It's been forever hasn't it? So much has happened and yet I have felt unable to write. Life has given me writers block. Personal events made it hard to write the words down, as if committing them to type would make everything all the more real (and it was all a bit too real at the time), but now I am going to give it a go and get some stuff out. I can hear my husband and my counsellor cheering in my head at the thought of me writing again. Even if its just for me and its going out into the void.
Anyway, here goes nothing.
In recent years I involved in a court case. This in itself sounds like something fairly insignificant, a throw away line, but the reality is it was something that took over my life for many years.
I was initially made a statement to the police in 2016 regarding something that happened to my sister and then they told me there were offences against me and they could build a case for me too. It's a weird feeling when the police tell you you are a victim, for most of my life I had minimized and deflected in an attempt to protect myself and this opened up all sorts of things for me that I had buried years ago.
Over 2 years of waiting to get to court, at times it felt like we may never get there. The police couldn't find the perpetrator for quite some time and after they did they found more victims so wanted to parcel us all into the same case, strength in numbers, so all that took time.
We had a horrible Christmas 2017 where we were waiting for the CPS to finalize the charges, where we were promised it would happen before the holiday, but then the woman dealing with the case just went on leave and so it never happened.
He was charged with 18 offences in January 2018 and we finally went to court in the scorching hot July of 2018. Five victims who were for the most part unrelated, all saying the same thing about this man.
I arrived in London on the Monday night and had to I hang around for a week waiting to give evidence, desperately trying to distract myself from what was ahead of me.
When I eventually gave evidence I was shit scared. I had made the decision very early on that I didn't want a screen up. I wanted to see him. I wanted to be able to look him in the eye and for him to know that it was me who had help put him in the stand. This man had been the bogeyman for so long I needed to see what a pathetic old man he was. It was very cathartic to do so. To be able to stand there and tell the truth. I was on the stand for about 40 minutes. The defense lawyer tried to tie me in knots but failed. My friend and I still laugh about "the carnation defense", a moment where the lawyer tried to tell me that I hadn't mentioned carnations before (it really is this level of nit picking) and I pointed out that I had mentioned pinks, which are a type of carnation. It felt like a 'mic drop' moment. When I came off the stand I felt like I was invincible. I head home feeling like I could take on the world and wait 2 more weeks to hear the verdict
Little did I know what would happen. The trial would turn out a fucking disaster, it overran, the jury looked disinterested, it was so damn hot. Somehow there was some confusion and the judge was persuaded to give them a day off in the middle of the deliberation. They deliberated for approximately a day and a half and they came back with acquittal on 3 and hung jury on the rest of the charges. I couldn't believe it. Had they not been in the same court room as us? How could they not see the pattern in his behaviour?
Of the 3 acquittals, one of which was against me and 2 against two of the other women. It was at this point that I discovered that despite being told that had been 3 offences against me, he had only been charged with one. So that was it, game over for me. I kind of unraveled a bit at this point.
But, there was to be another trial the following January. I would still have to give evidence to support my sister but had to go into another trial knowing what was awaiting me, knowing that I was going to have to face him and that we both knew what he had gotten away with.
This hung over me for another 6 months. I said at the time, it felt like I was made to unpack everything and then once everything was out all over the floor was told, if you could just pack that back up we will see you in 6 months time.
Another Christmas with this hanging over me, it wasn't pretty.
So January arrived and we head back to London again. This second trial ran smoother, more efficiently. The judge, we are told is tough, he is taking no nonsense at all. I give evidence again, the defense lawyer twists my words, tries to trip me up, but I am not scared, I don't have lies to trip me up, this is my truth. I get to say the thing I have always wanted to say to HIM, I know what he is. I look him in the eye when I say that. I fucking hate him, I can feel it pulsing through my veins. I leave the stand and this time I don't feel invincible because I don't trust the system. I am scared, what if this jury can't see what he is?
The case for the prosecution is done in the first week. Week 2 they rattle through the defense and the jury go out on the Wednesday.
I don't know why but I decide to come back for the verdict this time, I was so complacent first time round, trusting those 12 people to make the right decision. I get the train back to London and as the jury goes out there starts the longest 3 days of my life. We are stuck in a tiny room, lots of bodies, including the detective on the case, the radiator is set to hell. My sister has bought knitting needles and wool so we can all pass the time knitting. I start and undo a scarf about 10 times before giving up. On the first day I have with me books, magazine, knitting to help me pass the time. By the second day I give up the idea that I can do anything other than just sit there waiting. I can't concentrate. My sister's knitting is going billy-o, every time someone passes they comment on how far she's got, its her justice scarf she tells them.
On day 3 we are told there is a delay because one of the jurors has failed to turn up. I have the fear. After a couple of hours the judge dismisses him (police later go to his house and he has had a seizure - I often wonder now how he is). We are also told that the judge has promised another juror member that they will be able to attend a funeral on Monday, shit, they are dropping like flies! And then we hear everyone being called back into court. The detective disappears and then texts us from the court room - VERDICTS!
I lift my bag, and me and my sister RUN through the court house, along the corridor, up the stairs, and collapse into the gallery. Out of breath we look down and see that we have beaten the judge into court. HE looks up at us from the dock. I shake my head at him.
The judge comes in. The jury give their verdicts. We can hardly hear. The detective glances up at us and a small smile flickers on her mouth. Guilty on all charges. Sentencing will happen the next morning. When the judge remands him in custody we all cheer. He looks up at us and shakes his head. I nod. Got you, you fucker.
On 1st February 2019 he gets sentenced to 18 years which get reduced to 16 due to his age and ill health.
Now, I know that he will probably only serve half of that, but he is stuck in prison. He has been stuck in prison for 2 years now - during a pandemic (must be really scary to be locked in with a deadly virus running rife), during this heatwave that we are having this weekend.
I try not to think about him as I have gradually picked up all my pieces and move on with my life, but I give a glancing thought about him on a scorching hot day like today where I get to sit in my garden, finally writing again, sipping an ice cold beer because I have the freedom to do so. Karma is a bitch.
