“There’s a difference between lying to the court and being a hostile witness. You can punish me for doing the former, but you can’t stop me from being the latter. You also can’t force me to go over my testimony with you in advance. So think about what you really want.”

“We can force you to appear in court and tell the truth,” says Advocate Ndlovu. “That’s all we need.”

“You will have no idea what I’m going to say. You can ask me questions, but you won’t know what answers I’ll give. Isn’t that the first rule—never ask a question to which you don’t know the answer? I’m the only one who knows what happened to me, and what I saw that night.”

The men are angry. Their voices are raised and their postures bullish. The tang of testosterone hangs in the air like ozone after a lightning strike. I am a little afraid of them, but my urge to taunt is stronger than my fear.

“We don’t need you to co-operate,” says Meintjies. “We just want the judge to hear what happened to you.We need that to be on the record. And all the reporters in the courtroom will hear it too. Your testimony will be on the front page of every newspaper. It will be the lead story of every news bulletin.”

I almost laugh. “Do you think that scares me? Public exposure? My rape was turned into a bestselling book. Disgrace is the most talked-about novel of the last two years. It won major international prizes. People all over the world have read about my rape. I don’t care about adding a few more South Africans to their number.”

“I think you’ll change your mind when it happens.”

“What are you trying to do here? I thought you were persuading me to testify for you. Now you’re saying I won’t be able to handle the invasion of privacy.”

Meintjies pulls himself together. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. We do want you to testify for the prosecution. We do.”

“But you must understand how difficult it will be. He’s my father.”

Meintjies and Ndlovu look stumped. The student I know only as Itumeleng starts to speak, then stops. Meintjies turns to look at her. He frowns and shakes his head, as though it is not her place to speak in this forum.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t understand you, Ms. Lurie,” she says. “You keep saying how difficult and awkward it would be to testify against your father, but did he ever stop to think how difficult it would be for you to be raped? How awkward it would be for you to have him there watching? I don’t understand why you feel you owe him any filial duty after that.”

“He is still my father.”