Stories – Lived Experiences

Ethan had grown up in a challenging environment, surrounded by poverty and the influence of negative role models. He longed for acceptance and belonging, and in his search for validation, he fell into the clutches of a local gang. They exploited his vulnerability, pulling him into a world of crime that he could never have imagined. One fateful day, Ethan found himself caught in the middle of a robbery gone wrong. In the chaos, he made a split-second decision that would change his life forever. In the blink of an eye, his childhood innocence was shattered, and he was arrested for his involvement in the crime. The news of Ethan’s arrest rippled through the community, leaving his family and friends in a state of shock and disbelief. His parents, Emma and James, stood by their son, their hearts heavy with remorse for not recognizing the warning signs and protecting him from the clutches of the gang. They were devastated, but determined to support Ethan through this dark chapter of his life. As Ethan entered the prison gates, fear gripped his small frame. The harsh realities of the prison environment surrounded him, and he felt overwhelmed by the towering walls and the sound of clanging metal doors. His youthful innocence contrasted starkly with the harshness of his surroundings. Inside the prison walls, Ethan’s world became confined to a small cell. The days stretched into weeks and months, as he grappled with the weight of his actions. He yearned for a second chance, a way to redeem himself and make amends for the pain he had caused. Meanwhile, Ethan’s parents tirelessly fought for their son’s rehabilitation. They sought legal assistance and engaged with support programs that aimed to provide young offenders with the tools for a better future. Emma and James visited Ethan regularly, offering him unwavering love and support, and reminding him that he was more than the mistakes he had made. In prison, Ethan began attending educational programs and counselling sessions that were tailored to his age group. He immersed himself in books, seeking knowledge and understanding that would help him break free from the cycle of crime. Slowly but steadily, he began to rebuild his shattered self-esteem, discovering strengths he had never known he possessed. Over time, Ethan’s transformation became apparent to those around him. Prison staff and counsellors noticed his dedication to change, his remorse for his actions, and his commitment to personal growth. They became his allies, guiding him along the path of rehabilitation and helping him understand that he could rewrite the narrative of his life. As Ethan’s release date approached, anticipation mixed with trepidation filled his heart. He knew that reentering society would not be easy. However, he was determined to prove that he had learned from his mistakes, that he was capable of change, and that he could make a positive impact on the world around him. Finally, the day arrived when Ethan walked out of prison, his heart brimming with hope and a determination to make the most of his second chance. He reunited with his family, and together they began the difficult process of rebuilding their lives. Ethan’s journey from a child behind bars to a young adult seeking redemption inspired those around him. His story became a testament to the power of rehabilitation, the importance of support systems, and the belief that even in the darkest of times, there is always room for growth and change. Ethan’s experience fuelled his desire to make a difference in the lives of others. He became an advocate for at-risk youth and has remained out of trouble for many years.

There is absolutely nothing that can prepare a mother for the shock at finding out that your son has been arrested for rape. Adam was a quiet lad, hard working and caring. He had his scrapes with the law, much the same as many other young men, he had lost his driving licence through drink/drug driving twice and had an assault charge in his early 20’s which almost saw him jailed, at that time.

Adam had done well academically and enjoyed a successful career in horticulture which enabled him to move to Manchester and start a life there which I hoped would find him settle down and perhaps even start a family one day.

I was just leaving work when Adam called and told me that we needed to have a facetime chat as there was something profoundly serious that we needed to discuss. The 30-minute drive home was agonising as I knew that it must be something really bad as Adam wasn’t particularly one for drama. I called him the minute I got in and as soon as he popped up on the screen, I knew that what he was about to say would be devastating, he had clearly been crying and looked very unwell. He came straight out with it ‘Mum I’ve been arrested for raping a girl who I had sex with a few nights ago’ my heart stopped beating…

He regaled the story which had found him in police custody for the past 13 hours and reiterated repeatedly that he had done nothing wrong. After half an hour I had heard enough and told him that he was no son of mine and closed the app without even saying goodbye. The tears came immediately, and I was still sobbing when my Adam’s dad arrived home an hour later, getting those words, which he had told me, to leave my lips seemed impossible. My Adam, my son, and the word “rape” in the same sentence…impossible? I managed to give his father a brief summary of what had happened and left it to him to contact Adam and discuss it further. So as not to cause me further distress he made the call in his car and to this day I have no idea about the content and I don’t want to but the strong bond and relationship which they had always shared, ended on that day.

 

It took me days to acknowledge what had happened mostly because he had been in what seemed to be a strong relationship with an albeit significantly older woman but one who I had a good relationship with and who seemed to deeply care for him. It was not her who had claimed to have been raped by him, he had gone to another womans home on a “tinder date” and had sex with a person that he had never met before. A one-night stand, what the hell was he playing at? I spoke with his partner, and she disclosed that she had known about what he was doing and was fine about it, “wait, what? You went along with it?” I soon realised though that their personal lives had nothing to do with me and that Adam needed my support, so I contacted him, and he came home to sit down and fully discuss what was going to happen.

 

Adam and his partner continued their relationship, I will always love her for that because I certainly wouldn’t have been as forgiving. Adam was charged and given a committal to crown court date 8 months away and it would be heard in the town where the alleged assault took place, some 150 miles from my home, shortly before Christmas. We rarely spoke about the upcoming trial during this time and Adam seemed confident that a jury would find him not guilty as he had done nothing to warrant any allegations of wrongdoing. In the weeks running up to the trial I was fraught with anxiety and the thought of attending court sickened me but he was my son so I would dutifully attend, and his partner also did so. Hearing the statements read out in court and watching both the complainant and Adam being cross examined will haunt me forever. Each and every word felt like slaps to my face. Sitting opposite 12 people who would determine his guilt or innocence was excruciating. I found myself willing to see through the girls’ lies and allow my son to return to his life unflawed by this experience. On occasion I locked eyes with a couple of them, I will never know if it was due to this that an accusation was made against me that I had been using my mobile phone in the courtroom and I was barred from any further sessions. It wasn’t worth driving all the way to court and back to sit outside the courthouse, so I sat and waited on the last day of his trial alone at home anxiously waiting for Adam to call and tell me that he had been found innocent. That call never came, instead his partner called to inform me that the verdict was guilty and that he had been remanded into immediate custody. My entire world shattered.

 

I couldn’t bring myself to even reply to his partner and hung up on her as she sobbed down the phone – I am sorry for doing that and will always be.  I couldn’t bring myself to speak to her the following day when she called asking what she was to do with his clothes and car that were at her home and it fell to her to make the arrangements in order to hand over his clothing and attend the first visit which he would have, whilst imprisoned. Adam wasn’t given a sentence at the time of his incarceration so none of us knew how long he could be in prison for we found this out 8 weeks later and he was handed a 7-year sentence which absolutely floored me. My boy would miss 7 birthdays, 7 Christmases, not just his but mine, his fathers, his nieces and nephews. His nanna wasn’t in the best of health, and I recoiled in horror at the thought of him never seeing her alive again as prison was not anywhere that I could ever imagine her visiting. Over the following days I began to absorb the shock and tried my best to ignore the news stories which littered social media calling my boy a monster and a rapist. The police photo which was used was awful my boy didn’t look like that person, where was his smile and shining eyes – that person did look like someone capable of rape and worse.

 

I still don’t know where I found the strength to attend that first visit but I can assure you that it is nowhere near as bad as what you expect. The officers are pleasant enough and there are refreshments on sale, you are allowed to hold hands, embrace, and kiss your loved one, at least at the prisons where Adam was anyway. He served 3 and ½ years in prison and was allowed to serve the remainder under licence conditions in the community and after 6 months was permitted to come and live back at home with me and his father. The relationship with his partner ended 18 months after he was released from prison.

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 and 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, and 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).

Emma and Mark had built a life together, filled with love, dreams, and shared experiences. They had always believed in each other and supported one another through thick and thin. But one night, Mark’s decision to get behind the wheel while under the influence shattered their idyllic existence.Emma was a devoted wife and a pillar of strength, but her life was about to be turned upside down when her husband, Mark, was sentenced to jail for drunk driving.

The news of Mark’s arrest and subsequent conviction hit Emma like a tidal wave. Shock, anger, and disbelief washed over her, leaving her numb and emotionally drained. She couldn’t comprehend how the person she loved had made such a reckless choice, putting not only his life but also the lives of others at risk.

In the days that followed, Emma found herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of Mark’s actions bore down on her shoulders, causing her to question her own judgement and wonder if she could have done anything to prevent this outcome. Guilt consumed her as she wondered whether she had missed the signs of his alcohol dependency or had failed to provide the support he needed.

As Mark began his sentence behind bars, Emma faced the daunting task of rebuilding her life without him by her side. She found solace in the support of friends and family who stood by her, offering a listening ear and a comforting presence during this tumultuous time. Their unwavering support helped her navigate the complex emotions she experienced.

Recognizing the need for her own healing, Emma sought professional counselling. In therapy, she delved into her feelings of betrayal, anger, and disappointment. The sessions provided a safe space for her to process her emotions, gain clarity, and find a path forward. With time, she began to understand that while she couldn’t change what had happened, she could control how she responded to it.

Emma immersed herself in personal growth and self-care. She discovered new hobbies, such as painting and hiking, which allowed her to find solace and escape from the harsh reality of her husband’s incarceration. Engaging in activities that brought her joy and a sense of purpose became essential in her journey of healing.

Through her pain, Emma found strength and resilience she never knew she possessed. She channelled her energy into raising awareness about the dangers of drunk driving, volunteering with organisations that supported victims and their families. By sharing her story, she aimed to prevent others from experiencing the same heartache and to promote a culture of responsible decision-making.

Visiting Mark in prison was a challenging experience for Emma. The visits were bittersweet, filled with love and longing, but also with the reminder of the consequences of his actions. She grappled with conflicting emotions of forgiveness, anger, and hope for a better future. Despite the pain, she remained committed to supporting him through his rehabilitation and reintegration into society.

As the months turned into years, Emma’s resilience and determination paid off. Mark completed his sentence and emerged a changed man, committed to his sobriety and making amends for his past mistakes. Together, they navigated the difficult process of rebuilding trust and rebuilding their lives.

Emma’s journey taught her the power of forgiveness, both for her husband and for herself. She learned to let go of the burden of guilt and embraced the possibilities of a brighter future. While the scars of the past would always remain, Emma emerged as a beacon of strength and resilience, a testament to the human capacity for growth and healing.

The road to recovery was not easy, and there were setbacks along the way. But Emma’s unwavering love and belief in second chances enabled her to overcome the challenges that came her way.

My experience is with the death of a prisoner in a Category B prison, whether it is the same across the prison estate I really don’t know.

My partner, T, had been very seriously ill in 2009, part of his problem having been sepsis. He was told that he would have to take a prophylactic antibiotic every day for the rest of his life to prevent a recurrence of the infection. He never completely recovered after 2009 and wasn’t in the best of health when he was sent to prison in early 2017.

T didn’t enjoy the prison food, I don’t think many prisoners do, nutrition didn’t seem to be very important to those in charge. So, T’s diet left a lot to be desired, not a good situation for someone who was already in ill health.

At the end of summer 2018 T had some kind of review when he was told that the very earliest date that he would be considered for release on licence would be September 2024, but he knew that he would be unlikely to be released then as he was ‘maintaining innocence’, a statement that I both believed and supported. It was such a long time in the future. He was already struggling with the whole prison experience, and, to my mind, that marked a change in him. I believe that he gave up. During my fortnightly visits I had always been able to reach him, but it began to take longer and longer. I told him that I thought he had decided to die, his mother had done that, and it had made him very angry, T didn’t even respond to my statement.

Over the next few months T went downhill rapidly. Only seeing him every other Sunday I noticed a marked difference from visit to visit. I remember one visit at the end of November when I stood to hug him as he arrived in the visitor’s hall and I could feel all his ribs down his back, frightening. The following day I tried phoning the prison against T’s wishes, to speak to a medic and a chap phoned me back. Although he listened to my concerns he didn’t seem overly interested. It was very frustrating.

On my last visit before Christmas T was brought into the visiting hall in a wheelchair and remained in the wheelchair for the whole visit, it’s not easy to hug someone in a wheelchair. He had been to the hospital for a scan and was waiting for the results so at least something was being done. He looked absolutely awful; years older than just two weeks earlier.

T used to phone me every morning, during the last couple of weeks before Christmas another inmate had gone to the phone with him carrying a chair so that he could sit and speak to me. I bless that man for his kindness. On Christmas Day there was no phone call although T had warned me that the queues would be huge as all the prisoners wanted to speak to loved ones on the day so he might not ring. No phone call on Boxing Day either, now I was really worried. I phoned the prison and was given a number for safeguarding and told to ring a leave a message which I did. Some hours later I had a call from a prison officer, part of the safeguarding team, to tell me that T was in ICU in the local hospital. So much for all the signs around the prison about keeping the families involved being such a positive influence on reoffending.

By the time I got to the hospital the next day I was taken to one side by a doctor and told that T had cancer and sepsis and was terminal. They were waiting for a bed to become available in a general ward and ICU couldn’t offer any further help. Devastating, especially as they hadn’t told T. But on a very positive note, at least T wasn’t manacled to the bed which is very common with prisoners in an NHS hospital although he did have the obligatory two prison officers beside him.

After a few days T was moved into a general ward, again with his prison guards. I have to say that the prison officers, barring one, were very kind and considerate, at least as far as they could be. The one who wasn’t was simply completely unengaged and ignored both T and me. During this time, we were both offered support by the prison chaplain which was politely refused. I also met with a member of the palliative team in the hospital who told me that moves were being made for early release so that T could spend his last days with his loved ones, the family liaison officer had already told me about this. This member of the hospital staff also told me that, in the years that he had been doing the job, not one prisoner had lived long enough to be released. It seems that release on compassionate grounds is only considered when death will happen before any decision can be made.

By now the doctors had informed T of his terminal diagnosis and, as nothing more could be done for him in hospital, he was asked whether he would be happy to return to the hospital wing of the prison. I was also asked and was told that I would be able to be with my partner during his last few days. T decided that the prison hospital was where he preferred to be. And so he was doped up to the eyeballs on lots of morphine and transferred by a special ambulance, I was not allowed to go with him. A sign of things to come although I didn’t know it then.

The following day was my first experience of the prison hospital. I had to report to the gate, put almost all my possessions in a locker and then be escorted through the gates. While I cannot fault the treatment my partner and I received in the prison hospital, the staff were so kind, it immediately became obvious that the promise of being able to be with T all the time was not true, I could be with him all the time between 9 in the morning and 5 in the afternoon. I appreciate it was all about safety and manpower, but it was still a lie.

When your partner is in prison you become accustomed to all sorts of aspects of life that you never knew existed before. Those last few days with T were very special even in such circumstances, we said all that we needed to say and our love carries on. I also remember the many kindnesses which were afforded to us both from the simply wonderful nurses to the prison officer who suggested cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch, I had forgotten how good they were. Very special people who made those last few days a little easier.

Needless to say the end, when it came, was in the early hours of the morning. It was obvious the previous afternoon that T’s death was very near, and I asked whether I could stay overnight to be with him. The prison authorities, with their usual care and consideration, turned me down. I am told that a nurse was with him when he passed. Who knows?

I was allowed to see T’s body and to spend some time with him that morning, he looked very peaceful, and I will always be happy for that time. He was and still is the love of my life, a selfish love in later life that was about us, not about parenting or financial support, just us.

I have friends who are undertakers and they said they would drive to the prison to collect T for me when the time came to save me having to worry about it. I mentioned this to an assistant prison governor only to be told that it would not be necessary or possible. When a prisoner dies in custody the prison authorities become the next of kin, they deal with registering the death and the funeral. So much for being a wife! On a plus side you are given some say in the funeral arrangements and the prison authorities to pay for the funeral up to a certain amount. I asked whether the cremation could be midday so that our daughters and I could travel down and back in a day. The family liaison officer explained that they only booked the cheap slots i.e. first thing in the morning. So, we had to stay overnight.

The cremation was very simple and very moving, even the prison representatives found it so.

As far as the post-mortem, the Coroner’s Report and the final death certificate are concerned, we had to wait just over two years for the report and another three months for the certificate. I was issued with a Coroner’s Certificate of the Fact of Death very quickly although some services didn’t immediately recognise this including the bank. But a quick explanation allowed me to complete the necessary paperwork to allow T’s affairs to be settled.

In the early hours of the morning when I am struggling to sleep I play all this back in my mind, I have so many questions, firstly could I have done more? Should I have intervened sooner with the prison medics whether he liked it or not? Did the prison have T’s full medical history? Was anyone checking that he was actually taking his medication? I suspect the answer to that is no and that he wasn’t. There were also things on the post-mortem report which I question now, should I have asked at the time? It wouldn’t have changed the outcome. When T was still in hospital with the sepsis raging his major organs were shutting down except for his kidneys, then he went into kidney failure going from Stage 1 to Stage III in three days. But the post-mortem report said his kidneys were fine. And no mention was made of the sepsis.

Ultimately it was his life and his decision, and I respect that. Given what followed with the Covid pandemic I know he would really have struggled without visits and phone calls and being banged up for 23 hours a day. I cannot find it in my heart to wish that on him, he is now free and at peace.

If anyone reading this is a close family member of a prisoner who is suffering ill health, I urge them to establish contact with the prison medical authority to check that they have the prisoner’s full medical notes, and that any regular medication is still being prescribed.

Lily had always been curious, seeking excitement and an escape from the monotony of her everyday life. However, her search for thrills led her down a treacherous path. She fell into the grips of addiction, as the allure of drugs slowly consumed her.

Her family, devastated by Lily’s downward spiral, watched helplessly as their once bright and promising daughter slipped further away. They pleaded with her to seek help, to break free from the destructive grip of addiction, but their words fell on deaf ears.

One tragic night, Lily’s desperation pushed her to the brink. She found herself in the midst of a drug deal gone wrong, caught in a web of deceit and violence. In the chaos, the authorities intervened, and she was arrested for her involvement in the illegal activities.

Lily’s parents, Sarah and Mark, were heartbroken. They had tried so desperately to save their daughter from this fate, but it seemed that their efforts had been in vain. The pain of seeing their daughter in handcuffs, her eyes filled with regret and sorrow, was almost too much to bear.

As Lily entered the prison gates, a sense of cold reality washed over her. The walls seemed to close in on her, trapping her in the consequences of her actions. She was no longer the vibrant, carefree girl she once was, but a young woman burdened by the weight of her choices.

In prison, Lily faced the harsh realities of withdrawal and solitude. The days dragged on, and she found herself reflecting on the choices that had led her to this point. Regret washed over her like a tidal wave, as she realised the pain she had caused not only to herself but also to those who loved her.

Behind the prison bars, Lily had a chance to confront her demons. She enrolled in rehabilitation programs and therapy sessions, determined to understand the root causes of her addiction and find a way to rebuild her life. Slowly, she began to unravel the layers of pain and trauma that had driven her down this dark path.

Throughout her incarceration, Lily’s parents remained her unwavering support system. They visited her regularly, offering words of encouragement, forgiveness, and a glimmer of hope. They reminded her that she was not defined by her mistakes but by her capacity to grow and change.

Over time, Lily’s dedication to her recovery became evident to both the prison staff and her fellow inmates. She volunteered for educational programs, using her own experiences to raise awareness about the dangers of addiction. She immersed herself in art and writing, finding solace in creative expression.

As her release date approached, Lily emerged from prison with a newfound sense of purpose. She had come face to face with the consequences of her actions and had taken responsibility for her mistakes. She was determined to rebuild her life, to make amends, and to use her experiences to help others who were still trapped in the throes of addiction.

Lily’s journey from a lost and broken soul to a beacon of hope was a testament to the power of resilience and the strength of the human spirit. With the support of her family and a newfound determination, she embarked on a mission to reshape her life, to mend broken relationships, and to advocate for change within the system that had held her captive.

As she stepped back into the world, Lily carried the weight of her past but also a renewed sense of purpose. She walked hand in hand with her family, grateful for their unwavering love and support. Together, they forged a path of healing, redemption, and a commitment to a brighter future.

The fact that Simon had been born with an incredibly debilitating condition which greatly affected his ability to use his legs, he had always been a ladies’ man. By his own admission Simon loved the ladies, even more than that he loved the attention which his cheeky-chappy demeanour brought to him. He was a popular member of his community and having moved some years ago from England to Wales he was well known for his stoic patriotism of his beloved England teams, regardless of the sport. Simon also liked a drink and was a well-known face in the local pubs which he had made his own, in the city which he had made his home.

In July 2017 Simon had been out celebrating his birthday and by 6 pm had decided to call it a night and called a taxi. Simon was struggling a little due to his disability getting into the taxi and a woman assisted him with his legs then as they were pulling away, she knocked on the window and asked for a lift with them, Simon agreed and as they were pulling up at his flat, he invited her inside for a beer. Once in his lounge she asked if she could give him a birthday kiss which he agreed to. A little while later Simon went to bed and his guest attempted to initiate sex with him, but he was in no state to reciprocate her advances and soon fell asleep.

When Simon woke up the woman was nowhere to be seen so he went to look for her, half expecting to find out that she had absconded in the night whilst he was sleeping. He found her passed out in the living room having opened and drank a bottle of Jack Daniels which his mum had given him before she passed away in December 2016. She had heavily vomited what she had drunk all over herself and the carpet around her. Andrew adored his mother and was utterly disgusted and heartbroken to see how his kindness had been repaid and so asked her to leave.

Within a matter of hours, the police arrived, and Simon was arrested on suspicion of rape, handcuffed, and placed in a police van. As he was leaving, he saw the scenes of crime van arrive and the officers dressed in their suits entering his house to begin the forensic investigations. At the station whilst he was treated with dignity and respect, he recalls that the experience was the thing of nightmares, and he still suffers flashbacks and panic attacks to this day. He also left the police station as he arrived, at no point was he offered any support or suggestions of any help available. Normally a person arrested for sexual offending is handed a flyer for The Samaritans. There is no denying the fantastic job done by this charity but handing a person who has just sat through one of the most harrowing and difficult interviews of their life a document which offers advice for those thinking about suicide is entirely counterproductive for their immediate mental health state. But this is pretty much the norm in every single initial contact made with the police. On occasion and more so in more recent times the duty solicitor may direct them to approach a support group on social media.

Completely destroyed by the allegations and fearing that everyone would turn against him Simon began to have the darkest of thoughts and had he not stumbled across a support group for the falsely accused that day would have been his last. He created a post describing his despair at having found himself in this situation and concerns about what the future would hold and received a reply within minutes and spoke with a number of fellow sufferers for hours who offered him words of comfort and advice. This group and others were to form an integral part of Simon’s journey and he found himself becoming friends with many of the members who have assisted him and remains as such to this day.

On Christmas Eve 2017 Simon received a call from the police informing him the case against him was to be closed and that no further action would take place,  In the background other officers were calling out “congratulations” and “Merry Christmas” and at that point it became blatantly evident that at no point had anyone involved in the investigation believed the complainants allegations. Of course, Simon was elated that he wouldn’t be facing the possibility of a trial and potential wrongful conviction but that has done little to take away the damage that had already been done or excuse the devastation which he had endured whilst under police suspicion.

Simon speaks often to others placed in this situation and uses his experiences to assist anyone finding themselves living through the darkest of times which he overcame himself. He very bravely allowed himself to be interviewed for the “we believe you” documentary which I have discussed elsewhere in this book. He admits that had it not been for the groups and their members who have offered him support, advice and above all else friendship during his darkest time that he doesn’t believe that he would be here today. Thank you, my friend, from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to use your contribution.

A partner in prison, two children to look after alone, pregnancy, birth and death. This is my story:

I was three months pregnant when my partner was arrested and sent to prison for a sexual offending. The shock and trauma of this having happened was unbearable in itself, but fast forward six months and the pain and suffering only got worse. Late one night I went into labour while he was in prison, things took a tragic turn for the worst and sadly what should have been a happy day holding our bundle of joy, quickly turned into a real-life nightmare.

Our baby was born sleeping. I had an excruciating wait of a couple of hours before he called, and l had to tell him the dreaded news. Both saddened and struck with grief we didn’t know what to do now or what our next steps would be.  Family members and hospital staff rallied around, and we made a million calls to the prison in an attempt to get my partner to the hospital so that he could hold his baby for the first and last time. To my absolute surprise, the prison was great in such tragic circumstances.

After a few battles, later that day, he was escorted through the building to my bedside. We had to sit 2 metres apart (due to covid) . He was cuffed on a chain, wearing gloves and a mask and two guards were standing watching us the whole time. But all that mattered was that he was finally able to hold our little boy and say goodbye.

We were allowed 30 minutes. After that time, he was escorted back through the hospital, placed back in the van and transported back to the prison.

Six weeks later the day arrived when we could finally lay our baby to rest. We had been forewarned that there would be no prior notice as to whether he would be allowed to attend the funeral and if he was, it would be under the strict licence conditions which he was granted on the ROTL issued after our baby’s death, there would be no intimacy allowed.

On the day of the funeral, much to my surprise a van arrived and there he was. Much to everyone’s surprise he was allowed to sit next to me, hold my hand and we cuddled and comforted each other through our darling boys sending off. He was also allowed a few moments after the service with his family.  The guards on duty that day could not have been more caring, understanding and thoughtful. I will forever be grateful not only to them but both the prison chaplain and the head of the prison who catered to our needs and allowed us to share the last moments with our son together.

Once the service was over, he was escorted back to the prison. I found out later that he was allowed to spend the rest of the day out of his cell and was given counselling to assist with having lost his son. I guess you could say that we were “lucky” in some respects because my partner had an in-cell phone so we spoke at great lengths, which really helped us both. The cost of these calls is staggering, and I estimate that personally I spent hundreds of pounds on additional calls during this time.  Almost every penny of the £25.50 which he earned per week also went on ensuring that we kept in touch regularly.