PRELIMINARY HEARING

I remember being in the hallway outside the courtroom. I was supposed to testify at 10 am, but it was now 2:30 pm. The American consulate people, Tuello and Tapping, had assigned me a support person, a gofer. She'd follow me around, sit with me, if I needed something she'd get it. If I was confused about something, she'd know who to ask. If I needed to go to the restroom, she'd radio for two RCMP women to escort me in.

It was stressful just sitting there, waiting. And, no Ms. nice-lady, for the tenth time, I don't need any water. I need this to be over with.

I was called. Some court official had opened the courtroom door, and motioned me inside. It was mostly as my lawyer had said. I was motioned up to 'the stand'. My support-lady took a seat in the front row where Moira, Luke, Emily, and Syl had been sitting since the morning. I saw my lawyer seated at a table on the right, at a table in front of the rail. He was not there to take part or ask anything, but he was a welcome familiar face. This was mostly as he described.

It was when I turned around to sit in the witness chair, that's when it got a little fuzzy. Because there she was, staring at me from the opposite table. I'd forgotten everything about how they'd said to look at her.

I remember that there was some sort of ruckus preventing me from being sworn. It took a few seconds to realize that the ruckus had been me. I think I vomited, although the court transcript mentioned nothing about it. Not even Moira would tell me, and that would have been something she'd cut into me about. I seemed to be up there for ages, clerks and court personnel fussing with me. Get away from me. I remember the lawyer at Mrs Waterford's table shouting about, 'theatrics'.

The first words I heard next were the judge's. "I'm warning you, right here, right now. No one is going to be rushed in this court. No one is going to be badgered. We all know the drill: on cross-examination, I will grant some leeway. A little bit of leeway," she had emphasized 'little'. I then heard her mention my name.

"Do you need some water?" the judge asked. God, everyone wants to give me water!

My lawyer had introduced me weeks ago to the prosecutor. Now he was standing in front of me at a small lectern. A special war-crimes prosecutor. He'd been the one to run me through the mock cross-examination. The defence had complained I was being 'coached'.

Jesus, Mary, and Joe Cocker, how would someone coach me in what I'd been through?

The first thing he asked was to identify Serena Joy Waterford which I did. He told me I had to look at her when doing it. "Let the record show that the witness has identified the defendant as Serena Joy Waterford." He asked a question, I got some words out. I measured the distance to one of the court sheriffs, honestly he looked like a Guardian. I clammed up. Both my therapist and my lawyer had told me that it would be good if I pushed through it, but also not to be afraid to ask for some time. I determined I was not going to ask for time, not right now. Besides, I didn't want the judge asking me again if I wanted water.

The longer my silence, the more I wanted to run. I was making a fool of myself. Who the fuck was going to believe anything I said? I was going to be sent back. I either answered, or I folded. Easy. Then I heard Moira: 'Get your fucking shit together, bitch.' Not out loud, because actually, it wasn't Moira, it was June. June was probably dead by now. But June would say this. She did. A lot.

Jesus, how long had I been in the witness box with all eyes on me? The judge asked if I was all right. I said, "I want to speak."

What a stupid thing to say. No one was stopping me. But no one was going to believe a stupid dishwasher over a Commander or his wife. Everything following that with the prosecutor, though, was matter of fact. He asked, I answered. It was all as expected. I sounded like a fool, like a crazy person. And it was now on the record. Later, the prosecutor said I'd done just fine. I felt I was uttering jibberish and felt crazy throughout it all. I'm sure I sounded like a lunatic. No one was going to believe me.

Then I heard the defence lawyer call me by name. What? Got my attention from wherever I'd been. Once again, she had me identify Mrs. Waterford, and make sure I looked at her. This time I'd forgotten to look at her nose. Mistake. Things got fuzzy after that. Through it all, I remember others shouting, both lawyer's tables being summoned by the judge multiple times. I was close enough to hear, but truly I was somewhere else.

I was still in the witness box. Again, the fuzz cleared enough - court personnel were around me once more. The lawyers again were shouting at each other, the judge was angry with them both. I had to get out of there. I was causing this. Where was the nearest door? Flight, not fight, not frozen, not folding, although folding sounded nice. Apparently I had said something like that to one of the clerks, and I heard the judge say my name, "Do you need a recess? No one is going to be bullied or rushed, not here."

This time, no offer of water. That's twice. Maybe they were out, I thought.

I thought of the badass Marthas back….. Jeez, did I almost type, "back home"? What was the matter with me? I told the judge that all I needed was a minute and I'd be fine. I lied. I wasn't, I was far from it. But from somewhere I heard myself say, "Those bastards aren't going to get the satisfaction."

I prepared to die right there in that chair.

THE 3RD DEGREE

So I stayed in the witness box. The defence lawyer was just walking me through a long, long list of comforts I had received in the Waterford home. She had me agreeing to them, and I felt as crazy as ever. June had spoken truth to power, I was a shimmering mess. At the end June had the advantage, she'd had a gun. I didn't.

Then an argument broke out about the admissibility of entering evidence surrounding the 86 Gilead children, that even Mrs. Waterford's lawyer accused me of masterminding. "And before that, how many times had you handled baby Nichole before her kidnapping?" She said that even Canadians didn't kidnap children. Trafficking in children was something the International Criminal Court should not ignore, she said. "Do you agree that it should be you on trial here, not Mrs. Waterford?" My head was spinning.

More shouting. Yes, it was true, I had stolen children.

Next thing I knew - adjourn until the next day. I didn't look at her as I left the stand, instead sought out my Embassy support lady, Moira, Luke, Emily, Syl. Later, that lady had said it had taken her an hour to calm me down. I don't remember, honest I don't, but apparently I kept asking her if I'd sounded crazy.

She said, "I'm honoured to know you. You were cool as a cucumber. That is the finest example of speaking truth to power I have ever seen. You stood firm. I'm honoured to know you."

Who, the actual fuck, was she talking about? I couldn't breathe until bed.

THE COMMANDER

No point, not really, recounting the next day. It's all in the transcripts. Except that it's not.

The RCMP picked me up early. When I came into the court complex, I waited in the hall on a bench outside the court with my Embassy support. Just before going in, there he was: The Commander.

He had cuffs on him, hands neatly folded in front. He was flanked by RCMP, more than I'd had. One on each side, one in front, two behind. They sat him down across the hall, not quite across from me. My support lady said under her breath, "They told me this would not happen."

I knew what Moira would say. "Who's the bitch now, you fucker."

Me, I pee'd a little. Fuck. He saw me, but looked away. Deep in thought. I'd seen that look hundreds of times before. He was planning. He was wearing a bulletproof vest. I never got one of those. Then the court door opened and I was ushered in. I had to swallow the little bit of vomit which had come up.

This time, the thing that struck me about Mrs Waterford, was that she now looked nothing like a Commander's wife. I'd not noticed yesterday. Today, she looked so normal, even as she acted entitled towards her lawyer as to be expected - like an entitled creep, like she'd done back in Gilead. (Again, I almost typed "back home". Jesus.)

When I'd finished, I was thanked by the court. Mrs Waterford's lawyer objected to me being thanked. My lawyer and Embassy lady asked if I wanted to stay for the Commander's testimony. I could sit with my friends. I just wanted out of there. Moira and the rest stayed, June would have stayed. I could name 100 Marthas who would have jeered from the gallery. I wanted out of there.

AFTERMATH

I stayed for a few days at Luke's and Moira's. Praise Jesus for them. They had heard it all back in court. The Commander had savaged his wife. Mrs Waterford's lawyer in return nuked him numerous times. "Commander Waterford: who was responsible for your wife's amputated finger?" Of course, Mrs Waterford had forgotten her glove that day, the one I'd made. He'd tried to "take the 5th", and was reminded by the judge that this was Canada, there was no "5th". There was also no 5th in Gilead!

Moira gave us a class in Canadian law - "Ha ha ha, Waterford had to answer, the fucker. It's just that his testimony in this trial could not be used against him at his trial. His prosecutors would just have to get at the same stuff a different way."

Erin seemed to have buried the hatchet with me. I went home with her. I called Mark, just wanted to hear him. Then again, when I did sleep, I'd dream things. In one, Erin kept dissolving like fine sand at a beach. In another, it had been the handmaid who'd found me swinging from the light fixture. It had been of me that Mrs Waterford had said to her husband, "What did you think was going to happen?"

Mrs. Waterford was convicted. According to my lawyer she was going to be transferred to the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court in The Hague. Soon. I wanted to see her before she left, and I told my lawyer as much. He warned against it, said, "She'll be back when they get to The Commander." When? "In about 18 months." Besides, Gilead was still making noises about me, although Serena's conviction seemed to shift their focus. Me, I needed to see her, see if I really was the badass the other Marthas had been. See if I really was crazy.

I hadn't been. I was a fraud. Everything Mrs Waterford's lawyer had said was true. Aside from a few socks to the jaw, the necessities were taken care of. I had leeway to run the house as I saw fit. I didn't have to be hit, if I'd only done the right things. Mostly. Most women didn't make it. I did.

Syl said I played people against each other. At times I was June's friend, at others I was celebrating the birth of "Serena's baby", when I knew the baby was not hers. I chose the things that benefited me. That's what Syl gleaned from Mrs Waterford's trial. In court, Mrs. Waterford was the monster. Out here where it is normal, we all are.

"Gilead does that to you." I wish I had another catch-phrase. Jesus, in your mercy, forgive me. Syl, forgive me.