Читать книгу Zephany - Joanne Jowell - Страница 8

Before we proceed any further with the story, I must discharge my biographer’s code and seek out the real-life characters themselves.

Cassidy is the first of the Nurse family to have made an appearance in Miché’s life and is duly the first I’d like to meet. Miché has a good relationship with her and is happy to facilitate a chat. Aside from the obvious role of chief protagonist in her own biography, Miché is also the primary connection to the story’s other role players and must give her okay for them to disclose any information. To Miché, it’s open season, and she is prepared for all relevant parties to give their own honest accounts, subjective as they may be.

Miché can’t quite pin down Cassidy at the moment, though. She concedes that things have not been easy for Cassidy lately, that she’s been moving around a lot and getting into trouble at school. Contact between them – mostly governed by WhatsApp conversation – seems to ebb and flow and today’s tide is out. So I’ll have to wait.

MICHÉ:

I came late to school that morning. I had a doctor’s appointment and I was cooking that day as well for Consumer Studies. I brought all my stuff to school, went straight into Maths, and sat down. I hadn’t even taken out all my books when the principal, Dr De Bruyn, came to the classroom. He looked at me and said, ‘Miss Solomon, please take your bags and come with me.’

I was like, Gosh, what did I do? The year is still young! Had he caught me bunking at the tennis courts or something? When you’re in Matric, you need to show a good impression to the younger grades, so this was not good.

My friends were like, ‘What’s this? What did you do?’

I laughed. I was like, ‘No, I didn’t do anything, it’s still early in the year!’

I go into the principal’s office and there are two women sitting there. I’m told they are social workers and I recognise the one name – Leanna Goosen. I somehow connected it with that day Morné came to McDonald’s and I thought maybe this all had something to do with Cassidy and why she’s been staying away and not so persistent anymore.

I sat down and they were like, ‘Hi, how are you?’ They already knew my name. ‘We need to tell you something. This could be an eventful day, the day that changes your life.’

I said, ‘What do you mean, changes my life or an eventful day?!’

They said: ‘We believe you’ve heard about this girl Zephany who was stolen. Well, this is what’s happening now …’ And from there, they just came at me with this story: that a baby was kidnapped in 1997 when she was a few days old; that they need to rule out any possibilities that that child is still alive; that they need to rule out any possibilities that that child could be me; that they need to do DNA tests … Honestly, when I look back now I feel that they came on very strong with very little information. Just: here you go, this is what’s happening now.

My first response was, ‘I’m not going to do a DNA test. Why must I? Give me more information that can actually convince me there’s a reason for me to agree to a DNA test.’

They asked me when and where I was born. I told them, ‘Retreat Hospital on the 30th of April 1997.’

Then they said – and this is what shocked me – that there was no record of a Miché Solomon born at Retreat Hospital on or around that date.

I felt completely stunned.

They told me that an investigation was under way. There were two detectives and a social worker at my house already – ‘just there to talk.’ My aunty was at my house that day – she lives on the property but with a separate entrance – so they were talking to her. And there was another one fetching my dad at work and my mom at work. They knew about my brother – who was now married – and where he was working. They even knew where my boyfriend was working.

I recalled that my aunty had said she was sure she was being followed by someone in a white car. She took me to school most mornings and there was definitely the same person behind her for three mornings in a row. But we never imagined this could be the reason!

I started seeing connections with Cassidy, Morné and all the weird stuff that had been going on with them. And I felt so angry, like they’re dragging me into their messy lives and family issues.

‘Fine,’ I said, ‘let’s do the DNA test. I’m sure it’s going to be negative anyway.’

We got up to leave school and Dr De Bruyn gave me a hug. Until then, I had been in shock, and quite calm, I think, but now I started crying. In my heart I knew my life is probably never going to be the same, whatever the results may be. Here I’m alone with strangers; my mom is not here, my daddy’s not here, my brother, my cousins – nobody’s here. I’m alone. And angry! I want to go home, to my parents! I want to ask them: ‘Why is this happening? What is happening?’ It was all too much. I even asked, ‘Don’t you need my parents’ permission for this DNA test?’ but they told me that parents don’t need to give consent for a DNA test from, I think, it’s twelve years old. I was seventeen. If I wanted to take the DNA test, I was old enough to decide for myself.

We drove to the Victoria Clinic. We passed the place where my boyfriend was working and I wished we could just stop right there so I could go to him. I needed someone on my side. I just kept telling myself that this test is going to be negative, man. It can’t be true that I belong to someone else, it doesn’t make sense. The test will turn out negative. I just held onto that.

At the clinic, they took me to a room and I had to fill in a bunch of forms. Then they did a saliva test and they sent it away in a yellow and blue box.

‘Can I go home now?’ I asked. ‘Or can I go back to school?’

They said, ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we don’t yet know the result of the test. If you are Zephany Nurse, then your mom – or whoever took you – might be a flight risk. We can’t let you go home until we know.’

‘But when will we know the results?’

‘In a day or two.’

My heart sank. When would I go home?

‘For now, we’re taking you to a Safe House. You’ll stay there until we know for sure.’

A Safe House? What could be safer than my own house with my own parents?

The Safe House was somewhere in Wynberg, I think. The minute I walked in there, I knew I just could not stay. There were other children there but you could see that they were orphans or abandoned kids, troubled children. There were a few people sitting around in that room, Leanna Goosen was sitting on the floor. Everyone seemed so fascinated with me.

I said, ‘I’d like to see a picture of this stolen baby.’

They produced a huge, thick file – I think it was Colonel Barkhuizen’s file, the detective on the case. I looked at an old photo and I said, ‘Oh please, this baby seriously does not look like me.’

Leanna Goosen said that this newborn picture might be different from others that I’d seen of myself as a baby because I would still have been swollen from birth and whatever. And then she said again: ‘Look, this could just be an eventful day. Perhaps the test won’t be positive.’ She didn’t sound convinced, though. I thought there was simply no chance it would be positive. My belief in my parents remained firm: they would never do something like this.

The best part about the Safe House was Marshionette Jonkerman – one of the social workers who met me there. She was different from the others who had been with me in the day. Leanna Goosen and I never really got along, even up to today. But Marshionette was warm, not so distant. I felt I could trust her.

I was completely exhausted from all of this, so I said I need to go lay down. They told me to switch my phone off. I couldn’t believe it. I was like, ‘You can’t tell me to switch my phone off, that’s like my life support right now!’ But they insisted. So I said, again, ‘I need my phone. If anything happens, I need my phone.’ But they were firm. ‘Okay fine, I’ll switch my phone off.’ Anything to have some quiet moments to process this crazy day.

I asked again: ‘When am I going home? Or if I can’t go home, you can take me to a friend’s house. She lives far away from me, so it’s not close to my home.’

‘No, you need to stay here tonight.’

‘But I can’t stay here! Abandoned kids stay here! You can’t just take me from my stable house – I’m not a broken child. Choices can be made – I’m turning eighteen soon and then I’ll be able to decide for myself!’

‘There is no other place for you to stay. We can’t send you to people you know because, if your mother’s responsible, she’ll know where you might be.’

‘You’re speculating! There’s no proof that she took me!’

‘Right now, the police are by your mom at your house. They are bringing your daddy here, to see you.’

Actually, it was Marshionette who had been at my home and then came to the Safe House for me. I talked with her and felt comfortable with her. She told me that she has three sons, no daughters, and she could see that I just couldn’t stay at this Safe House. We discussed that maybe I could go stay by her instead. Then they called me to another room because my daddy had arrived.

When I walked in there, my daddy was like, ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?’

‘Daddy, no! I thought you knew that I would be here.’

‘What is happening?’ he asked, and you could see the bloodshot in his eyes. When he stresses, his blood pressure goes up and you could see it right there, like, What is going on here?!

He sat next to me and the detective – Barkhuizen – sat down opposite me. He spoke to my daddy in Afrikaans: ‘Meneer, as jy probeer weghardloop …’ If you try and run away … Stuff like that. ‘You can’t lie, I will catch you …’

My daddy was like, ‘But I’m not lying about anything! Miché is my child and I didn’t steal her, nobody stole her. I was there the day she came from hospital, I was at home and I saw her!’

Afterwards, I told Barkhuizen straight: ‘Don’t speak to my father like that if there is no evidence, you are just speculating.’

He half laughed and said, ‘You’re getting into a big fish now. You might not understand.’

‘I might not understand everything but you didn’t prove to me that I am the child that they stole. You took me for a DNA test just a few hours ago and now you’re trying to make threats.’

The social workers told me to calm down. They said I didn’t have to speak to him about it. ‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t appreciate the way you’re speaking to my father. If you can say 100 per cent that I am that child, if the test has proved it, then you have all the right to speak to him that way; but don’t call me into a room and interrogate him in front of me because that’s going to do damage to me.’

My daddy also wanted to calm me: ‘No, it’s fine, baby, it’s fine – they must do their job,’ but I felt very angry. He didn’t even realise that I couldn’t come home. He asked if he could take me home with him and Barkhuizen said, ‘No, you can’t because you or your wife might flight with her.’

So my daddy repeated: ‘But I really didn’t steal this child; I have nothing to do with whatever is going on here – Miché is my daughter.’ He was very confused, and I think sad at the same time, not really knowing what’s going on or that anyone – let alone his wife – could lie to him in that way. Mostly he just couldn’t make sense of anything. I was confused as well but I was trying to stay firm because nobody’s going to walk over me and just do investigations however they please.

Marshionette helped out. She said, ‘Miché can come live by me while this whole thing is happening and we’ll see from there. She doesn’t look like she fits in here and she needs a home, at least some stability right now, to process what is happening.’

‘You can’t go with her,’ my dad protested. ‘She’s a stranger.’

‘No, it’s fine, Daddy. I’ll stay with Marshionette. I want to.’ I was going with my gut feeling that it was best to go with her.

‘No, you can’t sleep out! And we need to have each other close by for whatever this investigation brings.’

‘Don’t worry, Daddy. They can just do their job. The results are supposed to come tomorrow. If it’s negative, I’ll just come straight home. They won’t let me come with you now anyway.’

Let me tell you, if the results had been negative, I wouldn’t have just gone straight home and left it. I think the way the state handled the whole situation was poor.

* * *

I am once again struck by the crouching tigress in Miché, this adult-like assertiveness which was already in play in the early hours of D-Day: that she thought to resist a DNA test, or queried a consensual loophole, when her own heart and mind would barely have known up from down; that she sprang to defend her father’s honour from the perceived ‘threats’ by esteemed senior detective Colonel Barkhuizen when she was very much the cub in the den; that she sought an ally in Marshionette Jonkerman and detected a reprieve in her home … All these instinctive acts of self-preservation seem beyond the ambit of a beloved, sheltered, if not downright indulged seventeen-year-old princess. Miché most certainly has mettle.

I’m intrigued to hear other accounts of D-Day, and whether those versions ratify Miché’s and recognise the guts and spunk of this instant woman. I’d imagine that this is one of those formative days in the life of any character associated with this story, a flashbulb memory type of day which will have its characters recalling, in excruciating detail, exactly where they were when it happened and how it unfolded. For the Solomons, this was the day their whole world capsized. For the investigative team, this was the day a seventeen-year-long case was cracked. For the Nurse family, this was the answer to a million prayers. No one will easily forget it.

My most accessible contact is Miché’s father, Michael. A man of few words, Michael Solomon is characteristically sparing in his description of D-Day. If anything, it’s the non-verbal cues which tell his story: the frequent shaking of his already heavy head, the furrowing of his already troubled brow, the slight quiver in a voice already thin with worry. Perhaps it’s the blatant inability to find the right words which tells more of a story than those that do come to his wary lips.

MICHAEL:

I was at work and got a call to say I must phone home.

I phoned my wife and she told me the police is there; they’re questioning her about a lost child, ‘but it’s all right, you don’t have to worry.’

I put the phone down and went back to work. Ten minutes later they called me again and told me to go home because apparently the police wanted to come fetch me at work, but because I work at a national keypoint, security wouldn’t have allowed them in. They didn’t really tell me what was happening, just that I must go home. I didn’t know what to think.

The driver took me home but no one was there. Mr Barkhuizen called me and asked me to meet him in Wynberg. I got to this place and saw Miché and all these people around the table there. Social workers, police, people that I don’t know.

They told me that this is the child they were looking for in this Zephany Nurse case. What?! What was happening here?

Miché was scared. She also didn’t know what was happening. And then they told me they’re taking her away from me. I just felt something drop inside of me because she has never been away from us, never slept away from us, nothing. Even one time, during Easter holidays, she went with my in-laws down to Plettenberg Bay. My wife and I drove after them to be with her by the evening. We had to go see if she’s doing fine.

Even if she says she can sleep by you tonight, she will phone, ‘Daddy, come fetch me.’ That’s why I don’t sleep right when she’s not there because I know she’s going to phone any time to come fetch her.

They told me she wasn’t allowed to come home until they had the results of a test they were doing to see if Miché was this stolen child. One of the social workers said she would take her to her house, and Miché was happy with that idea. That made me feel better.

* * *

Michael seems to recall Miché’s vulnerability rather than her maturity in the situation. Mostly, his expression and recollections are fraught with the bewilderment of the day, and his account is still murky with shock.

In my attempt at comprehensive coverage, and with Cassidy out of reach for now, I turn to the officials. Colonel Barkhuizen, famed as South Africa’s ‘top cop’ at the time of his retirement some years ago, and the man credited with cracking not only the Zephany Nurse case but numerous other high-profile cases, is as good at hiding as he is at seeking. No amount of contact calling, Facebook stalking, or well-placed breadcrumbs leads me to him.

I get a raised eyebrow from Miché when I suggest meeting Leanna Goosen, lead social worker. While Miché is not anti the idea, she’s not particularly pro either.

The best fish to catch in this particular net would be Marshionette Jonkerman, the perceived ally poised to rescue Miché from any suggestion of a sleepover at the Safe House. Although she hasn’t been in touch with Miché for some time, Marshionette is amenable to an interview – pending approval by ‘Minister’ and ‘the Department’ – and invites me to her place of work. This is the child and youth care centre in Stellenbosch, which is not far from where she lives.

The thermometer rises by a degree with every kilometre as I approach the famed Cape winelands. Stellenbosch is sweltering today and I seriously hope that the private office Marshionette assured me she would commandeer for our interview is as cool as it is quiet.

This provincial government institution, nestled under the wing of the Department of Social Development, looks more like a juvenile detention centre, and I wonder if this is the type of safe house to which Miché was taken on D-Day. If it is, then no wonder she resisted staying over – it’s hard not to feel as if you’re the one who has done something wrong as you enter the barbed-wire compound. Rows of uniform housing are watched over by a lookout tower and the single entry point demands metal detection, briefcase X-ray, and a cursory pat-down by a security guard.

‘Any weapons?’ asks the guard.

‘No weapons. But I do have a pen,’ I quip.

Blank stare.

‘Well, you know what they say – the pen is mightier than the sword …’ I giggle nervously, ignoring that age-old warning never to joke at a security checkpoint.

Blank stare.

‘No, sir, no weapons.’

I am ushered into a reception area, which quickly takes the edge off the impressions left by the exterior. I take a seat in a comfortable lounge and look around at notices about children’s rights and responsibilities, brightly coloured pictures presumably drawn by kids who live here, the obligatory portraits of Western Cape Premier Helen Zille and Minister for Social Development Albert Fritz (the subjects of the abbreviations ‘Minister’ and ‘the Department’ to which both Marshionette and Miché will continually refer as the story proceeds). There is a happy buzz about the place, which seems somewhat incongruous with the security bars on all the surrounding windows.

A flash of white teeth in a wide smile precedes Marshionette Jonkerman who steers me to her office down a passage.

MARSHIONETTE:

I’m actually not a social worker. I’m a trained nurse, but I work as a facility manager and deputy director in Social Development. My director is Leanna Goosen, who headed up our team for the Zephany/Miché case. The child and youth care centres that the department runs are for children in need of care, but there are different types for different needs. Children removed from their families are in our facilities, or children with behavioural problems that nobody can manage anymore, or children who’ve been abused. We also have the child and youth care centre for children in conflict with the law, and substance abuse treatment centres.

I actually wasn’t originally assigned to Miché. When the investigations into Miché began, we had a meeting with Colonel Barkhuizen and roles were assigned to Leanna and to me. Because I’m also a professional nurse, my role was to make sure that Lavona – the suspect – is fine because she had high blood pressure and heart problems. Leanna was assigned to see to the social side of the child’s needs.

Social Development only got involved when the child herself was involved. Up to then, it had been a search for a missing person. Barki and his team were looking for Miché for a long time. I liked that Barki – such a professional, such a gentleman. It was a huge a team effort and he plotted out each and every task. He’s retired now, but Barki is still one of the best cops I ever knew.

So, on the day, I went with Barki and one of my colleagues to the Solomon house, first thing. When we came there Lavona wasn’t there, she was at work – Lavona’s sister was there. She stays there, at the back of the property. Barki said to her: ‘You need to call Lavona now because we are here for a very serious case. Do you know that Miché is not her child?’

The sister was shocked: ‘No, that is nonsense, no, Miché is Lavona’s child; my sister raised all of us.’

‘We suspect that it is not her child,’ Barki said.

‘How can you say that? It’s my sister’s child!’ She was in total shock. Then she called Lavona and told her to come home right now.

While we waited for Lavona, Barki told her sister what he suspected. All of a sudden, it was like a light came on and she said, ‘Is that why Miché doesn’t look like our family?’ Then she told us how Lavona had had a baby girl when she was sixteen, but the baby died at just a few weeks old. And that Lavona had since had three miscarriages.

When Lavona arrived, she was very calm. Her sister hadn’t said anything to her over the phone. She was smiling and laughing when she arrived. She wanted to give us tea. And then Barki told her about the child that went missing, and what he suspected.

‘No,’ she said gently. ‘Miché is my child. How can you – I can even show you photos.’ She was so friendly and calm – and I sort of liked her.

Then Barki said, ‘But it’s not your child.’ And then, ‘So why did you to go Swartland to get the birth certificate?’

She said no, she was visiting somebody there. ‘And I can show you photos, the albums is around.’ But totally, totally calm. Then she said, ‘You know what? Miché also came out with a story like this, somebody told her at school. So I just said, “Miché, why didn’t you just tell them you are my child?” It’s nonsense, I didn’t even listen to her.’

Barki had a whole interview with her. The entire time, she stayed focused and calm. And she kept repeating, ‘No, man, that’s not right. Miché is my child.’ I started to believe this woman.

During the interview, I sat next to her and observed her. Though she seemed fine, I wanted to take her blood pressure, but she said, ‘No, it’s not necessary. I’m fine. There’s nothing to this story.’

She called her husband to come home, but Barki said, ‘I think we need to go to Pathcare to take your blood, for testing.’

Lavona was unfazed. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide. You can take me for blood tests. No problem.’

At that point, I thought this whole case was nonsense. I really believed her.

So they took Lavona to Pathcare, and I went to one of our places of safety, where they were keeping Miché just for that while. It wasn’t a place like this one we’re in today – this here is a secure care facility. Wynberg is a different level of care, it feels better than here.

Leanna Goosen was involved in getting Miché from school while I was with Lavona. I first met Miché in Wynberg. The minute I started talking to her, I was in love with this girl. She was so clever and so kind. They showed her pictures of the Zephany baby and she looked at me, who she had just met, and said, ‘This isn’t me, nè?’

We started chatting and I asked, ‘Do you believe these people?’

‘I don’t know what to believe now.’

And then she told me the whole story about meeting Cassidy and how weird things had been for her since then. When she heard she must stay at this Safe House for the night, she didn’t want to. ‘Please,’ she said to me, ‘I don’t like it here. I want to go with you.’

Although that was an unusual request, this was an unusual case – we hadn’t dealt with anything like this before. And I really felt for this girl. She is just so loveable. So I said, ‘Let me just ask the director.’

I was issued an order to be Miché’s guardian for that time, and she came home with me.