soozieqtips
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Part 4.
I lost count of the temporary adjournments the judge allowed for Oscar to recover his composure. He was crying and sobbing, puking into his green bucket, hysterical.
Gerrie slowed down a bit. He did not want to be a bully. He wanted to show the pictures of Reeva again but decided against it, because it would be too much for Oscar, and then the judge would have sympathy for Oscar.
When they went through the injuries and stuff, maybe he did feel sick about what he’d done. Apparently he has an anxiety condition where he vomits when he’s emotional. To look at him now, he’s a pathetic figure. He looks haunted. He’s already been punished in a way. Whatever is in his head is in his head for ever. He will have to live with that.
Gerrie ended his five-day cross-examination with a stark summary of what I believe happened. “You fired four shots through the door whilst knowing that she was standing behind the door … She was locked into the bathroom and you armed yourself with the sole purpose of shooting and killing her.”
“That is not true,” Oscar maintained.
I understood this is how the criminal justice system works: that the accused is presumed innocent until proven guilty and does not have to prove his innocence. I realised all the defence had to do was to argue a version of events that fitted the forensic evidence, while the onus was on the state to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. But what I also saw was that this would be a very hard thing to do when there were only two people present: Reeva, who was dead, and Oscar, who had admitted shooting her, and who now, by his own admission, was trying to save his own life. He knew his entire future was in the balance.
Extracted from Reeva: a Mother’s Story to be published by Sphere on November 6. It is available from the Times Bookshop for £13.49 (RRP £14.99), free p&p, on 0845 2712134; timesbooks.co.uk
I lost count of the temporary adjournments the judge allowed for Oscar to recover his composure. He was crying and sobbing, puking into his green bucket, hysterical.
Gerrie slowed down a bit. He did not want to be a bully. He wanted to show the pictures of Reeva again but decided against it, because it would be too much for Oscar, and then the judge would have sympathy for Oscar.
When they went through the injuries and stuff, maybe he did feel sick about what he’d done. Apparently he has an anxiety condition where he vomits when he’s emotional. To look at him now, he’s a pathetic figure. He looks haunted. He’s already been punished in a way. Whatever is in his head is in his head for ever. He will have to live with that.
Gerrie ended his five-day cross-examination with a stark summary of what I believe happened. “You fired four shots through the door whilst knowing that she was standing behind the door … She was locked into the bathroom and you armed yourself with the sole purpose of shooting and killing her.”
“That is not true,” Oscar maintained.
I understood this is how the criminal justice system works: that the accused is presumed innocent until proven guilty and does not have to prove his innocence. I realised all the defence had to do was to argue a version of events that fitted the forensic evidence, while the onus was on the state to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. But what I also saw was that this would be a very hard thing to do when there were only two people present: Reeva, who was dead, and Oscar, who had admitted shooting her, and who now, by his own admission, was trying to save his own life. He knew his entire future was in the balance.
Extracted from Reeva: a Mother’s Story to be published by Sphere on November 6. It is available from the Times Bookshop for £13.49 (RRP £14.99), free p&p, on 0845 2712134; timesbooks.co.uk