My name is Sam--short for Samantha--and up to last January I was your typical 20-year-old, pansexual American college Junior History Major from the Midwest who was obsessed with British culture and history. I blame my obsession on watching too much Downton Abbey and GBBO with my mother when I was young. So, when out of the blue I got the chance to spend a semester studying British History at Cambridge University, I leapt on the opportunity. Unfortunately for me, that was when my story took a weird twist.
Like this afternoon, it was a beautiful early spring day in Cambridge, and I was on my way back from class. I was on my way back by bike to the Graduate Women's dorm they have kindly been letting me stay in. I had just peddled over the canal, past Newton's Bridge, past the rear of King's College, and onto the green, when suddenly two unmarked black vans sped towards me. I veered out of the way onto the grass where I nearly crashed, worried that they may hit me. But to my horror the two black vans came to a screeching halt right in front of me. A good eight men in police uniforms with their guns drawn jumped out, forced me off of my bike, and then put a hood over my head before they tossed me into the van.
I screamed my head off, and got in a few good kicks, but no one came to my rescue.
Once inside the van, a man asked me to confirm my identity, and then he told me I was being arrested for undisclosed crimes against the Crown and that 'I had the right not to say anything, but if I did it may harm my defence in court.'
I screamed at them that 'I wanted a lawyer and until then I refused to say anything,' which seemed to suit them just fine for not one of them bothered to speak to me again as we tore off through the streets of Cambridge. Then I felt a sharp scratch on my arm, and I went from screaming and crying to being sound asleep.
When I woke up, I was on a small bed situated in a small jail cell. At the barred door there stood two police officers who radioed someone as soon as I woke up. I had been stripped of my jacket, shoes, watch, phone, and everything from my pockets. The whole experience of being drugged was terrifying, but the one upside was the fact I felt fantastic. I felt like I had just slept twelve hours.
For a good twenty minutes I sat stony face as I watched the two policemen who stood silently at the door as they watched me, until a third man brought in a tray of food and a big bottle of water. He eyed me carefully as he set the tray down on a small table that was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room.
"Thank you," I said politely to the man who jumped at my words like I was about to attack him and chew off his face.
I ate, and even used the loo--as the Brits like to call it--in the corner of the room which was the only time the two men at the doorway reluctantly turned away.
There were no windows in the room, but it felt like it must have been close to midnight when the two men watching me received a call on their radios. They politely told me to ready myself for court, and then I was handcuffed again. From my cell, I was taken through a largely empty corridor and up a flight of stairs until we came to a large solid oak door with a seal with the lion and unicorn on it.
One of my guards politely opened the door while the other encouraged me to enter. The room inside was a tiny court room that consisted of little more than a great elevated wooden bench for the judge with a door like the one I just entered behind it. There were also two fairly heavy sized desks with two chairs each that I assumed was for the defence and prosecution, and behind those tables were another set of heavy oak doors.
I was led to one of the chairs that I assumed was for the defence where I was asked to sit. I sat there still handcuffed for several minutes until the door directly behind me burst open and five men all in suits walked in without warning. They all looked rough, like they hadn't slept nor shaved for a while. Two of the men carried a yellow legal notepad and a pen, and they all shot me a dirty look. A few seconds later from the other side of the room, a round, portly man in a black judge's robe with one of those funny legal wigs burst through the door. Everyone in the room stood up, and so did I.
The man in the wig, quickly eyed me up and down, and then in a loud booming voice asked, "Where is her representation?"
The five other men quickly looked at each other as they tried to figure out who to blame, before they all reached for their phones, only to realize that they weren't allowed in the courtroom and had been turned in at security.
"Sorry," I said as clear as I could to the judge. "How should I address you sir? Is it your honour or your majesty?"
The judge gave me a look over the end of his glasses before he pushed them up his nose. "Since this is a Crown Court, you may address me as your majesty."
"Crown Court?"
"Do you even know why you are here?" The judge asked me as he turned to stare at the five men who stood around the other desk.
"No, your majesty," I said as I picked my chin up a little. "All I was told was that I had the right to remain silence."
"Your majesty," one of the men interjected. "I assure you, we have secured the defendant adequate representation, through one of the law firms on the pre-vetted list, but, at the moment, we don't know where she is. However, given the enormous international sensitivities that surrounds this case, which are only growing by the moment, the Crown requests that we dismiss the defendant's need for legal representation and start this case at once without her barrister."
The judge scowled at the man like he had just spit in the judge's eye, however before the judge could tear the man limb from limb, the two heavy doors behind me slammed open again and in walked a woman in her early 30s with a short blonde bob, power cut that covered one eye. By the way she was dressed in a short skirt and a rather thin top, it looked like she had come from out clubbing. And like me, she also didn't have shoes on.
"Don't say anything!" the woman yelled at me a little out of breath as if she had been running as she eyed me up and down as she stomped towards the front of the court were all of us stood. "Your majesty, I am Astrid Garr, from MMKG. I have been assigned as legal representation."
The judge scowled as he saw the young barrister walk into his court room. "May I remind the defence that this is a court of law and not a place of ill repute. And where are your shoes?"
"I received a call exactly twenty minutes ago while I was out dancing with friends that my services were required here immediately. And then when I got here, building security confiscated not only my mobile phone, but also my jacket, shoes, purse, and also everything I had to write with."
The judge snorted as he gave the five men a dirty look, before he motioned for the barrister to take her place next to me. "Please be seated."
As I sat next to my barrister, I could smell that she had had a few drinks and I could see that she was covered in glitter.
"You haven't said anything have you?" Astrid demanded of me.
"I just asked how to address the judge."
"Anything else? Did they interrogate you?"
"No. No one will talk to me. Are you my attorney or do you work for them?"
"I'm your barrister, which means I represent you in court," the woman said as she looked at me with an intense piercing stare.
"Let's get this started," the judge said with a loud sigh, "I'm old and I want to get some sleep before all of this blows up in the morning."
"Your majesty," said one of the other men as he stood up with a yellow legal pad in his hand. "The Crown charges Samantha Biel, of no fix address, for crimes committed against the Crown under the Espionage Act."
"What?" I gasped out in horror at the allegations.
My barrister reached across the aisle way and violently pulled a yellow note pad and a pen from one of the men who stood behind the man who just spoke. Then on the pad, she scrawled in giant letters, "are you a spy?"
"No," I whispered back. "I'm not a spy."
"Are you sure?" she whispered at me while she tried to peer into my soul.
