All My Fault: The True Story of a Sadistic Father and a Little Girl Left Destroyed (17 page)

I made arrangements for the kids to be minded by my friend Michelle’s au pair throughout the trial. So the following morning, Michelle drove with me to Dublin. She tried to keep my mind off things on the way by chatting about anything but the trial. At one stage we were passing a group of people picketing to ‘Save Tara’—the Hill of Tara heritage site in County Meath that was under threat of being destroyed to make way for a new motorway. Michelle tried to distract me by flying into a big one-sided debate about the Tara supporters and her views on the whole thing. Normally, I’d be up for a good debate but today I just looked at her and said, ‘Michelle I’m on my way to court today to testify against me da for sexually abusing me. I’m sorry if I’m not feeling especially passionate about Tara right now.’

There was nothing to do but laugh at the situation.

‘You’re right, it doesn’t seem as important this morning, does it?’ said Michelle.

I insisted on driving to Dublin ’cause I needed to focus my mind on something other than the case. We stopped for petrol along the way and the attendant gave us both the once-over with a cheeky look in his eyes.

‘You look lovely girls. Going somewhere nice?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ was all I could bring myself to say.

In fairness, I’d say he would have preferred this short answer to the long one. We’d have been there all day.

When we arrived at Cabra Garda Station, we parked the car and met with Detective Cooney and one of his colleagues. Myself and Michelle piled into the back of the Garda car and they drove us to the pub The Legal Eagle, which was near the Four Courts. I was meeting the other six girls there who had pressed charges against Da.

Before we got out of the car, Detective Cooney turned around and handed me a letter.

‘It’s from your father,’ he said.

This was the first contact I’d had from Da in years. My hands were shaking as I opened the letter. It read:

Castleknock

Dublin 15

21 January 2008

Dear Audrey,

I know that when I offered to apologise some time ago, through Mam, you said that you were not quite ready and that you would prefer to make the first move when you were.

However, things are very different now, and I wish to offer my most sincere, abject and humble apologies for all the hurt and upset I caused you.

I cannot understand my behaviour, although I am working hard with some very good people who are helping me a lot, and making good progress.

It is terrible that we should come to this, after all the fun we had camping and boating, and the gym and toning centre, where we thought we were going to make our fortunes. But it was not to be.

I was the cause of spoiling that great relationship.

I hope you will find it in your heart to accept my deeply felt and sincerely meant apologies for every hurt and pain I caused you ever.

Love, Dad

I couldn’t believe what I’d read. As far as I was concerned, Da had learned nothing from the counselling if he thought that I had enjoyed all those holidays. Did he think it was possible to separate what had happened during the night from what had happened during the day? Did he not realise that he had polluted everything? How could I accept his apology when he didn’t even understand what he was apologising for?

He must have known all those years ago that what he was doing to me would have lasting effects. If nothing else, he knew it was illegal. But he chose to satisfy his own fetish and continue doing it—not just to me but to other little girls as well. A few years ago his letter would have torn me in two. Today, it was just confirmation that he hadn’t changed.

When we got to the pub, a group of us gathered around a table. Some fabulous relatives of mine, including my godmother and an uncle, turned up to support me. The other six women also had friends and relatives there too. Introductions were made but after that hardly anything was said. Cups of coffee were passed around though most people were secretly itching for something stronger to calm their nerves. The tension in the pub was terrible but we all knew that we hadn’t long to go now.

I had decided some time before the trial to waive my right to anonymity. I was the only one of the seven of us prosecuting my da to do so. But I felt that the public needed a face that they could identify with. So before we headed into the Four Courts, I agreed to pose for photographs for the media. I knew they needed the pictures in order to get the story out and that had been one of the main motivations behind this court case after all. From the beginning it had been a mutual agreement: name and shame him. So I stood outside the courthouse, across from the River Liffey, with the strong wind playing havoc with my hair, while what seemed like a billion and one camera lenses were aimed in my direction. It was freezing and the photos took longer than I’d expected. The thought of Da driving by while I was there terrified me. I didn’t like the idea of him being able to see me when I couldn’t see him. It brought me back to the old skin-crawling, stomach-churning feeling of my teenage years when his eyes followed me everywhere.

When the photos were finally over, I raced back into the pub for a hot cuppa. It wasn’t long before Detective Cooney phoned and told us it was time for us to go over to the courthouse. My legs were shaking so badly I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to walk across. My uncle ended up practically carrying me.

*

My father had offered to plead guilty to a number of sample charges which meant that we didn’t have to undergo a cross examination against him. But I was still terrified at seeing him again after all the years.

My biggest fear was walking into the courtroom and not knowing where he was sitting. He’d see me before I’d see him. I had to take a breather at the door of the courthouse. I lent against a wall, rocking back and forth, willing myself not to throw up. It had taken me so many years to get here, yet I wasn’t sure now whether or not I could actually go through with it. It needed to be done but I just wished somebody else could do it for me.

‘I’m not going in till someone tells me where my da is,’ I said to my uncle. ‘Is he even in there yet?’

He ran off to check. When he came back he told me, ‘Your Ma and Da are already in there.’

My body was trembling. It wasn’t fair that I had to do this. It took every ounce of energy I had left to pull myself away from the wall and walk into the courtroom. I took a seat at the very back of the room.

I could hear people whispering and sobbing in different corners of the room. I didn’t realise my own sobs were part of the chorus.

The more I tried to stop myself from crying, the more my lips quivered and the more I found myself gasping for air. I was making a right racket but I couldn’t control myself. Next thing I knew, my three brothers had filed in beside me, forming a human wall that protected me from my da’s line of vision. I couldn’t see him now but he couldn’t see me either. I felt my breathing slowly return to normal.

As the case got underway, descriptions of the abuse that I was forced to endure were read into evidence. All I heard was, ‘His daughter Audrey, something something, “vagina”.’

Christ, the word had been said in front of everyone. My brothers, friends and relatives. All of a sudden, I knew I didn’t want everyone listening to what had happened to me. I panicked, and although the power had gone out of my legs, it hadn’t gone out of my lungs.

‘Can everyone leave the court please?’ I shouted. My fear of the court had disappeared.

A lot of people began to file out of the room, including most of my male relatives, but a lot of other people stayed and I wasn’t happy about that. I knew they were sitting there to support their own friends or family but I hated them hearing the intimate and explicit details of my past. A friend of mine was sitting on my left hand side and I used her body to conceal my face because, with the courtroom half-empty, I felt exposed again. I asked her to stick her fingers in her ears when the worst details were being read out.

Every so often, I peeked out from behind my friend to look at my parents. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for them, especially Ma, being in her position and listening to the same list of crimes against her own daughter.

A little while later, our barrister asked the judge for a short break and I made a dart for the door. I ran straight into the arms of my uncle and started bawling.

My friend Michelle took me by the arm and brought me to the loo where she washed the pools of mascara off my cheeks and helped me tidy up my face. My eyes were red and bulging and my vision was blurred.

Back in the hallway, my barrister came up to me.

‘Will you take the stand?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I croaked.

I knew I had to. This judge didn’t know who I was but I hoped that if she heard me speak, my victim impact statement might seem more real to her. One of the other girls agreed to take the stand too and I was so proud of her.

Detective Cooney knew how terrified I was of having Da’s eyes on me so he offered to block his view by walking me up to the stand and walking me back down afterwards. So, carrying a tissue and a bottle of water in one hand, and holding on to his arm for dear life with the other, I walked up to the box.

My barrister tried to ease me into the questions at first. I remember very little of what was said.

I described feeling isolated, mistrustful of men and overprotective of my own children. ‘My father’s guilty plea is the only thing I will say “thank you” for.’

I also remember repeating, ‘My heart is just broken,’ over and over as the barrister asked me questions about how the abuse had affected me.

‘When your dad does that and your mam stands by him, it just makes you feel worthless,’ I told the judge.

I read in one newspaper that Da bowed his head and wept for what he had done, as I said this, but I have no recollection of this.
^*

I was so conscious of Da’s eyes on me that I couldn’t bring myself to look in his direction. I didn’t want to hurt Ma; I just wanted her to know that her little girl, her only baby girl, was hurting.

But I wasn’t the only one. The others had described in their victim impact reports and statements how they suffered from suicidal feelings, mistrust of men, panic attacks and insomnia. It is important to remember that it wasn’t just me who had suffered.

The barristers who represented my father pleaded for leniency to be shown and said he had also suffered.

Da was described as a retired man who was now ‘a pariah in his own family’ and who would be ‘watched by a hawk’s eye’ when he was around children.

‘He is punished every day in a very real way,’ said a member of his defence team, who also said that Ma had found herself in ‘an appalling dilemma’.

His defence team had also mentioned that Da had voluntarily attended counselling in the early 1990s and appreciated how traumatic the abuse had been.
^*

*

When Detective Cooney walked me back down from the stand I made straight for the exit. I could feel my heart racing and a lump had sprung up in my throat. No one could make me feel better. No one could make me feel any worse.

Judge Delahunt broke for lunch at 1p.m. and told us to come back at 2p.m. I was under the impression that the sentence would be announced then and that would be the end of it.

Leaving the courtroom, I headed straight to the bathroom and who did I run into only Ma and Da. As soon as I spotted them, I spun on my heels and ran in the opposite direction. It was like a reflex reaction. My mates and family said they never saw anyone in high heels sprint so fast across the courtyard and around the corner. I was like the roadrunner being fuelled by pure panic. I didn’t stop running till I got to The Legal Eagle. When the rest of them caught up with me, they couldn’t stop laughing over the speed of me despite my three-inch heels. The teasing helped lighten the mood.

During lunch, everyone kept telling me how brave I was.

‘But did you not see me? I was shitting it. How can you say I was brave?’ I asked.

‘Your courage shone through. You did brilliant. I don’t know how you did it at all,’ was the reply.

I was a trembling wreck though. As far as I was concerned, 2p.m. couldn’t come quick enough. I just wanted to get it over with. My friends were all trying to force food into me but hunger was the last thing on my mind.

‘I’ll just puke if I eat anything,’ I said pushing the plates away from me.

We filed back into the courtroom at 2p.m. on the dot. When everyone was seated and silenced, the judge made a speech, most of which meant very little to me, before adjourning the case for two weeks.

Another two weeks of waiting. I didn’t think I was able for it.

Back in the pub, I had a good think about it. Originally, I’d been angry that the details of the case weren’t being given enough time and attention so really I was happy that the judge was delaying sentencing to do just this, although I knew I would be living on my nerves for the next two weeks.

A few gin and tonics later I headed home. I wasn’t driving this time of course. I was dying to get back to my kids. I had kept them informed on the details of the case as much as I could considering their ages. Robin was only eight, while Tyrone was eleven.

‘We’re the good guys,’ I had told them, ‘And we’re fighting against the bad guys who hurt children.’

Robin was a little confused at first. She thought that if Da didn’t get put away then this meant I would go to jail but I set her straight immediately. I wanted to be as honest and open with them as possible.

Back at the house, I found one of the dogs had decided to use the kitchen floor as his toilet so I got to work cleaning the mess up. Between that and getting the kids ready for bed, I wasn’t long settling back into reality.