vita mutetur

He looked across the courtroom, caught his mother’s eye; caught the faint whiff of sweat from his underarms. “What the hell am I doing here,” he mumbled to himself. The courtroom was packed, he knew the jackal press were waiting just outside; waiting to crucify him, pacing outside like wild animals, pushing and shoving to get at the ‘prey’, to get the verdict out, be the first to trample his fine, upstanding reputation into the ground and scrunch it with the heel of their boot and their pen.

He stood in the dock. He was dressed in sleek grey slacks, light grey shirt, dark grey tie and a navy jacket with brass buttons. He felt weak, nauseated, sickened to his stomach that he “Oliver Sim” could end up in this disgusting place; with such a travesty of justice about to hit the fan. He stood head bent, eyes downcast, and his glasses slipping down from the bridge of his aquiline, arrogant nose. He stifled a sniff. “I shouldn’t be here”.

One member of the court crowd thought differently; ‘this is where the slippery slide to oblivion starts; this is where you get your comeuppance, this is where your superior, narcissistic, overconfident, superb athlete that you are, you will soon be shown the other side of the coin. You are not going to get away with this you arsehole”.

The jury filed into the courtroom, seating themselves in the rows of cedar pews. Looking up at the judge’s bench the foreman appeared ready to present her findings.

Oliver Sim choked back a sob and murmured quietly to himself “Oh my god, how did I get here, how did an Olympian like me get into this situation?”

Six months ago Oliver Sim had been skiing down the snowy slopes of Perisher, turning this way and that, ploughing his skis into the powdery snow, digging deep, then skimming up and over a rock, flying high, aloft for a few seconds, graceful as a bird then gliding down to an immaculate landing without a glimmer of a fault. In fact his practice had been faultless. He had kept up his training day after day. Even when fog and whiteouts threatened to close the chairs, he was there, when blizzards came in and closed the valley; he still took off on his snow shoes and climbed the mountains to maintain his strength and vitality. It was important for supreme athletes to continue to train, no matter what.

To give in for a second, for a day even, meant the loss of control; the loss of power; the loss of that elite sportsman’s edge. He knew he was daring himself to greater heights, daring himself to greater achievements, daring himself to know his opponents and most of all daring himself to be the best. He knew he had an incredible advantage above the rest, knowledge of the mountains, gained from all the years spent in the Snowy Mountains. As a tiny tot he had learned the skills of staying on his skis, falling yes, many times, tumbling down slopes and loving every minute. His father was a handsome ski patroller and instructor at the resort, his mum also a champion skier; whose family owned a large sheep station near Tumut. They knew from the early days that he had an extraordinary talent. By his early teens he had competed around the world, won many competitions and was striving to achieve the status of an Australian Olympian. He had spent many winters overseas where there was a much longer snow season than in Australia. He had his taste of the high life. He knew he was good looking, he knew he had talent and he thrived on the attention and the accolades. He cut a handsome figure in his white ski jacket and pants, red cap and a blaze of red across his racing vest, his tanned face and muscular arms and chest made him a bit of a catch with the ladies. He would sometimes catch a glance at himself in the window as he passed into the cafeteria, giving himself a nod of appreciation. There were always scores of girls swooning for his presence. He had become Australia’s top achieving sportsman, Young Australian of the Year, and was considered most likely to achieve a Gold Medal at the Olympics; such was his talent and prowess. He was admired around the world and held in high esteem by his colleagues, friends and the sporting world. Australians loved winners.

Oliver Sims was always very careful about the mates he chose; he had a reputation to uphold and a status worth protecting, however one night all his discretion left him and he took a girl to his room, he thought she would be discreet and that she had wanted the sex as much as he did. However the next day she screamed “Rape”. The police came; the shame; his parents were mortified; his team mates shocked; his coach angry as hell. Bail was posted.

Then the long wait for the court case to come to fruition. The best lawyers were hired, the QC with a gigantic reputation and gigantic fees. He felt the humiliation deep and penetrating; this appalling situation could ruin his career. He would never get another chance; he could go to gaol. “Holly hell what a cow; what a bitch!”

Oliver Sim had felt strongly towards this girl, this wasn’t a one night stand, this was something special, he had romanced her, seduced her and she was a willing party. He was always being approached by girls and he thought this one was different.

Oliver went through several months of hell whilst the trial was being arranged. Witnesses had to be called and police prosecutors were on the hunt for a score, a big name to give them a big name in the press.

Finally the day came. Oliver Sim was brought into the court and sat beside his QC, his barrister and other clerks, the prosecutors also sat at their desks with the presiding judge sitting above all those present.

The jury was sworn in and the final selection agreed by both the plaintiffs and the defendants team. The jury was made up of 12 members, in this case 6 women and 6 men. The trial continued with each side presenting their case, witnesses, questioning of both the plaintiff and the defendant. After the summing up by both the defendant’s team and the plaintiff’s team the jury were discharged to consider their verdict.

The jury consisted of a Lebanese man, a grocer, an accountant, a business man, a salesman, and an insurance assessor. From the ladies side there was a business woman who had been declared the jury foreman, two housewives, a nurse, a call centre operator and a school teacher. The jury were lead out to the jury room which had a long table and 12 chairs; there were 12 writing pads and 12 pencils in front of each setting. On entry the Lebanese man threw his keys on the table and exclaimed “Guilty”. The jury leader, a small and elegant woman with a dignified and controlled voice exclaimed “we have not even started a discussion as yet, please do not make any judgements until all evidence has been examined’.

The evidence was then discussed and the fore’s and against’ s were written on the large whiteboard at the back of the room. Each jury member gave their opinion about the facts that had been presented and when necessary placed their comments on the whiteboard. There were several dissenting arguments, each jury member listening carefully, making notes. What made sense, what didn’t make sense, why would he risk everything for just a bit of sex, what did she have to gain? Why did she say “he took my panties off”? Why did he say “She wasn’t wearing any panties? There are some strange anomalies that needed further explanation. The jury leader asked for clarification on a number of issues. Recesses were called, lunch was delivered but still the jury could not bring about a unanimous vote. “Well’ said the jury leader ‘we stay here until we get a unanimous vote. It had been 11 not guilty; 1 guilty for hours. The foreman asked “what are the areas that you (pointing to the Lebanese man, the only dissenter) do not seem to understand or are having trouble in addressing the issue.

We have to leave all our prejudices at the door, we cannot make our cultural or religious beliefs have any effect on what we are trying to achieve here”.

She went on “we are charged with the responsibility of determining whether the defendant is guilty of rape or if the plaintiff has made accusations in order to gain compensation from a person who is held in high esteem, who comes from a very wealthy family. We are not here to determine whether his career is going to be trashed, his reputation tarnished or his family name shamed. We are here to decide if he is guilty of rape or if he was been slam dunked by a woman who saw a monetary advantage. Who thought she might be bought off to avoid a scandal, who never envisaged this would go to court. We also see the defendant, a young, very successful career athlete, a decent young man, who has achieved the highest honours his sport and his country could give him. All along he has denied rape and under oath claimed the sexual encounter was with mutual consent.” She continued “we have a very serious issue to consider here, we have to make the right call, take your time, ask more questions, do not make hasty decisions just because you do not want to be caught here overnight. A young man’s career and future is dependent on your decision but also a young lady is waiting out there in the courtroom, also dependent on your decision. This is a massive task, a massive responsibility and we simply must get it right”. She added “if we cannot agree there will be a retrial and that is fair, it must be unanimous and you must not change your vote unless in your heart you really feel totally true to your beliefs and to the information and facts that have been presented to you”.

After hours of deliberation, hours on examination and re-examination of the facts the jury finally reached a decision. The jury leader knocked on the door and allowed the bailiff to enter. The bailiff asked “have you made a decision?”. She replied “yes we have”. The jury were then led out into the courtroom, filled with people who had been advised ‘the jury is coming out’.

The judge called the jury foreperson to stand “madam have you reached your decision.” She answered “Yes your honour we have – we have found the defendant Not Guilty of Rape”.

The lady foreperson looked at the audience and saw Oliver Sims’ mother, head bowed, and tears running down her face, she then raised her head and looked the forewoman in the eye and mouthed the words “thank you”.

Oliver Sim meantime was also standing silent, handsome head bowed, deeply humbled and no longer arrogant, perhaps a little in awe of the power that had been held in the hands and minds of those 12 people. Those jury members who were totally in control of a life changing event which could have affected him for the rest of his career; the rest of his life. He was a well educated young man who had studied Latin. He knew the Latin phrase 'vita mutetur' certainly applied to him on this day, this day had been a life changing event.