So court day arrives. All of the paperwork is prepared. A few phone calls to Rape Crisis the new government helpline that supports surviviors of sexual violence with a helpline of trained staff. Paid and very competent. It is a new service and one that is of huge improvement to rape crisis services in England. It is open for long hours. Staff manage the calls really well and more importantly It is a confidential. Unlike volunteer services, the staff clearly have training and skills and confidentiality is part of the contract, unless of course there was a very good reason to break it. At points where I was really distressed at the idea of having to relive the traumas of the relentless attacks by the governance and males involved, this helpline is testament to a government who is taking the welfare of survivors very seriously. Unlike so many of the men and women employed in governance organisations. Particularly family court and legal services.
So papers organised and the wheels bag packed containing all the papers, neatly bundled together. Seventeen years of my life on paper. Assaults, verbal abuse, sexual violence, torture, forced drugging, incarceration under threat if leaving, false reports by plain clothes officers who for so many years I served alongside. I cannot possibly read all of the papers, just notes with men and women, who having discussed the matter with the rapist himself, they believe that I am psychotic, make false allegations. Drs reports from the national health service psychiatrist. No brain scans, assessment, questionnaires, assessments, just a report of my being psychotic and that detention and drugging is an acceptable outcome to protect the man who raped me and the reputation of the police service in Hampshire.
Obviously over the years the reports continue as the stalking and threats continue, anything to silence me from speaking up. The names of the Chief Constables who lied and covered for a child sex offender and rapist in their employ blazoned across correspondence. Including the letter that insists that a file was sent to the CPS and under Sir Keir Starmer, prosecuting a police officer for rape and sexual assault and harassment was not possible. Meantime the numerous social workers that covered for the attacks towards the children at various ages, all reported nothing done. Seventeen years of social care covering for sex offences. It is perhaps the most depressing pile of papers that have ever been collated about that small Home Counties part of Wessex.
Train booked and I arrive in plenty of time at the station. Its not particularly busy, I sit quietly and start to blog, read news and try and relax. A group of young males get on. The smell of cannabis is strong, they are however quiet. Then the muscle bound male with his laptop open, asks where I am going. Its an innocuous enough question, I quietly reply London. He asks why, I explain that it is for court nothing exciting. He asks if I am a solicitor I explain that I am not. He says that he is a plain clothes police officer.
Now far be it for me to find this a coincidence, its more of a God moment. Moving from the carriage with the cannabis infused young people, I find a seat and it happens to be with a plain clothes officer. Now having retired and attending court for a hearing, that directly relates to the attacks and covering up of serious sex offences and crimes by several police forces, the timing of the meeting could not be worse. I try and contain my distaste for plain clothes officers, by asking what area he works in. He replies he works in the multi agency group that monitors and assesses sex offenders and child sex offenders and serious offenders in the community. I try to contain myself, however it proves impossible. I explain that I am actually retired as a police officer, how long ? He asks. I served sixteen years. In uniform and was forced to leave when I was repeatedly raped sexually assaulted beaten threatened and attacked by a still serving officer….. Silence.
He starts telling me that it seems unlikely, that its not all officers. I point out that it is not uniformed officers, it is plain clothes officers who generally do not know how to behave. He starts to get agitated. Its not all he tries to explain. He is fairly aggressive in his suggestions that somehow he knows better than a retired female officer. He provide repeatedly inaccurate information about MAPPA processes, he tells me that they still have Sexual Offences interviewers. I assure him that if they do, they are not as they were, uniformed officers on call to provide specialist support that people could trust. He gets aggressive. Why do I have such a low opinion of plain clothes police officers. I offer him the simplest explanation. There is no logical reason why any policing, including investigation of teh most serious offences needs to be undertaken by officers without a uniform. In fact the lack of uniform leaves the situation of investigating serious offences open to officers taking advantage and not easily identified. No collar numbers. I point out to him that in my years as a specialist provider of interviewing and statement taking, wearing a uniform was both a barrier, yet also a real test of my skills. You see, an officers job is to collate and collect accurate evidence, recorded in such a way that it is available to to the courts. Now this role is actually aside from the keeping the peace is the primary role of police officers. Therefore developing that trust necessary, whilst wearing a uniform develops greater understanding and and trust for the police service. In fact some of the most horrific and difficult statements I ever took were whilst wearing my uniform. In many ways, it helped me to separate myself from the horrors, l by removing my uniform also removed the distressing disclosures. I also think it differentiates the talking about something to realising that by saying it to a person in uniform, a person is heard and visibly accountable. So as I share my wisdom, the guy on the train almost sneers at me. I basically then go all the way.. I suggest that the officers I know moved to plain clothes work ( including the rapist ) were actually unfit to wear a uniform, unfit to be trusted with women or the vulnerable in too many cases. He looks at me with shock. Having been sat for not a long time I am angry to be sharing my journey to give evidence with the colleagues of the attackers. It sickens me. I stand and sit at another seat. This time I am stressed and distractedly tap my foot. The male sat opposite in the next seat to the self confessed plain clothes officer, stares at me. I try and ignore this, then he says. You seems agitated should I get someone. I look at him and say “Excuse me ?’ Yes apparently having overheard the conversation he is more concerned that I am tapping my foot than plain clothes officers justifying attacks on women and defending, against all the statistics that officers do not present a risk to women. I ignore him and stare out of the window. No this male is not finished. ‘You are looking at me ? …. you are starring at me !!! ‘ I am incredulous, a plain clothes police officer who has not basic grasp of statistics and a man sat in the next chair suggesting that he is so important I am staring at him…. I laugh and say ‘I am looking out of the window is that ok ?|” he shifts in his chair. They both leave the train as it then is then diverted, they both scrabble to get off at the next stop and I can sit staring out the window without being interrogated by a plain clothes officer and another male ( who seemed to think that he was so important I was looking at home ) The last part of the journey into London is relaxing. I am nervous, the bag is cumbersome but I am determined.
As always the cabbie is fantastic. He helps me with the papers and asks what its about. I tell him I was attacked by a police officer, he is unsurprised. We talk about the high profile cases in the news. I explain that the officer had also abused kids and got away with it. ( Neither of us have an explanation for this ). There is a moment of silence as the reality of the facts hang in the air. The traffic is not too busy. He like all the cabbies in London is reliable, he finds the court and because he takes a wrong turn offers me a discount. I instead tip him and thank him for getting there safely. He has told me that cabbies are particularly angry about officers attacking women. We discuss the case many years of a taxi cab driver who attacked a woman. The entire community supported the prosecution and moreover when he was released, all demanded that he never be able to return. This is why taxi cabs in London make me feel safer. They are hard working, respectable and genuinely public servants in private business. I trust them completely.
Arriving at the court I am in a waiting area. The staff are really helpful. I am early and sit in the waiting area, Then one of the male security guards I ask about Wi-Fi. He just points to the board and says ‘do what it says up there’ It says on the poster it is for phones and I have a tablet. He says just do what it says. He is short and not at all helpful. I then ask the female security officer sat nearby. She explains the process to me and I thank her. the guy literally says loudly ( not quite shouting ) She just told you what I said. I politely as possible say ‘ No she just explained how to get the Wi-Fi code on my phone not for my phone. Again I decide its not worth any further discussion, I thank her and she gives me directions to the local coffee shop.
After a coffee and as I try to eat something, which is difficult as the nerves are affecting my appetite. I then walk back to court. The barrister arrives with suitcases and a very young female in tow. They have an office to sit in. A large family arrive for another hearing, They are lovely, we pass pleasantries, I look after their bags as they go for their hearing, they return the favour so I can go to the lavatory. There is a slight delay and the court staff are brilliant. they explain the delay, I reschedule my dinner reservation just in case. The judge arrives and I then find out a specialist domestic abuse adviser. We are called into the court, really just a large office space. The barrister announces that the young female had travelled with him as an observer. he thought it a good idea for her to see the case. I am incredulous, my most personal experiences are difficult enough in a room of the very basic staff of three, plus a barrister and an observer.
The judge is just very professional, I realise the difference between London and courts in Hampshire, he is relaxed and informal, but with the air and countenance of confidence and knowledge. He introduces everyone and actually asks if I am comfortable with a third party being present. I politely ask that there be no observer. Much of the evidence I have never verbalised to a soul as no interview was undertaken by police to record the evidence. The barrister agrees. The observer leaves and the proceedings get underway. The Governments position is made clear, they do not accept that the crimes were reported. That even if they were the application for compensation should have been made much before.
Then the evidence begins. The medical issues, the suggestion that I did not have capacity to give evidence, convenient for the employers of the attacker and his associates. Then as this accepted, I place the bundles of documents on the table. It takes up most of the available space. The judge and specialist note that it’s is unlikely I could have reviewed their entire contents as it would be so triggering. They are correct, I provide the medical evidence and leave them the bundles, to review as I am asked to wait outside. They areabsolutely correct. Reading the thousands of pages that detail, police officers, social workers and doctors, all covering for a rapist and child abuser. The descriptions of me are horrendous. My once competant work as the called upon face of Hampshire Police, belittled to nothing more than a thing, mad, deluded, liar…. It is so painful to read that as I prepaired the bundle I literally had to call for my weekly talk pre court talk with a specialist domestic violence worker on the new government helpline. It is devastating. dehunaminsing.
Returning to the court room the barrister coughs and sniffs and prevaricates with suggestions that I could have bought the claim at any time. Then the judges asks me directly. ‘Why did you not?’ I reply ‘There was no supportive medical evidence, just a litany of abuse and targeting by members of the governance’. The barristers coughs increase in volume. I then provide the medical report that was undertaken by an international doctor. It involved diagnostic testing. The findings simple. I have post traumatic stress disorder from sustained domestic abuse. Silence… I have copies for everyone, I tuck the court order under the barristers copy with the details of my late husbands colleague who died. His colleagues changed the records to make it appear as if she was alive, in an attempt to cause me to harass her husband. In fact I saved his life and the state were once again proven to use women dead or alive for violence or unacceptable uses. Falsiying records, disrespecting famillies, children …. why ? to cover for men who have sex with children, the vulnerable, who rape and beat women and expect to do so without being held to account.
The barristers face changes, the cough disappears from his lips. The judge and specialist have the papers in front of them. silence. Then the judge asks. Can you tell us about the first attack by the police officer. I recount it (almost three decades ago ) being dragged from a car by my hair, to the floor, a member of the public stopping as the police officer tried to kick me. Then punched me in the face. Silence …. Barrister looks at the court order that is visible to us all on the desk with the dead womans name emblazoned across it. Signed by solicitors for the British Army. Silence….. The judge asks when the sexual attacks began. I described the first one in the early 2000s. It was the morning, I had been screamed at all night. In the morning, pinned to the bed by my shoulders as he masturbated against my public bone, after ejaculating he took the phone from the side of the bed dialled my friends number, who I had refused to have sex with whilst he watched. He said simply ‘if you come near my wife again I will kill you’ he hung up the call. Told me if I left he would take my children. That he was going to take my photograph and distribute it in the village and tell everyone I was a whore.
Silence……The barrister is visibly shocked. That attack happened after he was working on retricted duties having beaten up a prisoner in a police van whilst he was handcuffed behind his back….. Silence from the court. The barrister withdraws all state objections to my claim and stutters as he tries to justify the three year delay in hearing the case. The attacks I sustained from military and police interventions to try and silence or discredit me. The judge overules the govenments request that I am not allowed to detail the state attempts to attack me to silence. The barrister …. silence…. I describe the police/raf contractor and his attack with a dog lead and vibrator leaving me with vaginal tears and scarring….. silence from the barrister. The judge and specialist worker are now more visibly shocked. Then the burglary whereby the original copies of the rape statement and a 999 long from the subject access request were the only items stolen. It is accepted the state were reposnsible. All other papers were held at my home in France.
The judges asks the specialist to take over questions of me to be mindful of my emtional state. I ask for a break as I am crying. the judge agrees and I leave the room. I cannot stop sobbing. the memories flood into my head. I try and walk with some dignity to the toliet. I crouch on the floor hugging my knees, sobbing uncotrollably. rocking and trying to remnd myself that it is almost over ( aside from the mappa on the train and any number of men and women who have shouted at me in the street, thrown things, gossiped, lied…..) A few minutes pass. I wash my tear stained face and dry it. I leave the toilet and walk back to the court room.
I am asked again. How long did these attacks go on for. I detailed the historic attacks, with approximate dates. Then I am asked about the harasment by the assosciates including the father of my youngest child. I reply that when the court issues the injunction against him for harassment, I first applied to be compensated as I had had to leave my last management career. The judges and worker are reading the papers. I explain that in 2018 the chief constable of Hampshire was directed to provide details of the investigation. However although provided the court had accepted the false evidence from the police officer and his assosciate so the ordercould not be overturned. My child was therefore left in the cusotdy of these two men and their assosciates, beaten attacked and traumatised until the court order expired. I explain this to the judge and again the barrister for the state is silent. The domestic violence specialist asks me about the modus operandi difference between the abusers, I explain that only te police officer was sexually violent.
Silence from the state.. he barrister continues to fumble with papers in front of him. the coughing has stopped. He moves the order with the dead womans name on it towards me. i leave it there for him. A reminder throughout the proceedings of the utter degenerate actions of the women and men employed on tax payers funds. The final question asked gently by the judge. Could I detail the sexual attacks by the police officer all those years ago. I describe as succinctly as I can. Waking at night, him masturbating by rubbing his penis between my buttocks or breasts (dependant upon my sleep position.) then as months passed. Waking with a pillow over my head as he raped me vaginally. Trying to say no through the fabric and pressure.
Silence…. one last question quietly asked. ‘Did you ever go back to him ?’ I replied aas simply as possible ‘No I escaped’ ….. It was finally over. In London the most amazing city in the world, I was heard, I was treated with diginity by the court, the state was as silent and shamed as the representatives they had paid to cover for them. The illusory attempts to cover up historic horrific sexual violence, cover for a police officer who had offended not just against me but children and potentially other women. The reality is still settling. Finally I have given the evidence. The capital city of England has heard that the state has done all in its power to discredit me, yet by doing so they have actually shown the departments and men and women involved to be vicariously supporting men in positions of authority to abuse women and children. This was never what I have stood for at any point in my life. It is with some pride that I see that London is trying to address these systemic issues. Today I read on the news that domestic violence is now going to be prioritised in the same way that terrrorism has been. This is a massive step and one which I wholeheartedly approve, yet it HAS to be focused on the gender disparity, not used to vicimise or seek to criminalise women who speak up……
