kissing Jules.
He... He is more gentle than I thought he would be.
Boyish, sheepish, Jules! Who would have thought it?
He... He is not a look I would usually find attractive.
He's all, er... He's all clean and well pampered.
He smells of expensive aftershave, son of a QC,
but right now, he is exactly what I want.
We fuck on the corner sofa in his office.
We laugh about the cliché we are. 'Barristers doing it in chambers!'
He nuzzles up close to me afterwards, says he was sure I would have a boyfriend.
It's sweet. How did I become that girl?
I tell him things I don't usually talk about,
and he listens!
About my family, my life, losing my dad.
He's surprised.
Says he always thought I was another private school girl. I laugh. 'Watch this!
[AFFECTED ACCENT] 'I can do private school girl better than private school girls.'
He's not sure how to take this.
Am I mocking him and his people?
He snores slightly as he falls asleep.
I, er...
Well, I read a case.
I wake him at 4:00.
I tell him I need to get back and... I've got to feed my cat.
We dress.
I order an Uber. He gets in the car with me.
'Er... You're coming?'
[MIMICS JULES] 'Or I could... I could not, if you'd prefer?'
'Er, well, I need to sleep.'
Jules is nervous.
'Could we... Could we do something this week?'
Jules is nervous!
'Or we don't... We don't have to if you feel...
'if you feel weird.'
I do feel weird. Our rooms are on the same floor in chambers.
It is Julian. [GASPS] I do want to see him again.
Cross-examining police officers can be kind of...
fun?
I know, I know. Sounds bad, right? But some of them...
Some of them can be so friggin' self-righteous.
Show me an officer who hasn't run their story past their partner,
trying to close the gaps.
If you try to play God in this system, you are damned,
but the police, they forget.
They think they are the system.
So, the trick is to get under their skin.
If you aggravate them, they get defensive and they make mistakes,
and you can discredit anything they have said before.
Just last week,
Snaresbrook Crown Court.
'I suggest you are a man who is quick to anger, Constable.'
[MIMICS OFFICER] 'No, and it's not Constable, it's Sergeant.'
[SELF] 'I suggest you are a man who is likely to make mistakes, Constable.'
[MIMICS] 'No, and it's Sergeant.'
[SELF] 'But you have made some inconsistent statements in court today,
'haven't you, Constable... Oh, I am sorry, Sergeant?'
[MIMICS] 'I made a simple mistake.'
[SELF] 'But you did read your partner's statement
'before you wrote your own, didn't you, Sergeant?'
[MIMICS] 'I don't know.' [SELF] 'I suggest that you do know, sir?'
[MIMICS] 'Yes.'
[SELF] 'Ah! Well, that's interesting!
'Because your partner has said the exact opposite here in court today, Constable.'
[SHOUTS ANGRILY] 'It's Sergeant!'
[SELF] 'Oh, I am sorry.
'I didn't mean to make you angry, sir.
'Thank you so much for your frank answers and for assisting the court today.'
Judge, 'Ms Ensler!'
[SELF] 'Thank you, Your Honour, I have no further questions.'
But cross-examination in a sexual assault case,
it is a completely different thing.
In sexual assault cases, it's usually just one person's word against the other.
Yes, the sex act happened, but was it consensual or not?
The story, it has to make legal truth.
The defence doesn't have to prove she did consent.
You just have to point out he did not know there was no consent.
Was it reasonable for him to think it was OK?
I feel for the alleged victim, the complainant, I really do.
I can tell they're scared of what I might ask them.
Some of the male barristers, they still use this tone,
'Make them look like liars, doubt themselves.'
I am clear and concise, nothing more.
A complainant doesn't realise it, but they are actually lucky it's me doing this –
testing the case, without destroying them.
And yet, sometimes...
I remember this one case.
No screen in court. Her choice.
This woman, she looked at me square in the face and she said,
'I'm not getting anything out of this, I don't want to be here.
'I'm just doing this to protect other women from this man.'
Jenna. It shook me and I admired her.
It is just... I am trained to think differently.
Jenna lost.
She was so composed throughout all her evidence, but afterwards,
I saw her fold in two.
What if he did it?
I got him off. Shit!
I can't think like that. The prosecutor should have done a better job.
My job is just to point out holes in the Crown's story.
Because, you know, I mean, we all think we know the absolute truth of our lives,
but how many times have we sworn the dress we wore to a party was red,
and then seen a photo of a blue dress?
Swore we put our keys here, but left them there? People are fallible.
And their word, it has to be tested,
especially if someone's freedom is at stake.
Did he intend to cause harm?
Her word against his – I test her word, her version of the story in court.
Test it, test it.
And it's the jury who take the responsibility.
I don't make the decision. Not me.
'I'm sorry, Jenna, but I need to ask you a few questions.
'You said you removed your clothing yourself, is that right?
'We know that you had been drinking that night at a club.
'But would you agree with me that you had three glasses of gin and tonic,
'two vodka limes, and two or three glasses of wine?
'And would I be correct to assume
'that these were all at least standard bar sizes?
'And then you invited my client back to your home,
'were you both consumed more alcohol?
'You agree you both drank vodka?
'And is it possible that you were intoxicated?
'And while you were intoxicated,
'you agree that the events of that evening were a bit blurry, as you stated?
'So, when you took off your clothing, you were not saying no, were you?
'And if, in your mind, you had perhaps reconsidered,
'you didn't manage to say this at any stage?
'And I suggest to you that it wasn't until your sister asked about the evening
'a few nights later that you first indicated
'it might be sexual assault?
'Thank you so much.
'I am sorry if I've caused you any distress.
'You understand my role is to ask questions
'that can shed some light on the evening.'
She hates me.
Call Mia in a different time zone.
Oh! She's in Australia.
She's doing some... [AUSTRALIAN ACCENT] ..acting gig.
Ooh, I miss her. I mean, we talk about everything.
A long, long call.
I'm on my balcony in my dressing gown with a cigarette.
I tell her everything about Jules. She laughs.
She asks more questions. Mia says she thinks I'm falling for him.
[SQUEALS] Maybe she's right. No! Maybe.
Tessa and Julian. Julian and Tess.
Oh, stop!
I told Alice the next day, 'Well, we might have been flirting a bit.'
She said she could see it heading that way, mm.
Told me to enjoy it, said he's a great guy, that I look really happy.
I never told Adam, I'm not sure why. Maybe because it's a chambers thing.
Also, him and Jules are really good mates.
Or did I not want Adam to think of me as Julian's girlfriend?
I'm not sure.
Still not sure.
Alice and I, we go shopping, have lunch. I buy a dress. I wear it that night.
But before I leave, I prep my brief for Monday.
I pack my horsehair wig into my barrister's bag,
robes folded in there, too.
I run into a QC in the square outside.
He says he was very impressed with the work I've been doing.
It feels great. What a compliment!
He asks if I'm interested in a tenancy that's become available in his chambers.
It's a prestigious chambers with top-level silks.
I'm speechless. It's a huge honour.
He suggests I come by and grab coffee with him.
I... I dare to nod. [NERVOUS LAUGH]
I am not sure I could ever justify the cost of the new chambers.
But, I mean, it gets me thinking, you know...
I mean if things with Julian go well,
maybe moving eventually might be a good idea.
You can't be a couple in the same chambers.
Stop.
Julian meets me at the Japanese place on the corner.
We talk about work,
life,
books, everything.
We pour saké for each other.
There are a few people we know at the other end of the restaurant.
We giggle as we duck our heads. [CHUCKLES] We leave.
'Shall we... Shall we get some wine?
'Get some gelato from the posh place up the road?'
We Uber it to mine.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Kissing in the back.
Slowly.
Warm.
When we get to my place, he...
He, er... He pours us some wine.
'I'll get the... I'll get the sound system happening.
'Fuck!
'Alexa!
'Play...
'Play something like, er...
'Coldplay.'
Because I know he's a fan.
– [♪ SOFT MUSIC] – We both grab a spoon,
dig into the gelato box together,
feeding each other.
The wine is a nice red, smooth,
mixed with the cool gelato,
and we kiss in icy bliss.
And talk.
We talk about past relationships.
Well, mine are not that many, but...
Oh! He has a few.
We drink.
He's telling me he's been doing pro bono work in a legal centre.
I love that! I swoon a bit.
We talk about his family.
His dad is a top barrister and his mum is a physiotherapist.
Of course.
We kiss.
I feel dizzy.
I'm not sure if it's the kiss or the wine. I take off my dress.
Julian takes off his shirt and cups my breasts.
Somehow, my bra is also gone.
It's hot and sexy.
We move to my room, head to the bed, seem to fall into having sex.
It's nice, smooth, different from the time in chambers.
We doze off. I'm not sure for how long.
Later that night, kissing and touching.
I close my eyes. We are in sync. It's nice.
Until I get this...
this overwhelming desire to, er...
..to vomit!
I push him off me. I rush to the loo, just make it.
Vomiting my guts out. I feel everything hideous.
Vomiting.
The dank smell of the toilet bowl.
[RETCHING]
Am I naked?
Squatting on the floor, and Julian is in my bed hearing me vomit.
[MIMICS JULIAN] 'Are you OK?'
[RETCHING]
[SELF] 'Yeah, I'm fine, it's just the...
'It's just the red wine mixed with... [RETCHES]
'..with the ice cream.'
– [DEEP RUMBLING RISING] – I feel crap. I can't move.
I must have been there for a while.
I feel Julian lift me, carrying me carefully back to the bed.
I keep my face away. I must smell dreadful.
He whispers in my ear, 'Are you OK?'
'Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a bit...'
[RETCHES]
I fall partly asleep.
And then Julian's face is kissing mine.
I try to move.
'I need to brush my teeth.' I can't kiss like this.
I still feel ill, dizzy, drunk.
I laugh, 'I feel gross!'
[LAUGHING, MUSIC FADES]
He tells me I am beautiful, keeps kissing me.
I move my face.
His hands are all over me. I feel...
I feel sick still.
And then somewhere from the corners of my mind, I hear him say,
'Just lay there and let me make love to you.'
I squirm again.
I feel his hands and legs pushing against me.
Suddenly, I am very awake.
He is on top of me, but his hand is over my face.
'Hang on. This is all too... No.'
I can't breathe.
'Stop. I need to brush my teeth, Julian.
'Julian!' I tried to push him with my hands,
but he takes my hands and I can't move, and...
and...
He's inside of me.
It's rough and painful and it... it hurts something horrible.
I feel myself leave my body.
This is not happening.
No. No. Not happening. I should...
[GASPING] I should find a way to want this, yeah,
yeah, or... or scream, but I can't... I can't scream.
His hand is over my mouth. I feel such panic.
I struggle to get out from under him.
It goes on and on.
I try to... to bite his hand.
I writhe around and I try to kick him.
I can't breathe properly. He...
He is in a different place. I am not there with him.
He doesn't seem to know. He does not seem to care. Or is he...
Is he a completely different person?
How can he not know? How can he not know?
I feel a searing pain inside of me.
I want to vomit again. There is no way out.
His hand is gone...
[WHIMPERS]
But I am not speaking.
Eyes on the ceiling and there is just this...
..this strange denial.
Julian slumped on top of me.
I am there, but I am not.
Julian snores.
I cry silently. I...
I struggle out of bed, I...
I stagger to the loo, naked, and I vomit.
And I vomit and I vomit, and I brush my teeth. I...
I scrub my body. Skin red.
I... I sit in the shower, thinking. Just...
Just trying hard to, er...
to think the...
'The restaurant bill indicates
'there was a lot of saké drunk by the both of you.'
– [DISTANT POUNDING RHYTHM] – 'Witnesses saw you laughing, yes?'
'You said you removed your clothing yourself, is that right?'
'There are two empty red wine bottles at your house, wouldn't you agree?'
'You told people you were hooking up with him.'
'Had you slept with the defendant before?'
'Did you invite him to your home, to your bed?'
I...
I sit in the shower. What do I do now? Should I call someone?
I... I get out of the shower, skin red from the heat.
I... I dress in clothes that I have in the spare room.
Summer clothes, because I am not going back in there.
I... I clean up the living room,
even though I know I... I should leave it in case.
Just in case I wanna...
I want to hit rewind and... what? He's in my bed.
I see me, I see my life, the one I have built, my career.
My career. What do I do now?
Because, here I am. What do I do now?
Let him take everything away from me? Become a witness in my own courtroom?
With Jules, Julian, and all his dad's contacts.
Running his defence by Adam, brilliant Adam.
Calling witnesses.
Mia, Alice, Uber driver, waiter at the restaurant.
People who saw us laughing, gelato server, off-licence guy.
No. Nope.
This is the legal truth, this is how the law tries to understand.
No. No.
[VOICE BREAKING] I can't do it. I don't know what to do. I...
I leave my own place. I'm not sure why, where to go...
– [RAIN FALLS] – I wander down the street.
Freezing in a skirt and sandals.
I walk for three hours until I cannot walk any more.
I... I come to a cab rank.
I get in the first taxi.
I want to get to Euston station, catch the train to my mum's.
'Sorry, love, I'm only doing airport rides this morning.'
'What?' 'Love, I haven't waited an hour for that lousy ride.'
'Well, guess what, mate? You don't get to choose.'
'It's my taxi!' 'You... You're at a cab rank.
'You go where the ride goes, that is the rule.' 'Not this time.'
'You can get suspended for breaking the rule so if you don't take me,
'I will report you and I will make sure that you go down.'
'I want you to open the door and get out of my cab.' 'No.'
'If you don't get out, I'm gonna call the police.' 'That's not fair.'
The guy turns around. I see his face take me in, it changes.
'It is not fair!'
All I can think of is my mum and...
I just want to be home with her.
I want to wrap myself up against her on the old floral sofa.
I want to feel the rough heat of her.
The cabbie hands me a tissue. How much time passes? Blow my nose. I...
I see his eyes in the rear-view mirror, kind eyes now.
'I don't know where to go.'
The cabbie waits.
I look at the car clock.
6:09 a.m.
Legal instinct tells me this is a losing case, but I...
I ask the cabbie.
'Can you take me to the nearest police station, please?'
[POUNDING STOPS]
[♪ SOFT, MELANCHOLIC MELODY]
♪ When you've just woke up in the morning
♪ And the sunlight finds your face
♪ I will always love you like that
♪ When the make-up leaves no trace... ♪
[♪ STOPS]
[♪ RISING TENSION]
[♪ MELANCHOLIC MELODY, RISING TENSION]
[♪ STOPS]
This is me.
Outside, looking in. Watching myself.
Moving through the doors. Sound of my heels on the floor.
Inner London Crown Court.
This is me, moving through the security system.
Detached. Objective. This is me, bag on the belt.
This time, no lawyer's ID, no easy pass.
Just me.
Moving through the metal detector. Alarm rings.
– [ALARM BLARING] – I take off my shoes, back through again.
This is me being swiped by the handheld metal detector.
This time, I'm... I'm over there.
I see black robes swishing.
Horsehair wigs leaning in toward each other.
Paper, folders, confident chatter. Did one of them see me?
Oh, God. Head down.
This is me, picking up my bag and mobile,
walking to the lift with the witness support service.
This is me, Tessa Ensler. This time, no barrister's wig, no robe.
This is what it feels like. Same court, no armour.
This is me, digging my nails into my wrists.
This is me, walking into the lift, look at the floor.
Doors shut. Ding. Barristers, solicitors, police.
Exit, enter, exit, ding. Level two.
This is me walking out of the lift. Find the meeting room.
This is me, in a small windowless room.
White plastic table. Green chair. Waiting. Waiting.
I've been waiting for 782 days,
and now today is the day.
Three years at university, one year at bar school and seven years of practice.
I have always believed and now...
Now, I need to know that I was not mistaken,
that I can still believe in you, can trust, can still hold on to you.
Believe that you will show me that before the law, there is justice.
But I am here and you look so different from this end,
from this seat in this windowless room.
The prosecutor, Richard, he comes into the room.
Richard Lawson. I'm lucky he is well respected, he knows the law.
And here we are, Inner London Crown Court,
Richard in his silk robes and wig, ready to run the case.
After all those adjournments. Paperwork.
Yeah. Me, thinking, frustrated, just weighed down by it.
Today is 782 days since the first day at the police station.
– [THUD] – The officer was a big guy.
Posters of missing people.
One of a sad-looking woman with bruises on her face.
'This is not love.'
A sticker, 'Be a Hero. Stop Crime Before it Happens.'
Not stuck straight. Someone... Someone's tried to deface it,
but it looks like the pen didn't work properly on the shiny sticker.
I was led into an interview room.
I've only ever seen video footage of rooms like this one –
watching my client's interrogation with my feet up on the desk in chambers.
All my sass and outrage at the tricks the police play.
It's different when you're in here.
I'm cold, shivering.
Skirt, top, sandals.
Dressed from the spare room.
I want to ask for a woman, I need to,
but I don't want to get the big officer offside.
He must've read my mind.
He's telling me I can come back when the sexual assault unit is on,
or a woman on duty, but I just... I want to get it over with.
He puts his coffee on the table,
scratches around.
Then the questions start.
'Er, yes.'
'Er... Tessa Jane Ensler. No.'
'No, thank you. Yes.'
'Yes. I recognise I'm being recorded, yes.'
'I... I wanted to report...
'Because I think... Because I was...
'Something happened to me. I was just...
'Last night, this morning, I...
'I... I was sexually assaulted.
'And I wanted to, er...'
'Yes. Yes, he is known to me.'
'Julian Brookes.'
'No. No, we work together. I don't know about... about five years.'
'A relationship?
'Sort of. No. No, well, I mean... No.
'Last night, it wasn't the first time that we'd been together.
'We weren't... We hadn't defined anything, so...
'So, no. No. No, not a 'relationship'. No.
'Last week, we had... We had sex.'
'No. No, well, it was at work.'
'No. No, no, no, it was after hours.
'His office. It just... It sort of happened like that.'
'Yes, I consented. That time.'
Silence as he takes this down. Then he asks.
This is where I have to describe the rape.
I don't want to be a victim, damaged. No. No. I want to be a survivor, but...
'Where was this hand?'
'Your leg? His arm?'
'So, did you use your other hand to push him away?'
'Fight back? Will he have marks where you fought him?'
'On his hand where you bit him?'
Then other body parts. More questions.
I can't look at the officer any more.
'I... I... I don't know. I don't know.'
Humiliation. Distress.
Wrong or foolish behaviour?
Was it me?
What did I do wrong? I mean, was I foolish?
What should I have done? The officer wants my phone. 'No, no.
'I need it!' He's not happy about this. He leaves the room.
I'm alone again.
Waiting.
Waiting. He returns.
Again about the phone. I can't... Won't.
'It's my family, friends, my work!' The officer gives me a look.
I know I am being difficult,
but he tells me a car will take me to the Havens?
A forensic medical examination? I have to tell him.
'It might not come up with much because I...
'I had a shower straight after.'
Oh, my God!
I am a... I am a fucking idiot!
'I've had a shower. I've washed everything away. I mean...
'What if he says we did not have sex? How can I prove...? No.
'No. He's not that stupid. He would have to admit to that fact, surely?
'He would just say... He would just say that it was consensual sex, won't he?'
I look back at the officer. He's chewing gum.
'Wait till he gets a bastard defence barrister, they could say anything then.'
I tell him, 'Julian is a bastard defence barrister.'
He stops chewing, rolls his eyes.
Looks at me as if I've done it deliberately –
picked the most challenging defendant.
I hear myself, small voice, I mention, 'I, too, am a defence barrister.'
I don't know how to interpret the look that I get.
Is it smug or is it genuinely sympathetic?
I can't read it, not now, flat voice.
'Ah! Now you need us though, don't you?'
'Sorry?'
Richard asks me a question. Something about being ready? Calm?
I answer, but I don't, I can't, I don't know what I said.
Eyes on the table. White plastic turning dirty cream.
Richard asks me if I'm sure about refusing video evidence.
'Yes. I want to look Julian right in the eye.'
This is me,
waiting for the court to call the matter with Julian's name on it.
The Queen v Julian Brookes.
It's on the court list, for every single person to see.
The Queen v Julian Brookes.
This is me, knowing the jury are being empanelled.
Courtroom 1. Julian's barrister, his QC.
He's probably hoping for as few women as possible.
Talking strategy. Julian in there, giving his opinion.
Making sure he has the best possible chance of being found not guilty.
Me, I sit here, waiting till I'm allowed in.
Richard has to return to the courtroom.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. I flinch.
I can't help it.
Richard is talking to me, mouth moving. 'Is someone coming to be with you?'
'Mm-hm. Mm-hm.'
Fuck!
I will not cry.
Hospital bed at the Havens. The forensic medical examination.
White gown, waiting for the nurse.
'Name, please?' 'Tessa Jane Ensler.'
My phone beeps. A text.
Oh, my God. It's him. It's Julian! 'Date of birth?'
'Where are you? Don't tell me you've gone into work! J.
'Kiss. Kiss.' The phone feels contaminated.
I delete it. Instantly regret deleting evidence.
What is wrong with me? I keep doing this! I should have given the officer my phone.
'Residential address?' I go cold. He is still at my fucking flat.
I overcome my urge to throw the phone to the ground, smash it to bits.
It beeps again.
'PS, hope you're OK after everything? I'm heading off home.'
'After everything?' question mark. I'm confused.
'Blood pressure?' Is he worried about himself? About what he did?
'Temperature?' This time, I am smart. I save the text.
I even screenshot it.
It's 8:30 a.m. and a woman with gloves is examining my vagina.
Photographs. Eyes on the ceiling. Gritted teeth.
And Julian is in my flat, taking a shower in my bathroom?
Looking through my fridge?
Yesterday, I had imagined, hoped,
that we might be having breakfast together this morning and...
What am I doing here? I tell the nurse, 'I... I am not sure.'
She stops. Stands. The nurse says something kind.
I don't register it, she is done. I will not cry.
She asks if I have somewhere to go, someone to be with?
I... I don't know.
I feel out of control. What if I'm overreacting?
I am not. I am not.
But am I? I know Julian. I have known him for years.
'This is not love.'
'Are they going to arrest him now?' The nurse is not sure.
She asks if I want to speak to a social worker.
'No. No, thank you. Can I just leave?' The nurse calls the police officer in.
The big officer says he'll take the forensic evidence with him.
He'll be in touch, but I...
'Are you going to arrest him?'
'Yes. Unless... Do you want us to arrest him?'
I can't say yes and I can't say no,
but he can't just get away with it, can he?
Pretend it didn't happen?
I want him to know what he did. I don't want a text asking if I'm OK.
I am not fucking OK. I am not OK.
'Will you be willing to give evidence in court?
'I don't want to discourage you from moving forward, but it will be tough.'
Then he says, 'The Crown Prosecution Service will decide
'if the case is good enough to go to trial.'
I know this, of course I know it, but it is like a slap.
I don't get to decide. No.
No, my life is in the hands of the police, the CPS, the court system.
I have no control.
So much at stake – my privacy, my family, my friends.
[CRYING] Everything. I am scared.
[STEADYING HER BREATH]
But there is this person inside of me,
that girl who fought and fought to be seen.
Look to your left, look to your right, who won't make it?
She is brave, and if I do nothing, I...
..I think I could lose her.
'Yes. Yes, I will give evidence in court.'
My mum arrives.
Sensible pants, sensible shoes.
Clutching her straw bag, the one I gave her for her birthday.
It's a beach bag!
I told her, 'Pop your sunscreen and your towels in it and off you go.'
[MIMICS] 'When do I have time to go to the beach?'
Fa-ail!
She looks so afraid, and she is here because of me.
I mean, everything feels like my fault these days.
After 782 days, I cannot stop all the voices.
'You fucked a guy on a sofa in work.'
'You invite him back to your home.' 'You're so drunk you even vomit.'
Berating myself.
'You didn't scream or kick enough, you just froze.
'In the middle of it all, you just froze. What is wrong with you?
'No. You're pathetic.
'You let him sleep in your bed after he'd done that to you,
'while you cried in the shower?
'Julian, he is a good barrister, he does lots of pro bono work,
'what are you doing to him?
'What if he really thought you were consenting?'
I dig into my thighs with my nails, make myself feel the pain.
'Come on, Tess, remember.
'The law says... It says you cannot do this to a woman.
'You can't hold her down, keep her trapped while you...
'..you push, you... push yourself inside of her.
'You can't rape and then pretend it was consensual, can you, Mum?'
She hands me a sandwich. Strawberry jam?!
Me stomach can't take it, but she looks so worried.
She looks so old now.
Deep bags under her eyes.
Silence.
Chew white bread.
The overly sweet taste of... [SNIFFS] ..strawberry and butter.
She gets up...
..and she completely engulfs me
in this gruff hug.
'Be your strong self! Don't let the bastards get you down!
'Even if they get away with it, you don't let them ruin our Tessa.'
Mm-hm.
I won't cry, I won't.
I won't.
The trial is set down for just three days.
It's only me giving evidence, not Julian.
Today, Julian is pleading not guilty.
He won't admit what he did, but I know he knows.
I mean, I know he must know. He's not stupid.
He's just convinced himself
and all the people he asked to write letters of support for him,
people I know.
He's convinced himself and them
that I'm a liar and I am doing this to destroy him.
He has convinced himself that he is the victim.
While me, I'm forced to say the words, relive it all in front of everyone.
Why? How can he sit there and not be cross-examined?
He did this to me. I am the one on trial.
Mum's face.
I can't help thinking she knows what it is to be violated somehow.
I will never ask.
White bread is in lumps in my throat.
Swallowing is hard. Richard appears.
'We have a jury? How many women?' 'Four.'
'Is that good?' me mum asks.
I don't know.
I mean, women can be just as bad at believing other women.
Why is that, eh?
Why is that?
Me mum goes off to find the loo.
I'm alone again.
Mia, I need her.
I get out my phone. I scroll through this morning's text.
She's doing Shakespeare.
On a cruise ship?
I feel stronger. Mia is on team Tessa.
Richard, he is in the courtroom.
Once he gives the prosecution opening address,
I will be called in as the first witness.
Julian in there able to hear everything.
The opening.
I mean, sitting back knowing he will not have to say a word.
I... I psyche myself up for what's to come.
I get out my mirror,
fix my make-up.
My outfit, it's chosen from my lawyer's wardrobe. Yeah.
It's a perfect blend of 'I am a... 'I am a strong woman!
'I am not ashamed and I am not a slut.'
My mum comes in just as a police officer enters –
a young woman, so tiny in her uniform, baton in her holster.
'They're calling for you now, Tessa.'
'Can you take my mum with you?'
She nods, she takes my mum's arm.
but before she leaves, she turns at the door,
squeezes my upper arm like a friend...
A sister.
This is me.
Walking into the courtroom
to give my evidence.
This is me.
Bowing to the judge,
as I make my way in and up to the witness stand.
This is me.
Standing in the witness box
as the words coming out of my mouth declare
'that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth,
'the whole truth and nothing but the truth.'
The air is still. I look up.
Julian's dad with his mum and brother seated up front in the gallery.
How they hate me.
I turn, look at Julian,
suited-up, seated in the dock.
A QC and a junior at the starting gate.
Julian looks right back at me.
It feels like he is going to mouth 'I'm sorry,'
but instead, almost imperceptible,
a shaking of his head saying, 'What have you done?'
I look at the jury. They will be the ones, these strangers.
I look at the judge. He's looking at a file on his laptop.
Bar table, bench. Panic. All the barristers are men!
The judge, the judge's clerk,
the prosecuting counsel, the police, the instructing solicitor.
I am the only woman. Even the court usher is a man!
I am the only one – the only woman.
I can feel my heart thumping,
the blood actually rushing through me.
And after 782 days, after being asked over and over again,
'Are you sure you want to go through with this?'
After all the snide and embarrassed looks at work,
the doubts people have expressed about me,
the statements, the rape kit, the ongoing scouring of my own body,
the nightmares, the vomiting, the digging into my own flesh,
I am here. I am right here.
And the system I dedicated my life to,
it's called upon, by me, to find the truth,
to provide justice.
The prosecutor, Richard, stands to start the prosecution case.
Twice, I've seen Julian. The first...
The first time,
the police,
well, they hadn't... they hadn't arrested him yet.
They called, they said it was imminent,
but they wouldn't do it in his workplace. Right!
'It's an interesting case, though.
'Two defence barristers fighting it out in court!'
was an interesting concept for the Crown Prosecution Service.
The horrible humour in it for them all. The CPS.
They all knew me before. Before.
Always on the other side, before.
I tried to prep my brief on Sunday. Tired, weepy.
I could not concentrate. Slept badly.
And then Monday, catch the train in.
I'm standing across the street from chambers.
Knees weak, head spinning. I sit down on some steps.
I call Alice, ask her to meet me across the street.
I'm hyperventilating.
I ask her to run my case that day, I tell her I have a virus.
She puts me in a cab home. I'm terrified.
How will I ever go back to chambers to work with Julian there?
I finally... I finally... I call my mum.
She's not happy to hear from me, she's at work.
But I tell her,
and within a couple of hours, she is at my place.
I tell her what happened in as little detail as possible.
She doesn't seem shocked or desperate.
She does seem filled with a fury she is trying to control.
I tell her, 'Don't tell my brother, Mum. We both know why.'
She is very clear with me.
'You go back to work. You do not let this ruin everything you've worked for.
'This is your job, your income, your career.'
I... I try again on Tuesday.
I manage to make it inside chambers. Everyone is busy.
I head to the photocopier, and I smack bang run into him.
'Hey.' He's searching my face for something.
'Are we good?' I guess my look says, 'Nah!'
'Look, Tess, I'm sorry if I've upset you somehow.
'Let me take you for lunch this week.' I want to say something, but I am just...
He hesitates. 'Look, I can barely remember, I drank so much.'
He waits, then, 'Well, we both did.'
We could put it down to that and this whole thing would go away, wouldn't it?
Yeah. Couldn't I just put this down to a really bad drunken sex night?
'Anyway, I'm sorry if I've upset you somehow.'
My voice is screaming, but only inside my head.
Upset me? Somehow? You...
You raped me.
You held me down and you...
Suddenly, Alice is upon us, and then I am photocopying.
Later that day, I grab a coffee with the QC I ran into on Friday.
He tells me all the attributes of his chambers,
the amazing barristers I would be working with.
I tell him I would be delighted to take it. We shake hands.
I tell myself I will just work harder to cover the cost of the new chambers.
The second time I have to face Julian is... is after he's been arrested.
It's an afternoon court foyer.
I know I should just walk past him, we are not supposed to speak.
But stupidly, my eyes look right at him. I freeze.
'How could you do this to me?' He... He is convincing.
'I really like you, Tess.
'I mean, I was hoping we'd find something special together.
'I held your hair while you vomited, for Christ's sake.
'But this, what you've said, are you out of your fucking mind?'
I look him in the face, 'You know what happened.'
'Whatever it was, I am not a criminal. This is not who I am.
'And, my God, you are not a victim!
'You know if you continue to go through with this,
'you're going to destroy my career.
'You do realise that, don't you?'
He walks away. I consider telling the police.
He spoke to me, he breached his bail conditions, but I...
I'm not allowed to speak to him either.
I go to the bathroom.
I lock the door. I'm in there for a long time.
I vomit and I wash my face,
and I cry and I cry and I cry.
Richard clears his throat,
gives me a sympathetic smile,
and then he is all professional.
'Can you tell the court your name and occupation?'
I won't take my eyes off him.
'In your own words, can you please tell the court
'about the first night you spent with Julian Brookes?'
As I speak about the first night in chambers,
I hear a snicker.
I involuntarily dart my eyes out to seek who it is.
There are extra people in the gallery, Julian's friends.
Old school buddies? Uni mates? They all look the same.
This is them showing support for one of their own.
'And after the vodka in Mr Brookes' office?'
My mum hears how her daughter had sex with a man in an office on his sofa.
I cringe when I'm asked the detail, catch her face.
Her look doesn't change in any way.
'Turning to the night in question,
'can you please tell the court, in your own words, what happened?'
I look at the jury, a man seated in the middle. I feel anxious.
A woman juror is looking at me, I avoid her eye.
I don't want to do anything that suggests manipulation.
I speak.
Japanese, gelato, Uber, my place, wine. Having sex earlier in the night.
'And then?' I... I have to speak about the vomiting in the bathroom.
Was I naked? How long was I there?
Julian carefully carrying me back to the bed.
And it occurs to me in this moment, in court, as I am answering this question,
that Julian carefully carrying me back to the bed
means he wasn't too drunk that he could not remember.
He has lied to me about being so drunk.
He was able to lift me and walk steadily back.
He didn't fall or stumble. He knew what he was doing, but...
This will be used against me. Yeah.
They will say I was the only drunk one in this story, so I am the less reliable one.
I answer the questions aloud. In my head, I am cross-examining myself.
I'm using my own defence skills to doubt my very own story.
I realise I've been doing this for two years and 52 days.
Finding fault in my story. Trapped again and again and again.
Dig my nails into my palms.
I will not freeze up this time. I will not question my memory.
I will not minimise what's happened. I will not embellish.
I know what happened that night.
Then Richard. The rape. 'Explain where each of your limbs were.'
I try to explain to Richard, but I'm not as clear as I need to be.
'Can you tell the court what you were thinking at the time?'
How I didn't want this. Felt trapped. I could not move properly.
'Did you make it clear to Mr Brookes that you were not consenting to sex?'
'Yes. I did. I said, "No. Stop." I tried to push him away.' Didn't I?
'Did you say anything else? Scream?'
'Yes. Yes, I tried to, but his hand was over my mouth.'
'Then what?'
'Er... I could hardly breathe, I froze.
'Then pain searing through my body. Shock. Dissociation.'
It's happening even now. More questions. More details.
More humiliation.
This is me, giving my testimony in court.
Final question from Richard.
He sits down, smiles at me, pleased with the examination-in-chief. It's gone well.
I'm alone again.
Waiting.
Fingers jittery. Hands, armpits, I mean, shins sweating.
I look up. I see Alice and Adam at the back of the courtroom.
Adam has a beard now.
It's been so long since I've been in touch with either of them.
I've been working at the new chambers for over two years now.
I have managed to avoid all of them.
Adam, he wrote me an email telling me he believed me.
He intimated that Julian had had another experience,
not as serious, but...
Not admissible, it was hearsay.
Wrote that if I needed him, I should just call.
I never did. Why? Why didn't I reach out to Adam?
Was I ashamed? Yes.
Check Mum. She hasn't moved a muscle.
Beach bag clutched on her lap, young officer by her side.
Waiting.
And I know, more than anyone,
this next part, it is where the real work is done.
Take a sip from a glass of water on my left, hand shaking.
The defence counsel stands slowly.
This is it – the cross-examination by the best QC money can buy.
Thoroughbred.
And... bang!
'Yes. Yes. No.'
'No. I think so. No, it was the second time. Yes.'
'I think so. Sorry?'
'No. Yes, I'm sure. I don't know.'
'Maybe my idea. I think so.'
'Do I agree? Yes. Yes, yes. A few.'
'Quite a few, yes. Six. Well, perhaps, yes, maybe eight.'
Richard is on his feet. 'Your Honour!'
I have already given evidence about blah, blah, blah.
I feel hot. 'Overruled.'
'Yes. Yes.'
'Um... I don't remember. No.'
'I don't know. I vomited.'
'I don't know for sure. I don't understand.'
'I don't know.' 'Yes, I was.'
'Yes, I did like him at the time.
'I only told two friends, Mia and Alice.'
'I'm not sure, I don't know.' 'Yes. Yes. I think so.'
Richard is on his feet again, I don't follow.
Richard looks worried, my throat feels dry. Then it's me again.
'No. No, I think I could have walked back to the bed. No.'
'Well, I know because I walked to the shower after the...'
Richard is saying something. Sits down. QC is back to me.
'Yes. Yes, I liked him then...' But I'm cut off.
'I don't know.' Weird pause.
They haven't made their major defence arguments but I can feel them coming.
Richard is in the dark as much as I am.
I go from Richard's face to the QC's face to Richard's face.
And when the first of their points arrive, I am dumbstruck.
'Sorry, what are you saying? No. No, no, no.
'I don't understand the question. No.'
'No, it was not my hand on my mouth. What, my own hand? No.
'It was Julian's hand. My breath? Yes. I might have touched my own mouth, yes.'
'But no. No, no. That's not what happened. I didn't want to have sex. I felt sick.'
'No, you're wrong.
'I didn't want to have sex because I felt awful,
'not just because my breath was sour from vomiting. No. I remember it very well.'
'Yes, but... What? No. No.
'No, I did not put my hand on my mouth to protect Julian from my sour breath.
'No, I... That's not what... No.'
But then all these questions about Julian's arms, his hands.
Which one was holding down which of my wrists?
I realise they're trying to say that if Julian had one hand on each of my wrists,
then he had no extra hand to cover my mouth.
So, I was mistaken.
I wasn't actually pinned down and, of course, I could breathe.
In fact, the hand on my mouth must have been mine,
just saving Julian from my bad vomit breath.
The QC is saying, if it was my own hand on my own mouth,
as he suggests, then I could have used it to push Julian away.
Or I could have removed my own hand from my own mouth and just screamed.
My mind is messy. I can't catch up. 'No. No.'
'No. I tried to get away. I told him, I said no. I struggled.
'It was... It was his hand on my mouth.'
'How? Yes, yes. Yes, I did. Yes. Yes. I think that's how.
'I tried to push him as best as I could, but he was... No. No.
'No, he was squashing me.' My mind is scrambled.
I can feel a terrible wrong being done to me right now,
that this line of questioning, it's making me look confused.
Because I am, I am really confused.
Julian told his lawyer, or did the QC think it was a better story
that I put my own hand on my own mouth and therefore, what?
I was the only one stopping myself from screaming or speaking,
and I could have taken it away at any stage
to... to speak up or push him away.
The QC is saying that it's my own hand and my own mouth. 'As if it were a game.'
'A game?'
'Like the game of sex at chambers.' That's what Julian said? A game.
I look around briefly.
Thinking. Thinking.
I see Adam. I feel like I'm gonna pass out.
Adam is willing me to remember. He knows I am stuck.
And I... I remember!
Right there in court, I remember!
I say, 'Julian, he had both of my wrists in one of his hands,
'pulled high above my head.
'Then his other hand, it was over my mouth and nose as well.
'I could barely breathe.' I am shaking.
My eyes on Julian now. How dare you? How dare you?
And why am I up here being made to look like a liar?
Julian won't meet my eye.
He looks over to his family.
His father gives him a confident nod.
The QC apologises to me for making me uncomfortable.
He's being nice to me now,
and like every victim I have cross-examined before, I fall for it.
I ache for niceness.
I feel so broken I want to go with him, just to get it over with.
I want to be reeled in.
The questions start again. First, compassion.
'I understand it was a terribly difficult and confusing night for you.
'You were ill.' I sway a bit. Then flattery.
The QC suggests that I'm a top barrister,
a woman other people speak of in such high terms.
'A barrister who is seen to be easily
'the smartest of her bar call, of her generation.'
This... This is going somewhere awful, I feel it.
He brings up my new room.
Calls it a larger, more prestigious room. What?
Says it was between Julian and myself who would get that room.
Has the shortlist in his hands right now. 'It only has two names on it.'
Mine and Julian's. I've never seen this list, I never knew this.
Was there a question?
'My name, it might be on that list, but I... I never applied for that room.'
I go on. Even though the QC is intimating he doesn't need me to, I speak over him.
'I never applied for that room.
'I never saw any reason to have such a large room
'when my old room, it had more space in it than I've ever had in my entire life.'
I notice the tiniest moment when the QC does a mental shift.
He assumed, as a successful barrister,
that I wanted the larger room, the more prestigious chambers at any cost.
Jury members shift in their seats. They understand.
'Don't ever trust your own instincts, sir,' I want to say.
'Day one law school. Only trust your legal instincts.'
He computes. His voice almost a snarl.
'But I see you're enjoying that room now, aren't you, Ms Ensler?' No time to answer.
The next question comes fast to cover up for what he didn't see coming.
He implies that I made up the story of rape
as payback to Julian for telling his friends and colleagues
about me having sex with him on his sofa at chambers. Slap!
This is news to me! This is what Julian was telling people
while I was talking to Mia about a potential relationship?
I fade just a little. I catch my breath. I find my way.
My body has been turned inside out by the evidence I have had to give,
that this final humiliation, it is just a small cut.
'I can honestly tell you, sir, that I had no idea
'Julian had spoken to anyone about me like that.'
He does an about turn.
Did I admit that my new room in my new chambers
was a strategic move for me to increase my income?
I tell him I was offered this new room with a QC I admire. And he cuts me off.
Implies I made up a rape story to discredit Julian
and be the one offered the new tenancy.
I interrupt. 'I moved chambers to get away from Julian, to work without fear.
'Do not forget I made my statement to the police
'on the very night of the sexual assault, hours after it occurred.'
'This is not relevant to my question, Ms Ensler,
'please refrain from elaboration.'
Richard is up, 'Let her finish.' Judge lets me.
'I don't know any woman who would happily drink with a man, eat a meal,
'with all witnesses saying how much we talked together, laughed and got along...'
'I submit, Your Honour.' 'Submission sustained.'
'Would Your Honour please remind the witness
'to answer the question and not make speeches.'
'If you are implying that I planned the entire night
'to stage something like this, I have no words.
'The last 782 days of my life
'have been something I would never wish upon any human being.'
'Your Honour!' 'Ms Ensler.'
'For you to stand there and suggest to me that I am in any way holding a vendetta
'against Mr Brookes is to suggest to me...'
'Your Honour, the witness is not...' I keep talking.
'Mr Julian Brookes' QC here will at some stage tell you the jury
'what Mr Brookes might have lost, but I will tell you what I have lost.
'I have lost my dignity. I...
'I have lost my sense of self.
'I have lost my career path, friends, peace of mind, safety,
'sense of joy in my sexuality.
'But most of all, I have lost my faith in this, the law,
'the system I believed would protect me.
'It was the system I dedicated my life to.'
Julian's QC is calling out, asking for an intervention from the judge.
But after 782 days, all ten tracks in my brain are lighting up.
I have found my voice.
It's different, but it is mine. I keep speaking.
I hear 'submission' over and over.
'Your Honour. Your Honour.' Loud, outraged, trying to drown out my voice.
I do not waver.
The judge asks me to please just answer the question.
I'm calm.
'Your Honour, there are some things I am going to say.'
Confident. Like a lawyer.
Julian's QC is on his feet. Requesting a 'voir dire'.
The judge nods. The jury start to file out.
A 'voir dire' is a legal term, where the jury are sent out
so they don't hear something that might be prejudicial.
Strangely, the phrase originates from 'to speak the truth'.
The last juror looks at me as he exits.
The media are poised. Judge.
'You have very little scope here, Ms Ensler. Please be concise.'
I breathe slowly.
In.
Out.
I find the face of the young police officer.
Her hand is over my mum's hand.
I see all the women who came before me
and all of those who will come after.
I see Jenna.
'I am not getting anything out of this.
'I am just doing this to protect other women.'
I look up at Julian's boys in the gallery.
'Your Honour, I am here in a unique position.
'Usually, I stand at the bar,
'but now I am in this courtroom as a witness, a complainant, a victim.
'As a barrister, I have questioned women in sexual assault cases
'on the assumption that evidence can be delivered in a clean, logical package,
'and now I have seen from my own attempts here that it cannot be.
'In all of my professional life,
'I have participated in a system that has done this to women,
'and now I know it is not right.
'It is not reasonable, because now I know,
'from my own life, both as a woman and a lawyer,
'that the lived experience of sexual assault,
'it is not remembered in a neat, consistent, scientific parcel.
'And it's because of that, the law often finds evidence "unbelievable".
'So, I understand a witness can be mistaken in their evidence.
'I have suggested it time and time again.
'But this is not a car accident, or a home invasion.
'This is rape.
'It's a crime against the person and now I know.
'You know, when a woman says "no", when her actions say "no",
'it is not a subtle, unreadable thing at all.
'Yet before this, I too, I would suggest that she was mistaken.
'But when a woman has been violated, it is a corrosive wound.
'It is one that starts with terror and pain deep into the body.
'It then overtakes the mind, the soul.
'Yet before this, I too, I would suggest that "she was confused".
'I mean, the message is, if we do not deliver our evidence neatly
'in a clear linear story, with consistency in recall, then we are lying.
'Yet before this, I would point out inconsistencies as proof of doubt.
'I would tell the jury they couldn't possibly be sure.
'As a lawyer I know, I know,
'the law, it cannot jettison consistency entirely, but in sexual assault cases,
'can we keep using it as the litmus test of credibility?
'Because, as a victim, let me tell you
'the rape and the perpetrator, they are vividly recalled.
'The peripheral details, not so clearly.
'If a woman is rattled by having to relive the nightmare in court,
'if a woman's experience of rape is not as the court likes it to be,
'then we conclude that she is prone to exaggeration
'and it's because of this she is so often disbelieved.
'So here in court, I want to call it out.'
There is a flurry from the courtroom gallery.
'The law of sexual assault, it spins on the wrong axis.
'A woman's experience of sexual assault,
'it does not fit the male-defined system of truth.
'So... So it cannot be truth, and therefore, there cannot be justice.
'The law has been shaped by generations and generations of men.'
I can see Julian's QC on his feet, but I can't hear him any more.
'There was a time, not so long ago,
'when courts like this did not see non-consensual sex in marriage as rape,
'did not see that battered women,
'they fight back in a manner distinct from the way that men fight.
'Yet once we see, I mean, we cannot unsee, can we?
'Now I see from my own experience
'that we have got it all wrong when it comes to sexual assault.
'We don't interrogate the law's own assumptions,
'instead we persist on interrogating the victims.
'The law is an organic thing. It is defined by us.
'It is constructed by us, in light of our experiences.
'All of ours, so there are no excuses any more.
'It must change because the truth is that one in three women are sexually assaulted
'and their voices, they need to be heard, they need to be believed
'in order for justice to be done.'
I can see Julian's QC on his feet again. I hear the judge.
I have gone beyond what I am allowed to say, well beyond.
'One in three women.
'Look to your left.
'Look to your right.
'It's one of us.'
I feel my cheeks hot, hot.
Hot. I am done. I'm done.
I am so done.
I see my mum. [CHUCKLES FONDLY]
Richard.
The QC and Julian.
I feel a wave of sadness.
Not despair, just pure sadness.
I know the jury, they won't find Julian guilty.
But a weight has been lifted.
I see three journalists writing madly,
courtroom artist staring at me as he takes notes.
The judge tells me not to speak unless I am asked a question.
He's calling the jury back in. Voir dire over.
I hold my head up.
I see Adam at the back of the courtroom, he nods.
I find the open face of the young police officer.
This young woman in a uniform usually worn by men.
She locks eyes with me...
..and in this brightly lit, suffocating courtroom,
standing here in front of everyone, while my mum clutches her straw bag,
right here, right now,
meeting the eyes of that one young woman...
..it makes me feel...
..something good.
[♪ LOW, SOMBRE TONES]
I've been a defence barrister long enough.
You know when the jury comes back quickly that someone is 'not guilty'.
The defence team are shaking Julian's hand.
Julian is thrilled.
The roar from his boys in the gallery is loud and there is clapping.
Richard is saying something to me but I...
I can't hear or I... I can't compute.
The young police officer has materialised beside me.
She puts her hand on my shoulder.
I know I have to stand, but I don't.
The jury file out – not one of them can meet my eye.
All of this and they...
They didn't believe me.
The legal system, it made me look like a liar.
Julian, he will never have to say sorry,
never have to admit what he did, never have...
The legal system, it feels faulty and mixed up.
The legal system, it feels broken.
Look to your left.
Look to your right.
I am broken, too.
But I am still here.
And I will not be silenced.
Richard is beckoning to my mum.
She gathers her straw bag, stands, comes over to us.
[MIMICS] 'Come on, love.'
I don't know what to cling to, how to stand,
how to walk out of this courtroom, how to leave this building.
All that I know is that...
somewhere,
some time,
somehow...
..something has to change.
♪ No, not me
♪ I won't rein in
♪ My need to be
♪ Completely
♪ Free ♪
(APPLAUSE, CHEERS)
(WHISTLES, CHEERS)
(HUGE CHEER)
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