A Price Worth Paying

I had to lower my head at that, wiping my cheeks dry.

Further witnesses. My sister didn't take the stand. I didn't want her to, and my lawyer listened to me about that. But to my surprise, Megan, Sally and Katie all took to the stand and insinuated plenty. Didn't flat out call Lance a rapist but suggested I'd dealt with him for a good reason. They were glowing in their words about me. Prosecution lawyer tried cross-examining but got nowhere. Further evidence was provided in written statements. My lawyer held them up.

"Three hundred statements from students of the high school Mister Fraser attended. Three hundred separate statements that support the idea that he is a kind, generous young man. Three hundred statements that are positively glowing about the defendant, his behaviour, his ideals, everything he's done to help those in need, but most importantly, they all know what he does for his family."

I glanced back and saw the support. Rachel and Jennifer were there, sitting with my friends. The place was nearly full of students who were cutting to watch proceedings. Mum and my sister hadn't missed a second, nor had my grandparents. They knew the truth and I had their unequivocal support, no matter what happened.

"Your next witness?" the judge asked.

"I call to the stand Mister Michael Fraser."

I stood up and walked across the court room to the stand. After promising to 'tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth', I sat down. My lawyer flicked through his papers before he looked up, removed his glasses and paced in front of me.

"Describe your life for me when growing up, Michael."

"Pretty shit," I replied rather bluntly, hearing titters of amusement from the gallery.

Thankfully, my lawyer smiled at me. "Care to expand on 'pretty shit', Michael? This is to save your bacon, after all."

I took a deep breath. "Mum loved me. I remember that, at least. She did all she could to raise us right. As for my twin sister, apple of my eye. I'd do anything for her. All my friends know that. Nothing was too much for her. Nor Mum. But then there's my father. He's a complete and utter bastard."

"Where is your father, Michael?"

"Prison. He's serving time for over a decade of assault perpetrated against my mother, my sister and myself, and also for the attempted murder of myself four years ago."

"So life wasn't easy?"

"My father hit me the first time when I was five years old. I'd tried to stop him hitting my mother. I learned very young he was a cruel man. Mother endured a lot while I was young. By the time I was old enough to understand, I did what I could to intervene. Imagine that, a ten-year-old boy needing to stand up to stop his father abusing his mother."

The prosecution lawyer stood up. "Objection. What is all this to prove? He grew up in a violent house. We all know that."

The judge was silent for a moment. "Overruled. I'm interested to see where this goes. We're to establish history and character. The route to what happened to the plaintiff."

"Your father abused his wife and two children. How did he do it?"

"He slapped around my mother. I walked into the kitchen more than once to see a new mark on her face. Look over there at my mother. She's a beautiful woman. Far too good for the likes of him. Imagine being the sort of man who'd hit someone as beautiful as her. I never saw him hit my sister. I think he had other designs on her."

"You mean..."

I looked up at my sister. She shook her head. Not to keep my mouth shut. She was saying it didn't happen. "I mean precisely that, but it never happened. My sister trusts me. If it was happening, she would have told me. But to protect her, to protect my mother, I had to endure. I had to earn the ire of my father. And I managed it by the time I was twelve."

"What did he do?"

"His favourite weapon was a belt. He'd whip me just right to the buckle scarred me. He'd draw blood more often than not. If that didn't work, he'd slap me around a bit. Better me than my mother though. Some of the people behind you saw me turn up at school sporting the occasional bruise. I'm sure people thought I feared him. I didn't. The man was a coward. A piece of shit. I was just waiting for the right time to fight back. All he did was fill me with hate and anger. But the latter was only ever at him. I loved my mother. I loved my sister. I protected them. It was my job. My duty."

"What happened when you were fourteen?"

"I'd spent two years training by then. Learning how to protect myself, getting and keeping myself fit at the same time. My father was a bully. The fact I never cowered pissed him off. I'd just finished another training session, walking in the door to find my little sister in tears, my mother cowering by the wall, where he'd just thrown her. I walked up and punched him in his gut. Doubled him over.

Got me good in return, cracked me across the cheek. Went down hard. Almost knocked me out. Then he dragged me into the kitchen, hit me again, got a knife out from the draw. Said he was going to kill me. Wasn't a threat, I knew he was going to do it. Had the tip of the knife right here." I touched under my eye. "As soon as he moved the knife, I kicked him right in the nuts, so he cut me across the chest. I kicked him again, he sliced me again. Never felt pain like it. Then he cracked me across the jaw. I woke up in hospital."

"You've been left scarred by this, yes?"

"In more ways than one, I suppose."

"If I may, I'd like to ask you to remove your shirt, to show what you endured at the hands of your father."

I stood up, removing my jacket first, placing that on the back of the chair, taking off my tie, before unbuttoning my shirt and taking that off. I heard plenty of gasps and murmurs from the gallery. "Need me to explain?"

"If you don't mind, Michael."

"Here is where my father slashed me the first time. It was a deep cut. Obviously needed to be stitched up. The blood loss from that left me teetering for a time. The second one down here wasn't as deep but probably ended up causing more damage. Obviously got the abs but it's taken harder work than normal to get them. All the rest of the scars of my father's belt." I turned around to show my back. "He pretty much loved to just whip me, like how they used to back in the old days."

"Does this make you angry at the world, Michael?"

I sat down. "No, the only man I held anger towards was my father. He terrified my mother and sister. But I knew if I said anything, he'd carry out his threat. He was going to kill me, so that solidified the idea that he would have killed my mother and sister if any of us had said anything. But he disappeared like the coward he was after he put me in hospital."

"What were your injuries?"

"Apart from the cuts, I was left with a severe concussion, jaw hurt for a few weeks, but mostly it was just the scars on my body. They don't hurt anymore, but I look in the mirror and I know how they were earned." I looked at my Mum and sister. "In the army, you earned medals and ribbons for valour. These are mine. Each scar meant Mum was safe, my sister was safe. That's all that mattered in the end. It was a price worth paying."

"But that wasn't it, correct?"

"No, my father made his return when I was seventeen. He didn't expect to find who met him. I'd grown up and broadened. More than five years of training, conditioning... waiting for my moment. He started banging on the door, hollering to be let in. Mum was terrified. He made my sister cry again. I opened the door and enjoyed the look on his face. The little boy he'd spent my life trying to intimidate was close to being a man." I faked a punch. "Right into his fucking nose." The judge cleared his throat. "Sorry, Your Honour."

"Continue, Mister Fraser."

"The punch sent him sprawling, and he took a knife from his pocket. Came back to finish the job, he said. I'd been trained how to disarm someone with a knife. Considering my father is a moron, that was quite easy. Then I beat him. It felt righteous. Cops showed up, hauled him away. Guess I terrified him as he plead guilty to all charges. Never heard from him again. Good enough for me. My family is now safe."

He returned to his desk, flipping through his papers again before he looked up. "What happened on Saturday, June 15^th?"

I looked up at my sister. She nodded at me. "My beautiful little sister, Rebecca Fraser, was raped by Lance Thompson." Uproar. It had been insinuated more than once but to flat out accuse him was something else. I pointed. "That ugly bastard over there raped my little sister. I look over there now and the sweet, innocent girl I once saw is no longer there. Not only did he rape her, he fucking sodomised her!" I stood up and glared. "You should be the one sitting here being examined, you fucking rapist cunt!"

"Order! Order!" the judge cried, banging the gavel, trying to shut everyone up, "Mister Fraser, one more outburst like that, and I'll have you hauled out of this courtroom. Now, please dress and resume your seat."

I took a couple of minutes doing that, calming down, before I sat back down. My lawyer looked up at me from his papers, one single nod. "Your sister visited the hospital that night?"

"Mum called me as she was on shift when my sister arrived. She told the hospital straight away she'd been raped. An examination was performed immediately. Evidence was taken. The police called. Everything was taken away."

"Did your sister know who raped her?"

"She said she didn't, at least at that moment."

"What happened after that?"

"She was held temporarily for examination, then had to give a statement, explaining what happened. It seems she was given plenty of tainted booze, thankfully not enough so she blacked out, just enough to make her compliant. But the DNA evidence will match, trust me on that one."

"What happened when you got home?"

"My sister asked what I'd be willing to do to help her. My family know what I'm willing to do. All the way, whether it means prison, even death. I'd spent years protecting them from my father. Now my little sister had been... She's been defiled in a horrific way. I can't even begin to comprehend what she's had to endure. I want to ask how she feels, but I don't know how." I looked across the room. "All I know is that I love my sister and I'm sorry I failed her that night. I should have been there to protect her."

I lowered my head at publicly admitting my failure, needing to wipe my cheeks again. "Did she tell you who did it?" my lawyer asked softly. I lifted my head and looked across the room. "Is the man in this courtroom right now?"

"I think he is. Might be a bit hard to recognise considering the mess his face is."

"Did she give you a name?"

"Lance Thompson."

"Objection!"

"Overruled. You may continue with your questioning, Mister Taylor."

I met my lawyers' eyes again. He winked, the signal that this would be where I'd just confess. "Did your sister ask you to deal with him?"

"She did. She never explicitly said how to deal with him. She might have meant go to the police on her behalf. But I'd spent six years training to deal with violent people. Arseholes. Thugs. I'm sure many around this room probably think I'm one too. Don't blame then really. After all, I'm the one on trial here. I went to school on Monday and Tuesday, tracked his movements. He was as arrogant as always. Nothing in his behaviour to suggest he'd raped someone the previous Saturday. Nor that he'd raped Megan Taylor three months ago. Nor that he's raped Katherine Bell five months ago. Nor that he'd raped Sally Smith nine months ago. Made sure they were all eighteen when he did it so he couldn't get done for an even worse crime."

Uproar again. I'd just called the plaintiff a serial rapist. "Objection! Objection!"

"Overruled. I'll allow it."

I looked into the crowd. The four girls he'd raped sat side by side. All of them looked at me. They couldn't smile such was their ordeal but they all nodded at me, the agreement sealed. I'd done it for them, as agreed. They'd all been scared, terrified of Lance Thompson. They were now family. I would protect them like my own. Beside them all was Rachel, now hearing in a court that her ex-boyfriend was a serial rapist. She couldn't stop her tears. "Have they reported this to the police?"

"My sister will be attending the nearest police station as soon as we're finished here. I'm hoping Megan, Katie and Sally will follow her example. But they've shown their bravery in allowing me to reveal their trauma here today, and I hope they join my sister in reporting what happened to them. I wish I could have been there for them as much as my sister. I want them to know they're not alone. Look out at the crowd, all the people here. They're here to support them." I looked at Rachel again, an unasked question. She wiped her cheeks and nodded. 'All the time', she mouthed. My heart broke even further. "A fifth is Rachel Williams," I added softly.

"That's a damned lie!" Lance shouted, trying to stand up, "She was my girlfriend. I can't rape my girlfriend!"

"Order!"

"You're a rapist pig, Lance Thompson!" Rachel cried out. Uproar again, "I know three other girls you probably raped, you bastard! You should be where Mikey is! He's innocent and he's a fucking hero for what he did!"

"Order! Order! Any more shouts from the gallery and I will have the courtroom cleared. Mister Thompson, you will remain quiet while the defendant is being questioned."

Rachel wasn't quite right. I was guilty of something, but while the jury could only convict me on the evidence provided, they'd be looking at the plaintiff in an entirely new light now. I was on the verge of confessing anyway, so none of it really mattered except for the fact Lance was going to find himself sat exactly where I was in the future.

"Wednesday, July 19^th. What happened, Mikey?"

"It was the first day my sister returned to school after her rape. She was so brave; I couldn't have been prouder of her. I mean, the sort of pride where my heart was going to burst out of my chest, I loved her so much. I could sense her fear, particularly if she ran into her rapist, but she strode forward, trying to appear confident. Meanwhile, I set my plan in motion. Started a little rumour that Lance Thompson was a rapist sodomite. You should all know what schools are like. It spread like wildfire. I gave a time and place where to meet me.

I made sure it was after school. I wanted him to meet me, man to man. I had a reputation in school after everything I'd endured at home. You can't keep that sort of thing secret. I didn't know if I had the respect of everyone, but after a rumour like that, I was confident many would be looking at Lance in a different light. I have no doubt many people knew what happened in that room. I'm sure one or two friends watched what happened to my sister, possibly the others. They know who they are."

"Did you assault Lance Thompson?"

"You bet your sweet arse I did. I didn't just assault him. I beat the ever living shit out of him. He destroyed my sister. Took her innocence. Left her a shadow of her former self. My little sister was the sort of young woman who'd enter a room and immediately brighten it. She had such a future, a star in the universe, she shone so brightly. He stole that from her. So I destroyed him in return. And I enjoyed every fucking minute of it."

"Language, Mister Fraser!"

"Apologies, Your Honour." I cleared my throat. "Want a blow by blow account, Mister Taylor?" My lawyer shrugged. So I looked at the jury. "I hit him in the kidneys first. The man who trained me, who's out there in the gallery and I'll admit I love like a father for all he did for me, told me a good hit into the kidneys will bring a man down, at least sometimes. Give Lance credit, he stayed standing. So I toyed with him, slapped him around a bit. No doubt he's treated plenty of women the same. So I showed him complete disrespect.

Then I got to work. Shoulder, elbow, wrist. Snap, crackle, pop. Then I made sure I messed his leg up at the same time. Limp Along Lance, that'll be his name from now on. A reminder of what he's done to so many beautiful young women. Once I'd done ensuring his sporting days were over, I messed up his face a bit. He was begging me to stop. I'm sure all his victims begged him the same, if he hadn't drugged them up. I'm apparently being charged with attempted murder." I snorted. "Please, I could have killed him if I wanted to. Attempted? No. There was no attempt to murder him. What I served was justice. For my sister. For all the girls at my school who were assaulted by that arrogant prick. For all the other girls who have been abused by him. Am I guilty? You bet your arse I am. And I bet you're going to ask, 'Well, if you could go back and change anything, would you?'

Not a damned thing. I did it for my sister and the girls sat there behind my lawyer. Lance isn't the victim here. I'm not either. I hesitate to call them victims, they're survivors. They survived what Lance did to them, they're sat here today, listening to me admit what happened to them. But they're brave, one and all, and I thank them for allowing me to... I hesitate saying 'share' their trauma so everyone here understands why I did it. But I also did it for any future victims. His raping days are over. And I'm hoping that, one day soon in the future, he'll be in my position, facing down his accusers. Of course, considering the state of his face, they might have trouble recognising him now. Fuck you, Lance Thompson. May you burn in hell."

"I have no further questions, Your Honour."

The prosecution lawyer stood up and approached. "You're seriously going to ask me questions to excuse what that piece of shit did? I've just admitted guilt. I put the hurt on a rapist. If you're going to try and defend that, you're no better than him. Sit the fuck down and save us all time. I'm not guilty of charge one, I'm guilty of charge two. I'm ready to hear the verdict. Slap me in chains, send me to prison. I'll serve the time gladly. A price worth paying for my little sister." I looked across the courtroom and met her eyes. "I love you, Rebecca Fraser. I'm going away a while, but if anything happens, you just let me know. I'll break out if I need to."

There were a few chuckles as she mouthed back 'I love you too.'

It was probably unprecedented, but there was no need for closing statements after my evidence. The judge gave his instructions to the jury to deliberate. I didn't think it would take all that long.

They were back within an hour.

No surprise I was found guilty of the second charge.

*****

Sentencing

There was no sign of Lance Thompson at my sentencing. Absolutely no surprise. I'd been fed news, of course. My sister, Megan, Katie, Sally and Rachel all went to the police to give evidence. And it started a snowball. Six other young woman came forward to accuse him of rape and sexual assault. As Rachel said, no smoke without fire. Even better for the young women, more than one had been to hospital and had evidence taken.

To say Lance Thompson was fucked was putting it mildly.

"Please stand."

We all stood again as the judge walked in. The jury had been dismissed after the verdict. The sentence was purely down to the judge. Asking us to sit down, I watched him shuffle his papers before he looked up.

"I have to admit that in my thirty years of service, this is perhaps the most extraordinary trial I've witnessed. It's perhaps the first time I've had a defendant plead not guilty then incriminate himself while in the stand. Hmmm, perhaps the first time he's done it willingly. Some may call it a mockery of the proceedings, but given the powerful evidence provided, even I can understand why you took the route you did.