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Chapter 18

I was driven to the rear of Paddington Green Police Station on the Edgware Road, and led into the custody suite. Nobody had bothered to handcuff me, but in that dress and with those heels there was no way that I could have attempted to run away.

‘Who have we here?’ asked the middle-aged custody sergeant.

‘A good question sarge, I would have said Nicola Stevens, but she is carrying ID of a Nicholas Stevens.

‘What’s the charge?’

‘Possession with intent to supply.’

‘Well young lady?’ he asked turning towards me.

‘I had no knowledge of the drugs in my handbag, they were planted there.’

‘That’s what they all say. You have been arrested for possession of a Class A drug and can be held in police custody for up to 24 hours whilst we investigate the circumstances and decide on a charge. But the first question is: Who are you?’

There was nothing I could do.

‘My name is Nicola Stevens, I am a transgendered woman. I was assigned as male at birth but now identify as female,’ I said.

The merest twitch of an eyebrow on his part indicated a flicker of surprise.

‘It looks like you will have to pull out the diversity training manual for this one sarge,’ said the young policeman who had brought me in.

The custody sergeant frowned at his colleague to show that he didn’t appreciate that comment.

‘So it is Nicola Stevens, formerly known as Nicholas,’ he said whilst entering the details onto a computer terminal.

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Do you hold a Gender Recognition Certificate?’

‘No.’

‘In that case is it your intention to permanently transition to your new gender?’

I suddenly found myself having to make decisions about my future that I’d not even considered before this.

‘Yes.’

‘So, you wish to be treated as female for the purposes of intimate searches.’

‘Yes, although you had better warn the WPCs concerned what they might find.’

There was a stifled snigger from the arresting officer standing behind me.

‘Don’t you worry love the WPCs will have seen much worse than anything you have to offer.’

‘Shall we deal with this case in a professional manner, Constable Roberts?’ said the custody sergeant, this time in a sterner voice.

They finished processing me and gave me a receipt for my handbag and its contents, which I was told would be tested for fingerprints and cocaine residues. I asked to consult the Duty Solicitor and was told that it would be arranged. I was taken to be fingerprinted, photographed and given two mouth swabs, one to record my DNA and the other to check for recent cocaine use. I also voluntarily gave a hair sample which would indicate longer-term cocaine use. Finally, I was taken to a cell by a WPC where I was given some makeup remover pads to clean my face and told to take off my clothes while she conducted an intimate body search, to our mutual embarrassment, although without any clever comments on her part.

‘Your clothes will be retained for evidentiary purposes. You can put these on in the meanwhile,’ she said handing me paper underwear, a unisex pair of jogging pants, a sweatshirt, socks and slippers.

‘When do I get to see the Duty Solicitor?’ I asked as soon as I was dressed.

‘I’ll go and check for you,’ she said.

Five minutes later, she returned.

‘You won’t now be seeing the Duty Solicitor; we have had a phone call to say that your own solicitor will be arriving in about an hour.’

 

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‘My solicitor ‘proved to be a rather nice-looking guy in his late twenties who introduced himself as Richard Matthewson.

‘Good morning Ms Stevens, I’ve been retained to act on your behalf.’

‘But who has retained you?’ I asked.

‘It will probably be best for you not to ask me that question, although please be assured that you are my client and I am here to represent your interests, even if someone else will ultimately pay my fee.’

We then sat down for an hour during which I went through the story of how I came to London and the events of the previous evening in detail, while he took notes.

‘So you are not guilty of the charge and have no knowledge of where the drugs came from?’

I nodded.

‘You will be asked to make a statement shortly. I suggest you should tell the truth about the events of last night but don’t volunteer other information if you can help it. Afterwards, you will be interviewed by the investigating officers although, before they start, I will be questioning the basis for their arrest.’

 

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It was only seven o’clock when we were taken into an interview room, and I was required to make a factual statement, taken down by a uniformed officer concerning the events of the previous evening. We were then left, watched over by another officer.

‘That was clear and to the point. Try not to worry,’ said my solicitor with a smile.

‘That’s easier said than done'; was my rueful reply.

After half an hour or so, we were joined by a male and a female plain-clothes officer who sat opposite us at the table, whilst the uniformed officer stood by the door. A tape recorder was turned on and introductions made, followed by the usual warning about anything I said would be recorded and used in evidence. My solicitor began the proceedings.

‘Before you interview my client, I want to ask the basis of your stop and search of my client.’

The female office referred to her notes.

‘We were following up an anonymous tip-off that Amy O’Donnell or her companions may be in possession of illegal drugs. Given the events involving Miss O’Donnell last week the arresting officers felt that they had ‘reasonable grounds’ to believe that she been involved in a crime, as covered by section 23 of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971.’

‘And what was the basis of their search of my client?’

‘Your client and the other lady concerned were not ‘stopped and searched’ as such – they both volunteered to have their handbag examined.’

‘Didn’t the officers consider it odd that someone who was knowingly carrying illegal drugs would volunteer their handbag to be examined.

‘We are here to ask the questions,’ said the male interrogator.

Then turning to me he said:

'The cocaine that was retrieved from your bag is just over the five gram limit and so warrants a charge of possession with intent to supply. However, if you are willing to co-operate with the investigation and tell us where you obtained the drugs, we may be willing to reduce the charge to one of simple possession which could result in a police caution for a first offender.’

‘As you will see from my statement, I am unable to co-operate with the police on this matter since I had no knowledge that the drugs were in my bag or where they may have come from,’ I said in a frustrated voice

The officer sighed.

'In that case you are looking at a six-month prison sentence and a fine of up to £5,000 for a first offence.’'

‘When you check the plastic bag for fingerprints, you will find that I have never even touched it. As I said the drugs were placed in my bag without my knowledge.’

‘We have already tested it and there are no fingerprints on the bag, but you could have used rubber gloves,’ commented the woman.

‘Also, your tests will show that I’ve never taken cocaine.’

‘Not every drug dealer uses the drugs that he or she deals in. You must realise that we are investigating a marked increase in the distribution of cocaine in London over the last nine months.’

Richard Matthewson now intervened.

‘My client has been living in London for precisely ten days. Prior to that she was living near Salisbury. Are you really suggesting that she has managed to establish herself as a major London drug-dealer in that time?’

The two investigators looked at one another and the guy made notes, but there was no answer forthcoming.

‘If, as you say, the drugs were planted, you must have some idea as to how and why this was done,’ said the woman, again directing her questions to me.

‘Unfortunately, our handbags were left unattended whilst we were dancing on the upper deck. I have a witness who can confirm that.’

‘And why would someone want to do this to you?’

‘I suspect it may have been an act of revenge, but I do not know that for certain.’

‘Revenge by whom?’

‘There was a guy called Rob Singleton, who offered me a bag of cocaine last week, which I refused because I didn’t want anything to do with drugs. He was later found in possession of that bag, and he blames me for his getting caught.’

The two investigators exchanged glances and it was quite clear that they knew whom I was talking about.

‘Other than that, I can’t help you more than to confirm that I have never taken or supplied illegal drugs of any kind.’

‘So you have nothing further to add or amend to this statement?‘

‘No, other than that it is the truth.’

‘In that case we will suspend this interview pending further investigations,’ said the female investigator and turned off the tape recorder.

I was just about to be conducted back to my cell by the uniformed officer when I overheard my solicitor address the female officer.

‘I need to make a telephone call, but afterwards may I have a word, ‘off the record?'

 

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I returned to my police cell feeling utterly bereft. Twenty-four hours previously I’d been feeling happy with my life, comfortable in my body, for the first time in many years. It was as if I had at last seen light at the end of the very long tunnel that I’d been travelling through. Now everything had changed; things had not merely reverted to how they were but were now so much worse. I was facing six months imprisonment, a fine, a criminal record, the loss of any chance of a career; and I hadn’t even done anything! What sort of prison would I go to? I knew that the police had improved in their treatment of transgendered prisoners in the last few years, but would they even accept me as such. I had taken no formal steps to change my gender, I had no ID in the name of Nicola, so would the authorities take my word for it, or would they insist that I served my sentence in a male prison? I was aware that there had been several recent controversies in the press regarding self-identification by trans-women and the need to ‘protect female-only spaces’. The local press would be bound to portray me as some kind of ‘sexual predator’ when the opposite was the case. Juicy news stories like that would be shared between local newspapers and would be bound to reach my mother and her boyfriend.

Up to this point I'd managed to retain my composure but now I gave way to floods of tears, not just about the events of last twelve hours, but my life in general. It was all so unfair. Just when things seemed to be getting better, something would happen to send me careering back to the beginning again, just like a game of Snakes and Ladders. I was just concluding that life was probably no longer worth living, when my solicitor entered the cell together with a WPC, who was carrying my clothes.

‘OK, Ms Stevens, you can get changed now, the police are dropping the charges against you due to a lack of evidence.’

‘But why? What has happened?’ I asked.

‘We can discuss that in my car taking you home,’ he replied.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed and waiting at the desk in the custody suite. The middle-aged sergeant handed me my handbag, minus the bag of cocaine, which I had to sign for.

‘You appear to have been extremely lucky, young lady,’ he commented.

‘I wouldn’t say that, I wasn’t guilty, in the first place,’ I said.

‘In that case, take my advice and get yourself sorted out as to who you are and then get some official ID as quickly as possible.’

‘Yes, I think I’ll do that,’ I replied.

 

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I was still in a state of shock as Richard Mathewson drove me out of the police station on to the Edgware Road.

‘Thank you so much for your help, but what on earth happened in there?’ I asked.

‘I was authorised to offer the police two alternatives. They could devote their time and effort to prosecuting you, knowing that we would certainly defend you in court and you may well be telling the truth.’

‘What was the other alternative?’

‘If they dropped the charges against you, information would be forthcoming that would greatly assist their future investigations into drug dealing in central London.’

‘What sort of information?’ I asked.

‘The make, model and registration number of an innocent looking car that the gang use to stash their drugs, and the mobile telephone number that is used to arrange for deliveries. None of the dealers concerned risk carrying drugs in their own cars or, as a rule, on themselves. That is why Rob Singleton was so annoyed with you when he was arrested last week. He broke this cardinal rule and blamed you for it. His little act of spite last night may well have unforeseen consequences for him in the future, either from the police or perhaps from other members of the gang if they suspect he was responsible for the discovery of their scheme.’

‘But surely, as a solicitor, you’re duty bound to divulge that kind of information to the police anyway.’

‘Yes, I would be, if I knew the information, but I don’t. I merely passed on a message that such information would be forthcoming if they dropped the charges against you. The police tried to insist that you would need to testify, but I reminded them that you were an entirely innocent party and had no knowledge of any of these matters.’

‘But won’t it put the source of the information at risk of prosecution?’

‘I made it clear that the information would assist in future investigations but had no relevance to anything which may or may not have happened in the past.’

‘So who is going to divulge the information to the police?’

‘I don’t know the answer to that question and I don’t want to know. You don’t want to know either, if you know what is good for you.’

‘I see. Thank you so much for all your help.’

‘I am glad to be of assistance, but my advice to you would be to leave London for a while, just in case.’

‘Amy and I were planning to do so this coming weekend.

 

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Richard drove me to Amy’s flat and left me outside, saying that he was now returning home to catch up on his sleep. I was relieved, there was no sign of any reporters outside, the events of last night and Amy’s involvement had presumably not been reported to the press. Inside the flat, Amy, her manager and Julie were waiting for me. Amy looked a little sheepish but didn’t say anything other than to give me a hug to welcome me home.

‘Why don’t you have a shower and change into some clothes more suited to everyday wear, whilst I go out and buy everyone some coffees and breakfast pastries?’ suggested Julie.

‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea,’ I replied.

‘Before you do so, for the sake of everyone’s future job prospects, I also think it best if we all now forget about the events of last night,’ said Geoffrey Kelly. ‘There is no reason why Frank, or anyone else needs to know.’

 

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Thanks for the comments and corrections everyone. Feel free to keep them coming.
Louise