by Sharp, Janis
Gary never leaves the UK, rarely leaves north London and never goes on holiday, yet they wanted to drag him to a foreign land and incarcerate him in some godforsaken prison for sixty years. Well, he couldn’t go, he just couldn’t. Anyone thinking a computer geek should serve sixty years in a US prison, or in any prison for that matter, had to be crazy.
After the US indictment in 2002 and their announcement of their intention to extradite, the fear was consuming me. I’d wake up in the night sweating and in a state of terror, thinking that they might be going to take Gary at any second. I felt that we were the ones being terrorised by the government and not the other way round.
How could the CPS, who had intended to prosecute Gary, suddenly tell us months later that they were not going to prosecute him after all, as they had been ‘ordered’ from the very top to stand aside to let America deal with him? Who ordered them? And this was despite the CPS having put in writing their dissatisfaction with the lack of any evidence from the US other than what they described as hearsay that would not be admissible as evidence in a UK court.
How could the CPS be allowed to cherry-pick like that? The same CPS prosecutor had just allowed Aaron Caffrey to be tried in Southwark Crown Court, where he was acquitted. Yet Aaron was accused of attacking and bringing Port Houston to a halt immediately after 9/11. Why wasn’t Gary being tried in the UK like Aaron Caffrey and Mathew Bevan and every other alleged UK computer hacker before him?
That so many NASA and Pentagon computers did not have basic security installed that would immediately have flagged Gary’s presence was shocking to everyone. Gary had embarrassed the US and for that he was to pay a high price.
David Burrowes, Gary’s MP, found out at a later date that the cyber-notes Gary had left were one of the major reasons why America was relentless in its pursuit. They were angry because in the American ambassador’s words, ‘He mocked us.’
We felt that if we kept quiet and if Gary kept a low profile and avoided making their lack of security public, America might drop the extradition warrant and let it go.
It was Christmas 2002 and we were going to make this the very best of Christmases as our five little ones were looking forward to it so much and we knew that Gary would love to see their faces when they opened their presents. The children all helped to decorate the Christmas tree and Mae made a Christmas angel to put on the very top of it. We took them to visit Santa in Crews Hill in Enfield and real deer were there for the children to interact with. Christmas Day was magical and my Christmas wish was for Gary to stay here where he belonged and for the children to have a happy future ahead of them.
More than a year had now passed since Gary’s arrest in March 2002 and on 5 April 2003 Karen Todner and Tracey Newport from Kaim Todner Solicitors and Gary’s QC, Edmund Lawson, met with the legal attaché to the US embassy in London to discuss a document containing a proposed plea bargain. They were taken on a tour of the US embassy in Grosvenor Square. The building has nine storeys, three of which are below ground, and Karen said it had shops and cafés and was like walking around a city. However, no matter how impressive it was, Karen did not for one second lose sight of why she was there.
Extract from the notes of Edmund Lawson QC:
At face value it would seem to be an extremely one-sided document with not too much benefit to Mr McKinnon. Instructing solicitors understand that he would serve the totality of that sentence, minus fifty-two days per year and in a low-category facility. America have also indicated that they would be willing for Mr McKinnon to transfer relatively quickly to an English prison to serve his sentence here but that he would serve the actual time imposed by the American court as his sentence rather than, for example, half off for any sentence under four years as in England and Wales.
Mr McKinnon’s initial view is not to accept this offer. He states he does not trust the American authorities to abide by the agreement.
When Miss Todner asked Mr [?] why they felt that the matters could not be dealt with in this country under the Computer Misuse Act, his response was that they did not feel that the sentencing authorities for offences under the Computer Misuse Act were of sufficient severity to counter Mr McKinnon’s conduct. Mr [?] in fact kept referring to the fact that ‘one state’ wanted Mr McKinnon ‘to fry’ and that should he contest extradition proceedings, they would be looking for an extremely lengthy sentence.
Although Karen had not told us about the ‘fry’ threat at this point as the discussion with the US was confidential, the fact that the plea bargain could not be guaranteed and that the proposed sentence was X number of years ‘per count’ was terrifying enough.
I started having nightmares about running through fields with Gary to try to reach a place of safety. In one of the dreams Gary was little and I was holding him under my arm as I was running through the streets trying to find a place to hide. People were offering to hide us but the security cameras had seen us going in so we had to leave again and keep running. I would wake up exhausted and unable to shake the feeling of absolute fear.
• • •
As time went on, we started to carry on with our lives as normally as possible under the circumstances. Gary was confident that the US would be unable to show evidence of any damage as he hadn’t caused any and we thought that as so much time had passed, they must be going to drop the case against him.
We still had Mae, Jay, Willie, Michael and Charlotte with us and they needed all our day-to-day attention. Being so unbelievably busy looking after the children was a partial escape from dwelling on what we had no control over with regard to Gary’s fate, inextricably linked to our own. But although the children filled my heart they didn’t halt the fear that hovered there.
Breakfast time, bath time, bed time and all the happy chaos in between occupied us. The children loved nothing more than to curl up in bed while I read them a story: the same story night after night after night, as that was what they wanted to hear.
I invented cartoon characters, paving stones from famous London squares and weaved them into a story about a naive young paving stone named Lester Square exploring London with his friend Trafalga when they were out of their squares together. All of the children we fostered loved the stories and enjoyed singing and dancing, so I wrote and recorded the ‘Lester Square’ song, which they adored dancing and jumping around to.
Being an artist, Wilson couldn’t resist drawing Lester and Trafalga and their friends from other London squares, bringing the characters even more to life for the children. Because they loved them so much we later decided to publish our first book: Lester Square. We were over the moon when Foyles bookshop sent us a letter congratulating us on how many copies we had sold through their shops.
Two companies rang us to say they were interested in making an animation of Lester. We were excited, but until we knew that Gary was going to be OK, we couldn’t concentrate on any of our own plans.
The children were very settled with us. We did everything together and Mae and Jay got excellent reports from school. They were popular with their teachers and the other pupils and were constantly being invited to parties. We were very much a family.
The social workers came to visit one day to tell us that now the children were doing so well, their behavioural problems resolved, they were looking for people to adopt them and were intending to advertise them in the Be My Parent magazine. Although I always knew this time would come, I had put such thoughts to the back of my mind. Logically I knew that the children would be going to people who were younger than us, probably people who couldn’t have children, but the thought of it cut my heart like a knife.
Taking photos of the children for the magazine was one of the hardest things. The children had no idea what the photos were for and we felt as though we were betraying them, as they sat together on the floor, smiling and looking up at us with trusting eyes.
We wondered if we’d be allowed to adopt the children, but because of the uncertainty of Gary’s situation, I doubted i
t would be feasible.
It was a hot summer’s day and we took the children to Paradise Wildlife Park, an adventure-park-cum-wildlife-centre. The children dashed straight into the large paddling pool. Willie was singing as they were splashing around and that made us laugh, but it was a bittersweet moment as I could no longer imagine life without them.
We decided to go on the helter-skelter and the older children got themselves into sacks and whizzed down. Charlotte wanted to go on it too, so I took her up and we both went inside the sack and I had my arms tightly around her to keep her safe. As we started going down, my right arm was pressed hard against the side and suddenly I was in agony as it was tightly dragged all the way down until we reached the bottom. Every second of the friction burning and tearing caused excruciating pain. I desperately wanted to tuck my arm into the sack but I couldn’t move it for risk of letting Charlotte go for even a second – I instinctively protected her, no matter what.
When we got off at the bottom, my skin was raw and bleeding and layers of skin had been totally removed. I was in agony.
We went to first aid but because of health and safety they are no longer allowed to give any cream or medication to members of the public for burns or injuries, which seemed absurd – what’s the point of having a first aid centre when they can’t give first aid? We hurried straight home so I could put gel from our aloe vera plant onto the friction burn to relieve some of the pain, which it did almost immediately.
The phone rang and it was Family Placement to say that they had found potential adopters for the children. When we told the children they would be leaving us they were distraught. They cried all night and told each other that they were staying and that the others were going because they were naughty.
Mae was extremely rude to one of the adopters when she spoke to her on the phone. I had never heard Mae sound so rude and angry. We knew how much the children were hurting and tried to reassure them that they would be loved. All of the progress the children had made started to fade before our eyes as their survival mode kicked in.
The chosen couple visited the children at our home and I liked them immediately. Difficult though it was for us, I felt that the children really would be loved and that comforted me. We were raw but the woman planning to adopt seemed caring and sensitive to our feelings and during an official meeting without the children, we cried together.
The time was drawing closer for the children to move to their new home. Wilson and I took them on holiday and Gary and my sister came along too and we all had the best time ever. We swam, sang and cycled and Mae won a children’s dance competition.
‘Janis, let’s sing a song,’ said Jay.
‘I’d like that too,’ said Mae, holding the end of one of her pigtails to her mouth.
‘Which song shall we do?’
‘“You Are My Sunshine”,’ they said in unison.
I knew this was going to kill me. It was the song I sang to baby Charlotte and to Mae, and to Jay, Michael and Willie. Halfway through I had to stop and leave them to carry on singing. I told the children I had something in my eye but Mae followed me through to the other room and through tears, said that she didn’t want to leave and wanted us all to run away together so that no one could find us. It was heartbreaking.
We did our best to prepare the children for the move and told them how much we liked and trusted the people who were to become their parents. The day the children were leaving was one of the hardest days of our lives. The one consolation was that we liked the people who were adopting them, but saying goodbye and watching them drive away was devastating. The man was going to be the main stay-at-home carer as the woman worked and I knew that Mae was desperately keen for the woman to be at home with them.
Watching them drive away tore us apart and I knew that as well as being sad, Mae was angry with me for letting them go.
For the next few weeks Wilson and I would find ourselves beginning to cry when we were in the car or walking through the supermarket. We worried about the children constantly.
That’s the thing about fostering. When the children leave or are adopted, the chances are you might never see them again and it can feel almost like a bereavement. Foster carers aren’t officially allowed to grieve but of course they do. They are human beings and naturally worry about the future of the children they have cared for and who have lived with them as part of their family.
It is very difficult for foster carers to raise concerns about a child’s welfare after the child has left their care. Foster carers are basically expected to know their place and rocking the boat is done at your peril.
Because of the secrecy of the family courts, even although many years have passed I could be prosecuted for voicing certain details of children we’ve cared for. However, I’m now going to raise some general points.
Although this does not relate to children we have fostered, children in the UK are allowed to be fostered and adopted by people who belong to cults, and apparently even by people who worship Satan, whether or not the birth parents object. Satanism is a long-established officially recognised religion in the UK and was recently upheld as such by our courts.
While watching the Nicky Campbell Sunday TV show The Big Question on BBC1, I was surprised to see a man who apparently performs in porn shows say he is also a foster carer. I doubt this would have been allowed in the past but times have changed.
I consider myself to be reasonably open minded and tolerant. However, when it comes to children I believe we should always err on the side of caution.
When situations arise where foster carers have what they regard as legitimate concerns about the welfare of children they have previously fostered, they should surely be allowed to spend a day with the children to speak to them on their own, or in the presence of an independent social worker, as it could put minds at ease and ensure the children’s safety.
No system is infallible. In one case a birth mother went to court to try and prevent the adoption of her children, when out of the blue an arrest warrant was issued for her. If she did not attend another court at exactly the same time as the adoption hearing was taking place in a different court, she was to be arrested. The young mother, although terrified, bravely went to court on her own to fight for her children. At the very last minute someone managed to sort out the error that had occurred. The arrest warrant for the children’s mother was deemed to be a ‘mistake’. This happened to the same mother again some months later when she was again wrongly imprisoned for days while in the midst of fighting for her children. The secrecy of the family courts can make it almost impossible for genuine cases of injustice to come to light and it is inevitable that there will always be some such cases.
Ironically the insight we gained into the workings of the system was akin to a rehearsal for what was to come in Gary’s case, and was partly responsible for some of the decisions I took that I believe played a major part in saving Gary.
CHAPTER 8
SNATCHED
Gary and Tamsin separated in 2003. Gary was living a hermit-like existence and rarely ventured out until he met Lucy from Leicester in late 2004. Lucy was down to earth, easygoing and attractive, with blondish hair and a ready smile. She put Gary at his ease. He was comfortable in Lucy’s company and it was good to see him looking relaxed for the first time in years.
Lucy lived in Leicester but worked in London for a charity five days a week. She and Gary started to see each other. They had a lot in common, including a love of children, cats, music and cooking. Eventually Gary told Lucy about the US indictment just in case it ever reared its head again, although by then more than three years had passed since Gary’s arrest in 2002, so we were sure it was going to be dropped. I mean, they couldn’t just decide to try to extradite him more than three years after his arrest, could they?
Suddenly, on 7 June 2005 the phone rang: it was Gary.
‘Mum, I’ve been arrested.’
‘Oh no, Gary, no!’ I screamed. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in Brixton Prison.’
I could hear the fear in his voice.
‘What’s wrong, Janis, what’s happened?’ said Wilson anxiously.
My voice was breaking and I could hardly speak. I was trying to hold it together as absolute terror struck my heart.
‘Gary’s been arrested, he’s in Brixton Prison.’
Saying the words out loud made it worse somehow, as though an invisible veil shielding me had been ripped away, forcing me into a stark reality I wasn’t ready to face.
It reminded me of when, months after my mum died, I had to fill out a form that involved writing down that my mum was ‘deceased’ and I couldn’t do it. I mean obviously I knew my mum was dead, but somehow having to write down that word was the most traumatic thing, as the finality of her death hit me and I was forced to accept the painful reality I thought I had faced but hadn’t.
Actually saying the words ‘he’s in Brixton Prison’ tore through my heart. I couldn’t even voice the thought of the word ‘extradition’ as that would make it real and my mind couldn’t deal with it right now.
I could hear Gary’s voice in the distance.
‘Two men jumped out of a car when I was walking along the road and asked if I was Gary McKinnon. When I said yes they arrested me and bundled me into a car. They said they were the extradition squad and brought me to Brixton Prison. The guards are taking me to court in the morning.’
Gary was trapped; I wanted him out. I wanted to run with him to safety but they had him, he wasn’t free anymore.
‘When the extradition squad stopped you, you should have said no you weren’t Gary McKinnon. Why didn’t you ring me? I could have done something!’ I screamed.
‘You couldn’t, Mum.’
‘Are you in a cell on your own?’
‘No, I’m with a Scottish man.’
‘What is he in prison for?’