Note: We went into the hearing as though it was the final one and witnesses were there for the prosecution. What was not there were the CCTV footages I had asked to have subpoenas drawn up for nor were any witnesses for me. The prosecution were now showing their discontent for the time the case was taking although we were this far into the year because it had taken the Police all that time to get enough of my evidence to make it worthwhile giving their witnesses new statements that might not make their case a farce.
As usual a community worker picked me up, took me to the court building, and was replaced by my case manager a little later. I had already been to see Heath Boneffin who is an attorney from Nash Allen Williams and Wotten at The Entrance. I have no memory of most of the things we spoke about which is annoying.To be honest I had my doubts about the guy but on this day he had done all the reading and research and was fully advised on the evidence. He had some good options for us and was looking for me to supply more evidence. My problem with everything was/is that I am not well enough to be fighting a close case like this.
Putting me on the stand disadvantages me a lot. The disadvantage gleaned from the illnesses and mental problems blanket the whole case and is the reason we did so badly at the Tenancy Tribunal. Both the Tribunal and the estate agents knew I could not function with any intellectual integrity when in those kind of pressure situations and they just rolled right over me.
One thing I had the opportunity to do was to show my case worker and the solicitor how the mob from Ray White Budgewoi actually looked while they were standing in a group waiting for the case to come up. That is important because all of the statements tried to stress how poor little Wendy faced down the big evil guy. The group that stood in the court waiting room were the same group that stood around me when I was assaulted minus one. Nobody who saw them could fail to see how overwhelmed I would have been. The myth of the Wendy martyr died I hope.
The case manager drove herself frantic trying to convince me she could not testify as to anything about my years of confused states and memory loss despite actually supplying the services to assist me through it for several years. There is a thing called section 32 which is fairly new and which is designed to begin lowering the high percentage of disadvantaged people who end up in jail or largely undefended because the impact of the conditions they suffer from and the disadvantage created by an adversarial system. The attorney and the case manager take the case out of my hands and I have to have the evidence of the condition or I have to get evidence of the condition. That is the hard bit. Most conditions of the type I suffer from are not able to be proven to exist in way that satisfies a court. This is science and science rarely has outcomes that are totally set. Anyway now I am back on the never ending guinea pig wheel of doctors and tests for stuff I have had for decades.
The thing about section 32 is that should the condition become proven the magistrate can simply end the case with no other outcome. The other parties such as the accusers may not get to present their evidence and the case is largely between the professionals. I am no longer included in the court hearing. It is far from ideal. I have already lost a great deal, suffered a great deal and am still facing a conviction for assault that could lead to jail.
The section 32 claim is legitimate and should have been the first thing that happened but this whole thing has been screwy and the law is still destroying the uneducated and the vulnerable as though their lives are worth nothing.
One small (My head is not working after walking all over the shops and being so sore I cannot find words, sorry if this is not concise) moment of vindication for the day. That herd of estate agents stood for hours thinking they finally would get into court and have a go at me with their phoney stories. I watched the Police prosecutor telling them to go home and that they might never get at me. The body language and disappointment brought me a small smile.