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Description
"I don't deserve this."

That was all I could think to myself as I busied myself doing today's work assignment.

Once upon a time, I was a young, eager to please, intern in the City. A working-class lass who had sailed her way through university and got herself a job which was going to make me rich and comfortable for the rest of my life.

I dreamed of having it all. I remember lying down in my shitty box apartment, staring at the mildew-stained ceiling thinking about how I was going to be a highly paid businesswoman raking in millions for my company, with a plush penthouse apartment right in the middle of the City, a fast car, a yacht, a wealthy, reasonably attractive fiancé and a hot girlfriend/sugar baby for when he was out of town.

And then the crash happened.

It didn't affect me much at first. Sure, people were loosing their jobs, loosing their homes. Things looked a little iffy for a while for us too, but my company got bailed out by the government of course, and we, well, my bosses emerged out of the whole thing wealthier than ever. I even got a promotion, to "Compliance Officer". I was thrilled. I finally had a salary, and a big one too. I was able to move our of the box apartment and into a two bedroom flat in the suburbs.

I wasn't...entirely happy with what was going on, as I will return to, but things were going well for me on the whole so I wasn't concerned. I set aside some of the qualms of my conscience as I hungrily browsed catalogues for more expensive, suits, dresses and cars.

The economy stabilised a little after that, but that's when the inquiries started. I watched as my bosses got dragged before Parliamentary committees to answer awkward questions about the the company's activities, our activities, MY activities.

One day, as I sat in the public gallery, watching the parliamentary inquiry unfold before me. The committee was grilling the CEO of the bank where I had worked during the financial crash. The air was tense as questions about the bank's dubious dealings reverberated through the hall, but I still was not concerned. I was far too junior to be held to account, or so I thought.

Then came the moment that changed my life for ever.

A Committee Member asked: "And what about the activities of your junior staff? Specifically, one Penny Parker, mentioned in several documents regarding the misrepresentation of client assets."

Suddenly I felt cold, and a knot formed in my stomach as my name echoed through the hall. I tried to steady my breathing as the CEO replied: "Ms. Parker was an intern at the time, a bright young talent. I assure you, any oversight or error was unintentional and corrected promptly."

My mind raced. I remembered the pressure, the rush of responsibility, and the constant push to meet targets. But I also recalled the discomfort she felt when some transactions didn't quite add up.

Committee Member: "Was she adequately trained and supervised?"

CEO: "Our training programs ensure our staff are well-informed about regulations and ethical practices."

I had raised concerns, but they were often dismissed or met with assurances that everything was above board. I was pleasantly surprised when I was then promoted to Compliance Officer, but then…I felt a surging sense of dread as I thought about what happened next. If I was being mentioned here – what else could emerge?

Sure enough, as the second day of the inquiry dawned, and the CEO took the stand again, I was once again mentioned but this time, he spoke of me as the “brilliant mind” which had conceived several of the schemes to recover the banks’ loses in the early days of the crash which had later “sadly” led to many people losing their savings.

The schemes mentioned were hypothetical ones. It was true that were actually my brainchild, but they were not meant to be used. The twist of truth implicated me in the very strategies that had caused widespread harm. I felt betrayed, misrepresented, and utterly powerless. I wanted to speak up, to correct the narrative, but fear paralyzed me.

Unfortunately, I would get my chance. My day in court. Literally, as I was summoned and charged with seventeen counts of fraud and 18 counts of criminal finacial negligence.

Now I found myself in the hot seat, facing direct questions about the strategies I had conceptualised. Admitting that they were my ideas, even though I explained they were meant for discussion but never for execution, felt like writing a suicide note but the signature came when I was asked whether I had participated in carrying them out.

Fear gripped me then, of course I had carried them out. I knew it was wrong but then there were the threats, and the fear of losing my career, my ambition, my dreams of success. I felt the eyes of the courtroom on me, judgmental and condemning as I admitted my culpability.

Reluctantly, I was forced to plead guilty and to throw myself on the mercy of the court. My case rested entirely on the fact I was being made a scapegoat for the actions of others. Yes, I was culpable, but I was acting under coercion and surely deserved not to be punished when so many more senior people were responsible for the corporate actions of our business?

Then came the sentencing.

The judge's gaze lingered on me as he began to deliver the sentence, his tone measured yet weighed down by the gravity of the moment. "Ms. Parker, this court must consider the complexities of your case. Your admission of guilt and the coercion you faced within the organization are mitigating factors that cannot be disregarded."

I felt a sliver of hope, a fleeting sense of understanding in the judge's acknowledgment of the pressure I had faced. But it was swiftly tempered by his next words.

"However, it cannot be ignored that the schemes in question required your expertise. Your pivotal role facilitated actions that had far-reaching consequences. The court finds it difficult to overlook the fact that while you did not originally plan to initiate these actions, you also did not take steps to prevent them."

Each word struck me like a blow, highlighting my failure to stand against the tide, to raise my voice against the injustices I witnessed. The judge's impartial assessment laid bare the reality that my silence had in fact, been complicity, and worse allowing others' sacrifices to pave the way for my own enrichment.

The room felt stifling as the judge continued. "Your considerable gain at the expense of others cannot be understated. Your financial ascent, though coerced, stands as a stark contradiction to the losses incurred by countless individuals due to these schemes."

I lowered my gaze, the weight of his words bearing down upon me, acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that my actions had made me a beneficiary of others' misfortunes and I had done nothing to stop it.

"In light of these factors, the court must strike a balance. While acknowledging the coercive environment you faced, it cannot overlook the impact of your actions. Therefore, this court deems a sentence of 20 years as an appropriate measure of accountability."

To say I was shocked was an understatement. A week before I had just celebrated my 25th Birthday. Almost all my life again would be lived behind bars. I was unreal.

As I was led away in handcuffs.

As I was sitting in the van rattling along potholed streets towards prison.

As the great iron gates closed.

As my possessions were striped from me.

As I was stripped, searched and photographed.

As I was dressed in the uniform of a prisoner.

And I led to my cell, the door slamming shut behind me.

I kept thinking the same thing, over and over again.

“I don’t deserve this”

Over the next few months, as I scrubbed the prison toilets, broke rocks in the workhouse and weeded the prison graveyard, my thoughts changed.

“If I don’t deserve this, who does?”

“Why am I here, while they are still out there?”

“Why don’t they suffer, as I have suffered?”

“Who will hold THEM to account?”

And finally, just one thought, one desire, kept burning through my mind, seething in my chest and soul and never far from my thoughts, motivating my every move every day:

“I deserve justice"

Description
"I don't deserve this."

That was all I could think to myself as I busied myself doing today's work assignment.

Once upon a time, I was a young, eager to please, intern in the City. A working-class lass who had sailed her way through university and got herself a job which was going to make me rich and comfortable for the rest of my life.

I dreamed of having it all. I remember lying down in my shitty box apartment, staring at the mildew-stained ceiling thinking about how I was going to be a highly paid businesswoman raking in millions for my company, with a plush penthouse apartment right in the middle of the City, a fast car, a yacht, a wealthy, reasonably attractive fiancé and a hot girlfriend/sugar baby for when he was out of town.

And then the crash happened.

It didn't affect me much at first. Sure, people were loosing their jobs, loosing their homes. Things looked a little iffy for a while for us too, but my company got bailed out by the government of course, and we, well, my bosses emerged out of the whole thing wealthier than ever. I even got a promotion, to "Compliance Officer". I was thrilled. I finally had a salary, and a big one too. I was able to move our of the box apartment and into a two bedroom flat in the suburbs.

I wasn't...entirely happy with what was going on, as I will return to, but things were going well for me on the whole so I wasn't concerned. I set aside some of the qualms of my conscience as I hungrily browsed catalogues for more expensive, suits, dresses and cars.

The economy stabilised a little after that, but that's when the inquiries started. I watched as my bosses got dragged before Parliamentary committees to answer awkward questions about the the company's activities, our activities, MY activities.

One day, as I sat in the public gallery, watching the parliamentary inquiry unfold before me. The committee was grilling the CEO of the bank where I had worked during the financial crash. The air was tense as questions about the bank's dubious dealings reverberated through the hall, but I still was not concerned. I was far too junior to be held to account, or so I thought.

Then came the moment that changed my life for ever.

A Committee Member asked: "And what about the activities of your junior staff? Specifically, one Penny Parker, mentioned in several documents regarding the misrepresentation of client assets."

Suddenly I felt cold, and a knot formed in my stomach as my name echoed through the hall. I tried to steady my breathing as the CEO replied: "Ms. Parker was an intern at the time, a bright young talent. I assure you, any oversight or error was unintentional and corrected promptly."

My mind raced. I remembered the pressure, the rush of responsibility, and the constant push to meet targets. But I also recalled the discomfort she felt when some transactions didn't quite add up.

Committee Member: "Was she adequately trained and supervised?"

CEO: "Our training programs ensure our staff are well-informed about regulations and ethical practices."

I had raised concerns, but they were often dismissed or met with assurances that everything was above board. I was pleasantly surprised when I was then promoted to Compliance Officer, but then…I felt a surging sense of dread as I thought about what happened next. If I was being mentioned here – what else could emerge?

Sure enough, as the second day of the inquiry dawned, and the CEO took the stand again, I was once again mentioned but this time, he spoke of me as the “brilliant mind” which had conceived several of the schemes to recover the banks’ loses in the early days of the crash which had later “sadly” led to many people losing their savings.

The schemes mentioned were hypothetical ones. It was true that were actually my brainchild, but they were not meant to be used. The twist of truth implicated me in the very strategies that had caused widespread harm. I felt betrayed, misrepresented, and utterly powerless. I wanted to speak up, to correct the narrative, but fear paralyzed me.

Unfortunately, I would get my chance. My day in court. Literally, as I was summoned and charged with seventeen counts of fraud and 18 counts of criminal finacial negligence.

Now I found myself in the hot seat, facing direct questions about the strategies I had conceptualised. Admitting that they were my ideas, even though I explained they were meant for discussion but never for execution, felt like writing a suicide note but the signature came when I was asked whether I had participated in carrying them out.

Fear gripped me then, of course I had carried them out. I knew it was wrong but then there were the threats, and the fear of losing my career, my ambition, my dreams of success. I felt the eyes of the courtroom on me, judgmental and condemning as I admitted my culpability.

Reluctantly, I was forced to plead guilty and to throw myself on the mercy of the court. My case rested entirely on the fact I was being made a scapegoat for the actions of others. Yes, I was culpable, but I was acting under coercion and surely deserved not to be punished when so many more senior people were responsible for the corporate actions of our business?

Then came the sentencing.

The judge's gaze lingered on me as he began to deliver the sentence, his tone measured yet weighed down by the gravity of the moment. "Ms. Parker, this court must consider the complexities of your case. Your admission of guilt and the coercion you faced within the organization are mitigating factors that cannot be disregarded."

I felt a sliver of hope, a fleeting sense of understanding in the judge's acknowledgment of the pressure I had faced. But it was swiftly tempered by his next words.

"However, it cannot be ignored that the schemes in question required your expertise. Your pivotal role facilitated actions that had far-reaching consequences. The court finds it difficult to overlook the fact that while you did not originally plan to initiate these actions, you also did not take steps to prevent them."

Each word struck me like a blow, highlighting my failure to stand against the tide, to raise my voice against the injustices I witnessed. The judge's impartial assessment laid bare the reality that my silence had in fact, been complicity, and worse allowing others' sacrifices to pave the way for my own enrichment.

The room felt stifling as the judge continued. "Your considerable gain at the expense of others cannot be understated. Your financial ascent, though coerced, stands as a stark contradiction to the losses incurred by countless individuals due to these schemes."

I lowered my gaze, the weight of his words bearing down upon me, acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that my actions had made me a beneficiary of others' misfortunes and I had done nothing to stop it.

"In light of these factors, the court must strike a balance. While acknowledging the coercive environment you faced, it cannot overlook the impact of your actions. Therefore, this court deems a sentence of 20 years as an appropriate measure of accountability."

To say I was shocked was an understatement. A week before I had just celebrated my 25th Birthday. Almost all my life again would be lived behind bars. I was unreal.

As I was led away in handcuffs.

As I was sitting in the van rattling along potholed streets towards prison.

As the great iron gates closed.

As my possessions were striped from me.

As I was stripped, searched and photographed.

As I was dressed in the uniform of a prisoner.

And I led to my cell, the door slamming shut behind me.

I kept thinking the same thing, over and over again.

“I don’t deserve this”

Over the next few months, as I scrubbed the prison toilets, broke rocks in the workhouse and weeded the prison graveyard, my thoughts changed.

“If I don’t deserve this, who does?”

“Why am I here, while they are still out there?”

“Why don’t they suffer, as I have suffered?”

“Who will hold THEM to account?”

And finally, just one thought, one desire, kept burning through my mind, seething in my chest and soul and never far from my thoughts, motivating my every move every day:

“I deserve justice"