What Were You Doing Out There in the Dark?

Chapter Two

Altercation

"The prosecution calls Healer Dash Wilcox to the stand."

"Aye, mate, I'm Dash Wilcox," said Dash as he stood from his seat. His voice echoed in the room, and everyone was looking at him like he had suddenly turned into a salamander in the middle of the court proceedings.

Dash Wilcox, in his extremely smart robes, walked to the stand as gracefully as he could—which wasn't very graceful at all. It was a miracle he hadn't stepped on someone's toes or tripped over his robes.

As he passed by the Weasley family, he gave them a heart-warming smile which they didn't return. He glanced towards the Minister sitting at the opposition table. He was wearing an expensive pair of dark-blue velvet robes and looked as professional as ever. But even with the glamour charms, he looked withdrawn and unwell. He had dark circles under his eyes. He was miles away from the rosy, bubbly man in the posters. And blimey, he looked quite a lot older than his photos. He didn't look a day over forty in the photos they used at The Prophet, but in real life, he looked closer to a sixty-or-sixty-five-year-old man. Old enough to be someone's grandfather he reckoned. Which made it even more disturbing that he had his hands on a teenage boy... when he was well aware that Percy's father was at least fifteen years younger than him!

After he swore his oaths, which weren't at all daunting in comparison to some of the things he had to deal with at the young age of thirty-eight, Dash offered a toothy smile to the courtroom.

The defendant's attorney was a tall, thin woman that looked like she could've been Snape's twin. She stood in front of him with a limp, greasy blonde bob and a face that looked it had been hit with a permanent Pimple Jinx. Her name was Laurel. "Mr Wilcox, can you please tell the jury what your credentials are?"

"Aye—I mean, yes," Dash turned to the jury. "Been working as an emergency healer in the St Mungo's A&E for over fifteen years, half of those in a senior position. Have done all me exams, and had been trained in America, Canada and Romania for the better part of five years and finished me programme about a decade ago. I'm actually due to go into another programme at the end of the year—really high-level stuff that is."

"So, you're extremely qualified," Laurel surmised.

The prosecution's attorney, an equally thin, blonde-haired woman named Clarissa, snorted. She wore a grey pencil skirt that was so short that Wilcox was sure that she'd give the whole courtroom a view of her Sunday roast if she bent down too far.

"Hadn't done too bad if I say so meself," Dash couldn't stop smiling. He bet the courtroom must think he was a right plonker that thought he was coming to audition for a Witch Weekly cover opportunity instead of being asked to the witness stand in a high-profile court case.

"Riiiiight," Laurel frostily replied. "So, Healer Wilcox, I'd like to start at the beginning. We all know the case. We all know about the chargers that are being brought upon the Minister of Magic. We have given our introductions. We have given the courtroom a mere snapshot of what is to come—and I'd like to ask you, with your extensive knowledge and your experience, about the triaging that is involved in a case such as the alleged victim's. Can you tell us and the courtroom more about the triaging system, how their notes are taken and what is the appropriate level for such cases?"

"Well, really, the triaging is up to the nursing staff," Dash frowned. He had nothing to bloody do with the triage. "But just to briefly explain the triage, it's a way to assess perceived patient illness severity, regarding their complaint, the way they present and their vital signs. After they have been assessed by our staff, they are given a triage number from one to five—with one being stat attention and five allowing a wait of multiple hours. The number corresponds to the amount of acceptable waiting time for that patient. There are some instances where waiting is not appropriate, and the patient is shifted immediately into the monitoring area or the resuscitation bay."

"And where was Percy Weasley shifted?"

"Monitor bed. Probably had a waiting time of about five minutes."

Laurel nodded her head diligently. "Why?"

"Why?" Wilcox looked surprised by that question. "Well—um—he didn't look too well. He had what appeared to be strangulation marks on his neck, had been bruised and was very anxious and unsettled. His blood pressure and heart rate were measured quite high. He was kept on the monitor area just due to the fact that he seemed to have significant injuries and we needed to properly assess him."

"The nursing notes had written him off as assault. Did Mr Weasley himself say that he'd been assaulted?"

"Well, I'm not sure about—" Dash was cut off.

"Yes, well, even the victim himself had said previously that he'd not told the nursing staff what had happened. But they did label it, in his triaging notes, as an assault case despite the victim not saying that he'd been assaulted."

"An assumption was made," Dash said flatly. "We work in a very busy emergency unit, seeing every wizard in Britain with so much as a tummy ache. It is safe to say that a patient that looks like he's been in a scuffle has probably been in a scuffle. I've written my impression, my history and details in the patient's notes."

"And in your notes, you've written alleged assault."

"I write every case as such as alleged, because medical professionals such as myself are not the ones that definitively say whether or not an event as such took place," Dash explained. "We are only here to give attention to any wounds that the patient has sustained, and—given the history that the patient presents with, decide on further imagining as necessary. It does not mean that we do or do not believe the patient's story—but such things do not get mentioned or printed in medical reports because it's not up to us to decide. It's up to the Aurors investigating the case to decide."

"Of course," Laurel didn't look too happy about Dash suddenly being all factual. She supposed he took him for a bumbling fool with the way that he looked. "Did he say how he acquired his injuries?"

Dash straightened his back. "Yes."

"What did he say exactly?"

"That he had been sexually assaulted by another man about an hour prior to presenting to the emergency. Said man had been strangulating him during the altercation, and then afterwards, he had been thrown against the edge of a table, to which after he had lost consciousness."

"Did he ever tell you who this man is?"

"No."

"And you believed his story?"

"Yes," Dash answered.

"Did he have physical evidence to collaborate his story?"

"Yes."

"And those are…?" Laurel turned to the jury. "There are photos being passed around of how the alleged victim looked like after the encounter. To have a better idea of what the witness will be talking about."

Dash found it rather strange that Laurel wanted to know so much about his injuries if she was trying to defend the Minister.

"As mentioned previously, he had strangulation marks on his neck. He also had a small swelling at the side of his head. We had to strip him down during the examination and did collect evidence regarding the assault in question. Since it was done soon after the event has taken place, we were able to collect clothing fibres, semen and blood. The actual testing of which went towards the Auror department. We also did a wand scan and it showed that he had a skull fracture, which he was later admitted for and kept under observation for."

Laurel looked a little bored as he told his story. She looked like she'd been expecting him to rattle all of that off.

"So, there is evidence that a sexual encounter did happen between him and most likely another man."

"Yes."

"Do you think that this was a non-consensual sexual encounter?"

Dash frowned. "I'm not usually the one to make these decisions."

"But if you had to guess, what would you say?"

"I wouldn't suppose that he'd have strangled himself with his own two hands, bruised himself, and injured himself in that way and came to the emergency department if it was a consensual affair."

"Even if the altercation happened to be with someone as high profile as the defendant?"

Dash froze because he'd seen a lot of people claim a lot of things when people in power were in question.

"It's possible," Dash finally said. "But it's not likely. Though I'd like to mention that it's not my speciality to disprove or prove that such an event had occurred."

"Well, with your many years of experience," that left a bad taste in his mouth how she kept saying that. "Can you one-hundred percent say that this was a sexual assault case? That there was no room for it to be consensual?"

"I cannot one-hundred percent say anything about any sexual assault case," Dash said. "And everyone knows that because I've mentioned before, it's not my job."

"Yes, but just to make it clear to the jury, just because there is evidence to suggest that such events took place, did not mean that necessarily that they had to be non-consensual."

"Yes, that's correct."

"So, there is room for doubt."

"Yes." Dash felt like they'd already established that, but Laurel wanted to make it perfectly clear that just because there was evidence to say such an event had occurred did not necessarily mean that it was rape.

"Was it ever mentioned the relationship between the prosecution and the defendant?" Laurel asked.

"No," Dash answered.

"He'd never explained anything beyond telling you what has happened?"

"Yes. And I didn't pry any further because I only needed to know enough to treat him."

A pause. Dash thought they'd be telling him to step down from the witness stand because he had nothing more to add.

"There was clear documentation also, from the nursing notes within the emergency unit and within the ward, that the alleged victim in this scenario had a very interesting emotional response to all of this." Laurel decided to add on another point. "In fact, they seemed to be rather hysterical at times, and rather calm at times. Inconsistent."

"I'm not fully aware of that, but that could be plausible."

"Does it make much sense that someone could go through something so traumatic, be so violently distressed one minute and be completely calm the other minute?" Laurel posed a question.

"Objection," Clarissa waved a hand up. "This has nothing to do with the witness' professional opinion."

"Then I don't want it as a professional opinion."

"Overruled. Continue."

Dash said nothing for a few minutes, then added on, "Is that question meant for me or for the jury?"

Laurel realised she'd stumbled a little. "For you, Mr Wilcox."

"Ah," Dash paused for a few moments. "Well, everyone reacts differently to traumatic scenarios. And to suggest that a victim of that sort of crime should act in a specific way is a little hard to swallow. I mean, what's the correct way to react to such a certain situation? If he'd been 'too hysterical', he'd be accused of putting on a show. If he was completely calm, then he'd have been told off for presenting a situation that didn't go with his response to the situation. If he's oscillating between both, the defendant's team is suggesting that that's abnormal as well. So, saying that assumes there's a correct way to act in these situations—and whilst that is not in my professional opinion—though you don't seem to want that, it does seem a little like reaching for straws now, doesn't it?"

Laurel's face turned purple.