Reeva: A Mother's Story (6 page)

I’m not sure if you know, but Reeva watched the first episode with the entire cast and crew a few days before she passed on. It was a beautiful February day and we all sat in the sun teasing each other about how the first episode had come together. Reeva, ever polished and perfect, could not contain her raucous laughter and constant teasing of her cast mates. We all longed to be back in Jamaica, where every day was such an adventure. Reeva expressed to me that she was afraid in putting the show together Graeme and I would make it appear that she was mean, based on some stylised promotional spots we put together. I thought this was a preposterous idea, based solely on the fact that Reeva was the most loved cast mate which it didn’t appear she realised until that very moment. She didn’t know the effect she had on people. How her caring heart and nature was reciprocated with genuine affection. She touched everyone who knew her.

Samantha Moon, Sept 11 2013

It is a letter that I treasure. You cannot underestimate the healing power of letters such as that, from people who had really come to know the daughter I so cherished. Often, people hold back from writing to the family after a bereavement, but they shouldn’t because letters bring immense comfort. They show other people have been touched by her, that they recognise her specialness, and that they care.

Reeva’s big breakthrough in modelling was in getting the cover of the December 2011 issue of
FHM
. She had also featured in the
FHM
2011 calendar. This cover-girl status, combined with her appearance on
Tropika,
was expected to be the lift-off for Reeva’s profile after years of hard grind in the industry, working relentlessly to be polished and perfect, selling herself personality-wise to make up for her lack of inches. The minimum requirement for a model is 1.77m; Jane Celliers at ICE Models, Reeva’s agency, admits she was being economical with the truth when she put 1.70 on her modelling card. But, by the end of February 2013, Reeva was going to reach household-name status by virtue of her own hard work as a professional model. That in itself was a measure of the character she was.

Jane told me recently the story of how she’d been approached by the
Tropika
production team to provide a blonde girl with a national profile to join the cast. Jane knew Reeva would be perfect so she said, ‘I’ve got Reeva Steenkamp, a well-known model but not a household name. Please see her. She’s wonderful.’ Apparently Reeva walked into the audition and took everyone’s breath away, as Jane knew she would. Even though the issues stemming from the incident when she broke her back meant that she was medically forbidden from doing some of the competitive activities – cliff-diving and so on – she won the part. That was so thrilling for her: they wanted her on the island for her personality. But there was one big proviso: for the next four to six months Jane had to take on the mission of making Reeva a household name. Jane threw her into any celebrity baking competition, any celebrity ballet class, any feature article in a magazine, any celebrity photo opportunity. The plan was that by the time she was on that island, all of South Africa would know who Reeva Steenkamp was.

That’s the awful irony. When the first show aired, the whole
world
was aware of who Reeva Steenkamp was.

Limbo

On 14 August 2013, an indictment was served on the man who killed our daughter. It read:

The Director of Public Prosecutions for North Gauteng PRETORIA, of the High Court of South Africa, who presecutes for and on behalf of the State, hereby informs the Honourable Court that

OSCAR LEONARD CARL PISTORIUS

a 26 year old male, with South African citizenship (hereinafter referred to as the accused)

is guilty of the crimes of:

MURDER – READ WITH THE PROVISIONS OF SECTION 51(1) OF ACT 105 OF 1997

CONTRAVENTION OF SECTION 90 OF THE FIREARMS CONTROL ACT NO 60 OF 2000

COUNT 1 – MURDER – READ WITH THE PROVISIONS OF SECTION 51(1) OF ACT 105 OF 1997

IN THAT upon or about 14 February 2013 and at or near 286 Bushwillow Street, Silverwoods Country Estate, SILVER LAKES, in the district of PRETORIA, the accused did unlawfully and intentionally kill a person, to wit,

REEVA STEENKAMP

a 29 year old female

COUNT 2 – CONTRAVENTION OF SECTION 90 OF THE FIREARMS CONTROL ACT NO 60 OF 2000

THAT the accused is guilty of the offence of contravening the provisions of Section 90 read with Sections 1, 103, 117, 120(1)(a), Section 121 read with Schedule 4 and Section 151 of the Firearms Control Act 60 of 2000, and further read with Section 250 of the Criminal Procedure Act 51 of 1977 – Possession of ammunition.

IN THAT on or about 14 February 2013 and at or near 286 Bushwillow Street, Silverwoods Country Estate, SILVER LAKES, in the district of PRETORIA, the accused did unlawfully have in his possession ammunition, to wit 38 x 38 rounds without being the holder of

A license in respect of a firearm capable of discharging that ammunition

A permit to possess ammunition

A dealer’s license, manufacturer’s license, gunsmith’s license, import, export or in-transit permit or transporter’s permit issued in terms of the Act;

Or is otherwise authorised to do so.

Wherefore upon due proof and conviction, the said Director of Public Prosecutions prays for sentence according to the provisions of Section 51(1) of Act 105 of 1997 against the accused.

THE STATE versus OSCAR LEONARD CARL PISTORIUS

SUMMARY OF SUBSTANTIAL FACTS IN TERMS OF

SECTION 144(3)(a) OF ACT 52 OF 1977

The accused was involved in a relationship with the deceased. The deceased chose to spend the night with the accused at his private residence. They were the only occupants of that residence at the time.

The deceased, a 29-year-old woman, was shot and killed in the home of the accused just after 03:00am on 14 February 2013.

The deceased had locked herself into the toilet cubicle, situated adjacent to the main bedroom. The accused armed himself with his 9mm pistol and through the locked door, fired four shots at the deceased. The deceased was wounded and died on the scene. The cause of death is given in the post-mortem report as ‘MULTIPLE GUNSHOT WOUNDS’

Some of the state witnesses heard a woman scream, followed by moments of silence, then heard gunshots and then more screaming.

The accused said to witnesses on the scene, that he thought she was an intruder. Even then, the accused shot with the direct intention to kill a person. An error in persona
will not affect the intention to kill a human being.

There it was, the bare brutal scenario, in black and white.

On 20 November, we heard the news that Oscar had been indicted on two further gun-related charges. According to the indictment, he had on a previous occasion recklessly shot his gun (the same Taurus 9mm pistol he fired at Reeva) out of the open sunroof of a friend’s car while they were out driving and that, on a separate occasion, he fired someone else’s handgun at Tasha’s, a crowded family restaurant, apparently while admiring the weapon. The report stated that for both alleged offences he could be charged with public endangerment and damage to property, and that he already faced a possible life sentence with a minimum of twenty-five years in prison if convicted of the premeditated murder.

The trial –
the State vs Oscar Pistorius
– was scheduled to start on 3 March 2014, in the Gauteng Division of the High Court of South Africa in Pretoria. The Trial of the Century. I was so apprehensive. The wording itself seemed to highlight the huge and surreal drama we found ourselves in: the state against its former golden boy and ambassador for Paralympic sport. As I saw it, I was going to face the man who killed my daughter and I would have to endure that with the world’s cameras and reporters watching my every expression, gauging my reactions, monitoring my emotions. As long as we live, as long as we breathe, Barry and I will struggle to come to terms with Reeva’s death. We are locked forever in unbearable grief. I’m a robust, strong person but it’s hard to stop thinking that all the joy has gone from our lives. He has taken so much from her and us as a family. She was only twenty-nine when he killed her and she had just started talking about marriage and babies. I would have loved to help her choose her wedding dress. Barry would have been so proud to walk her down the aisle. We would have doted on the children that Reeva longed for. She was so family-orientated and would have enjoyed the enriching experience of motherhood, the pleasure of holding her baby and watching her baby grow, as I did with her. Her child would have been a beautiful grandchild for Barry and me, but he has taken that away from us all.

The one thing we hoped might help us through our lives in the future is to know the truth of what had happened that night. That was all we wanted. We needed to know what happened that night between them. All we wanted were answers… why it had to happen, why our beautiful daughter, the loveliest person who ever lived, had to die like this.

I was determined to face him. I wanted to look him in the eye.

At the same time, I was acutely aware that, whatever the outcome of the case, whatever justice was served for Reeva, there would always remain a giant void that can never be filled. Our advocate, Dup de Bruyn SC, who was introduced to us by Jennifer, prepared me for how I would feel. The trial would be very tiring, very stressful. It would be a punishing ordeal because we would have to immerse ourselves in the trauma and relive every single detail of that night when Reeva died, terrified and alone, over and over again. We would be stuck in the hellish bubble of time in which she met her death. While the lawyers debated technicalities ad infinitum, it would seem as if they had forgotten about our loss. We would sit through the state’s case for murder and then we’d have to listen to the defence saying, oh no, it was just an unfortunate accident. I knew I’d find that difficult. But I wanted to be there for Reeva. It was important for me to reclaim my daughter. I didn’t want her to be forgotten under the weight of all the forensic detail and nitty-gritty legal details and the drama of Oscar’s self-absorption and self-pity. From what we’d seen since the day of his arrest, as far as he was concerned, it was all about him; this court case would be all about saving his life.

Before I spent my first long day sitting on those hard court benches – sandwiched between the inevitable media circus and the opposing legal teams, perched just behind Oscar himself, noting the grey patch in his hair, a legacy from the facial reconstruction he underwent following a 2009 crash on the Vaal River in a boat he was piloting – I prepared for what I knew was going to feel like a horrible exposure. Nobody has the right to try to get into my head. Nobody knows what’s going on inside me. But I knew that the ‘human interest’ angle of reporting a news story meant many people would be scrutinising me for evidence of my emotions. I knew that the majority of people felt for me, and I appreciated that. When I visualised myself in court, I braced myself to be strong and decided I would try to get through it by withdrawing deep into myself and listening carefully to everything that was going on. I was there for a reason: I am Reeva’s mother. I knew my presence would make Oscar feel uncomfortable. I was praying for answers. My strength and dignity would come from God and I had to trust that God would prevail and that justice would be done.

But it was not easy. Inside, I felt fragile and very vulnerable. I had to keep it together. Only after the trial would I be able to let go and grieve.

The ruling from Judge President Dunstan Mlambo to allow televisation of the proceedings added a further dimension. On one level, I felt the coverage could act as an exposure of important issues; on another level, I feared it might whip up opinion among a public ignorant of our intricate laws, and it might prevent witnesses from wanting to testify. Our personal tragedy had become the subject of such intense, global focus. The painful story of a beautiful young woman killed by gunshots, having tweeted about violence against women, had highlighted wider questions about our society. Whether Oscar Pistorius was found guilty of murder or culpable homicide or acquitted, the questions had been aired. Why is aggression towards women in South Africa so common? Why is gun violence so prevalent? It was the sort of discussion I often used to have with Reeva, who was horrified by the statistic that in our country a woman is killed by her partner every eight hours – the highest murder rate of women by their partners in the world. She was vocal about women and empowerment. When Oscar appeared in court for his bail and indictment hearings, members of the African National Congress Women’s League held protests against crimes against women outside the building, marching with placards and drawing attention to two cases in session: the trial we must endure and another horrendous case already sitting in the courtroom next door against Thato Kutumela, who strangled and raped his pregnant eighteen-year-old girlfriend, Zanele Khumalo, in April 2011.

Barry wanted to be by my side in court but I insisted he stay at home. The doctors advised him to stay away. He remains broken by what has happened to Reeva. Two months after her death he suffered a stroke. One day after breakfast he opened a newspaper report about the upcoming trial and it broke him into pieces. He became delirious. He didn’t know who he was or where he was. He couldn’t speak and one side of his face collapsed. We rushed him to the doctor, who discovered a blood clot had reached his brain. After treatment, his face recovered, but he was not coping very well. The doctor prescribed him a pill to put under his tongue for those moments when his anxiety goes off the scale. I wouldn’t let him attend court during the early stages because the high emotional stress could prompt another stroke, which might have killed him. I was prepared to go alone, with good friends and family supporting me. Our wonderfully supportive advocate Dup, a senior counsel or ‘silk’, proposed we go for one day of the trial and see how we went.