The men, in a line - defendant (a fairground worker) defendant's father, defendant's brother, defense counsel, and the witness to the act (a middle-aged family man) - stood bolt-upright and feet apart, pointing their fingers at her. She (the accuser in this infamous case) had brought an outrageously false accusation against the fairground worker - we were convinced of its maliciousness, now that we had heard the true facts from her very own 'innocent girl' lips. We had heard that she (a pleasant girl with an average mind living with her mother who is the doctor in our little town) had been waiting at the bus-stop by the fairground and had got talking to the accused, an admitted lothario who was used to the impulsive attentions of women; that the two of them had known one another for only five minutes before copulation took place (the fairground worker had been quite honest about it) that the pair had run over the grass bank to do their sex, but had been discovered there by the witness who was concerned about the noises the girl had made, and that the girl had straightway sprung up and called for the police in an untroubled but determined manner.
In her evidence the girl had snarled that we had no business asking her whether she had gone over the bank with the fairground assistant of her own accord, for it had no relevance to her claim; that (agreed) they had had sex; that (agreed) he had threatened no violence; (oh how these men exasperated her) then that, all these things having been granted, the fairground assistant had raped her. With set jaw the prosecuting girl had explained that she had decided that the sex was sordid (she felt used) and she reminded us that she had been caught; that once caught, her boyfriend was likely to find out what had happened; that therefore all the harm done was to her (and her boyfriend) and not to the accused; and - here lay the nub of the matter - that sex with her was only by informed consent; and that she had at no time consented to something that turned out to feel sordid to her, that she didn't enjoy much, and that had involved her being caught out by a stranger, something which made her feel ashamed. And thus it had been an act of rape. She had added that there was a lot to be said for the woman's rule of thumb that if a woman feels like it is rape - then it is rape.
She stamped her foot and ordered us not to examine like babyish weasel lawyers, for as she reminded us, in this court the letter of a law (subjective in its time and in its culture) is irrelevant, and in this she is correct. It is the morality of our people about which judgements are being made here. We, the men in the court, applauded her loudly for this comment, for it was exactly on this point that we were insisting and (how could she be so foolish as to draw attention to her obvious guilt on just these charges) we were convinced that she had just convicted herself and not the accused.
What an error of judgement we had made! And now, the women (plural) in the court, after our fairground man has been convicted and taken down to serve his prison sentence, ignoring the tears and the stares of confusion amongst we men, brush past us and leave the courtroom slapping one another on the back.
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