Chapter 12 of 22 · 2'25"
A barrister walks back into Inner London Crown Court with no lawyer's ID and no easy pass. The alarms, the lift, and a windowless room strip the usual confidence. "Same court, no armour" names what is left once the wig and robe are gone, while she waits to see whether, before the law, there is justice.
No Armour at the Court Door
❝ Monologue · 7 lines The View From This End
Tessa Ensler passes security at Inner London Crown Court with no lawyer's ID. The alarm rings, she removes her shoes, and a handheld detector swipes her. She sees black robes and wigs, puts her head down, then takes the lift with witness support into a windowless room. She waits. Richard Lawson enters in silk robes and a wig to run the case, after adjournments and paperwork that weigh her down.
The monologue keeps naming each step, from the bag on the belt to the nails dug into the wrists. The building is the same, and that is the shock. "Same court, no armour" puts the missing wig and robe against the alarm, the shoes coming off, and the witness support service in the lift. Horsehair wigs lean together in confident chatter. One line asks, "Did one of them see me?" The next line is "Head down." Three years at university, one year at bar school and seven years of practice are set beside a need to hold on: "Believe that you will show me that before the law, there is justice." The seat changes the picture. "You look so different from this end, from this seat in this windowless room." Richard Lawson, well respected and knowing the law, comes in wearing silk robes and a wig, ready to run the case. After the adjournments and the paperwork, she is frustrated and weighed down by it.
A1–C2 is the CEFR scale. Cards above the level you pick fade, and playback will not auto-pause on them.
“This is what it feels like. Same court, no armour.”
It turns the missing wig and robe into armour, so the same building feels suddenly bare.
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“This is me, Tessa Ensler. This time, no barrister's wig, no robe.”
She puts her name down and then removes the wig and robe that used to turn that name into a barrister.
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“This is me, digging my nails into my wrists.”
The flat this-is-me frame stays polite while the picture underneath is pain.
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“Believe that you will show me that before the law, there is justice.”
She asks the law to prove justice, which means she can no longer take it as given.
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“But I am here and you look so different from this end, from this seat in this windowless room.”
The second from this drags the thing she trusted into the chair she is actually sitting in.
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and now today is the day. Three years at university, one year at bar school and seven years of practice. I have always believed and now... Now, I need to know that I was not mistaken, that I can still believe in you, can trust, can still hold on to you. Believe that you will show me that before the law, there is justice. But I am here and you look so different from this end, from this seat in this windowless room.
Up next · 13get someone offsideThe scene: Tessa's Police InterviewOne line states it plainly: this time there is no lawyer's ID and no easy pass. The alarm rings, the shoes come off, and a handheld metal detector does the check. The same passage also notes there is no barrister's wig and no robe, and the walk to the lift is with the witness support service.
Horsehair wigs lean in toward each other among black robes, paper, folders, and confident chatter. One line asks, "Did one of them see me?" The reply is "Head down."
The prosecutor, named in the room as Richard Lawson. He is called well respected, and the line says he knows the law. He enters in silk robes and a wig at Inner London Crown Court, ready to run the case after the adjournments and the paperwork.
She needs to know she was not mistaken, that she can still believe, trust, and hold on. One line asks to be shown that before the law there is justice. From the seat in the windowless room, that same you already looks different.
