Page 35 of The Elements

Lauren looks as if she wants to climb down from the stand and strangle our barrister with her bare hands, but she has the sense to remain still and silent, even though I can see that it takes all her self-control to do so.

She glances toward Mr. Armstrong, who is looking back at her.

If I was seated elsewhere, I imagine I would see him urging her with his eyes to remain calm and focused.

“The thing is,” continues Catherine, “I listened very carefully to your testimony yesterday. And there were a few parts that confused me. You said that when you entered Mr. Wolverton’s bedroom, you had no intention of having sex with him.”

“That’s right.”

“So what exactly did you think was going to happen in there? Were you hoping to examine his bookcases and have a conversation about his taste in literature?”

Mr. Armstrong rises, ready to object, but Catherine cuts him off.

“Apologies, My Lady. That was facetious.” She turns back to the witness. “But tell me, Miss Mackintosh, exactly what did you think was going to take place?”

Lauren takes a breath before answering.

“I don’t know,” she says eventually. “I was having a good time. I’d had a few drinks. And I thought he was cute. I was happy just to see where things went.”

“So you lay down on his bed.”

“No, he pushed me onto it.”

“I find that hard to imagine,” says Catherine, laughing a little. “Why wouldn’t you leave if he became violent?”

“Because it wasn’t violent, it was playful.”

“A playful push? Onto his bed?”

“Yes.”

“I see. But then he joined you on the bed. No one came along to push him, I assume? In his case, it was voluntary? Or did he trip over something?”

“My Lady,” says Mr. Armstrong.

“I withdraw that,” says Catherine. “Please continue, Miss Mackintosh. What happened then?”

Lauren looks uncomfortable. “Well, we started kissing.”

“You took your blouse off.”

“No, he took it off me.”

“And you allowed him to do this?”

“I thought he was going a bit quick, but yes, I let him.”

“So now you’re lying on Mr. Wolverton’s bed in your underwear and, if I remember correctly, you testified that he took his shirt off.”

“Yes.”

“And still you didn’t think that you were going to have sex.”

“I hadn’t decided yet. I wasn’t uncomfortable with the…” She’s trying to find the right word. “With what was happening. But I hadn’t made up my mind yet.”

“So you thought you could get Mr. Wolverton aroused to this point where you’re in your underwear, he’s removed his shirt, and then you might simply say no, I’ve changed my mind, I want to go back downstairs. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes.”

Catherine frowns. This is not, perhaps, the answer she had expected.

“I’m sorry?” she asks.

“I said yes. I assumed that if I said stop, then he would stop. I have the right to do that, don’t I? Even if we were completely naked, I can still say no, can’t I? Or is there a moment during foreplay where I’m legally obliged to see things through?”

Catherine looks rattled. A hint of a smile crosses Mr. Armstrong’s face.

“But you didn’t say stop, did you, Miss Mackintosh?”

“I did,” she insists.

“Was this before or after you took your blouse off?”

“After he took my blouse off.”

“You said the word stop ? Out loud?”

“Yes. I said the word stop . Out loud.”

“When?”

“When he came in.”

She nods in my direction, and the entire court turns to look at me. I can’t bear to have their eyes on me and want to turn my gaze to the floor but know that will make me look guilty, so I simply stare directly ahead, toward Judge Kerrey.

“Evan Keogh, you mean,” says Catherine.

“He pushed the door open, and he was just stood there, looking at us. I remember thinking—” She pauses and shakes her head.

“You remember thinking what, Miss Mackintosh?”

“How angry he looked,” she says. “He wasn’t even looking at me, he was looking at Robbie. At Mr. Wolverton, I mean. He looked sort of… jealous.”

“Jealous of Mr. Wolverton?”

“No, jealous of me.”

I feel a blush rise in my cheeks. I glance toward my father, who’s chewing his nails with such gusto that Mam slaps his hand away from his mouth.

“And what happened then, Miss Mackintosh?”

“Robbie turned around, he saw Evan, Mr. Keogh, standing there, and he said, You want some too ? And Evan came inside and closed the door behind him. And that’s when I said no.”

“No to what?”

“No to sex.”

“But Mr. Wolverton hadn’t offered you sex, had he?”

“Oh, come on!”

“It’s a genuine question, Miss Mackintosh. Had Mr. Wolverton offered you sex?”

“Boys don’t offer girls sex. It’s not a J?gerbomb. They don’t offer. They expect.”

Mr. Armstrong’s half smile again. He has a good client.

“Please just answer the question,” demands Catherine. “Had Mr. Wolverton offered you sex?”

“I mean—”

“No ‘I mean’s. No ‘suppose’s. He either had or he hadn’t. Had Mr. Wolverton offered you sex?”

“Well, no,” admits Lauren. “Not in so many words.”

“Then, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you were saying no to? I can understand you getting off the bed, gathering your discarded clothing, and saying I’m leaving or I’m going back downstairs , but why would you say no to a question that hadn’t been asked? What exactly were you saying no to?”

Lauren looks flustered now.

“Do you normally just say no to things randomly?”

“No.”

“No, you do, or no, you don’t?”

Mr. Armstrong rises to protest, but Judge Kerrey waves him back to his seat.

“The truth is, Miss Mackintosh,” continues Catherine, “you were perfectly happy to have sex with Mr. Wolverton, weren’t you? In fact, you wanted it. And it was you who asked Mr. Keogh to film your romantic encounter.”

“No,” insists Lauren. “And it wasn’t a romantic encounter. It was the opposite of that.”

“Have you ever filmed yourself having sex before?”

Lauren opens her mouth in outrage but closes it again just as quickly. Catherine looks up, pretending to be surprised. As if she’s stumbled upon something unexpectedly, which, of course, she hasn’t.

“I ask again, Miss Mackintosh, have you ever filmed yourself having sex before?”

“I don’t see why that matters.”

“You can let the court decide its importance. Have you ever filmed yourself having sex before? A simple yes or no will suffice.”

“Consensually,” says Lauren, her eyes moving toward where her parents are seated. “With a long-term boyfriend.”

“Miss Mackintosh, with respect, you’re nineteen years old. How long term could any relationship have been?”

Lauren remains silent.

“How long term are we talking?”

“Six months.”

Catherine laughs and glances toward the jury, shaking her head.

“Six months is long term? I have cheese in my fridge that’s been there longer than that.”

Again, silence.

“You enjoy being filmed, don’t you, Miss Mackintosh?”

“No.”

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“So your previous boyfriend, I assume he forced this on you too? Did you report him to the police afterward?”

“Of course not. I agreed to it then. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” Catherine keeps her focus on the jury, knowing she has them now, because the older members are looking increasingly disapproving.

“Yes,” insists Lauren. “There is.”

“And what did you do with the footage afterward? The pornographic video you made with this six-month, terribly long-term boyfriend of yours. Did you watch it?”

Lauren says nothing but finally nods her head.

“Can you answer in words, please, Miss Mackintosh? So the jury can hear you.”

“Yes, we watched it.”

“Who is we?”

“My boyfriend and me. My ex-boyfriend, I mean.”

“Which one?”

“Which one what?”

“Which ex-boyfriend?”

“The one I filmed it with, of course!”

“So not with a later boyfriend.”

Lauren looks incensed. “No,” she says.

“So, just to be clear, you watched the video with the boy you filmed it with, but not with any later boyfriends.”

“Yes.”

“It was a private video,” continues Catherine.

“Yes.”

“Something just for you and this boy to enjoy together.”

I can see Lauren visibly crumbling. She knows where this is going, even if I don’t.

“It’s not something you showed to anyone else,” says Catherine.

Lauren is starting to cry now. I can’t help myself; I look toward her parents, her loving parents. They want to comfort her, but there’s nothing they can do.

“Miss Mackintosh, did you show this pornographic video you made to anyone else, other than the boy you filmed it with?”

“I was drunk,” she says.

“You were drunk and… what?”

“I showed it to a friend. It was just a joke, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“I said I showed it to a friend.”

Catherine waits, making sure the jury has fully taken this in. “So, just to clarify, at some point in the recent past, you got drunk, had sex with a boy you hadn’t known for very long, filmed it, then shared it with others. Have I got that right?”

Lauren, reluctantly, nods.

“Again, Miss Mackintosh, I have to ask you to say your answers aloud.”

“Yes,” she shouts.

“But when you were in the luxury apartment of a famous footballer, lying on his bed in your underwear, and his friend walked in and started to film the encounter, this was something that conflicted horribly with your finely honed moral compass?”

“You’re twisting what happened,” says Lauren, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m not doing anything of the sort. I’m simply placing your evidence into context.

What you complain of here is something that you have done before, and apparently enjoyed so much that you shared it with your friends.

You admit to having a history of enjoying sex with virtual strangers and filming those encounters.

This is not a judgment on my part, Miss Mackintosh. Simply a statement of facts.”

“Yes, but—”

“And we are all here today because you had sex with Mr. Wolverton, another virtual stranger, and allowed Mr. Keogh to film it.”

“This is coming out all wrong,” says Lauren, looking away. Her words are almost inaudible now. “I’m tired.”

“I’d be tired too, Miss Mackintosh,” says Catherine, before resuming her seat. “If I’d spent the last two days lying on the stand.”