On that same morning, Ellen went to the court with a certain amount of excitement. She walked straight to Marianne, the secretary to whom she could drop off the reporting. They greeted each other like vague acquaintances, colleagues who saw each other every now and then.

Ellen explained what she had come for. She handed Marianne the envelope containing reporting and the USB stick that was meant for the judge. Marianne opened the envelope and looked at the reporting fleetingly, more to see if everything was filled out that the judge would need, than to find out its contents.

"And that USB stick comes with the reporting?" she asked.

"Yes, it has everything on it in terms of evidence and an overview of my client."

"Okay," she muttered, taking another look at the paper. "Forced prostitution? With BDSM? Yuck..."

She slid the papers and USB stick back into the envelope and stapled it shut. She wrote the date on the envelope, and gave the report a case number.

Ellen saw it and put into words what she felt about it, "I still have a hard time with the idea that people who file a reporting being given a number. I understand that it is convenient, practical, but I have already noticed a few times that people were called in with their number and treated as a number. As for the woman on this report," Ellen pointed to the envelope for a moment, "she is a woman who was badly wounded by her ex-husband's behavior, and by the men he left with her to have fun with her. She was his slave, their slave. She was tortured by them, raped by them, and she had to keep smiling, she had to keep pretending to enjoy herself, and above all suppress her own feelings. She must have been completely broken during that time.

Fortunately, she now has a partner, with whom she has a real connection, he is clearly her soulmate. That man only wants the best for her. But to give such a woman a number... that just hurts me. I hope we get a judge who is able to see her as a woman, a tortured woman."

Marianne had listened breathlessly, and nodded slowly. "I understand exactly what you mean. For the administration, it really can't be helped, but for the practice, calling or treating people as numbers is not an option. And for this woman, I only know of one judge who could really do that, who would treat her as a woman. That's Judge Simons. The other judges are not unkind to me, but always businesslike, as if I am a number too. But with Judge Simons I feel human, indeed, with him I feel like a woman. He doesn't flirt with me, but is just friendly, warm-hearted. He doesn't treat me as 'just' the secretary or the hostess, not as a lower in rank, but as an equal, yes, really as a woman.

He would be a good one for this trial, I think. In fact, of course, I have nothing to say about that, but I will put in a good word for this woman this afternoon when I present her report to the judges. I will try to steer them, by indicating, that I think Judge Simons seems to me to be very appropriate for this woman and her situation. I don't know exactly how yet, but I'm sure I'll figure that out."

"That would be great! She needs someone who has heart for her, and Judge Simons has that. That's how I know him," Ellen replied.

"That's it exactly, thanks, that's how I'll put it, that she needs someone who has heart for her. I'll just have to make sure that the other judges don't feel stepped on any toes then."

Marianne smiled at Ellen. "It's nice that we could talk like this for a while, as people instead of just as vague colleagues."

Ellen gave her a hand, "I'm happy about it too, Marianne. And thank you in advance for your efforts. I'm quietly waiting to hear from the judge who is going to work on this! See you soon!"

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