I met my partner at a mutual friend’s wedding, and we enjoyed 7 blissful years together before an allegation of historical sexual abuse came crashing into our lives. We both had children from previous relationships and whilst Jamie didn’t have contact with his 2 children, he was a doting, dutiful stepdad and role model to my son. It was a Sunday afternoon when Jamie sat me down and explained that one of his daughters had made an allegation to the police that he had abused her as a child. He was absolutely heartbroken, and I shared the agony with him. How could this kind, caring and loving man have been accused of such a wicked thing? It just wasn’t possible.
He was summoned to the police station to take part in an interview under caution, he explained that it was common practice in situations like this and was I relieved to hear that officers wouldn’t come mob-handed into my home to arrest Jamie and the event be witnessed by my neighbours but more importantly, my son. He duly went and had the interview and upon arriving back home he seemed to be relieved that it was all over and reassured me that the police appeared to agree that nothing untoward had gone on. However, charges were brought against him, and he was given a date for the trial some 18 months away.
A few months after the allegations were made I confided in a family member about the situation and being utterly horrified she disclosed my conversion to other family members. With the exception of my mother and a cousin, every single other person that I loved excommunicated me pretty much immediately. I loved Jamie so very, very much and completely trusted and believed every single word he said. During his time on bail awaiting the trial to begin at no point was I ever invited to attend any meetings that Jamie had with his legal representation which I never questioned, why would I? In the months leading up to the trial, I felt that I had absolutely no one to speak with about what was happening so I joined a support group on Facebook. It took me 7 weeks to build up the courage and begin engaging in the discussions. One lady became my rock, we spoke for hours about our seemingly mutual circumstances and I began to feel a sense of ease and think that all would be good, the truth would come out in court, and we would be able to put the whole horrible experience behind us soon.
Jamie became insistent that I didn’t attend court for the trial, it caused countless arguments in the months leading up to it, but I held my ground and with arms folded tightly I refused to allow him to set off for court on the first day without me. We didn’t speak for the whole car journey. Once at the courthouse Jamie immediately left to seek out his barrister and without so much as a peck on the cheek, he was gone. Unbeknown to me at that time, it was to be the last time I would ever see him.
I sat in the packed waiting room willing the time to pass quickly so that I could gain entry to the courtroom and see justice served. The trial was scheduled to begin at 10am, a brief time after this time had passed, I was approached by a gentleman dressed in court robes who asked me my name and once I had confirmed, he beckoned me into a side room. I took a seat at his bequest and whilst I understood what was being said I could not comprehend the words. Jamie had been indicted on 12 separate charges for sexual assaults against both of his daughters spanning 4 years when they were aged between 6 and 11. He had arrived at court that morning, sought out his barrister and admitted to the whole of his offending, there would be no trial and he was immediately remanded into custody. I didn’t know what to say, the barrister didn’t know what to say, it was all over, and I sat there absolutely horrified and utterly embarrassed about how naive and stupid I had been. But nothing was more important than the sentence playing over and over in my head ‘I’m sorry to have to inform you that Jamie has pleaded guilty to the rape and sexual assaults of his children and has asked me to tell you that he doesn’t want to discuss it with you.’
Those poor girls.…
I left the courthouse alone and made the bus journey home alone. I entered our home alone and I packed up his clothes alone. I cried alone and I screamed the house down alone. I sorted out the debts, the bills and informed anyone and everyone who needed to know what had happened including his employers, alone. I had to sit down and tell the few remaining family and friends who had supported us the awful truth, alone. I still reflect on how stupid I had been in completely believing every word Jamie told me. If I could pass on any advice to someone finding themselves in this situation it would be to question everything and insist on being involved. I would also recommend that the person supporting a person accused requests a ‘Clare’s law’ from the police as had I known about a number of other convictions which Jamie had for domestic violence, I would have walked away once these became known to me and never looked back.
**Clare’s Law, or the Domestic Violence Disclosure Scheme (DVDS), means that anyone can ask the police about a partner. Also, a member of the public can ask about the partner of a close friend or family member.
If the police decide to share the information, it will usually be with the person at risk. This is unless someone else is better placed to use the information to protect the person at risk from abuse (e.g., if the person at risk is a young person or a vulnerable adult).