Supreme Court of Western Australia
PERTH
October 15th
The first witness for the prosecution is called. The man from the garage. The clerk makes him swear on the Bible and state his name.
‘Eric Symonds,’ he says, his voice softer than I remember.
He says he lives in a trailer behind the petrol station: it makes sense that he remembers me. What else is there to do in a place like that but watch the occasional customer come and go? Of course he noticed me. And I remember him too, how he wrinkled his nose as he served me. I thought it was because I smelled bad, but perhaps he saw some evidence of you on me—blood on my forehead or on my T-shirt.
‘Mr Symonds,’ Mr Lowe begins, ‘can you tell me if you’ve seen the defendant before?’
‘I have,’ Eric Symonds replies. ‘I saw the defendant twice in February this year. Those times were five days apart from each other, February seventeenth and February twenty-second.’
He sounds so stilted; I suppose he’s learnt the words by heart from a statement. All the time he speaks, he keeps his eyes fixed on Mr Lowe.
‘Would you tell the jury, Mr Symonds, if there were any differences you noticed between when you saw the defendant on the first occasion and when you saw her on the second?’
‘Yes, there was one major difference between the two times,’ Eric Symonds replies. ‘The defendant was alone on the second occasion she visited my garage.’
‘The defendant wasn’t alone the first time she used your petrol station?’
Eric Symonds shakes his head. ‘No. She was not alone on that first time.’
Jodie warned me about Eric Symonds, what he would say. She’d told me he’d be a strong witness. I may be wrong, but I think I see a glimmer of a smile on Mr Lowe’s face as he glances my way. Smug bastard. But he turns back to his witness instantly and assumes his manner of quiet authority. Some of the jurors lean forward attentively.
‘So, Mr Symonds,’ he continues, glancing down at his notes, ‘how are you certain the defendant was not alone the first time she used your petrol station?’
‘Because she had a man in the back seat.’
Mr Lowe nods. ‘How are you certain of this?’
‘I saw him. Clear as day.’
The atmosphere in the court room changes subtly. People shifting in their seats, and a faint collective intake of breath. It’s as if there is less air in the room now.
‘So, the defendant had a man in the back seat of her car the first time she used your petrol station,’ Mr Lowe continues, ‘and then, five days later, when she returned, she did not have a man with her. She was by herself.’
‘Yes,’ Mr Symonds says. ‘That’s correct.’
Mr Lowe asks the clerk to show the jury a photo. A screen is turned on and an old photo of you appears, in which you are young and handsome, theold Ty. You didn’t look like that in the back seat of the hire car that day. Butmaybe there are no more recent photos of you, or only ones of you in prison uniform—not a good look.
Mr Lowe turns to Mr Symonds. ‘Can you confirm that this was the man you saw that day?’
‘Yes, that was the man in the back seat.’
Mr Lowe angles himself towards the jury. ‘So, it would seem that something happened to that man in the intervening period.’ He lingers on the wordintervening, as if it has a nasty taste he’s trying to expel. I can feel Jodie stiffen beside me. ‘Perhaps the defendant left him somewhere, if he didn’t come back with her.’
‘Objection, your honour!’ Jody shouts. ‘Conjecture.’
Once again, I can’t help glancing around the courtroom. If you were here, if you could only show up…I feel the judge’s eyes on me and turn back swiftly. I tell myself to stop going mad.
‘Continue with the questioning,’ the judge says to Mr Lowe.
Some members of the jury scrutinise me now. Am I capable of all that’s being said and implied? I don’t want to see their faces; I want to see Mum and Dad’s faces in the gallery. I need to know how they’re looking at me, who they think I am, whattheythink I’m capable of.