After five minutes, she broached the assault and asked her to recount what happened.
Jodie shared the tale of her first real party, of drunken teens and raucous laughter. She spoke of the grinding social embarrassment and how she had fled for air. She described Amir’s footsteps – so evocative they could hear the crunch of gravel. There, frozen in frame by his side, she stopped.
‘What happened next?’ asked Mia.
Jodie hesitated. ‘Amir asked me what I was doing there alone. I said I needed a break.’ She paused. ‘He told me that Nina had left the party and that he could take me to her so I followed him.’
Zara looked up in surprise. This wasn’t the story she had told before. What had happened to Amir’s overtures? ‘Whenever I see you, I wonder what it would be like to kiss you.’
Jodie gazed at a burl in the wooden tabletop, not daring to look up at Zara. ‘Amir said that they were having an after-party. He said I wouldn’t normally be allowed to go but since I came with Nina, he’d take me there.’
Zara searched her face for a trace of the lie but she noted nothing.
‘Can you take me through what happened next?’ asked Mia. ‘Take your time and be as detailed as you can.’
Jodie was still for a moment. Her eyes grew narrow and her features creased as if in the midst of a major decision. She took a breath, trembling and thin, and said, ‘He took me to an empty building.’
Jodie’s account segued smoothly to her original. She spoke with a tight discipline but her voice broke in the grooves of the taunts – I ain’t gonna touch ’em if they’re ugly like the rest of you – and she finished in a curtain of tears.
Zara felt a swelling pity. She could see that Jodie was in pain, but also that she was trying so extraordinarily hard to cling onto composure. Perhaps it was no easier for a sixteen-year-old to cry like a child with abandon than it was for someone older.
Mia reached forward and squeezed Jodie’s arm. ‘You’ve been very brave.’
Zara watched the simple act and felt an inexplicable frisson of annoyance.
Mia flipped through her notebook. ‘Jodie, you said the accused were boys from your school. Would you say that you were friends?’
Jodie clutched the cuff of her sleeve. ‘No.’
‘Have you ever been romantically involved with any of them?’
She grimaced. ‘No. Never.’
Mia flipped a page. ‘You said you had one glass of punch with alcohol that night. Had you taken any drugs?’
Jodie shrank into herself, as if she were being blamed. ‘No.’
Mia made a note. ‘Were there drugs at the party?’
‘I think so but I’m not sure.’
‘That’s fine. It’s always right to say you don’t know if you’re unsure.’ Mia continued to flesh out the night in question and then explained what the police would do next: contact witnesses, interview the suspects, visit the scene of the assault, review CCTV footage and examine any DNA. ‘If we can gather enough evidence, we will formally charge the suspects,’ she finished.
The whites of Jodie’s eyes were wide: fear laced perhaps with shock that this was really happening. ‘How long will it take?’ she asked, the words low and timorous.
‘The suspects will be arrested for questioning immediately. After that, we usually work to charge them within three weeks.’
Jodie flinched. ‘Three weeks? But what if I see them in the area?’
‘They won’t be allowed to talk to you,’ assured Mia. ‘They can’t approach you or communicate with you in any way.’ She smiled gently. ‘I know this process is scary but we will be with you every step of the way.’ She nodded at Zara. ‘You will hear from me or your caseworker when we have an update.’
‘Thank you.’ Jodie stood unsteadily and said goodbye after final formalities.
Outside, Zara led Jodie to her car. Then, in a tone that was perfectly neutral, said, ‘Jodie, I noticed a small anomaly in the interview. Can we talk about it?’
The girl frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When you spoke to me initially, you said you went with Amir because he wanted to kiss you. In the interview just now, you said it was because he was going to take you to Nina. Were you confused?’ Zara watched her weigh her options, a lightning-quick process of elimination.
Jodie slumped in her seat. ‘I couldn’t tell them what he said. How would they believe that Amir said that? Or that I believed him?’
Zara blinked in surprise. ‘Jodie, you must tell the truth, no matter how unsavoury. Your statement will be examined by the prosecution. If they find a single hole, they will grab it and tear it as large as they can. We need to tell Mia the truth before it gets any further.’
Jodie shook her head. ‘Please, Zara. I can’t stand up and tell the world that I wanted him to kiss me. I can’t. How would that ever be the reason I went with him?’ She pressed the dashboard to emphasise her plea and left small and sweaty fingerprints on the textured grey surface. ‘Please don’t make me do this.’
Zara held up a hand. ‘Look, I can’t make you go in and tell her but I strongly advise that you do.’
Jodie’s voice was unsteady. ‘I’m sorry I lied but it’s such a small thing. It doesn’t change anything else.’
Zara grimaced. ‘That’s the thing, Jodie. It could change something. You’ve got to get your story straight in your head. Those who tell the truth don’t need to rely on memory.’
‘That’s the only thing, I swear,’ she promised.
‘I hope so, Jodie. I really do.’ Zara started the car, the soft thrum sounding her surrender.
They wove through roads lined with building works, past shiny promotional boards touting luxury two-and three-bedroom apartments the locals couldn’t afford. You could tell which streets were really gentrified: they had a flank of Boris bikes standing sentry on the pavement. Of course, there was no such offering on the Wentworth Estate where row after row of four-storey buildings stood a nose width away from each other. Communal balconies ran the length of the dark-brick buildings, peppered with soggy clothes and the rusting sequins of satellite dishes.
Zara felt a pang of guilt as she parked her Audi on the concourse. ‘I’d like to talk to your mother,’ she told Jodie.
‘I—’ Jodie hesitated. ‘My mother isn’t really in a condition to talk about this right now.’ Her tone was neutral but Zara caught the tremor beneath.
‘That’s why it’s important for me to talk to her. You’re sixteen and your mum needs to understand what’s happening so that she can provide the support you need.’
Jodie shook her head. ‘I’m just so tired. Please, another day.’
Zara
