Free Sex Crimes by Nikki McWatters Page B

girl goes back to a hotel room with a rock-star and doesn’t expect to get laid? Chris Bergin was a sweet guy. I’d met his family. I’d put money on the fact that he had not raped the girl. But he’d clearly been caught with his pants down and the public were an unforgiving mob.
    ‘I don’t want you making any statement to the public,’ I warned him. ‘Nothing. If you were to so much as hint that these girls were ‘asking for it’, you’ll be ruined.’
    ‘But what if this baby is mine? What then?’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I’m screwed. But I will want to know the child…but…oh..’ he was struggling to get the words out.
    ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’m going to get the girl, Elizabeth,  a hasty psych evaluation. That’s a priority. If the Magistrate gets Patsy Weller, we’ll be in luck. She can smell bullshit a mile away.’

11.
    Patsy Weller
     
    My first impression of Elizabeth O’Neil was that she was carrying some baggage. Secrets. That girl was somehow damaged. I wanted to know how. She intrigued me.
    Fifteen. Pregnant. Defiant. Intelligent.
    She was very pretty and wore the traditional Emo outfit. That’s slang for, or a derivative of, the word ‘emotional’ and describes youth who are characteristically sullen and wear dark colours and listen to sad music. Kind of like a subculture that grew out of the Goth thing. I kind of like it. It’s funky and cute. But some of these kids take it too far and convince themselves that depression is something to cultivate and wear like a badge. The more depressed or morose the better. I determined early on that Libby, as she liked to be called, was more of a fashion Emo than a lifestyle Emo.
    The first time we met, Libby was wearing black tights and ankle boots, a short black skirt and a purple and black striped cardigan over a black band t-shirt. I was startled to see that it was a Drop Dead Gorgeous t-shirt, which was the band that her alleged rapist belonged to. That alarmed me.
    ‘So you’re a shrink, are you?’ she asked me.
    ‘I’m a clinical psychologist, Libby, appointed by the court to assess how this whole situation is affecting you. We just want to make sure you are coping,’ I explained and offered her a seat.
    I had met the parents out in the foyer and exchanged some brief conversation. The mother seemed distant and stressed. The father kind of vague and dithery. Insipid.
    ‘How are things with your parents?’ I asked.
    ‘Okay,’ she shrugged. ‘Mum’s still pissed off and Dad doesn’t want to know. He seems to be totally avoiding me. Doesn’t even really talk to me. Mum wants to tear Chris Bergin to pieces and kind of blames me a bit for getting myself into…into that situation.’
    ‘That situation? Can you explain that further?’ I prodded.
    ‘The…you know…rape and everything.’
    ‘Ah. The rape. Can you tell me about it? Just take your time. Tell me as much or as little as you want.’
    ‘Well, me and Abbie just wanted to hang with the band, you know. It was just so cool that we got invited backstage and then to the party. We were completely stoked and couldn’t wait to tell all the other kids at school on Monday.’
    Her face lit up as she spoke. She looked about as traumatised as a the Queen of the Prom. She was a strange case. I could see that from the outset. Nothing was as it seemed with Libby. She was a complicated creature of contradictions.
    ‘You’ve been a fan of the band for a while, have you?’
    ‘Hell, yeah,’ she smiled. ‘We’re their biggest fans. I’ve got posters all over my room and I know all their songs. I’ve liked them since I was in primary school and had the biggest crush on Chris Bergin…but like…not any more of course.’
    ‘So you must have been overwhelmed when you met him in person?’ I nodded.
    ‘Not really. It was kind of like I already knew him. I’ve seen so many interviews with him and stuff. He seemed kind of just totally normal.