After The Rain II: The Verdict free porn video

AFTER THE RAIN II: THE VERDICT: A short story by Tamsyn Eighteen months have passed since Jack Welch was freed from years of slavery and abuse; his body changed beyond all recognition. It has not been easy; nightmares, struggles with identity and gender, publicity and celebrity, and now the trial of his captors. The young woman stood on the steps of the imposing building, looking out at the sea of faces and cameras. She wanted nothing more than to disappear back inside the safety of the Central Criminal Court building. But an observer would have not thought it to look at her, she seemed so calm. She was slim, her body pleasantly curved, her long auburn hair hanging free to cascade about her shoulders. She used only minimal make up on her feminine features, a pair of wire rimmed glasses balanced on her nose. She wore a bottle green suit jacket and knee length skirt, a plain black top underneath -not too low cut. Her legs were encased in black hosiery, and she wore a pair of black medium heeled courts on her feet. A plain black leather handbag hung from her shoulder. She did not stand alone. Her parents stood with her, one either side protectively, each of them clasping a hand. Standing on the step in front of her was another woman, dark skinned, addressing the media that had clustered to wait for her to appear following the verdict. Evangeline Welch, more commonly known as Evie, was so glad that Zina Akenzua was reading the statement to the press. Yes, she had become used to having cameras pointing at her, but not live. Not like this. She forced her attention away from them and onto the Detective Chief Inspector, who was coming to the end of the statement, the sound of camera shutters almost drowning her out. "...we feel that we can now begin to bring closure to these years of heartache and separation, and go forward as a family once again. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." As the security people created a path through the throng of media Zina turned and motioned Evie and her parents forward, down the steps and across the pavement to the car that was waiting. A deluge of questions washed over her as Evie, looking straight ahead, walked smartly to the MPV and gracefully sat on one of the rear seats, lifting her legs into the car and discretely sliding across to allow her mum to get in alongside, her dad bringing up the rear. Zina slid the door closed behind him and hopped in next to the driver, and the MPV pulled out into the traffic and away from the hubbub surrounding the entrance to the Old Bailey. "Thank Christ that's over," Stephen Welch muttered. Don't be so sure, Evie thought. The trial may be over, but it wasn't going to end there. The media interest would still be immense, and she had a number of interviews lined up over the coming days. Tomorrow would see a half-hour programme broadcast, and she still had to finish the memoir she had started. In some ways it was only just beginning. + + + It had been eighteen months since Jack Welch emerged from Bellringer Farm, freed after seven years of servility, sexual abuse and torment. His body had been changed forever, to the point where his own mother had not initially recognised him, and a new struggle had commenced. When he had been abducted Jack had been a nineteen-year-old English literature student, outgoing, fairly good looking with a slight physique. By the time of his liberation hormones had altered him, giving him breasts and a feminine shape, his penis shrunken. His testes had been removed, and a combination of poor nutrition and hopelessness had made him thin. That he would continue taking female hormones was beyond doubt. To all intents and purposes, Jack was a 26-year-old woman: he thought like one, he behaved as one, he sounded like one, and he dressed as one; therefore, though he still considered himself to be male, it made no sense to try and behave as if he wasn't one. He didn't shave his head, get lots of tattoos and go around looking like a bleedin' dyke, as his granddad would have probably put it. And growing a beard was well out of the question. He well understood the doctors' reasoning for maintaining his daily hormone regime, adjusting and monitoring it as needed; he had no way of producing testosterone thanks to his castration, and the years of being forced to take female hormones had led them to believe that reversal, while not impossible, could never return him to what he had been. This was all carefully explained to Jack and, while he agreed with their reasoning and continued his treatment, it still took many months to come to terms with his new gender identity, however, and to accept that he was now a woman. When she did, she was distraught, but Deborah, her gender counsellor, had helped her through some very dark times, and guided her to the other side. She'd chosen the name Evangeline as a mark of respect to her granddad, Evan. She didn't know what he would have made of seeing his grandson like this, and she was glad in a way that he hadn't. It would have broken the old man's heart. But she was still reluctant to take the final jump. Though she had received a tracheal shave to reduce her Adam's apple and had some cosmetic surgery to feminize her facial features and give her C-cup breasts, she had yet to have what was left of Jack's manhood removed. Oh, it was not financial; given the circumstances of her case, the NHS had funded her treatment and would pay for a vaginoplasty. But it was still... final. "I didn't ask for this, for fuck's sake," she'd told Deborah angrily. "I've never had any reason to doubt my gender. Now because of what happened I'm stuck somewhere between the two. Can't go back, and not sure about going forward." Gender identity may have been the biggest issue Evie -as she'd eventually come to think of herself as- had been left with, but it was by no means the only one. Her physical health recovered well, her nutrition and weight improving, and she lost her scrawny appearance. Her eyesight had worsened in the years of captivity, however, leaving her with somewhat less than twenty-twenty vision and the need to wear glasses to rectify her myopia. Her mental health took longer. She still suffered nightmares, and had occasional panic attacks, being diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. Certain noises, such as the rattle of keys or sudden raucous laughter filled her with sudden fear, heart pounding as adrenalin was dumped into her system. She couldn't sleep with the door closed, and didn't like it when strangers stood too close to her. Sometimes she felt as if she was two people; Jack, as he was before Bellringer Farm, and Evie, as she was now. She could almost hear the two of them her arguing in her head. She was assured that there was no indication of schizophrenia or bi-polar disease, however. At other times she had depressive episodes, though never had she felt suicidal. She was determined to see this through, and see the Dunney brothers sent down for what they'd done to her. And now, they had been. + + + "We can't thank you enough, Zina," Miriam Welch said. "You have nothing to thank me for," the police officer told her, shaking her head. "It was all down to Evie. Her testimony did it. There was no way the jury could have reached any other decision after her stand in the witness box. Even the defence knew it." "Well, they certainly didn't take long to reach a verdict." "Less than an hour," Zina laughed. "Most juries have barely voted themselves a foreman by then. Are you coming down to London for the sentencing?" "Damn right we are," Stephen interjected. "Not going to miss that, eh, Evie?" They were sitting around a table at Costa Coffee in the main passenger concourse at Paddington railway station, saying their goodbyes to Zina. She was due to catch a train back to the west country. "What about this sexual abuse ring?" Stephen asked. "Is anything likely to come of it?" Zina sipped at her cappuccino. "I don't honestly know. It's been passed to the Met, but after the Operation Midland fiasco they're not keen on starting another investigation into an alleged sexual abuse ring of important people." "But it's not alleged," Stephen protested. "Evie's already made a statement-" "She has," Zina interrupted. "And John Dunney has as well. But they are going to need a lot more evidence before they start digging." "Leave it, dad," Evie remonstrated. "That's a battle for another day. If the police want me to speak to them I will. Let's just think about today for now, yeah?" Her father fell silent, but both Evie and her mother knew he would be like a dog with a bone about the subject. For her part, there was not much more Evie could tell the police about the evenings she was taken from the farm and, alongside other male youths in make-up and clothing that left little to the imagination, plied with alcohol and drugs and whored out to important looking men in expensive suits and gold watches. She never recognised any of them and had no clue where the other boys came from. "Are you heading back to the Midlands tonight?" Zina asked, smoothly changing the subject. "Stephen is," Miriam said. "Evie and me are staying another night and travelling up in the morning." "I promised Julie I'd try to get back if I could," Stephen murmured. "It's her birthday." A slight chill in the air seemed to form between him and Miriam, and Evie knew her mother was biting her tongue. Her father had started seeing somebody about a year ago, and they were now living together. Though he and Miriam were on better terms than they had been for many years a reconciliation had never been on the cards. Nevertheless, whenever Julie came into the conversation, she innocently brought a certain frostiness with her and, in this case, Evie knew that her mother wanted to say something about Stephen disappearing off when he should be celebrating with his daughter. Evie was not too bothered. She felt emotionally drained after the last few days. The last thing she felt like doing was celebrating, and she would have been quite happy to catch the train back this evening as well. + + + In the weeks following his release Jack had given a full statement to the police about his captivity. The transcript of the interviews Zina and her team had recorded ran for many pages. It was sordid, descriptive and left nothing out. The three Dunney brothers, Bill, John and Dan, were arrested at Bellringer Farm when Jack had been freed and since then they had never seen the outside of a prison. They were charged with false imprisonment, assault and multiple counts of sexual assault. Bill Dunney was also charged with abduction and his two brothers with conspiracy and assisting an offender. In addition, they also received charges of animal cruelty -which was what had led the police to the farm in the first place- and, for good measure, driving without insurance. The Land Rover they used to get about in had not been insured for years. Throughout their police interviews none of the brothers had said anything; their solicitors had instructed them to answer with no comment for every question. Despite the frustration Zina's team had felt they carried on their investigation, gathering forensic evidence from the farm, speaking to neighbours and local people about the brothers. All the while Jack was filling page after page about his life at the farm. The investigation was eventually concluded, the Crown Prosecution Service receiving the police file for their decision on whether to continue. The decision took a while to come; most of the evidence came from Jack's statement and, detailed as it was, the CPS was not at all sure it met the first of the two questions that made up their criteria: is there sufficient evidence for a realistic prospect of conviction? Forensic evidence had been gathered from the farm; Jack's car had certainly been left to rot in the barn there, while his DNA and fingerprints were all over the inside of the house. The medical examiner reported that he had participated in violent anal sex many times, but as to whether it had been non-consensual was another matter altogether. Just as it was looking that the CPS were going to decide not to proceed, a situation she hated having to tell Jack, or Evie as she was learning to call her now, about, Zina received an unexpected call from the prison where John Dunney was being held on remand. He wished to speak to her. + + + John Dunney was sporting a multi-coloured bruise around his left eye and a number of cuts on his face. Evidently, Zina concluded, prison life was not going so well. "How can I help you, John?" she asked across the table in the interview room after he sat down. He fidgeted, but remained silent. "Come on, now," she said. "You asked to see me, and I've driven all the way from Somerset. The traffic was terrible." Still nothing, and she shot a sideways look at Detective Sergeant Cox, who had travelled over with her, indicating that he should step in. "How's things going, John?" he asked in his Bristolian accent. "That's a nasty bruise you've got there. Fall down some steps? Tripped in the gym?" "Looks like you're having a few problems, John," Zina added. "Must be tough with other inmates knowing why you're here. And they can't keep you segregated all the time." She paused. Time to twist the knife. "Of course, we may be able to do something about that..." For the first time he looked at her properly. "Like what?" She shrugged. "Maybe move you somewhere else. You know, somewhere where you won't be so... accident prone." A look of hope flashed across his face. "Can you?" She grimaced. "Well, you see, for us to do that you'll have to do something for us, John." "What d'you mean?" "If you were to tell us what you and your brothers did to Jack Welch, then we could definitely tell the courts you're co-operating. And that goes a long way. Could get you some years off your sentence." "What about Bill and Dan?" "Neither of them are here, John, are they? They're in other prisons, and the chances are you're not likely to see each other again for a long, long time. I'd be more concerned for myself, if I was sitting where you are." "Also," Cox added. "Think of Jack, or Evie as she calls herself now. I'd say she deserved a bit of support, wouldn't you?" "'Ow is he?" John suddenly asked. "As well as anyone who's been through what she has," Zina replied. "Don't you think she deserves a break?" John was silent, chewing his thumbnail as Zina leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Evie had told her that John had been the least violent of the three towards her, and though she had been surprised to get the call, she knew exactly what had been playing on his mind. After a moment the middle of the Dunney brothers nodded. "Alrigh'," he said. "I'll tell you what happened. If you can have a word with the judge." She nodded. "You're going to plead guilty?" "Yeah." "And testify against Bill and Dan?" "Yeah." + + + With John Dunney now co-operating the CPS took a very different view of the situation, satisfying themselves that there WAS sufficient evidence for a realistic prospect of conviction. With his evidence they added the more serious rape charges to the case against the brothers and sent it for trial. It had come as a huge relief to Evie. The news that the CPS had been considering not pursuing the case had distressed her immensely. She had more than enough to cope with without the thought of her abusers getting away with it for, as well as the battle for her physical and mental health she had, to her surprise, become something of a celebrity. There had been a press release put out by the police initially; though minimal in detail it had been enough to spark off interest from the national media, particularly when the rumour of Evie's physical changes had emerged. That had led to the media setting up camp outside her mother's house, were she was once again living. The police had been very good with their advice, and after a couple of days she had opened the front door to them, stepping out onto the driveway and calmly reading from a prepared statement. She wore the yellow and white summer dress bought by the hospital staff for it, her hair tied back, and allowed the photographers to take dozens of pictures. She hadn't posed, just stood there holding her mum's hand, and declined to answer any questions. It had not sated the press frenzy, of course. There were offers of money for interviews from the tabloid press, PR people offering to represent her, all fed by an insatiable public curiosity about her, while social media was going wild. Hers was, after all, a very unique case. In the end she had agreed to do a television interview for the BBC. After a lot of discussion between her and the producers she was persuaded to go for more of an androgynous look, with minimal make up, formal blouse and trousers, and flat heeled shoes. The interview was conducted at her home, cameras and lights being set up in the front room. The house was one of those older terraced properties, with bay windows and high ceilings, so there had been plenty of room. It was conducted by the news presenter Sophie Raworth, who was fantastic and had immediately made her feel at ease. There had been a lot she could not talk about. Due to the police investigation anything about her captivity was off limits. Instead they had talked about her time since she had been freed, how she was adjusting to it, and how she felt about her future and her identity. It had been a cathartic exercise, the interview taking a couple of hours. Tissues were required at several times, but she was quite pleased when she saw the final version, which had been edited down to half an hour. It was shown in a prime-time spot on BBC1, with associated trails and edits for a day or two beforehand on the news programmes, and it did seem to take a lot of the heat off. At the discrete suggestion of the BBC team she had contacted a publicity manager that they recommended. Joel offered to look after her interests without a fee, and had proved to be a godsend, fielding the enquiries that continued to pour in. Two main projects resulted from it; the first was a book deal for what Joel cheerfully called a misery memoir, with a handsome advance that allowed her to buy a car and be less reliant on the bus. She had been excited to see that television rights were involved, though he did burst her balloon by telling her that it was pretty much a standard practice. The second project was that of a fly-on-the-wall documentary programme, a small camera team visiting her regularly to follow her around. She had been less sure of this, but had eventually agreed. The team of Jane the camera operator and Paul the sound engineer had become almost family, and she had allowed them to film some of her counselling sessions, along with consultations with cosmetic surgeons and even meetings with her solicitor. Jane in particular had helped her to better embrace her femininity. After an initial hour-long programme had been aired, they would be returning after the trial to make a follow up. Of course, with the good publicity came the bad; in this case the trolls. Joel had warned her to stay well away from social media, and she had taken his advice. Oh, she saw some of what was being written about her, and it could be pretty vile, and there had been a particularly savage and ill-advised newspaper interview with a relative of the Dunneys. That had been so bad that her solicitor had advised her to sue once the court case was over. + + + "I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." It had taken a long time to get here, but the day finally came when Evie, in her smart green suit that she had bought for the occasion, stood in the witness box. For two days already she had sat in the public gallery alongside her parents and watched the two defendants as the trial proceeded. Bill and Dan Dunney had avoided her gaze, both looking straight ahead across the courtroom, although she was in no doubt that they could feel her eyes boring into them. Apart from the suits they wore, they looked just the same as she remembered them, Dan with his weaselly face that could so quickly turn into a grimace of hate, and Bill, bigger and with beard and tightly curled, greying hair. She didn't know what she would feel when she saw them again, whether she could even face them or if she would run from the court. But there had been no fear, no anger, just a cold contempt and it was writ large across her face. John Dunney was not standing alongside his brothers. His plea of guilty had already been accepted by the court. He would be brought to court as a witness for the prosecution, and would be in the witness box ahead of her. Zina Akenzua would be the first witness, and Evie would be last. The first day was taken up the legalities, the jury being sworn in and various procedural matters being dealt with before the defence and prosecution presented their cases. Zina was called at the start of the second day. Her answers were precise and almost clinical, dealing with the police case and forensic evidence. She skilfully avoided the traps the defence laid for her, using her years of experience in the witness box. John was brought into the room to insults from his brothers, bringing them a stern rebuke from the judge. He answered the prosecution's questions well, and was clear and honest about the way the three of them had treated their captive. He wilted under the cross examination from the defence, however, which was determined to portray him as the big villain, dominating his brothers and giving the impression they were frightened of him. As he was the smallest of the three, it was unlikely. As he stepped down, he gave Evie a look of apology. She met it with one of utter hatred. And then, the following morning, it was her turn to take the stand. The prosecuting barrister, Rachel Sweet, had been apologetic about calling her, having hoped it could be avoided if John had given sufficient evidence, but in the end had decided that Evie ought to take the stand if she was up to it. After she had rested her hand on the Bible and spoken the oath, Rachel stood and addressed her. "Miss Welch, can you confirm that you were once Jack Welch, and that on the fourteenth of January 2016 you stopped to assist a fellow motorist on the A358 near Hatch Beauchamp?" Evie nodded. "I can, to both questions." "Is that motorist in this court?" she asked. "He is." "Can you identify him please?" She pointed. "One of the defendants, Bill Dunney." "Miss Welch, can you please relate to the court what happened after you stopped to assist the co-defendant? Take your time." Evie took a deep breath, and started her tale of degradation, abuse and humiliation. In total she stood in the witness box for about six hours, the time spread across one and a half days. Her voice was hoarse by the end of it. Rachel occasionally interjected with a question, and there were a couple of requests for clarification from the judge. The defence barrister made only a handful of objections, concerning procedure rather than what she was saying. Few were the details she left out. She told the court how she was treated by the brothers, of being locked in the cellar, of having to wear their dead mother's clothing, and how they nightly took her to bed and raped her. She also told them of Dan's fists, and of how she had been forced to swallow the hormone tablets until she agreed to take them willingly. A couple of times Evie broke down as she described what happened, requiring short adjournments, and when she eventually came to the end of her testimony there was utter silence in the courtroom. Even the members of the press, many of whom were hardened by years of witnessing courtroom drama, were looking shocked. The courtroom artist and at least one juror was in tears. Eventually Rachel spoke. "No more questions, milord." The judge cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss Sweet. Mr. Jerome," he said, addressing the defence counsel. "Do you have any questions for the witness?" "Um, yes, milord," he said, rising to his feet slowly. Thoughtfully he looked at Evie for a moment, hands resting on his table, then he sighed and gave a short shake of his head and sat down. "No, milord." The judge turned to Evie. "You may step down, Miss Welch. I commend you sincerely for your courage in taking the stand. It could not have been an easy task." A little unsteadily Evie left the witness box, reappearing a few minutes later in the public gallery. Rachel was telling the judge that the prosecution case had now concluded. "Very well. We shall adjourn until the morning, when we shall hear the case for the defence." "All rise!" As the court cleared Evie sat where she was, drained. Both Zina and Rachel approached her, offering her their congratulations on telling her story, but she barely heard them. That night she slept little, her thoughts whirling, filled with memories of Bellringer Farm. The contents of the mini bar disappeared, and she finally drifted off to sleep. When she woke she had one hell of a headache. However, when court readjourned she was sat alongside her parents once more, fresh and smart and ready for what was to come next. After the judge had entered and taken his seat, he addressed the defence barrister. "Mr. Jerome, are you ready to present the case for the defence?" Jerome cleared his throat. "Milord, after consultation with my clients the defence is offering no case." His words caused a buzz to break out among the press, while Evie and her parents looked at each other confusedly. She cast a glance at Rachel. The prosecutor was looking startled, but then she caught Evie's eye and flashed a quick smile at her. "Do your clients wish to enter a new plea?" the judge asked. "No, milord," Jerome replied, causing the buzz to increase. "Very well, Mr. Jerome. In that case I suggest a short adjournment to enable you and Miss Sweet to speak to me in my chambers." Evie found Rachel outside the courtroom on her way to see the judge. "What did they mean, no defence?" she asked. "They've thrown in the towel," she replied. "They're still maintaining their innocence, but they have nothing to prove it. They didn't have much to begin with, but after your testimony, lovey, it's game over. You smashed it." She hugged Evie. "Well done. Your mum and dad must be very proud." In her closing arguments Rachel summarised the prosecution case very well. She reminded the jury of seven men and five women of the pain behind Evie's words and how the Dunneys had stolen her life from her. Jack Welch had been a young man on the very start of adulthood, with university and the likelihood of a promising career, and they had taken all that away, replacing it with the very worst that humanity could offer. It was clearly obvious that Jack had been permanently changed, and Evie still suffered from ongoing mental health issues as a result. She said that by not pleading guilty the Dunneys showed no repentance for what they had done, and they could not be allowed to remain unpunished. If the jury had any compassion at all, there could only be one verdict. + + + "Guilty." Spoken by the foreman of the jury, the word rang out across the courtroom several times, each one a damning reply to the charges brought against the brothers. Evie and her parents hugged each other, Zina grinning and sharing an embrace with the younger woman. The judge thanked the jury for their service, particularly in light of the evidence that had been presented, informing them that they were now discharged, and then he turned his gaze on the brothers. They both looked emotionless; there was no doubt in their mind what the verdict was going to be. "William Dunney. Daniel Dunney. You have been found guilty by this court of some of the most heinous and wicked crimes that I have ever encountered in my entire career. You imprisoned an innocent young man whose only mistake was to stop to render assistance to a stranded motorist. You kept him your prisoner for several years, his family not knowing what had become of him, conducting vile abuses upon him and degrading him beyond measure for your own twisted amusement. "In sentencing you I feel that there must be some time for consideration with regard to the severity of your crimes. Had you only undertaken each of them on one occasion you would be looking at a severe enough penalty; that you did so countless times, and with no repentance, requires me to give the matter some thought. I can tell you that I will be issuing the maximum sentence I can, and you must expect to spend a lengthy period of time in prison. Sentencing will take place on the twentieth of this month." He turned to the public gallery. "Miss Welch, I must once again commend you for your bravery. You have shown exceptional strength of character and dignity in attending this court and being prepared to give such harrowing testimony in your quest for justice. I am sure that your parents must be very proud of you, and you are a credit to them. "This court now rests." "All rise!" After the judge had left Evie watched as the brothers turned to descend down the stairs behind them, guided by the custody officers. They caught sight of her and paused, as if expecting her to speak. What was there to say? she thought. Nothing. Instead she gave them a small, triumphant smile, the look telling them she was better than they were, that she would emerge from this stronger than them and that, above all, she would be free of them. For they, in their prison cells, would never be free of her.