Arctic Zoo, page 28
‘A lot of people won’t be happy, seeing someone who attacked a democratically elected prime minister celebrated as some kind of folk hero,’ the newsreader suggested. ‘Isn’t it simply an act of terrorism?’
‘I don’t for one second believe she’s a violent person,’ Maya said. ‘Georgia resonates because everyone is mad frustrated. We gave one useless government the boot. Then a new lot comes in, saying everything’s gonna be better, but works out just as crummy. And like, with a two-party system, we keep the idiots we’ve got or bring back the idiots we kicked out. How is that a democracy?’
‘Exactly,’ Rolf agreed, desperate to get a word in.
The newsreader paused for a message coming through his earpiece. ‘I’ve just heard from inside the court that the key people are now in place and that the preliminary hearing has been scheduled to start at ten minutes past twelve …’
FIFTY-FOUR
Because Georgia was charged with terrorist offences, she’d done nine days in a maximum-security cell, rather than a young offenders’ unit. She’d spent most of that time in hoodies and trackie bottoms, but John brought a blouse, skirt and black tights for her court appearance.
A chill went down Georgia’s back as the tiny tank-like Megan Seebag led her into court number one. The space was designed for big jury trials and the raised seating gallery was eerily like the council chamber where she’d made her famous leap.
I’d be in school if that photographer hadn’t clicked the shutter …
‘Georgia!’ someone shouted from a public gallery that was in the process of being cleared. Since she was under eighteen, the hearing would be in private.
Georgia glanced warily at the empty judge’s platform. Her dad smiled, her mum made her feel uncomfortable, then she looked to her fellow suspects in the dock.
Gerard was at the far left, delivered from the prison hospital with a mesh patch over one eye and a cannula in his hand. Zac sat in a wheelchair to the right of the dock. He looked handsome in his dark brown suit, but Georgia could hardly bear to look at him.
‘All rise for Judge Malum,’ a clerk announced.
As everyone stood and the judge entered through a door directly behind her bench, Georgia was led to the jury area. She’d expected to stand with the others and guessed it was another rule related to being under eighteen.
‘We finally made it,’ the judge began, smiling as she poured a glass of water from a plastic jug. ‘Let’s get this moving. Lots of suspects to get through, so do keep it brief.’
The proceeding began with all the suspects saying they were present and naming the lawyers representing them. Then the judge began taking pleas, starting with Pippa, who faced the least serious charges: three breaches of the Official Secrets Act and conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism.
Pippa pled guilty to the secrecy charge but denied terrorism. Georgia listened intently as Pippa’s lawyer pleaded for her to be released on bail, on the grounds she was only twenty, had no previous convictions and that a complex trial with seven defendants could be more than a year away.
‘Given the serious and highly public nature of the offences, I feel the suspect should remain in custody while awaiting trial,’ Judge Malum said.
Georgia dry-heaved. If Pippa’s not getting out, I’m screwed …
Wendy pleaded not-guilty to a charge of assisting of plotters. Zac, Kamila and Elodie all pleaded not-guilty to three terrorist offences and conspiracy to commit murder. All four were denied bail.
When the judge moved to Gerard, he told the judge he did not recognise a court run by fascist oppressors, then raised his fist in the air and shouted, ‘Lenin!’ to each of nine charges, including several related to building the drone.
The judge looked unimpressed as she told the court clerk to enter no plea before sending him back to hospital.
‘Georgia Pack.’
Georgia wavered as she stood. Megan Seebag was steely, charging out of her seat to approach the judge’s bench with a wad of paperwork.
Megan told a great story. Georgia was a vulnerable girl. A straight-A student who’d fallen under the influence of a bad crowd after the shocking death of her sister. She said it was wildly inappropriate to have held Georgia in an adult prison for almost two weeks. She said Georgia should have a separate judge and be tried in juvenile court, because she’d been manipulated by the other suspects and was scared to speak out in front of them.
The solicitor from the Crown Prosecution Service rebutted, saying there was plenty of evidence that Georgia was emotionally stable and knew what she was involved with. He wasn’t pleased when the judge took Megan’s side and sent Georgia’s case to juvenile court. This burdened the prosecutors with two complex trials instead of one. It also meant Georgia didn’t have to enter a plea in the court.
Judge Malum smiled at Megan Seebag. ‘I assume you have ideas about where Georgia should spend her time awaiting trial?’
‘If it pleases you, Your Honour,’ Megan said humbly. ‘Out of respect for the seriousness of the charges made, I feel it inappropriate to send Georgia home on bail. I would like to suggest Georgia be released into the custody of her mother and father, on condition that she spends the pre-trial period undergoing psychiatric evaluation at the Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit.’
The judge glanced across to the prosecutor, who acted like this was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard.
‘Your Honour, young offenders’ units are perfectly capable of assessing the mental state of inmates and have a level of security more suited to such a high-profile defendant.’
Megan interrupted. ‘Given the number of suicides in young offenders’ institutions, I hardly—’
The judge raised her hand. ‘Miss Seebag, this is a pre-trial hearing, not a debate on the merits of the youth justice system.’
The prosecutor smiled. Georgia held her stomach as she noticed her dad’s white knuckles, gripping the arm of his seat.
‘Very well, Miss Seebag,’ the judge said, letting Georgia breathe while the prosecuting solicitor slumped into his seat. ‘I will have Georgia’s conditional release document drawn up and signed in my chambers. And that brings this proceeding to a close.’
‘All rise,’ the court clerk shouted.
As the judge headed back to her chambers, Megan evil-grinned at the prosecutor.
‘See you in juvenile court,’ Megan taunted, before the prosecutor mouthed something foul back at her.
Lawyers and relatives began leaving the court. Georgia couldn’t watch as prison officers began cuffing her co-defendants.
As Megan went into the judge’s chambers to sort paperwork, Georgia found herself in the empty court with her parents and a single clerk picking up litter. She stepped out of the jury box and gave her dad a hug.
‘We have the best lawyer,’ John said brightly.
Her mum looked less impressed. ‘Twelve thousand already for that lawyer,’ she grumbled. ‘Eight hundred a night for this psychiatric hospital and the trial might be a year away.’
‘Megan says it’ll be faster if the prosecution drops the conspiracy to murder charge,’ Georgia said. ‘I can plead guilty to all the others and go straight to sentencing.’
‘Conspiracy to murder is a scare tactic,’ John said. ‘They don’t want to admit it was a police stun gun that sparked the explosion.’
‘Hundreds of thousands of pounds,’ Rachel went on. ‘The agreement was, we sold the house and split proceeds when Georgia left for university …’
‘I have my D’Anger money,’ Georgia said.
‘This isn’t the place to argue over money,’ John told his ex-wife furiously.
Georgia knew this was her fault and almost wished she had been sent to young offenders. She’d had way more involvement in the drone plot than Wendy and Pippa, who were heading to jail. And while her mum liked to moan, she would do the right thing and pay her share. Helping a daughter who could barely stand being in a room with her …
‘You need to get Georgia to the Freeman Unit by midnight,’ Megan said as they headed out of the courtroom with the signed paperwork. ‘You’re entitled to stop and have a meal, or go home to pack …’
The court had metal detectors and pat-downs for people entering. The security line gawped as Georgia pushed through a turnstile and out into drizzle.
She knew her case had been delayed by protestors, but Georgia wasn’t expecting a mob that stretched from the court’s anti-terrorist fence to a line of broadcast vans over a hundred metres away.
The hearing had been private, so nobody in the crowd knew Georgia had been released. She gripped her dad’s arm as protestors nearest the fence realised who it was.
‘Georgia’s free!’ someone shouted.
But as the news burst and the crowd started to cheer, she’d never felt more trapped.
PART FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
It was warm for late April and the air con in Therapy Room B chugged, forcing Julius to raise his voice.
‘I got the video from this anonymous message,’ Julius said, as a tear welled in his eye. ‘They’d blurred Collins, but it was obvious to me … And there were sick photos online after Duke died …’
Julius paused, and Georgia’s friend Alex held out a box of tissues.
‘Thanks,’ Julius said as he dabbed his eyes. ‘Sorry …’
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s good to see you opening up,’ Tanvi the therapist said soothingly. ‘Take your time.’
Georgia, Alex and the three others in the group all nodded or oohed supportively, before Julius choked up.
‘I really loved Duke,’ Julius stated.
He started crying harder, until the therapist interrupted gently.
‘How did you feel immediately after you found out?’
‘I …’ Julius wiped his eyes again. ‘I found out he’d been murdered on the Sunday. It was the end of half-term and I had a taxi booked for six thirty next morning to take me back to school. And I carried on …’
Julius took a deep breath and tried to get some strength back in his voice.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he began. ‘It was like I had two lives. One good, one bad. The Hall was good. I was playing soccer and working out. Doing OK in lessons and I’d made friends who had no problem with who I was. At boarding school, it’s easy to keep busy, from early-morning swims to evening cinema club. I signed up for everything, to keep my mind occupied.’
‘That’s interesting,’ Tanvi said. ‘Most of you were in yesterday’s group, where we listed the differences between healthy behaviour and distracting behaviour.’
‘Then there was my bad life, back in Nigeria,’ Julius continued. ‘Duke was dead. My mum was arrested. Held in prison awaiting trial after Governor Rotimi took office. My little brother Gabe kept calling in tears because he was scared. Just thinking about home made me shake. I could have flown back for Christmas. I wanted to see Gabe, but I couldn’t face everything else, so I stayed in London and spent Christmas on my own.’
‘Did you talk to anyone about Duke?’ Georgia asked.
‘Nobody,’ Julius admitted. ‘My roommate, Matt, is a good guy. He asked, how come I don’t Skype Duke any more. Part of me wanted to tell, but I knew I’d break down and I didn’t want my good life at school mixing with my bad life. I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me, or asking questions about stuff back home.’
‘You built a wall,’ Alex suggested.
‘A wall,’ Julius agreed. ‘Now I realise it was building up to a crisis. You can’t run two separate lives in your head.
‘About six weeks back, things started going really wrong back home,’ Julius explained. ‘My phone died, because the bill hadn’t been paid. I called my cousin, Orisa, who lived with us. She was saying the state government had got an order freezing all my mum’s bank accounts. Mum was the mastermind of everything our family does. But my uncle, SJ, was running the show now she was in prison. He refused to give Orisa money to run the house, or even answer her calls.
‘I got my UK phone going by paying cash in a Vodafone shop. But then I got called into the school finance office and told eight grand of school fees hadn’t been paid for the new term. I got through to SJ on a special number I was given for something else. He said money was tight. He promised to sort me out, but he didn’t. And the school was gentle, but they made it clear I could only stay until the end of summer term if nobody was paying my bill.’
‘Major stress,’ Georgia said empathetically.
‘A bit!’ Julius said. ‘I’m staying in the UK on an education visa, so if I get kicked out of school I have to go home to all the shit. And my brother Gabe has been telling me stuff, like my other brother Taiwo’s medical bills weren’t paid, and my mum was beaten up in prison …’
‘Is your uncle broke?’ Alex asked.
‘My uncle’s wife posted pictures of a massive wedding for my oldest cousin, Luke. Collins’s Instagram has pics of a Mercedes he got for his eighteenth birthday. I think SJ wants to make it clear he’s the big man now Mum is in prison. We’re no different to the rest of the extended family, begging for his scraps.
‘The day I ended up here, I was in soccer practice. I’d barely slept in three nights. I’d had a crap morning, because I’d studied the wrong module for a geography test and got an F. We were playing two defenders on two attackers and this kid, Rob, was needling me. He’s a striker, probably the best player in our school. I’m purely a positional defender. Rob’s running rings around me, and taking the mickey. There’s always banter when you play, but this was different. Then I went down on my ass and he called me a homo …’
An ahh went around the therapy circle.
Julius played it down. ‘If you play soccer, people wind you up, hoping you’ll lash out and get sent off.
‘But when Rob called me homo my brain detonated. I elbowed him so hard, it mashed his nose. He went down and I jumped on top and started punching the shit out of him.
‘It took a teacher and three big guys to pull me off. Rob’s nose was a mess, blood everywhere. That triggered thoughts of Duke getting beaten up and I felt ashamed, because I hate violence.
‘Then I started crying. All the worries about home and the bottled-up feelings about Duke. They put me in the school counsellor’s office. I sat on the floor and sobbed. It hurt so much. Like my brain had blown a fuse.’
Alex nodded with recognition. ‘You’re not alone, mate. I’m usually the one locked in the cupboard, waiting for the men to come take me to the nuthouse …’
Ross was nodding too. ‘The first time I had a breakdown, I was so shocked. It was like my brain had been rebooted on different software.’
‘Depression is the worst,’ Laura, who rarely spoke, agreed.
‘Had you felt anything like that before?’ Tanvi asked.
‘I’d been sad,’ Julius admitted. ‘I’d cried about Duke. But this was a bomb in my head. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here, in the observation room. I’ve heard how I wound up in the lounge, with needles in my bare ass and a splinter of a coffee table through my cheek, but that’s a blur …’
‘Julius just gave a textbook example of why it is so unhealthy to keep powerful feelings bottled up,’ Tanvi told the group. ‘I’d like to compliment Julius, because he’s only been with us for a few days. This is the first time he’s had the confidence to open up about his feelings in group. Didn’t he do well?’
‘Really great.’ Georgia smiled, putting a hand on Julius’s knee as the others in the circle nodded.
FIFTY-SIX
Georgia wore Nike trainers and silver-grey leggings as she stepped into the Freeman Unit’s basement gym. There was a group of lads by a chest-press machine, but the five treadmills up back were free, apart from Julius.
‘Hey, you,’ Georgia said fondly. She hung a microfibre towel over the side rail and planted her water bottle in a slot.
Julius jogged at a respectable 12.5kph, but his long legs made it look slow. Most of his casual clothes were at the house in London, so he wore the grass-stained shirt and shorts from his school kit.
‘Didn’t know you ran,’ Julius said.
‘Not allowed out,’ Georgia explained. ‘I can walk in the grounds, but only with an adult.’
‘Bad girl,’ Julius teased as Georgia pressed a 5K pre-set on the console and started building speed from walking pace.
‘I’ve got fitter since I came here, at least,’ Georgia said. ‘Some nights I come down and run for an hour. I like when it hurts. It stops you thinking about everything else.’
Julius glanced over as he saw Georgia’s treadmill speed up to 15kph. He raised a cheeky eyebrow and pushed his to 15.1.
‘Are we racing?’ Georgia said, smiling as she beeped her treadmill up to sixteen. ‘I know we’re not supposed to talk about things in group, but you were awesome this morning.’
Julius pushed up to sixteen, but running faster meant lengthening his stride. His sneaker hit the metal plate in front of the belt. There was a squeal of rubber and a gasp. For an instant, Georgia thought Julius was going to fly off the end like some YouTube clip, but he grabbed the side rails and lifted his feet. Sensing that he’d stopped running, the treadmill slowed to a crawl.
Once Georgia was sure he was OK, she gave Julius a smug grin and pushed her speed up to seventeen.
‘I’m too gangly,’ Julius explained, as he looked in the mirrored wall and saw all the guys by the chest press laughing at him.
‘The male urge to compete can be highly amusing,’ Georgia noted smugly.
Julius felt embarrassed as he stepped back on the belt and reverted to his comfortable 12.5. Georgia was soon breathing too hard to keep talking, and Julius thought about how envious Matt would be if he knew he was close enough to see sweat run down Georgia Pack’s neck.
Georgia kept going when Julius headed for a shower. They reunited with damp hair and fresh clothes outside Therapy Room B. Georgia felt comfortable settling into the therapy circle, with Alex on her left and Julius to the right.
