Although my bit was done now, I had to wait for the rest. My sister’s, my mum, my friends, they were all giving evidence. I was desperate to know what was happening. But I couldn’t. As I had given evidence from behind a screen, I could not sit in the public gallery. Each day I would get a telephone call from the police, just telling me what had happened, for example “another victim gave evidence followed by her witnesses”. No details. I couldn’t have those. My fear all along had been about a hung jury. I had seen cases on the news where the jury couldn’t decide. I was terrified it would happen to me.
My family were confident. It’s a really strong case. The detective would tell me, it’s going really well.
I had done as much as I could. What ever happened next, he had been dragged into court, and all of those in court MUST know what he is. He had to listen to us recounting what he did to us. Telling HIS secret. Something he didn’t EVER want us to do. Whatever happened, I had tried. He hadn’t silenced me. He was being called to account for what he had done.
He gave evidence. I didn’t want to know what his lies were. A friend of my sister sat in court and listened. He was sweaty and unconvincing, she said. That was enough for me.