BS: Absolutely! I mean, you see your strapping young son get dressed up to enjoy a night out with his mates, and the next thing his face is plastered all over the front page of every newspaper while the young lady gets anonymity. Talk about innocent until proven guilty—for us it was the opposite. I mean, how’s a young man supposed to tell the difference? If the girl is there and she is participating … these young women flirt. They tease. They wear miniskirts the size of face washers, clothes that leave nothing to the imagination. Then the militant feminists get a hold of it and it’s all his fault.

DN: Oh, don’t get me started on the militant feminists! [laughs]

BS: They make it impossible, Drew, let me tell you. First there was the lady detective who took the victim’s word and ignored our son’s side of the story. Then the feminist journalists jump on the band wagon.

DN: It’s like the world has given this power to young ladies to point the finger. It’s worse than a gun. They point it at a bloke and it’s like they’ve shot him.

BS: You’re absolutely right, Drew. It’s like my boy went out one night and returned home a shell of his former self.

DN: Where are the feminists now?

BS: Yes! They’re tight-lipped when the man is proven innocent.

DN: So, where to from here?

BS: I’m glad you asked that, Drew. On advice from our QC, we’ve decided to sue the girl who falsely accused our son. She has defamed him and, by association, defamed our family’s good name. This will make women like her think twice before ruining the future of bright young men.

DN: Untold damage to his future.

BS: Yes! We are just lucky that Noah was given a position at a prominent accounting firm after all the publicity. We’re lucky people rallied and took his side. Some people still believe in justice.

DN: We’ve got to go to an ad break now. Thanks for joining us, Bob, and I wish you and your family all the best with the lawsuit. And good on you for fighting back.

BS: Thanks, Drew. It’s been great to have the opportunity to set the record straight.

When I finished reading, I wiped tears from my eyes and scrunched up the transcript. I got up from my chair, walked over to the fireplace and tucked it firmly into the grate. I struck a long match from a box I kept near the hearth then set the transcript on fire and watched the words burn into ashes.

Then, as I sipped my tea, I finished what I’d started before. A list of all the things that didn’t add up in the Millard case.

CHAPTER 22: TROUBLE IN THE TEA AISLE

CHAPTER 22

TROUBLE IN THE TEA AISLE