I woke up feeling light-headed. I was so tired, I couldn’t think straight and I was more nervous than I’d ever been – worse than before any job interview, driving test or anything. I didn’t know exactly what time I would be called to the witness stand, I just knew that it would be at some point that day.
I was terrified.
As we approached the court later that morning, the TV crews were filming me much more closely than usual and the reporters were pushing microphones into my face, asking for comments.
I found it really unsettling. We had been around and about the court for the past week, but now all of a sudden we were the focus of all the press activity. I felt hot and cold, and started to panic. If anyone thinks that I was enjoying all the attention, I can assure you that I did not; the whole thing made me feel sick.
Once inside the court, I said my goodbyes to the friends and family who were heading to the public gallery, and Paul came up to the witness services area with me. As promised, I was given a copy of my initial police statement to read out. I tried to focus on the words, but I just couldn’t concentrate on them. I would take a deep breath and start reading again, but I couldn’t take anything in. In the end, I just gave up. The woman from witness services said, ‘Are you sure you have refreshed your mind enough?’ But it was no good, it just wasn’t happening.
When the call came for all parties to head to the courtroom for the session to begin, Paul gave me a kiss and wished me luck. I felt so alone when he walked out of the room and started shaking like a leaf. I couldn’t control myself. My knees were knocking, my hands were shaking and it felt as if my face was flinching involuntarily. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to hold everything together.
The next thing I knew, Mark Ling was by my side. ‘Is everything alright? I thought I’d come up and get you.’
It was such a thoughtful thing to do. Before I knew it, I was walking into the courtroom to be met by a sea of faces in front of me. To my left, I saw Paul and around ten other members of my family and friends. They all looked really concerned for me, and my poor Paul started welling up. I knew if any of them had been able to take my place, they would have done so.
As I walked into the courtroom, I looked at the jury, the 12 people who would be deciding the fate of Jeremy Forrest. I couldn’t believe how close I was to the reporters who were covering the case and already I could hear their pens scratching away at their notebooks.
When I came in, Judge Michael Lawson, QC gave me a nice smile, which was lovely of him, but I was still a nervous wreck. He asked me if I would like to sit down.
‘Am I allowed?’ I asked. I know it sounds a bit daft now, but I was incredibly intimidated by the whole situation.
As my eyes flashed around the room, I took in Forrest, his parents and their defence team before settling my focus on Richard Barton and the judge. I felt as if I had to anchor my eyes to Richard. Otherwise, I thought, my head would wobble around, looking about the room. It was as if I had tunnel vision and could only see who was speaking to me.
I took a deep breath and took my oath on the Bible. I know I said earlier that I am not remotely religious, but swearing on the Bible was very important to me. I promised that I would tell nothing but the truth, and I meant it.
Richard Barton began with the formalities, asking me my name and address, which threw me a bit to be honest, as I had hoped to keep our new address secret from the press. I replied really quickly in the vain hope that the reporters might not catch what I said. For half a second, I thought about saying somewhere different, but I knew that I couldn’t.
The next few questions were very straightforward and basically followed what I had said on my statement to the police, back in September. Did I know Jeremy Forrest? Had I had any dealings with him in the past? Was I aware that he was having a relationship with my daughter?
Richard repeated to the jury how Forrest had referred to Gemma as ‘a bit of a pain’ when he had phoned me and accused her of spreading rumours about the two of them. It seemed clear to me that he wanted the jury to have heard the line about Forrest saying to me that the relationship could ruin his career.
Step by step, he went through all of the events leading up to Gemma’s disappearance. I was able to give clear answers with no waffling or forgetting dates. Despite my nerves I found it all extremely easy. After all, the memories he was asking me to recall are those that will stay with me for the rest of my life, whether I like it or not.
Richard picked up on the fact that Forrest had been crying when he was speaking to me on the phone and how I had felt like I was almost counselling him at the time, reassuring him that I would sort the problem out. He asked me how I felt about receiving a call like that and I told him that I was absolutely mortified, how I had always tried to bring up my children to have the utmost respect for teachers, and how embarrassed I was that Gemma had put him in this situation.
I’m not sure how I came across. I don’t know if my voice was particularly loud or feeble, but I felt confident in the answers that I was giving. Richard repeated certain key lines for the benefit of the jury. He wanted to make sure he got a clear message to them and that they understood the type of character that Forrest was. We all knew exactly what the true story was, but he needed to make sure that the 12 members of the jury would have no doubt about it either.
Throughout his questioning, I didn’t look at the jury. I was just concentrating on making sure I gave my answers as clearly, accurately and succinctly as possible. After around half an hour, Richard concluded my evidence by asking me one final question.
‘Did you give permission for Jeremy Forrest to take your daughter to France?’
‘No, I did not,’ I replied.
I knew this was the killer question, the one that would surely find Forrest guilty. It was the one response that I wanted everyone to hear as clearly as I could possibly make it.
Richard then said: ‘No more questions, your honour.’
It was now time for Forrest’s defence barrister, Ronald Jaffa, to stand and start asking me questions. I had seen him going in and out of Lewes Crown Court, and before that at the pre-trial hearings, so I knew what he was like.
As soon as he started questioning me, I felt as if I was under attack.
‘I put it to you that your daughter has bulimia.’
‘No, she has not.’
‘I put it to you that your daughter is self-harming.’
‘No, she isn’t.’
Where did this line of questioning come from? He was obviously trying to get a rise out of me, but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than that to make me angry.
‘I put it to you that your daughter had to leave the country for fear of her life.’
So this was to be Forrest’s team’s line of defence! They were going to try and make out that the reason he had taken my daughter to France was because he was worried about what would have happened to her otherwise. It was almost as if he was suggesting that I would have killed Gemma, had she stuck around. I was furious.
‘No way, that’s not true!’ I turned to the jury and again said very firmly, ‘That is not true.’
It was so quiet in that courtroom, you could honestly have heard a pin drop. I couldn’t believe that the defence team’s strategy was to blame me, to make out that Gemma had no support at home and couldn’t come and tell me how she was feeling.
The judge interrupted proceedings and asked me directly what my relationship with Gemma was like. I told him that it was just a normal mother–teenage daughter relationship. I said that I was fully aware of her pre-existing health problems – I had talked about these in my statement, which the jury had a copy of, so I wasn’t holding any information back. I knew she was under pressure because of all of her exams, but we had a normal relationship. Everything had been absolutely fine between the two of us.
I could sense that Ronald Jaffa was seething. His hoped-for trump card had totally fallen flat. Once more, he said: ‘I put it to you again that your daughter left this country for fear of her life.’ He paused, before quickly adding: ‘And she has bulimia!’
And with that, he sat back down like a petulant child. I almost felt like laughing. I had heard that he had previously won some important cases and was really good at his job, but I was thinking, ‘Seriously, is that the best you can do?’ I almost wanted him to get off his chair and ask me more questions; I couldn’t believe that was it.
When the judge then turned to me and said, ‘You are now dismissed’, it felt like a bit of an anti-climax. The jurors had been provided with an information pack, which included reports from doctors, social workers and the police, showing that Gemma wasn’t in fear of her life in any way, and that she wasn’t bulimic or self-harming.
Like every mother with a daughter of a certain age, I paid close attention to Gemma’s eating habits. At one time I had six pairs of eyes watching her, as close friends and family knew that the school had suggested she had a problem. In fact she was a normal, healthy girl with none of the telltale signs of an eating disorder.
Back outside the court, I met up with family and friends for a group hug. They all said I had done really well and I described how frustrated I’d been about the defence team’s line of questioning.
Now, finally, I could be told about what had been going on in the courtroom before that day, and I could begin to understand why my friends and family had been reacting the way they had. Needless to say, Chloe and Darcee couldn’t tell me everything that had been said in the space of a lunch break, but they were able to summarise the key information. More than anything, I was desperate to know how Gemma had been in court. What was it that she said that had so upset my family?
I discovered that the responses that Gemma gave when she was cross-examined varied dramatically from the evidence she had given to the police during her interview in Hailsham the previous October. She had changed her evidence to make out that she herself had come up with the idea of going to France and that Forrest was not to blame. She had also told the court that she and I did not get on and that I had not supported her.
Upsetting as it was for me to hear this, I knew it wasn’t really Gemma talking. I was hurt, but I had to rationalise her state of mind. She had only just turned sixteen. I didn’t want to disregard what she had said, but I didn’t feel they were her own words. It was almost as if someone had told her what to say.
Apparently, while Gemma was giving her evidence, she and Forrest often smiled at each other and exchanged glances. I wasn’t surprised to hear that; I had suspected all along that was the reason why she wanted to appear in court.
Through my own research into child abuse, I learned that victims often claim it is their fault that the abuse happened in the first place. That is exactly the behaviour that Gemma displayed in court when she claimed that it had been her idea to start a relationship, rather than Forrest’s, and that he had repeatedly urged her not to run away.
What she was saying fuelled some people’s opinions that it was just a love story and that the two of them should be together. But if people had actually listened to all of the evidence, it was clear that this wasn’t an innocent flirtation. Her words were a textbook response from a victim of child abuse.
I also heard that the teachers had claimed that Miss Shackleton had called me seven times about Gemma and left seven messages. Even though I had just given birth to Lilly, there was no way that I would have ignored seven messages – the one time she left I message I called her back. They were clearly just trying to shift the blame on to me. In any case, if the school really was so concerned that there was an issue to be dealt with, they should have contacted social services – or called me a hundred times, if necessary.
Apparently, the court heard that other teachers and senior members of staff at the school had warned Forrest to stay away from Gemma on several occasions, but he had ignored their instructions. They were painting a very bleak picture of what had gone on at Kennedy High School. Whatever was to happen with Forrest, at least I knew that there was going to be a serious case review, and all the school’s shortcomings would eventually be revealed.
Back in the courtroom at 2pm, I took my seat in the public gallery. The next person due to give evidence was Forrest’s wife, Emily.
I couldn’t believe how close I was to Forrest. I couldn’t take my eyes off him and could feel the jury and the press all looking at me, staring at him. But I didn’t care what kind of emotions my face showed – I wasn’t there to put on a show or impress anyone with my self-restraint either, I just wanted answers.
The usher brought Emily Forrest up to the witness box and, I kid you not, I thought she was a child – she was so small and delicate. I knew she was a year older than Forrest, but she looked like she was the same age as Gemma. She was very pretty and dainty, and really well-spoken, but her voice was childlike. It was really strange.
She took the stand and the prosecution began by asking her about her relationship with Forrest and the events leading up to when he and Gemma went off to France. There was little in her answers that I didn’t already know, apart from the news that she and Forrest had been out for dinner together on the Wednesday night before he and Gemma disappeared. She revealed that he had mentioned that he would like them to have a child together and that she had thought it was strange at the time, considering the problems they had been having in their relationship. Back home afterwards, she said that he had ‘tucked me up in bed, kissed me on my forehead and said he loved me’.
That’s the same night-time pattern I have with my children. I tuck them up, kiss them on their foreheads and tell them I love them. Now I was hearing it was what he did with his wife! It was all so disturbing to listen to, all I could feel was pity.
The court went eerily quiet throughout her testimony. It was almost as if we were all straining to hear her words. Meanwhile, Forrest kept frantically making notes and passing them to his legal team.
Emily had been called as a witness for the prosecution, as she was able to give a clear picture of what Forrest was like out of the school environment. In this respect, she was the most independent of all the witnesses, who were much more affiliated with one side or the other. His parents had one view of him as he was their son, but as his estranged wife she had a clearer picture of him as a man.
Once Richard Barton had finished his questioning, it was Ronald Jaffa’s turn again, and he immediately started asking questions and making observations that would undermine Emily. It quickly became evident that he was out to show she was a monster and that is why Forrest had been ‘led astray’. Meanwhile, the note passing continued between Forrest and the rest of his team.
After a few minutes more, Emily broke down in tears. ‘I can’t do this!’ she said, pointing at Forrest and his team as yet another note was passed over. ‘It’s all too distracting.’
At that point, Judge Michael Lawson, QC adjourned the session and we all sat in silence, wondering what was going to happen next. The judge then announced that he was going to let Emily give the remainder of her evidence from behind a curtain so that she wouldn’t be distracted.
Ronald Jaffa was incensed, claiming that it should have been organised beforehand, but Judge Michael Lawson, QC simply wasn’t interested – ‘My courtroom, my rules,’ he insisted.
And so the cross-examination continued, with Jaffa striking low blows against poor Emily, bringing up details about her private life and trying to suggest that she was mentally unstable. She stood firm throughout and corrected him on everything. Even if she had been a monster – which she obviously wasn’t – that didn’t give Forrest the excuse to do what he did to my daughter.
Finally, Jaffa’s character assassination ended and Emily was allowed to step down. We never saw her in court again.
Detective Inspector Andy Harbour was next up and confirmed that he had been to France to bring Gemma back, and then it was chief inspector for child protection Mark Ling’s turn to take the stand. There were no questions for either of them from the defence team as they were just there to confirm that all the police formalities had been followed.
Just before the court session ended for the day, I noticed that there was a bit of fuss going on between the legal teams about some document that the defence team hadn’t yet received from the police. I wondered if perhaps this was the technicality that they were going to pull out of the hat.
But I had no need to worry: Richard Barton confirmed that they had the piece of paper to give to the defence team, and DI Neil Ralph was sent out to collect it. The defence team were obviously really clutching at straws if that was the only way they could win the case.
And that was that for the day. I felt exhausted and relieved that my day in court was over. Now I had to brace myself for the next day, when Forrest would finally take the stand …