The Good Samaritan
Page 61
To my dismay, I discovered everything written about me was lies. The accusations were horrific in part, and words like ‘cold’, ‘unresponsive’, ‘lack of empathy’ and ‘impulsive nature’ jumped from the pages. One social worker even suggested I might have been a suicide risk, as my lack of involvement with anyone could mean I didn’t value my life. The truth was far from it.
But it was one statement, written shortly before my fourteenth birthday, that left me speechless.
Repeated evaluations have failed to determine just one personality disorder in Laura. She has shown traits of Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Self-Deception, amongst others. She has a desire to get her own way and is overtly charming but can be covertly hostile towards others. One foster carer noted that she liked to dominate and humiliate an older boy in the same house by making fun of his lack of intellect. Another carer witnessed her stamping on and breaking the leg of the family dog, but Laura refused to accept responsibility. She often appears to believe her own lies and rewrites events in her head so that she becomes a victim. She has repeatedly displayed sociopathic tendencies and we strongly suggest she is not homed with other foster sisters and brothers.
I let the pages rest on my lap and closed my eyes. How could anyone have written something so awful about a little girl? Why had a child who had been through an emotional trauma like mine been branded a ‘sociopath’? What chance had I stood at being adopted when I’d been affixed such labels? How many potential families had rejected me because of those words?
Of course every child makes mistakes, but as I became older, I’d learned to mask certain urges – I learned to fit in, I learned to be like everybody else. I rebuilt myself by watching other people’s behaviour. Those descriptions weren’t an accurate representation of who I was or who I had become.
I knew I could never allow Tony to read my file, so I hid it away in the utility room behind the tumble dryer, next to my cigarettes. But in the weeks that followed, I’d return to it and reread it, torturing myself over and over again until I knew every word off by heart.
Now I was torturing myself again by watching the silhouettes of Janine, Tony and the girls in the cinema. I quietly slipped out of the darkened auditorium and back into the car park. I made for Janine’s green Astra, removed my car keys from my bag, and once I was sure there were no CCTV cameras pointed at me, I carved the word ‘cunt’ into the driver’s door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
RYAN
‘I swear to God I am being framed,’ I began. ‘Please believe me. This woman wants to destroy me.’
‘Why don’t you just take a moment to compose yourself ?’ she replied. She slid a box of tissues towards me from her side of the desk.
I wiped my eyes. I’d done nothing but cry since being suspended from my job. Johnny had washed his hands of me and wasn’t returning my calls, and Effie’s accusations weren’t something I could talk to my parents about. I felt completely alone. My solicitor Tracy Fenton was on my side, but only because I was paying her to be. She was a masculine-looking woman with greying cropped hair, no make-up, and glasses that hung from a silver chain around her neck. She didn’t give me any indication of whether she believed me or not. But she had a job to do and that job was to help me, regardless of my innocence or guilt.
After speaking to my teaching union rep, I’d made an appointment to see her the day after my suspension and explained to her my side of the story from start to finish, omitting nothing. She’d also just received a police update.
‘Images of a sexual nature have been found on the hard drive of your school computer, Ryan,’ she began. She opened a binder containing photocopied papers.
‘What do you mean by “sexual nature”?’ I asked, my voice close to breaking again.
‘One folder has been found containing one hundred and fifteen images of young females, all wearing school uniforms and in various states of undress.’
I closed my eyes and shook my head. ‘How “young” are they?’
‘They haven’t told us that yet.’
‘They’re going to look about Effie’s age, I just know it. I’m ruined.’
I broke into a sudden sweat. I thought I was going to pass out, so I loosened my tie, undid two buttons on my shirt and moved towards the open window. I hoped the breeze might cool me down.
Tracy flicked through a handful of pages. ‘Mrs Morris has made a statement to the police about the break-in but, as far as I’m aware, the police have yet to interview Effie about her allegations. If you are denying all knowledge of these images, then it’s likely they were downloaded elsewhere and transferred onto your computer, via something like a disk or a memory stick. The officer I spoke to off the record said they weren’t hidden well, in among a folder containing some Word documents, which would suggest they’d been moved there in a hurry. Once I can get a time and date stamp from the files to show when they were created, you and I will need to work out where you were, so that you can provide an alibi. Do other staff members use that computer?’
‘Yes, a few.’
‘Then although it’s in your office, the police need to convince the Crown Prosecution Service that it could only be you who downloaded them, before the CPS makes a decision on whether you’re charged and what with.’
‘And if I don’t have an alibi?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.’
‘And when will that be? I want this sorted out as soon as possible.’
‘It could be weeks or even months, Ryan. That’s how long these things take.’
‘So I’ll have this hanging over my head until then?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘I’ll never be able to go back to that school, will I?’
Tracy removed her glasses, allowing them to dangle. ‘Probably not, no. Should the school and local education authority believe Effie, you will be barred from the National College of Teaching. If Effie makes a statement to the police and it ends up in court and you are found guilty, you’ll be put on a sex offenders register. But this is all the worst-case scenario.’
I returned to my chair and held my head in my hands. I shut my eyes tightly. How had I got myself into such a mess? I thought of Charlotte and our baby, and how Daniel would most likely be taking his first steps by now and trying to speak his first few words. The three of us would have been our own little unit, making a life for ourselves in our cottage. I longed so much for something that had been denied the chance to happen.
‘What can I do to help prove my innocence?’
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing. Just wait until you hear from me again.’
‘I can’t just sit around and hope things sort themselves out.’
‘That’s exactly what you have to do,’ Tracy replied firmly. ‘I implore you, Ryan. Leave this for me to deal with.’
Only I knew I couldn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LAURA
I once read that if you tell yourself the same thing over and over again, eventually you’ll forget where the truth ends and the fantasy begins.
Sometimes when I thought about Olly, I’d close my eyes and picture an alternative world in which he’d returned to his home town of Birmingham. There, in his familiar surroundings, I imagined him starting his life afresh. He’d voluntarily enter into an alcohol detox clinic, like the ones I’d begged him to go to, and then find himself a halfway house to get back on his feet.
But it was one statement, written shortly before my fourteenth birthday, that left me speechless.
Repeated evaluations have failed to determine just one personality disorder in Laura. She has shown traits of Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Self-Deception, amongst others. She has a desire to get her own way and is overtly charming but can be covertly hostile towards others. One foster carer noted that she liked to dominate and humiliate an older boy in the same house by making fun of his lack of intellect. Another carer witnessed her stamping on and breaking the leg of the family dog, but Laura refused to accept responsibility. She often appears to believe her own lies and rewrites events in her head so that she becomes a victim. She has repeatedly displayed sociopathic tendencies and we strongly suggest she is not homed with other foster sisters and brothers.
I let the pages rest on my lap and closed my eyes. How could anyone have written something so awful about a little girl? Why had a child who had been through an emotional trauma like mine been branded a ‘sociopath’? What chance had I stood at being adopted when I’d been affixed such labels? How many potential families had rejected me because of those words?
Of course every child makes mistakes, but as I became older, I’d learned to mask certain urges – I learned to fit in, I learned to be like everybody else. I rebuilt myself by watching other people’s behaviour. Those descriptions weren’t an accurate representation of who I was or who I had become.
I knew I could never allow Tony to read my file, so I hid it away in the utility room behind the tumble dryer, next to my cigarettes. But in the weeks that followed, I’d return to it and reread it, torturing myself over and over again until I knew every word off by heart.
Now I was torturing myself again by watching the silhouettes of Janine, Tony and the girls in the cinema. I quietly slipped out of the darkened auditorium and back into the car park. I made for Janine’s green Astra, removed my car keys from my bag, and once I was sure there were no CCTV cameras pointed at me, I carved the word ‘cunt’ into the driver’s door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
RYAN
‘I swear to God I am being framed,’ I began. ‘Please believe me. This woman wants to destroy me.’
‘Why don’t you just take a moment to compose yourself ?’ she replied. She slid a box of tissues towards me from her side of the desk.
I wiped my eyes. I’d done nothing but cry since being suspended from my job. Johnny had washed his hands of me and wasn’t returning my calls, and Effie’s accusations weren’t something I could talk to my parents about. I felt completely alone. My solicitor Tracy Fenton was on my side, but only because I was paying her to be. She was a masculine-looking woman with greying cropped hair, no make-up, and glasses that hung from a silver chain around her neck. She didn’t give me any indication of whether she believed me or not. But she had a job to do and that job was to help me, regardless of my innocence or guilt.
After speaking to my teaching union rep, I’d made an appointment to see her the day after my suspension and explained to her my side of the story from start to finish, omitting nothing. She’d also just received a police update.
‘Images of a sexual nature have been found on the hard drive of your school computer, Ryan,’ she began. She opened a binder containing photocopied papers.
‘What do you mean by “sexual nature”?’ I asked, my voice close to breaking again.
‘One folder has been found containing one hundred and fifteen images of young females, all wearing school uniforms and in various states of undress.’
I closed my eyes and shook my head. ‘How “young” are they?’
‘They haven’t told us that yet.’
‘They’re going to look about Effie’s age, I just know it. I’m ruined.’
I broke into a sudden sweat. I thought I was going to pass out, so I loosened my tie, undid two buttons on my shirt and moved towards the open window. I hoped the breeze might cool me down.
Tracy flicked through a handful of pages. ‘Mrs Morris has made a statement to the police about the break-in but, as far as I’m aware, the police have yet to interview Effie about her allegations. If you are denying all knowledge of these images, then it’s likely they were downloaded elsewhere and transferred onto your computer, via something like a disk or a memory stick. The officer I spoke to off the record said they weren’t hidden well, in among a folder containing some Word documents, which would suggest they’d been moved there in a hurry. Once I can get a time and date stamp from the files to show when they were created, you and I will need to work out where you were, so that you can provide an alibi. Do other staff members use that computer?’
‘Yes, a few.’
‘Then although it’s in your office, the police need to convince the Crown Prosecution Service that it could only be you who downloaded them, before the CPS makes a decision on whether you’re charged and what with.’
‘And if I don’t have an alibi?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.’
‘And when will that be? I want this sorted out as soon as possible.’
‘It could be weeks or even months, Ryan. That’s how long these things take.’
‘So I’ll have this hanging over my head until then?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘I’ll never be able to go back to that school, will I?’
Tracy removed her glasses, allowing them to dangle. ‘Probably not, no. Should the school and local education authority believe Effie, you will be barred from the National College of Teaching. If Effie makes a statement to the police and it ends up in court and you are found guilty, you’ll be put on a sex offenders register. But this is all the worst-case scenario.’
I returned to my chair and held my head in my hands. I shut my eyes tightly. How had I got myself into such a mess? I thought of Charlotte and our baby, and how Daniel would most likely be taking his first steps by now and trying to speak his first few words. The three of us would have been our own little unit, making a life for ourselves in our cottage. I longed so much for something that had been denied the chance to happen.
‘What can I do to help prove my innocence?’
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing. Just wait until you hear from me again.’
‘I can’t just sit around and hope things sort themselves out.’
‘That’s exactly what you have to do,’ Tracy replied firmly. ‘I implore you, Ryan. Leave this for me to deal with.’
Only I knew I couldn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LAURA
I once read that if you tell yourself the same thing over and over again, eventually you’ll forget where the truth ends and the fantasy begins.
Sometimes when I thought about Olly, I’d close my eyes and picture an alternative world in which he’d returned to his home town of Birmingham. There, in his familiar surroundings, I imagined him starting his life afresh. He’d voluntarily enter into an alcohol detox clinic, like the ones I’d begged him to go to, and then find himself a halfway house to get back on his feet.
