As the judge told the guards to take the men to their cells, one of them started sarcastically clapping. I didn’t see who.
Speechless, I sat for a minute trying to take in what had happened. I had no idea the sentences would be so long. Eventually I was roused from what must have been shock by the movement of those around me who were getting up to walk out. Many had tears in their eyes. I thought Jane was going to burst with pride, she was so pleased – it was a phenomenal result. Like a herd of sheep we were led out and surrounded by police. Outside I was approached by a German journalist who was part of the press throng but one of the witness support workers came and told me not to talk.
After a debrief and congratulations from Noel, Mum and me went to the pub with the police. As we walked away from the courtroom there were press vans everywhere and reporters speaking urgently to cameras.
The atmosphere in the pub was wonderful. The police were all laid-back and relieved that they had got the right result. They had put so much time and effort into the investigation. I felt like part of a team, like we had all done it together; I felt safe and special. In the background there was a TV screen showing footage from outside the court. Then it cut to mugshots of the men. Mohammed’s face flashed up, then Jammy, Spider and Bassam. Underneath each one, a caption gave details of their sentence. I looked at them without fear. I despised them all and what they had done, and as I took a sip of the champagne that was being handed out, I wished them as difficult and painful a sentence as they had handed out to me.
‘Good riddance,’ I whispered under my breath.
Epilogue
BLAMELESS
The story was in every newspaper and on every television station. It was one of the most controversial cases of sexual exploitation in British history. The nation was sickened by what had happened and the verdicts and sentences sparked reviews in authorities and agencies all over the UK. The one question that was continually asked was how had it happened on such a scale for so long?
Until the judge read out the sentences and sent the gang down for life I did not realise the scale of what I had been involved in. All the girls told the same story. We had been kept isolated so none of us realised there were others involved. And we were just the tip of the iceberg. Oxford police are still identifying victims – and that’s just in one town.
The Children’s Commissioner for England carried out a two-year study into child sexual exploitation by groups and gangs and issued a report in the wake of the Oxford case in November 2013. It identified several thousand children at risk of sexual exploitation by groups and gangs. The network of men I was sold to was vast: it was a factory that took in the vulnerable as raw material, corrupted them and put them to work. It is a grotesque industry and, sadly, I believe that it is just as prevalent now as it was when I myself was caught up in it.
The level of manipulation and coercion was shocking. Me and the other girls were brainwashed so effectively and thoroughly that none of us possessed free will. We were owned, we were hollow husks – our will belonged to the men. Singled out and isolated, we did not engage with anyone. The links we built with our abusers were based on a web of threats, addiction and compulsion. It was like Stockholm syndrome – the psychological phenomenon whereby victims of kidnapping start to display positive attachment to their captors. None of us was capable of making decisions for ourselves and were made to believe that what we were doing we were doing willingly. The men are paedophiles who are experts in grooming vulnerable girls. They are pieces of dirt who deserve nothing; they are weak and pathetic and the only solace I have is that they are the ones whose lives are over because they are locked away in cells.
It was only after I broke away from the gang that I began to realise the deep psychological control they had exerted over me. I had believed what happened to me was my own fault; I didn’t see myself as a victim. Often I had felt a duty to protect them. They made me feel that I was the problem and I deserved to be treated the way I was, which I now know was ridiculous. I only really came to terms with the fact I wasn’t to blame when I heard the details given at the trial – it was like a veil was lifted from my eyes.
I had always known that I had been let down by social services. At the height of my problems no one seemed to want to take control. But I’d been let down by them all my life, from their reluctance to act when I lived with Terri and Shane to the inappropriate placements they shuttled me between. However, I didn’t realise just how much Mum had been let down by them too until I heard the evidence at the trial. While I was preoccupied with what was happening to me, she was desperately trying to make people aware that there was something very serious happening. Thankfully, things are changing. Local authorities are now re-evaluating the way they deal with children who go missing and who display signs of being exploited.
After things died down I tried to restart life once again but it has been hard. Meanwhile, Operation Bullfinch rumbled on and there were further arrests as the net widened. It became the highest priority for Oxford police, which meant there was the constant possibility I would have to give more statements. It was tiring; I just wanted to move on.
Soon after the sentencing I began to get depressed again. I have probably had depression for most of my life and now recognise that it builds up and comes to the surface when I don’t have anything to occupy my mind. The trial and the run-up to it had taken so much time and energy, when it was over I felt deflated – I had no focus, I felt worthless. Lethargic, I didn’t want to go out or talk to anyone so I went back to my GP, who prescribed antidepressants.
The psychological impact will probably be with me all my life. I had nightmares and flashbacks and needed sleeping tablets. I woke up screaming and Noah worried because he slept in the room opposite mine. Sometimes I woke up crying.
I tried to put everything behind me. If I thought too much about it then I started to get scared. Mum had nightmares too.
For a long time after the trial people who knew me were congratulating me.
‘I bet you are happy?’ they’d say.
Not really, I’d think, because they only got what they deserved and it still hasn’t changed what happened, and is still happening.
I dealt with things my own way. I tried not to reflect and put everything to the back of my mind. To some extent I still do but eventually that will change, I expect. I no longer blame myself, which I did for a long time so I guess that’s progress. And writing this book has helped me to make sense of it all and put events into perspective. Now that it’s down on paper I’m hoping I can move on. I never had much faith in counsellors and haven’t used them. And I wanted to leave a record for Noah so he knows the truth.
I am prepared for his questions when he is older. I expect he will be angry – he has every right to be. I will be blamed. I will tell him the truth and it will be his choice if he wants to find his father. If he does, I will help him. I don’t know where Chris is now and do not want to know. But I would never stop Noah and I will warn him that he will be let down by either of the men who may have fathered him.
The biggest confidence booster I had after the trial was getting my first job in the summer of that year. I was convinced I was unemployable because my education had been so chequered and I’d been in trouble with the police. But Mum kept encouraging me and so I went to the job centre. I applied for a job in a care home, waited for months and heard nothing. I got despondent and wrote it off but then out of the blue I received a letter in the post saying I had been invited for a job interview out of 170 applicants. I convinced myself there and then that I would get let down but I went for the interview and, when they called me an hour later and offered me the job, I was ecstatic. A few weeks later I started the job. I loved it and the sense of worth it gave me – I got a real buzz from earning my own money and being able to look after my son and buy him things. I’m determined to give him a better start in life than the one I had.
I love him, and so does his granny.
; When I look back at those first 10 years of my life before I was adopted it seems like they were lived by another person. And so they were: they belong to Lauren, not Lara. Now I have my little boy I realise how important love, security and boundaries are. That lack of love and care when I was growing up did affect me and my siblings. It affected the way we were to each other in the end – we started to change towards each other because we didn’t know what love is. Our relationships since have been difficult and we’ve all faced our own issues. My siblings aren’t regularly in my life anymore, which is sad. I see them now and then. Jayden looks after Nan and Granddad, and the last time I saw Shane was when I was 18 – I don’t wish to see him again.
I have family and he is not part of it. And to my family I owe everything. If it wasn’t for Noah, I would be dead. Having him helped me to see things for what they were and I hope I earn the title of Mum from him. Mum’s love and persistence also saved me. She persevered with me, and with trying to bring awareness to what was happening.
I’ve discovered I am a strong person – I’m going to get on with my life and I’m not going to let what happened hold me back. Now my bad days are cheered up by my little boy coming home and making me smile and telling me how his day went, or my mum taking the mickey out of me and telling me to stop being so grumpy.
I want a normal life. That’s how I want to be seen, not as ‘girl three’ but as a normal girl.
The impact on my personal life will take a long time to heal. I’m still not ready for a relationship. I can’t be touched intimately, even by a doctor. I am still trying to focus my mind on what is normal, healthy behaviour and what is wrong and inappropriate. It will take time to reset those parameters because they have been so corrupted. I’d love another child in the future but I can’t bear to be touched and I don’t see marriage as being for me. My past would be a lot for a man to cope with. Hopefully though, I’ll get there with relationships; I am still young. My priority is work and my son. I want him to grow into a happy, healthy and proud little boy. I want him to be proud of himself, where he comes from, and to be proud of me, his mum.
Sometimes I can’t believe everything that has happened. I walk down the street with Mum or I pick Noah up from school and I’m just another young mum trying to get on with her life as best she can. But I’ve been part of a world that most people cannot understand; I’ve seen things and been to dark places that defy comprehension. I can spot the telltale signs of abuse a mile off. Sometimes I’ll be walking down the street or sitting on the bus and will pick up on a subtle cue and it jars my world in the same way as my own world of drug dealers and pimps barged into Mum’s cosy life when I first became entangled in it.
Recently I was in McDonald’s and I saw a young girl sitting with an older man. He was probably her grandfather or uncle. I could tell by her body language that she was uncomfortable. He was overly tactile and she was pulling away from his touch. When he handed her a Happy Meal, his hand hovered for too long over her backside. It turned my stomach. To anyone else it might have looked innocent but to me it was revolting because I knew it suggested abuse.
Mum has used her experiences for good and now advises agencies on what to look for in cases of abuse and exploitation. Telltale signs are excessive drinking and drug use, dressing in age-inappropriate clothing, denial and aversion to affectionate gestures. She teaches people not to assume that just because someone says they are OK, then they are OK.
The case opened up a lot of issues about race and religion because the defendants were Muslim. Whatever their beliefs, they still committed horrific crimes and I don’t believe the issue should be ignored just because it is sensitive. While there are paedophiles in every race and religion, I do think the gang behaved in the way they did because of cultural differences in how they viewed women. Statistically there are more white male paedophiles but the structured gang set-up seems to be something to do with Muslim men and I think that stems from a lack of respect for women with a certain section of men. In my experience some British-born Muslim young men, particularly in Cowley, had no respect for women.
For the victims life has been a struggle. I’m one of the lucky ones – I have a job, a mum who is devoted and loving, and a son to live for. Most days I am positive about the future. Most of the other girls are piecing their lives back together. Sadly there are a couple who are stuck at a crossroads and that is sad – they don’t feel they have anything to live for. Hopefully, this will change.
I took the decision to write this book and tell my story because I am blameless and I have nothing to hide. I’m proud of who I am, and I’m proud to have made a stand.
Now I have a life to get on with.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my wonderful mum for giving me the opportunity to be who I am and for sticking by me and believing in me.
Thank you to my family and friends for your support. Thank you, Jane Crump, for working so hard for justice for all the girls and to Simon Morton for your determination.
Thanks to all at Ebury Publishing for giving me the opportunity to tell my story.
Thank you to Nick Harding for your help and guidance.
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Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
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Copyright © Lara McDonnell 2015
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First published by Ebury Press in 2015
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780091957810
Girl for Sale Page 24