After my fingers trembled while the bailiff swore me under oath, Mr. Russell walked me through the same line of questions he'd rehearsed with me in his office over the past two days. No one was more surprised than me at how calmly and evenly I answered his questions with each clarification prompt, down to every detail that I remembered. My eyes beaded up with tears when I recalled the moment Ryder ignored my insistence that we stopped, restrained me on a bed, and unwantedly thrust his fingers inside me.
A few times Mr. Russell paused and reiterated key points to the jury members, an eclectic mix of people from an elderly man with hearing aids to a young woman not much older than me. Mr. Russell stressed that I had just turned fourteen, which held some kind of legal ramification I wasn't entirely clear about, that I had not provided Ryder consent, and I suffered psychological damage as a result of not just the assault but his harassment that followed at school.
For evidence, Mr. Russell provided records from Dr. Sterns, dated from my first evaluation when I was seventeen through an updated version she'd filled out two weeks ago that I wasn't aware of, and written statements he'd obtained from Jake, Harper, and - even more surprisingly - Mason Stiles, Logan's former trainer who'd inadvertently saved me when he stumbled drunk into the party house bedroom.
During my testimony, I looked only at Mr. Russell, in particular the refuge and security that his kind, brown eyes offered. The entire courtroom atmosphere changed when Mrs. Stevens, who'd remained completely impassive when she rose for her cross-examination, stepped towards the bench with slow, deliberate clicks of her heels, and dropped the room temperature with one ice cold look at me.
"Miss Harrison..."
Within two more steps, Ryder's mother stood over me and rested her hands on the narrow wood wall that separated the witness bench from the courtroom floor. With our height difference, even with me seated on the elevated stand, she towered over me like a pillar of strength, determination, and resolution. Her impeccably tailored, sharp, angular suit was so perfectly ink black that mine looked a dull, dark gray in comparison.
"Mrs. Stevens." I nodded and swallowed against the tightness that closed in on my throat.
Her brown eyes narrowed and a hint of disbelief subtly slipped into her voice. "You've recalled some of that evening at the football party but you've excluded some details, haven't you?"
"I... Yes," I answered honestly because I only mentioned the nine months I was judged and ridiculed because of Ryder's lies my freshman year or the eighteen months of nightmares, because Dr. Sterns' reports described both in more detail. "Afterwards, I -"
"I'll lead the questioning, Miss Harrison," she interrupted me, so I just silently nodded. "Like any girl going to her first party, did you get ready beforehand?"
"Yes, with my friend Harper," I replied and shifted my eyes onto Harper's in the audience galley, who sat rigidly still with a murderous look in her eyes. "Harper Reynolds."
Mrs. Stevens' expression remained entirely frozen as she prompted, "How did you get ready, Miss Harrison?"
"Umm..." I paused and swallowed again. "She did my hair, makeup, and picked out a dress. We tried on a few."
"So you spent some time getting ready for this party," she pressed in a direction that I wasn't sure where she headed.
"Yes, two, maybe three hours." Beneath my seat on the bench, my toes rolled inward at the now incriminating way her eyes peered at me.
"Two to three hours," she repeated and cast a stern look at the judge, then a spanned glance at the jury. "So it's safe to say you wanted to look your best, Miss Harrison?"
"Y-yes," I stammered. "I wanted to make a good impression since it was my brother's first party."
"Are you sure your brother wasn't the only person you wanted to impress, Miss Harrison?" Her eyebrows lifted high. "When did you meet my son at this party?"
"A few steps into the doorway," I answered honestly. "He saw me from across the room and came over."
"So..." She stepped back and tapped one bloodred fingernail against her matching lips. "You'd say that your efforts on your appearance were successful? You went there to meet boys and you met one?"
"I didn't go to meet boys," I answered honestly. "And I certainly didn't think I'd meet the senior star quarterback."
Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Answer the questions as asked, Miss Harrison. Yes or no, were your efforts on your appearance successful in that you caught my client's attention upon sight?"
My heart rammed into my chest walls like it wanted to break free. "Yes, I caught his attention."
"And once you caught his attention, what was your first impression of my client?"
My eyes shifted towards Ryder's, who leaned slightly forwards in his seat, eyes locked right onto mine.
"I thought he was handsome, charming, attentive, too good to be true." I lifted my eyes back to Mrs. Stevens, who smiled like a cat who ate the canary.
"So you were attracted to my client?" she goaded me.
"Objection, Your Honor," Mr. Russell stood up with an annoyed expression. "My witnesses' personal feelings of initial attraction are not pertinent to the fact she did not consent to an unwanted sexual act."
"It is pertinent to establish the defendant's understanding of the witnesses' consent, Your Honor," Mrs. Stevens quickly replied.
"I'll allow it." Judge Volkman gave Mrs. Stevens a pointed look. "Get to the point though. Miss Harrison, please answer the question."
Bile rose up in the back of my throat and I refused to look at Logan when I admitted, "At the time... Yes."
My Stevens' smile widened. "And you wanted his attention, his charms?"
"Yes," I whispered as tears welled up in my eyes. "Stupidly, yes."
"Strike the last remark, it's just her opinion, not facts," she chirped out to the judge. "Motion to strike that last comment disallowed."
"Motion sustained, disallow that last remark." Judge Volkman remarked then nodded at the stenographer.
Mrs. Stevens hammered the sickening point home, "So we've established that you were attracted to my client, Miss Harrison?"
"Initially yes," I murmured as my eyes stung with tears.
"And when he kissed you? Did you return the affections?"
My hands balled into tight fists on my lap. "Initially yes."
"So, you liked my client." My pulse pounded in my ears at her emphasis of the word 'liked,' along with the uncertainty that rose inside me from how I had no control over where these questions headed.
"Only at first," I emphasized.
With a dismissive hand wave, Mrs. Stevens eyed the jury when she asked, "And when you went upstairs to the bedroom Miss Harrison, where you claim my client assaulted you, did he force you up there?"
"No, I don't know how we got there," I admitted. "One minute we were on the stairs, then he led me up to the bedroom."
"But you didn't resist, or decline going into the bedroom, Miss Harrison?"
"No." My cheeks flushed warm and again, couldn't bring my eyes to Logan's.
"So you willingly kissed my client, then willingly went upstairs to a bedroom with him?"
"I didn't know what his intentions were," I protested when she held up one hand.
"I'm not asking about my client's intentions, Miss Harrison, only yours. Yes or no."
"Objection, Your Honor," Mr. Russell spoke up. "Leading the witness."
"Overruled, get to the point Mrs. Stevens," Judge Volkman sent her a narrowed look.
"Yes," I answered quietly, which prompted a wide, smug smile on Mrs. Stevens' face.
"My point..." Mrs. Stevens turned and directed her words towards the jury, not Mr. Russell or Judge Volkman, "Is that Miss Harrison provided mixed signals to my client. She returned the levels of attraction, she admitted earlier she was flattered by his attention, and willingly went into a closed bedroom, without resistance, with him and engaged in physical acts."
"Objection," Mr. Russell spoke up again, his voice even louder. "Not resisting is not providing consent."
"Sustained," Judge Volkman replied with a harsh glare at Mrs. Stevens. "There is a legal distinction, Mrs. Stevens, and I'm still waiting for the point to your borderline badgering the witness."
"My point..." Mrs. Stevens elevated the volume of her voice until it vibrated off the wooden courtroom walls. "My point is that Miss Harrision gave off all indications to my client that she willingly participated in physical acts with him. Clearly any reasonable person would have interpreted these signals as consent."
"Initially, yes," I whispered quietly as a rock of guilt dropped into my stomach. "But I said no, that I didn't want -"
"Miss Harrison," she interrupted me. "My client did not have penetrative sexual intercourse with you did he?"
"No," my voice choked on my own whisper.
"Louder, Miss Harrison, so the members of the jury can hear you," she prompted.
"No, but -" I desperately wanted to complain that Ryder's looks weren't on trial but his evil, fucked up behaviors, how he'd physically restrained me onto a bed before his fingers violated me, but again was cut off by a sinister smirk from his mother's blood red lips.
"That's sufficient, Miss Harrison."
"Objection, Your Honor." Mr. Russell stood up from his seat.
"On what grounds, Mister Russell?" Judge Volkman raised her eyebrows at him.
"On the grounds of leading the witness, who has already established through her previous testimony that she clearly told the accused to stop before he physically restrained her."
"Allegedly restrained her," Mrs. Stevens chirped up, which earned her a cross look from Judge Volkman. "Unless Miss Harrison has some physical evidence to present of her physical restraint, pictures of bruises on these wrists she claimed my client held down, ER doctor evaluation records, perhaps? Anything other than your own personal word, Miss Harrison?"
"I..." My chipped dipped down into my chest. "I don't."
"Are you finished with the witness, Mrs. Stevens?" she asked.
"Other than how Miss Harrison's entire testimony is hearsay, I'd like to probe one more line of questions, regarding Miss Harrison's subsequent relationships." Mrs. Stevens' eyes focused on me like lasers.
I looked at Mr. Russell with confusion, since this hadn't been discussed with me in any pre-court meetings.
"Your Honor?" I looked up at the judge.
"I assume the defense here has a relevant point?" She peered down at Mrs. Stevens, who nodded.
"Critically relevant," Mrs. Stevens replied. "We haven't established Miss Harrison's motive, your honor, and I'd like to ask some questions that are critical to Miss Harrison's character."
Judge Volkman sighed, then waved an upward turned palm towards the floor. "Proceed, Mrs. Stevens."
"Thank you, Your Honor." She turned her gaze on me. "Are you single now, Miss Harrison?"
"No." I frowned but answered honestly, "I'm not."
"What is your current relationship status?" she prompted and none of me trusted the glint that appeared in her eyes.
"I have a boyfriend."
Who I'm so embarrassed witnessed any of my answers to your questions.
"For the record," she continued with a few steps towards the jury's seats. "Please state his name and how you met."
"Logan Thomas Hightower," I breathed out his name. "We first met at the Santa Cruz beach before our senior year of high school."
With a slight head tilt back at me, Mrs. Stevens asked, "When were you still a student at Santa Cruz?"
I nodded, then answered, "Yes."
With a look at the jury, not me, she asked, "But he was more than a random boy at the beach, wasn't he Miss Harrison?"
"I... don't know what you're asking me." I looked at Mr. Russell for clarification, who fumed in his seat but sat silently.
"Did you know Mister Hightower from your high school?" she clarified.
"No, he went to Salesian," I answered honestly.
"Salesian High School from North Salinus," Mrs. Stevens spoke with an air of cockiness like she already knew the ending of a story but led us through the middle pages. "Salesian is a well-known rival school of Santa Cruz, at least in the football programs, right?"
"Yes."
"And what was Mr. Hightower most known for at Salesian?"
My eyes closed momentarily when I realized I'd been baited with no choice but to bite. "He was the quarterback of the football team. But I didn't know -"
"Ahh, your second quarterback love interest, yes?" Mrs. Stevens crossed her arms and focused her eyes on each individual juror. "Sounds like you have a particular type, Miss Harrison."
"Objection, your Honor," Mr. Russell stood up again, one arm raised. "Badgering the witness on her current relationship has nothing to do with the accused on trial."
Judge Volkman sighed and looked over her glasses at Mrs. Stevens. "Overruled, get to the point, Mrs. Stevens or I swear this is your last question for the witness."
"How long did you and Mister Hightower date in high school?"
My mouth twitched slightly to the side for one breath, then I answered, "Five months."
"And when you broke up..." Conveniently, Mrs. Stevens skirted past the reason why we'd broken up. "Where did you go to school?"
"I went to the University of Washington and he went to..." My voice faded and I tightened both fists. "UC-Davis."
A slight murmur rumbled through the courtroom, in which Judge Volkman banged her gavel against her desk. "Quiet, quiet in the courtroom."
"UC-Davis," Mrs. Stevens repeated as she turned her head back in my direction, a satisfactory look in her eyes. "The very school my client was removed from after false allegations were filed by you, Miss Harrison."
"They weren't false!" I replied quickly and slight pain bit into my palms as my nails dug in.
"But your allocations to the UC-Davis campus police were thrown out, weren't they?"
"Yes," I admitted with slumped shoulders.
"And why was that?" she asked in a softer, near taunting voice, with a slight head tilt.
"Because the incident hadn't occurred on campus and I wasn't a student at the time of the assault," I mumbled.
"Alleged assault," she corrected with her eyebrows raised in the direction of the jury. "But your false allegations had quite the impact, Miss Harrison. Half the football team was removed, including my client, only to be replaced by who? Logan Hightower, your opportunistic boyfriend."
"Logan didn't -" I started to point out the UC-Davis investigation started when other victims came forward when she interrupted.
"And what is your current relationship status now, Miss Harrison?"
"I'm dating," I admitted as my shoulders slumped further down under the weight of this scrutiny.
Mrs. Stevens closed the gap between us again, then stared down at me like I was vermin. "Who, Miss Harrison?"
"Logan Hightower," I replied, which cast out another round of courtroom murmurs.
"Mrs. Stevens," Judge Volkman narrowed her eyes like she'd had enough of the questions, which I couldn't have agreed with more. "Make your closing statements."
"Absolutely. You see, your Honor and respected members of the jury..." Mrs. Stevens slapped one of her palms onto the witness stand wood between us, then walked over the jury. "Two more considerations have been revealed from Miss Harrison's testimony. Miss Harrison has a particular type, star quarterback players, which she knowingly forms attractions to, baits, and targets for personal gain. Her willingness to be involved physically with my client demonstrates how he was easily confused by her mixed consent signals."
My insides broiled at her insinuation, the completely false persona she'd crafted of me and painted in front of an audience that included my mother, brother, boyfriend, Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Russell, Judge Volkman, and worst of all, the twelve jurors who decided if my story held any truth to it.
Mixed signals? Mixed signals!?
I rolled lips inward at the string of curse words I wanted hurled at Mrs. Stevens, but couldn't, and she continued, "And second, her involvement with Mr. Hightower's direct benefits shows how she scorned my client's rejection of her, took up a personal vendetta, filled false allegations at UC-Davis that the campus police themselves dismissed, and opened up an erroneous witch hunt that resulted in my client's expulsion from school and football team, upon which he endured years of subsequent harassment, and both his education and entire professional future ruined."
What the -
"Your Honor, respected members of the jury..." One blood red fingernail pointed shamefully at me. "My falsely accused client is the victim here, not Miss Harrison."
"The only one who did all that to Ryder was himself!" I cried out. "The other girls -"
"Silence, Miss Harrison." Judge Volkman interrupted me with a few gavel bangs at the outburst of discussions that filled the courtroom. Her stern expression blurred under the tears that threatened to spill over my cheeks. "No other girls are on the witness stand at this moment. Mrs. Stevens, finish your closing statements."
"I motion that Miss Harrison's entire testimony is struck from the record, on the grounds of lack of evidence to prove her testimony beyond a reasonable doubt." Mrs. Stevens smirked widely at me. "No further questions, Your Honor."