From report to court, part six – Court Dates one, two, and three

DC Ross completed the case file, and towards the end of 2021 my chosen-country’s borders opened after lockdowns. Getting home was disorienting. My husband had to move apartments while I was away, so it was both home and not. But being back with him gave me some mental distance from the investigation.

Ross and I spoke regularly, and I started feeling like a pest asking for updates when he had nothing to give me. August 2022, nearly a year after Ryan gave his statement, and more than two years since I’d given mine, Ross called me.

“The CPS have authorized charges,” he said.

He read them out to me, and then read them out again as the wave of emotions washed away my short-term memory. Three counts of indecent assault of a child. Three counts of rape of a child. One count of indecent assault of a man. One count of rape of a man.

My voice broke, I made wet-lipped babbling noises as my throat thickened and the tears started. This wasn’t just Ross believing me, this was the courts. Tim was going to be appearing to answer for his actions, he’d have to admit, in public, what he’d done to me. It didn’t feel real. All the fears of being judged, or not being believed, and being powerless and useless, got crushed by the weight of reality.

After the call, as I sat blowing my nose, it dawned on me that although I’d started this for the voiceless victims of the past and the future, I hadn’t realised how much of it was for me.

A date was set for a Magistrates’ Court hearing, and Ross told me I didn’t need to be there. It was a legal formality and the only thing that would happen would be the case being bumped up to the Crown Court. Part of me was hoping Tim would enter a plea, but the Magistrate didn’t even ask him to. The plea hearing for the Crown Court was scheduled for 14th October 2022.

I’d had more than two years of dealing with the police and not a single problem, then I had my first contact with the CPS. They quickly became known as The Clown Prosecution Service. I may go into how, and who, failed me, exposed me, lied to me, and fleeced me, in a different post. Thankfully I still had DC Ross, and Swindon and Wiltshire Police, so at least I wasn’t swimming alone.

Because of flight cancelations, rather than planning, I was in the UK when the plea hearing happened. Everyone was saying the same thing to me, “He won’t admit it. It will go to trial.” If a defendant pleads not guilty ahead of trial, they get a 30% discount on their sentence, and ‘discount’ is the word that is used. The amount of victims, witnesses, and evidence, how could Tim plead not guilty?

But he did.

I got the call from Ross to tell me and was shocked and disappointed at the same time. Alfie and I spent a couple of hours on the phone, there was no one else in the world who could understand how it felt to be denied like that. We kept saying, “How could he do this to us. Surely he wouldn’t put us through a trial?”

A date was set for trial, May 8th 2023. I was advised by Diane Powell a police liaison officer, speaking on behalf of the CPS, and some CPS guidelines found online, to book flexible flights, and to be available for longer than the single day I’d been told to be at court. The CPS (in internal emails I only saw after a freedom of information request) later dined this and questioned where I got the information from, but never asked me where I got it from, which was their employees and website. The trial was due to be eight days, which could become two weeks so, to accommodate the CPS’ wishes my husband and I booked three weeks of accommodation, two plane tickets, and a hire car.

The future weighed on me, compressing my emotions and becoming a constant presence in my mind. Christmas happened, and as spring started, my husband kept finding me staring off into the distance lost in my own circular thoughts. At night, as soon as I put my head on the pillow, my mind would start running scenarios of being cross examined in court. When I did get to sleep, my future trepidations were part of my dreams. I went off my food, and as our flights became only a month away, I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

I couldn’t function in the real world as my brain was part of its own version. A world where I was to be in court, ridiculed, accused of lying, all while twelve strangers listen to the sordid details of my past in preparation to pass judgment.

We touched down at around 6a.m. the Friday before the first day of trial. We drove to Swindon and checked into our AirB&B, and everything was going well until an email made my phone beep.

Urgent Trial Update: Unfortunately…

I didn’t get to read any further as a message popped up saying I’d missed a call from Ross. I’d given him the number I bought in the airport, but for some reason it wouldn’t take calls. I clicked on the email but before I could read more, Ross text me telling me to call him.

I knew it wouldn’t be good news, but, at the last possible moment, Tim and his barrister had said he needed a full physical and mental assessment to say he was fit to stand trial.

That claim was made at his plea hearing, seven months earlier, so it was being entered now as an obstruction to trial. The prosecution who was due to work on the case had sent a junior to court without any information so, the judge had no choice but to agree. To proceed without the medical reports could be a mistrial. Had the CPS done their job properly, the defences claim would have been dismissed and the trial would have gone ahead.

Six hours after getting off a plane, and it was for nothing. I ranted at Ross, punctuating my expletive littered sentences with “I know it’s not your fault.” He stayed on the phone until I calmed down enough to speak coherently.

With nothing to do, and thousands of pounds out of pocket, I turned back into internet detective, and it didn’t take long to find evidence that Tim and his barrister had deliberately entered lies into court. The evidence was even on Tim’s Twitter account, but the Clown Prosecution Service hadn’t done any research, hadn’t said to the judge that one of the victims had flown in for the trial, hadn’t even brought up that the fictional health problems were mentioned seven months prior, they just rolled over and agreed to the rescheduling. I didn’t even know who to be angry with, I still hadn’t met, spoken to, or even emailed with the person who allegedly represented me.