Babs’ New Year’s Resolution. 99
© Beverly Taff.

Lola Smith Bab’s adopted trans daughter.
Callista Denton (Callie). Transgendered Duchess of Denton.
Margaret Denton (Maggie). Callie’s wife.
Molly Denton Callie’s grandmother
Ellie Denton Callie’s mother.
Bab’s Barbara Smith. Lola’s adoptive ‘Nana’
Olivia Smith Bab’s adopted daughter. Lesbian black artist
Angela Smith Bab’s adopted daughter Olivia’s lover
Erica Bab’s foster daughter.
Sergeant Bridie Davies Lady Police detective protecting the girls.
Sergeant Brian Davies. Bridie’s twin brother.
Inspector John, Heading up the anti-rape-gang operation.
Gareth Jenkins, Police office trained in firearms and protection.
Belinda Harrington Lola’s university girlfriend.
Aaron Talbot Surgical registrar – married to –
Shirley Talbot Lecturer at Local university.
Mickey Talbot Aaron and Shirley’s oldest son.
Jessica Talbot Aaron & Shirley’s middle daughter.
Bianca Talbot Aaron & Shirley’s youngest daughter.
Henry Denton Callie’s only son.
Charlotte Denton Callie’s only daughter.
Beverly Callie’s maternal great aunt (Ellie’s paternal aunt)
Wendy Smith Beverly’s Operations Manager for Hull
Louisa Wendy’s Daughter
Griselda & Mia Wendy’s younger twin daughters.
Susan Harvey Prosecution counsel advocating for Erica.
Han’s The policeman’s son Erica fancies
Uncle Phillip CIA Agent.
Emily Jackson. Texan girl Kidnapped to Holland & Turkey
Sandra Jackson Sister to Emily kidnapped in Texas as a hostage.
Eddie Emily’s Tandem surfing partner.

Chapter 99

On first entering the court there was a slight commotion before the judge banged his gavel for silence. The girls scanned the faces of the accused kidnappers and rapists and only Erica recognised about three of them. However, the previous events at the airfield and in the Grand Canyon were of considerable material importance to the Texan authorities for it demonstrated the lengths to which these kidnap and trafficking gangs were prepared to go.

After establishing their identities to the court the judge invited the girls to wait outside until they gave their testimony or they could sit with Emily and Sarah.

As one, the girls chose to sit with their Texan friends and they entered the box reserved for witnesses.

There were several other witnesses occupying the box but the British girls did not know them. They were apparently Mexican and Guatemalan girls who had been rescued from the grip of the traffickers and had bravely agreed to give evidence. The British girls where to learn later and secretly, that these girls had been offered citizenship if they gave evidence. The authorities were desperate to break the grip of the cartels and they had some really big fish in their net.

After the previous business of the court was completed, the court adjourned for the day and a veritable military convoy escorted all the girls to a secure hotel. The girls were shocked but reassured to witness the degree of police and FBI protection surrounding them. Not to mention the armoured personnel carriers supplied by the army.

“This must be a really big case,” Lola observed to sergeant Bridie.

“You can see for yourself.” Bridie replied. “Even Hollywood doesn’t get this big.”

The other girls nodded various confirmations then chatted at length between themselves while Lola chatted to the lead counsel about the next day in court.

“The first thing they’re going to do Lola is try and destroy your Character.”

“I’m ready for them.” Lola replied.

“Okay, but don’t politicise your answers, especially if they go after your transgenderism. There’s no knowing how the jury will take that.”

“Are there any transphobes in the jury?” Lola asked.

“We don’t know. The issue hasn’t come up yet. We don’t even know if the judge is transphobic.”

“But in Texas - …….” Lola left her remark unfinished.

“Don’t judge us all by the same yardstick,” the lawyer advised, “and only hit out if any questions become really offensive.”

“How will I judge if the court thinks the question improper? What if the judge is transphobic and doesn’t react.”

“Look towards me and I’ll do this.” The lawyer replied.

“She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her eyebrows and made a distinctive rubbing motion across her brow.”

“Got ’cha!” Lola nodded affirmation, then the lawyer resumed discussing various important points covering how Lola became involved and then ensnared.

By the following morning, Lola entered the witness box as a far better prepared and determined adversary.

ooo000ooo

“Name?”

“Lola Smith.”

“Have you no middle name?”

“No.”

“Is it not customary for English people to have a middle name.”

“Not always. I don’t.”

“But you did have a previous name.”

“Yes.”

“A male name apparently, an alias.”

“It wasn’t an alias; it used to be my name, my male name before I changed it.”

“In which court did you change it.”

“I did it by deed poll. I never went to a court.”

“So what is the name on your birth certificate?”

“Lola Smith.”

“But there would have been a previous birth certificate with a previous gender.”

“Yes.”

“And that would ordinarily be your original gender.”

“Legally yes. My original gender.”

“So it would still be your biological gender.”

“Ex Wye chromosome, yes but I changed that legally once I sorted out my life. My legal gender is now female for my own societal and lifestyle needs.”

“But biologically, you are still a male.”

“If you want to look at me like that, yes. What do you see when you look at me?”

“There was a rustle of interest around the court as Lola waited for the woman’s answer.”

“I’m asking the questions.”

Lola shrugged then replied.

“All right, I’ll answer your question another way. What does the jury see when they look at me?”

“That’s for the jury to decide.”

“Exactly,” Lola countered, “and I’m sure they’ve decided by now, so shall we move on?”

“I’ll decide when we’ll move on.”

Lola shrugged and spread her hands to lean on the rail. The relaxed action somewhat irked the counsel. She moved to win the women’s vote amongst the jurors.

“Do you consider yourself to be a woman?”

“No. I’m transgendered.”

“But you’ve got female on your passport.”

“There’s no box for transgendered on my passport.”

“So biologically you are a male.”

“I’m post operative. I don’t have testicles or a penis. To be a man one has to have those and to be a woman one has to have ovaries and a womb; I don’t have those either. So biologically I’m neither. Your move?”

“But legally, on your original birth certificate it said male.”

“Just now you were arguing for biology now you’re arguing for law. You’re being inconsistent how do you expect me to answer. I’ve told you that I was biologically a man but because I now have no male genitalia and my brain tells me I’m a woman, I chose to list myself as female for legal purposes because the law does not allow me to write down transgendered. Or more correctly, the law in England does not allow a doctor to write transgender on a birth certificate.”

At this juncture the judge intervened.

“Counsel. I think the jury are more interested in what Miss Smiths’ evidence concerns. The girl has been just about as honest as anybody can be concerning her gender or sex. Shall we get on with what this case concerns, namely the kidnapping, trafficking and murdering of girls.”

As the counsel visibly shrank, Lola gaped slack-jawed at the judge. It wasn’t some wide-mouthed yawning maw, but her expression of sheer surprise was not lost on the jury. What the counsel had hoped was to be the first shots in a campaign to discredit the girls had obviously backfired and the judge had instigated it

Having had her feathers slightly ruffled, the counsel stumbled briefly as she reorganised her inquisition. Soon however she was back on track but using her questions always to try and flavour Lola’s answers with miscreance.

Yes, - Lola was from a broken home, yes - Lola had been placed in care, yes, - Lola had slept with older men before she was fifteen, but these nuances were soon destroyed when the prosecuting counsel revealed Lola’s later success by winning a scholarship to Cambridge, one of England’s most prestigious universities.

Later, the prosecuting counsel especially concentrated on the events that Lola could describe while being often corroborated later by the police notes and arrest records. After two days in the witness box the prosecuting counsel congratulated Lola as she almost crawled out of the witness box.

The only criminals that Lola could identify had been the captured sniper in the canyon and the kidnappers piloting the plane. However these were clear links to the cartel’s trafficking organisation and provided the first hard foundations upon which the Texan police could build their case to prove firstly that the organisation was world-wide; and secondly that the people they had arraigned in the dock, were lynchpins of the organisation.

“You’ve done well girl! Congratulations.” The counsel applauded her.

The next of the girls to step up was Olivia, the artist with a virtually photographic memory.

After being sworn in, the counsel produced a series of drawings that Olivia immediately recognised as hers. She immediately declared them as her drawings and demanded to know how the counsel had obtained them.

“Those are mine, were did you get them?”

“I think the pertinent question is not ‘where did I get them, but what sort of pornographic art is this?”

“It’s not pornographic.” Olivia challenged. “It’s just art!”

“This girl looks about twelve years of age, who is she and did she know you were drawing her naked?”

“Her name is on the back.”

The counsel held the drawing up as he loudly proclaimed.

Yes, it says Juliet, - Juliet who. Did she agree to your drawing her?

“It’s just Juliet and she couldn’t give permission, she’s dead.”

“We can see that this is half of a ripped drawing but it clearly shows a man’s hand reaching for her breast. While she appears to be guiding his other hand to the more intimate part. It’s pornographic!”

“So! It’s just art!”

Olivia stood her ground.

“Yes, we can see it’s art. There is also a date on the back but the man’s name is missing. If this is your work you could only have been about fourteen. Is this the sort of artwork suitable for a fourteen-year-old? It’s obscenely graphic. Paedophilic even.”

“No. It’s just accurate. That’s what a girl’s bits look like. Where did you get that?”

“It was handed to our investigators by your carers in London.”

Olivia squinted as she struggled to recall.

“I fucking remember now, the bloody cow tried to snatch it from me, and she ripped it! I’ve still got the other half of the drawing!”

The judge leaned forward and scolded Olivia.

“There is no need for language like that.”

“She’s trying to show to be some sort of pervert your lordship!”

“It’s your honour, not your lordship, young lady. We don’t have lords in America.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. I’m not offended. Can you explain more about this picture and why you drew it?”

“The other half is in my bedroom desk in England. It’s to remind me of how they treated my art.”

“And why did you draw it. I mean it’s unusually explicit.”

“I was in a bad place and being fucked often. – By the gang we were running with.”

The judge pulled a pained expression as she frowned.

“There’s no need to use vocabulary like that young lady.”

“Isn’t there? It feels good from where I’m standing. They fucked with my mind, they fucked with my body and they fucked with my life.”

The judge tutted but kept her cool for she had a slight sympathy for the rough-edged, foul-mouthed diamond in the box.

The judge was suddenly getting an inkling in her head and she had a brainwave.

“Who is the man pawing at the girl’s genitalia?”

“He’s not pawing, he’s touching her – gently. He’s her boyfriend.”

“Yes, I accept that but who is he?”

“It’s Romeo. You know, that play.”

The court fell deathly quiet as they universally realised the drawing had been simply an artist’s impression of the most famous tryst in English culture. A typical school-girl’s romantic fantasy; but drawn by the hand of a young artistic genius.

“Can you prove that?” The counsel demanded.

“Look at the other half of the drawing.”

“It’s missing.”

“No it isn’t. I told you just now, I’ve still got it.”

“How would we know it’s the true other part.” The counsel demanded. “You might have forged it.”

Olivia sighed impatiently.”

“The drawing was torn. You can’t fake a tear. Only one piece can match and that’s the piece that was torn off. Even a photocopy of the torn piece will prove a match. The man’s arm is Romeo’s! The rest of him is on my part of the drawing. Nobody was abused or assaulted when I drew that. It’s purely in my mind’s eye.”

“I doubt that Nudity was in Shakespeare’s mind when he wrote the play. I suggest that this is just the perverted imaginings of your mind, a dysfunctional, fourteen-year-old mind.”

“Juliet was only thirteen.” Olivia paused before continuing as she saw a chance to bring the inquiry back to the real issue, namely the kidnapping and prostitution of young girls. “And I saw plenty of girls of thirteen being raped when I was kidnapped.”

“Is this one of those girls?”

“The face reminds me of one girl I saw but it was still an image from memory. She was killed later on I think- in Nottingham.”

“Was her name Juliet?”

“I don’t know. We rarely got the chance to exchange names and it was discouraged.”

“Is the man’s arm somebody you knew or remembered.”

“I didn’t know him but I remembered his arm. The upper arm had a tattoo, it’s on my half of the drawing.”

At this, the prosecution counsel jumped up.

“Your honour might I move that we search the witnesses’ desk in Britain? Finding the other piece of the drawing might move this case along substantially.”

“If it can be produced, I will accept it as evidence but what is your reason.

“If the tattoo matches the tattoos on some of the cartel members arms. It will add authenticity to the witnesses evidence.”

“Very well, but there are to be no delays, I want a photocopy of the other half of the drawing in this court by tomorrow morning. The court is adjourned for today.”

Even as the court rose, Lola was video-calling Babs and Brian the police protection officer. As Bab’s and Brian answered from England, Olivia peered into Lola’s phone and waved as she spoke.

“The bedroom door isn’t locked Nana,” Olivia told Bab’s. The bottom drawer of my desk in the old brown file. Right at the bottom.

The video image followed Babs and Brian into Olivia’s somewhat chaotic bedroom full of art materials and eventually they rooted out the sheet. Brian held it up and both Lola and Olivia shouted affirmation. The sheriff’s also lit up because the arm reminded him of one of the prisoners in the dock.

“Pedro el Carnicero has a tattoo like that and a scar like that from an old
knife wound!”

At this, Sergeant Bridie spoke to her brother Sergeant Brian who was still holding up the picture.

“Brian, email me a copy now and we’ll arrange for the original to couriered to the court.”

By the following morning, copies of the other half of the drawing were in the courts’ hands and the original was on it’s way from England to Texas.

ooo000ooo