CCTV Footage
Common Room
Records show that at 4:21 on 14 February, Scott Fromley was allowed to visit Naida in the common room of her ward. It is presumed that he was allowed into the ward because of his age (seventeen years). He is tall with a slim, athletic build, wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans, and is escorted in by Assistant Care Worker Ngozi.
Ngozi says something to him quietly, which the mic does not catch; he nods and then looks around for Naida. He stands hunched over, uncertain.
Ngozi steps away from Scott and then walks down one of the three corridors leading off from the room. Moments later, she returns, shaking her head.
“Sorry,” she says. “Naida’s not feeling very well.”
Scott looks past her. “Bullshit.”
Ngozi gives him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, son.”
He examines the floor, and the neon lights reveal that he is much thinner than he was in the earlier Johnson Incident footage; dark bags beneath his eyes make him look much older.
He looks down the corridor again, eyes shadowed. “Naida,” he calls gently. “Baby…”
Ngozi does not escort him out. She looks him up and down, checks the corridor, and then taps his shoulder and leaves him to his business. It is against medical policy, but there are no records to indicate if her actions were met with disciplinary measures or not.
Scott watches her go, and despite the three other health-care assistants in the room, all keeping a wary eye on him, he turns abruptly and strides down the hall.
The three men, Luke included, hurry forward and restrain Scott from behind.
“Off-limits,” one of the men grunts.
Scott struggles against them. “Naida! Naida!”
The struggle is loud, the three health-care assistants inching Scott back, slowly, his shoes sliding on the laminated flooring.
“Take it easy, mate,” the other, unnamed, assistant says, a bulky man who is clearly the oldest.
Scott struggles harder then, yanking to get his arms free, a wild look in his eyes. “Naddie! Baby!”
At last, Naida pokes her head out of her room, so that only half her face and one of her drains is visible. Scott sees her and stops struggling, and the health-care assistants drag him back into the common room.
Naida has changed a lot since she entered the facility. Hollows have appeared in her cheeks; her eyes no longer sparkle with mischief and hidden depth—now they peer out, dull and flat, overly large in her face. Even her hair seems to hang despondently around her face.
Scott stands in the common room staring at her. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t move. He seems apprehensive. Naida steps out of her room into the corridor so she is facing him. Her shoulders are raised; she is hunched into herself.
Scott bites his lips, his face crumpling as he looks at her. He releases his breath and raises his palms in a gesture of surrender, tears on his cheeks.
Naida’s face is the next to fall, and then she is running to him. CCTV footage shows her slamming into him, his arms immediately going around her tightly, even as he stumbles back.
He lifts her into his arms and carries her to the sofa in the corner of the room near the camera, all the while she is gripping his shirt and sobbing. They sit together, Scott with his feet on the sofa, Naida curled in his lap. They don’t move for a long time, like statues of star-crossed lovers.
At last, Scott strokes Naida’s hair, kisses her forehead, wipes away her tears.
“Hi,” he says.
Her face crumples again and she smiles.
Scott runs his thumbs over her drains with a frown. “Are they looking after these?”
Naida shrugs, then nods.
“You sure? There’s bruising.”
She nods again.
“When do they come out?”
Naida maneuvers her arms free, then writes on her notepad. The camera angle does not capture the script.
Scott nods. He looks around and shakes his head. “I can’t believe this is happening.” Naida says nothing. “They dropped my charges. But that inspector guy, he’s obsessed with this case. Obsessed with you.”
Naida nods. Perhaps she is remembering the interview she gave him not too long ago.
“It feels like a witch hunt.”
Naida smiles sadly and touches his cheek.
“So you did miss me, then?” He is joking, but his voice is hesitant. “I was worried you’d found yourself another bloke in here.”
She rolls her eyes, then points at his chest, and then hers, and draws an invisible question mark in the air.
“Are you kidding me? Who else would have me?”
She nudges him with her shoulder and he grins. Something of his old self is blurring into his face. He leans forward to kiss her, but she pulls back, pressing her palms to his chest and turning her face away.
“Naida…”
She shakes her head, her eyes squeezed shut. He takes her palms and kisses them instead.
“You have to trust me.”
She doesn’t open her eyes and doesn’t relax.
“Okay. Okay, I won’t kiss you.” She relaxes and looks at him. “Not yet,” he clarifies. “Not until you’re ready. But I will kiss you again one day, Miss Dupré. And I will…” He leans forward and whispers in her ear for a long time. She closes her eyes, but she is crying.
Scott leans back and smiles at her. “This isn’t the end. I won’t believe that. And despite what’s happened, I still believe in something.”
Naida’s reaction is extreme. She shoves him, then snatches the chain, which holds her notepad, from around her neck. She rips some of the pages off, and throws them away from her. She shrugs violently over and over. Her sentiment is clear. What? What is there to believe in?
“I believe in you.”
She shakes her head over and over and over. Then she writes a note that the camera does catch.
There is no me. Not anymore.