#trial transcript

From the Proceedings of the Old Bailey open-access database www.oldbaileyonline.org

This is a really interesting case; the trial of a mixed-race black disabled woman sex worker, for violent robbery of a man.

(Some query over her disability; she describes herself as “crippled with only one hand” and a witness describes that her arm was bound up and seems unusable; it is not clear if this was an acute, chronic or permanent impairment).

I’m glad to say that Ann was acquitted. My guess from the witness statements is that the man who accused her was a client. Modern sex workers are sadly just as vulnerable to accusations of theft or other crimes, whether by clients, police officers or others, and often face injustice.

“Ann Duck was indicted, with another Person to the Jurors unknown, for assaulting William Cooper on the Highway, putting him in fear, and taking from him a Money-bag, Value 1 d. and 35 s. in Money , his Property, Dec. 28 .

William Cooper . Dec. 28th. As I was going into Shoe-Lane , to look after my Waggon, I met the Prisoner in Eagle and Child Alley , between Shoe-Lane and the New-Market. She laid hold of me, and cried out for Nan, Nan came in a Minute. - Not this Nan Duck . There were two Nans. Then they both laid hold of me, the Prisoner with her Right-Hand , and the other with her Left. The Prisoner had one Arm round me, and dived with the other into the left Pocket of my Breeches; and she pulled my Shirt out before she got to my Pocket. Then they both cried out for George, but George did not come. I cried out Murder, but no Soul came. - When she found my Shirt was not a Bag, she put her Hand into my Breeches Pocket, and took hold of the Bag. There was in the Bag 35 s. She got the Bag out. I got hold of the Bag as well as she: But she had got hold of the Money part. She gave it a Jerk out of my Hand, and gave it to the other Woman, and she run away with it. Then I takes fast hold of her. God gave me more Strength then, I think, than I have had for some Years. She cried out for George ; but, thank God, George did not come. I cried out, Murder, and dragged her quite down the Alley. And just at the end of the Alley stood three Men. I said to them, Gentlemen , I am robbed by this Creature, and beg your Assistance to help me to the White-Swan-Inn at Holbourn-Bridge, where my Horses were. Two of them would not. They asked, what I would give them. I told them, I would give them what Drink they would; but as to Money, I had none. One of them said, he would take the Country Man's Part, and he went along with me; I never let go my hold of the Prisoner, 'till I came to the Tap-house at the Swan ; and there I gave him part of two Pints of Beer. I thanked him, and craved his Name. But he said, he dared not tell it me, for he should be knocked on the Head by her Bullies if he should. She was that Night carried to the Counter: And next Morning, when she came before my Lord Mayor, she said I was suddled, and that my Shirt hung out of my Breeches; and that I took her up without any Reason. - My Pocket was then buttoned up, as it is now, that one would have thought it impossible for her to have got her Hand into it. - I looked in the Bag two or three Days before, and the Money was in then. I have had no Occasion to open it since, and I am sure the Money was in it. - I always lay my Breeches under my Pillow, so that no body could get to it. - I am sure the Bag was in my Pocket when she came up to me. - The Man that assisted me said, he lived in White Fryars . I enquired at 20 Houses, and could not find him.

Prisoner. The Man came running down the Alley with his Shirt out, and said he was robb'd ; says he to me, you are the Woman that robb'd me, for I can find no Body else. I did not touch the Man.

Sarah Basset . I went down into the New Market on Tuesday after Christmas-Day, to buy my Husband something for Supper, and I saw that old Gentleman come and pull the Prisoner up Eagle and Child Alley, in a very indecent; Manner; his Breeches

were down, and his Shirt hung out, and he said, I am robb'd, and you are the Woman that robb'd me. He had hold of her by the Arm, and cried out Murder; says she, you hurt my Arm, what would you have with me; he said, she had robb'd him, and he would give any Body a Dozen of Beer to go to some Inn with her. - He was hawling her into that Part of the Alley that comes into the Market; there was abundance of Mob in two or three Minutes, and there was a Gentlewoman that came down the Alley, and said, Master, do not murder your Wife. - I saw their Faces very plain; I took Notice of her, because she is a black Woman, and so the more remarkable; and I thought it a little strange, that an old Man should want a Woman. - It was about a Quarter after eight at Night. - I did not see the Man till he cried out Murder; I was among the other Mob; there was a Lamp which he hawl'd her up to, which was as nigh as the Candle is to you.

Ann Phillips . That old Gentleman was in Eagle and Child Alley the Tuesday in Christmas Week, with two other Women. - Both fair Women; one in a Cloak, and the other without: (I keep a House, or my Husband does, in Eagle and Child Alley, next Door to Mr Pauley's, an Alehouse-keeper, at the Sign of the Three Compasses.) They were first under the Lamp; and as the People came down, the Women mov'd backward and forward, and the old Gentleman stood with his Back to the Corner: I only speak this to show that there were two Women with him, and his Shirt hung a little indecently out of his Breeches; I had no Business to see what they were doing of, because it was immodest: I had a Candle in my Hand at my own Gate, and I had a thorough Sight of the Women, and I heard somebody say, Do not murder your Wife. Said he, G - d d - n her, I do not murder her. - You, honest Man! can you deny these Words?

Cooper. Yes, I can; I am sure I never said so.

Phillips. Did not you ask me to help you?

Cooper. Why did not you help me then?

Phillips. Then the Mob cried, What's the Matter, honest Man? And he said, I am robb'd! I am robb'd! I will give you a Gallon of Beer to take her away to some Place; where he said, I cannot tell. - The Woman he was pulling up the Alley was a black Woman. - There were abundance of People, black-guard Boys and Girls: Her Arm looked very big, as if it was swell'd.

Q. to Cooper. Did you see this Woman in Eagle and Child Alley that Night?

Cooper. No, I wish this Hand may rot off if! did.

Mary Forrester . I have known the Prisoner from a Child; I never heard any Thing amiss of her before: She did go to Service, but she has not been at Service for a great while.

Ann Judge . I have kept a House sixteen Years , and have trusted her in my Shop with all I had , and she never wrong'd me of a Penny; I have known her from a Child; her Father was a Black Man , and used to teach Gentlemen to Fence. - I cannot tell how long she has been from her Father and Mother. - I believe I have not seen her this Year or two, - and by what I know of her, I would trust her again with any Thing.

Mary Barret . I knew the Prisoner from a Child; her Mother is an honest good Woman; as to the Prisoner's Behaviour of late, I know nothing.

James Townsend . I am Church-Warden of St Sepulchre's , and at that Time I was obliged to be Church-Warden, Constable, Beadle, Watchman, and all; she came into the Watch-House indeed with her Arm bound up, that is true.

Cooper. I am sure I never hurt her Arm.

Townsend. I do not believe you did. - It was bound up from the Elbow to the Wrist; she said to the Prosecutor, how could I clasp you with both Arms, when I am a Cripple with one. - She did offer to have her Arm unbound, but I did not do it. - She did not give any Account what was the Reason of its being bound up. - The People at the Watch-House thought it was bound on Purpose to deceive them. I do not believe there was any great Matter of a Wound.

Prisoner. Doctor Lee gives me Stuff for it now: and when I was before the Lord-Mayor, I could not stir Hand nor Finger.

Charles Pickfat . I live upon Holbourn-Hill , I have lived there all my Life Time; and our Neighbourhood is become now so notorious, that we have more Thieves between our Parts and Deputy Nash's , than in any Part of the Town: The Prisoner at the Bar I know to be a common Street-Walker, and has been so a great many Years. - Plying between my House and Fetter-Lane, decoying and seducing Mankind.

Joshua Smith . I kept a Publick-House a little while ago, and Mrs Phillips, the Witness, who lives next Door to the Three Compasses in Eagle and Child Alley, and her Husband, frequented my House, and I never saw any Ill by them; but I have heard a bad Character since: As to the Prisoner at the Bar, her Character is very vile, as bad as can be at all ; she is very notorious, I believe.

“We were told that we were supposed to convict him to death, and now we’re being told to let him go? We can’t do that. I want to see the bastard burn.”

“I do to, but if we do that, the riots will start up again. Sure, there are people like us who want him dead, but there are more people who would rather see the Foundation dead. We have to maintain trust--”

“We don’t have to do anything, we’re not bound by the law, we are they law, we’re bigger than the law!”

“But we can’t function without trust. If people turn on us, we’ll be dismantled by force. This decision is about making sure this organization can survive at this point.”

“But he caused the riots, there have been casualties--”

“He didn’t cause the riots, it was the withholding of information, which is why people already distrust the Foundation. We have to look honest so they don’t question--”

“People always question! But we need an answer, and the most convenient answer right now is to not stoke any more outrage by sentencing him to death!”

“I don’t care about the outrage, he deserves to die!”

“He already looked half dead, didn’t he? He’s a child, young enough to be my son--”

“Didn’t your son die during the Second Tragedy? This is about more than him!”

“So what we’re all saying is we want him dead, right? But we all know that a death sentence for him would be a dead sentence for us. We have to be rational about this. I couldn’t care less about him, but this is politics. And I still have some semblance of a family to protect. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

The room falls silent.

“I can’t on my conscience let him go free.”

“Neither can I.”

“Nor I.”

“Me either.”

“So it’s simple. We kill him and deal with the aftermath.”

“As the prosecutor in this case, I made a mistake by even bringing this case to trial. The only thing we should be deciding on is what Komaeda needs to do outside of prison to serve hope from here on out. There would be no point in executing him. There would be no lesson. There would be no solace. None of the dead would come back. This is pointless. We’ve seen the defendant be put through hell here. I know I picked this panel, and I’ll admit I picked it to have few sympathies for him. All of you lost many important people in the Second Tragedy. All of yu want him dead. But I urge you to consider all the evidence you’ve seen today, all the statements you’ve heard read to you or played back by audio recording. Does he look like an agent of despair to you? The facts of the case support that he was not only forced into everything he did, but that afterwards he managed to escape despair without the help of the Future Foundation. That is not to say he deserves no punishment for choosing to protect the life of one person over the lives of millions. But that is to say this punishment should not be death or further imprisonment. I would like to remind the panel that the world is watching. Thank you.”

The judge nods. “Nagito Komaeda, your closing argument?”

Nagito stands weakly and looks directly into one of the cameras that is broadcasting live. “i have no control over how the panel decides. i don’t care what punishment they administer to me. but i hope that i have sufficiently proved that hajime hinata was not an agent of despair, and that the public animosity held towards him is misplaced. blame it on me or anybody else, but don’t blame it on him.” He closes his eyes. “in addition, i cannot honestly say i believe that i’m not responsible. i know saying as much is not in my best interest, but it is what i truly believe. i made the choice to protect hajime, and i won’t apologize for that. but for each of the people out there who i know want me dead, consider the pain i’ve caused you. it was selfish, but that is what i was avoiding for myself. no number of apologies could make up for my decision. but hajime was always innocent.”

He sits back down without another word.

“Panel, please read the charges brought against the defendant.”

“Murder in the third degree, six counts. Murder in the second degree, four counts. Murder in the first degree, ten counts. Conspiracy to commit murder… three hundred forty seven counts. Manslaughter… two hundred eighty nine counts. Treason, eight counts. Conspiracy to commit treason, thirty eight counts. War crimes, twelve counts. Crimes against humanity, forty eight counts.”

“How does the panel find?”

“Guilty, your honor.”

Nagito’s eyes widen, jaw dropping open. He feels the room going black. He might be sick again. His toes go numb and then his fingers as the blood rushes out of his face, out of his extremities.

“Your honor, we have recommendation for sentencing.”

“And that is?”

“Employment at the Future Foundation.”

The room goes silent. It gives Nagito time to clear the ringing in his ears. Working for the Future Foundation?

Nagito returns to the stand. A guard helps him remove his excess clothing yet again-- still a straight jacket, as requested by the panel “for their safety”. He still has to wear handcuffs, but he doesn’t seem much bothered by it, much more focused on trying not to panic as he does what he’s about to. He resumes the conversation he was having with himself yesterday as nothing has changed. To the panel, it seems, nothing has.

“i’m going to continue asking questions from where i left off yesterday. first, i’ll explain exhibit a.” Nagito lifts his hand for a moment, before placing it under a small camera that projects onto a nearby screen. There is a small letter “A” drawn just below the knuckle on his pinky finger. There are small, circular scars on the middle joint of every digit and a large, straight scar on the back of the hand.

“these scars,” he says, pointing to the regularly shaped circles, “are from the restraints she used on me and hajime. when she wanted to ensure we couldn’t move, she would take a claw shaped clamp with these… sharp protrusions and force them through our fingers and lock them in place.”

There’s a heaving noise from the gallery.

He hesitates for a moment, looking to the judge as is for reassurance. The judge nods, and he continues. “next, exhibit b.”

He holds up the opposite forearm. This time, there’s no need for a camera—there’s a large, swollen-looking set of ring shaped scars. Burns. “these were brands she put on us. or, rather, that she made us put on each other.”

Some pale, shocked looking faces dot the crowd. A few have hands over their mouths, eyes wide. He continues. “now, exhibit C.”

This time he stands, asking permission to enter the well in front of the stand. The judge grants permission, and he walks around. He lifts the hem of his shorts slightly, revealing a slightly displaced, crooked leg. “this is from a broken femur. this displacement. it was broken and never properly set, never treated, so it healed crooked. junko enoshima broke it as punishment.”

Some people in the gallery exchange nervous looks.

He takes a final deep breath. “and exhibit d.”

There’s a collective gasp as he lifts up his shirt, revealing a stomach so marred with scarring that it can’t reliably be called skin. It’s mostly scar tissue. He bites his lip. “i’m afraid i can’t explain much of this. it’s mostly a blur.” He ignores the much fresher bruises. After all, those aren’t important to his testimony. Those aren’t important for protecting Hajime.

He stands for a moment, his entire body shaking, embarrassment and shame and fear wracking every inch of him. His legs almost give out. He might be sick.

“I’d like to make a statement to the court based on recent events, your honor.”

“You may, Kirigiri.”

Kyoko stands and addresses the courtroom. “Yesterday, as I’m sure all of you know, evidence was revealed that was being withheld from this trial. Evidence supporting the defendant, Nagito Komaeda, in his case, that proves that he did not willingly take part in the Second Tragedy, even if he did so knowingly. What you may not know is that it was also learned that he was being abused by the guards designated to protect him. They acted independently and without orders and forced him to endure tortures in a futile act to ‘avenge’ their loved ones. I would like to take this time to petition the panel to forget the testimonies they witnessed from the prosecution yesterday and insist to the judge that the proceedings of this court be changed.”

“Kirigiri, I must ask,” says the judge. “If you now believe Komaeda to be innocent, why not drop the charges entirely?”

She lets out a deep sigh. “The defendant has chosen to continue with the charges against them so that they may clear the name of their deceased fiancé. Therefore, presentation of evidence will be directed at proving that Hajime Hinata did not fall during his time in captivity, and it was not until after the Second Tragedy and after his death that Nagito Komaeda turned to despair. We will also be putting out an open call for anyone who would like to submit a written statement on his behalf who can testify to him being no longer affiliated with despair.”

One of the panel members stands. “Your honor, if I may…”

“You may.”

“The defendant proved only that he had target carved on him by Junko, and whatever other little scars we could see on his arms and legs. It’s a nice sentiment and all, but I still don’t believe she inflicted those wounds. I would like to hear him testify to the nature of more of his wounds to verify that they are, in fact, not self-inflicted.”

Kyoko is silent. Of course. It was too late to replace the panel, but she picked them with a specific purpose in mind: not believing a word he says.

“Very well. Nagito Komaeda will be expected to finish his interrupted testimony from yesterday, and you will be expected to cross examine him.”

Kirigiri eyes him suspiciously. Doubtful. She looks back to the judge. “You honor, why should we allow such a display? It’s blatant manipulation.”

“It speaks to his defense and the facts of the case. He petitioned to enter each one into evidence using the proper channels. It’s best not to let your biases get in the way of the case, Kirigiri.”

“It’s best not to let pity erase the facts, your honor.”

The judge gives a slight glare but dismisses them back to their respective benches. Nagito doesn’t even finish sitting before he’s called forward. He’s already trembling by the time he gets to the stand.

“i call myself as a witness,” he says shakily. A bailiff marches forward and cautiously removes his straight jacket and the loose fitting pants he is wearing, dropping them on the floor one after the other until he’s standing in a pair of shorts and a white tank top undershirt. He is then secured with handcuffs with a long chain, long enough so he can move relatively freely. Another display meant for the comfort of onlookers. From the second the first sleeve slides of his arm, there is murmuring. It slowly dies as the full weight of the shock hits them.

The bruises aside-- is it even possible to have that many scars?

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes. “i’ll be playing a bit of question and answer with myself for the next few minutes. i hope you can tolerate that.” He glances at Kirigiri, rage already forming in her eyes. He bites his lip.

“komaeda,” he says out loud to the room. “why don’t you tell us what happened to you when you were under junko enoshima’s… ‘care’?” He smiles slightly. “of course. she kidnapped me and hajime hinata, and held us captive for months, during which time she employed various torture tactics in an attempt to get us to fall back into despair and take her place.” His voice wavers slightly, nerves and tiny shocks of pain with each word causing him to lose his auditory footing.

“when you say months, how many months do you mean?” he smiles again. “i’m not sure. though it had to be more than six, based on the seasons that has passed. we were in a small interior room with no exposure to sunlight and no access to timekeeping devices. i had no idea what time had passed.”

He nods, as if reassuring himself, then swallows. “and what sort of torture did you and hajime hinata endure at her hands?” His lip twitches, hesitating, before he answers his own question. “every kind imaginable. including being forced to hurt each other.” He has to stop, grinding his teeth before he continues. “we endured starvation, sleep deprivation, temperature control tortures, and other direct, physical attacks.”

He swallows again, scared of hearing the words out of his mouth.

“and what did those physical attacks include?”

“anything and everything she could think of. stabbing, cutting, scraping, burning, beating, shocking, suffocating, drugging… the list goes on. most of this was performed on us while under restraints, usually handcuffs, and a chain around our necks.”

He nods again, reassuring himself. Then freezes. Once he asks the question, there’s no going back. All eyes are on him. Not just the ones in the courtroom, the ones studying the ridges of his skin in person, but the ones on the other end of a television camera. Shame strikes him like a train as he considers everything he’s allowing of himself. Then, he asks the question. “what proof do you have that you suffered at the hands of ms. enoshima and not yourself?”

“Nagito Komaeda, you’ve been given the opportunity to present your defense. Please give a summary.”

He nods, swallowing back and anxious lump that has made a regular home in his throat. Slowly, he stands, trying to get his footing without tipping over. He walks up to a small, half-caged in platform, fetters dragging behind him. The members of the panel look at him like a monster, kept contained only by his straight jacket, muzzle, and chains. He lets out what’s supposed to be a deep breath. It’s not.

“y-your honor, i… i recognize the need for punishment in this situation. and i recognize that that punishment likely… belongs to me. i am… the ultimate despair. junko enoshima’s designated successor. her protégé and her tool. a fugitive and a criminal. i… i’m all of those things.” he pauses, biting his lip, and takes a deep breath. “but i never made the decision to be. your honor, i will be arguing that i was coerced by force to take on this role against my will, not just through brainwashing, but through months and months of torture. i will show evidence of this, and… and prove to you that i am…” he winces. 

Can he really believe what he’s about to say?

“i am not responsible for the actions i took while in despair.”