In the years and months up to my crime, neither I nor my partner thought we were in an abusive relationship. After my crime our neighbours and friends described us as a feisty or tempestuous couple that fought a fair bit but loved each other under it all. Nobody had seen it coming, least of all me, so when I murdered my partner the last thing I was thinking about was consequences. In hindsight, both of us were in jeopardy, yet we were both wilfully blind to the risks that we each faced.
Even after my offence I kept minimising my actions, with alcohol, provocation and life pressures high among the staples of my go-to excuses (I’ve written previously how ‘Pleading guilty is not taking responsibility’). It took 5 years of intensive cognitive behavioural courses and reflective introspection for me to strip back the excuses and identify how I had maintained a volatile and abusive relationship and allowed the abuse to escalate until I murdered an innocent woman.
My partner and I had learned how a relationship should work from watching our parents. I believe that this is why we both tolerated behaviours and ignored warning signs that would have caused great alarm among other people. Our arguments escalated gradually, allowing us to both build a tolerance to increasing levels of conflict which ratcheted up from sulking, to swearing, shouting, slamming, smashing, throwing and pushing. Even when the first blows were exchanged the injured party would share responsibility – “I deserved it, I provoked you.” As I look back on my relationship I am still shocked and incredulous – we were daring each other to get closer to the edge. In hindsight the outcome was inevitable
When I met and ‘fell in love’ with my partner I was putting my faith in my decision making abilities. I had made a decision that she was a good woman and an ideal life partner. The longer our relationship lasted, the more invested we became. If I had made the break after a few months I would have had to face the fact that my judgements of my partner had been wrong. But after 1, 2, 3 and 4 years I wasn’t going to be the one to quit. I don’t think that my fragile ego could have coped with the reality that I had made a bad initial decision and then compounded that bad decision by running with it for so long. In a classic and pathetic cliché I think I needed my partner to end things so I wouldn’t have to blame myself.
For all of my reflections, the only thing that could have prevented my crime was education. If my partner and I had been able to identify and accept that we were in an abusive relationship we could have taken steps to fix the relationship or to end it. Education about domestic abuse should take place in schools and I believe it should be part of the early secondary curriculum.
In the 80’s and 90’s the levels of teenage pregnancy seemed to increase week by week. There were arguments and debates about whether or not to include sex education in the school curriculum. Some felt that teenagers should be kept in the dark and dissuaded from having sex until they were married while others advocated for education and awareness of contraceptive options. Either way, kids were going to be having sex – so it made sense to help them make that sex safer. During an Open University assignment I noticed recently that there has been a steady decline in teenage pregnancy in the UK, largely thanks to better education. Is it not time to start educating teens about domestic violence and various forms of abuses? The simple fact of the matter is that they can’t be shielded from life – isn’t it time to prepare them and give them the tools and skills to make better life decisions?
You can increase the vetting of our police services. You can add 20,000 new officers. You can increase imprisonment through harsher sentences and lower conviction thresholds. But all that achieves is punishing abusers after the event. In order to protect women, in order to prevent future violence against women, you must educate the men that perpetrate this violence and the blameless women who believe that they are at fault.
I am now in Open Conditions and am spending time in the community as I prepare for my parole. I speak openly and candidly about my offence and I am wholly responsible for my life decisions. During my sentence I have qualified as a teacher and there is one lesson that I want to teach – free of charge – to teenagers who are starting their transition into adulthood.
I’m not interested in scaremongering and highlighting the horrors of prison – that has proven to be ineffective. Rather I would promote a grown up dialogue where teens could ask open questions and receive open answers. I am willing to speak to how my beliefs and cognitive biases led me to make my decisions and the consequences of those decisions. I would like to share the coping strategies that I now use to manage my emotions, the warning signs that I look out for – and perhaps most importantly, what to do and who to call on in times of crisis.
I have written to Operation Encompass and my local MP asking for the opportunity to speak in schools, to share my story as a cautionary tale. And all the while I watch the news in helpless frustration as the epidemic of violence against women is reported by the media accompanied by sound-bites and rhetoric that achieves little change.
Will somebody please give me the voice and the opportunity to help?
