This gets a mention especially because of the comments

And especially because of the comment by planet Autism.

Hampshire Social services have treated me like shit to protect Jane Fisher and the Diocese of Winchester, and social services as a whole are a disgrace and an outdated form of harm to society.

http://www.communitycare.co.uk/2014/12/08/must-never-disbelieve-sometimes-actions-involved-cause-hurt/?utm_content=buffer681f0&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer

The terrible thing is...

This blog has been running since November last year and has survived Peter Ould's attacks on it.

But it barely tells my story, because the trauma blanks my mind, as I said in my letter to Jersey 'Safeguarding' (what a joke) panel, so I can keep blogging but can't tell my story, while the church, loud and unchristian have slandered and smeared me to all and sundry and make my trauma out to be madness and badness, and the fact I can barely cope, and get angry, as most survivors do, doesn't help.

I remember last year, at the church cafe, how a volunteer there said when he heard I had Asperger syndrome 'Oh, so you are likely to get all angry on me?'
A misconception,
and some judgemental unChristian person on 'clerical whispers' or 'Thinking Anglicans'
said that my 'criminal behaviour' was nothing to do with autism and she worked with people with autism and they were all gentle and quiet.
What an ignorant unchristian narrowminded and judgemental person.

No-one who calls themselves a Christian should be making any such damaging judgements.

The truth is, someone on the Autism Spectrum, when put under terribly stressful conditions is likely to get angry and lash out in one way or another,
and my circumstances were such that I could not contain my anger, regressed by a man who said he was my God-sent Dad, when regression was dangerous considering my original childhood, and left regressed to be driven from the community and maligned as a result of reporting abuse, dealing with a stressful police case and then a police beating and police nastiness and detention as a punishment for reporting the abuse.
I never recovered, and as I continued to suffer for reporting the churchwarden, I continued to deteriorate.
When nasty judgemental strangers lie about me and condemn me, they should try living through what I have and am living through.

The reality about the autism spectrum is that frustration and poor behaviour control or understanding of our emotions may cause us to lash out, I did, but I was having to cope with more than I was capable of coping with.

repost, prison, court and deportation

Friday, 18 October 2013

The horrendous end time in Jersey

Arrest, court, imprisonment, court, deportation.

I feel the need to briefly describe things in months running up to the arrest. But I can only be brief as it is too traumatic and I am still dissociating.

Jane Fisher was very much involving herself in my life against my wishes, mainly through my former friend Tracy leCouter, the curate at St. Clements church. Tracy had been my good and trusted friend until Jane Fisher get involved and also let the Dean know where I was worshipping. Which instantly left me feeling completely unable to worship there or be welcome and again my complaint against the Dean seemed to be invalidated, which ,made me furious.
Why tell someone I had complained about, who was in touch with the people who abused me and on their side, where I was worshipping, so I could again be treated badly and left outcast?
Anyway, in this time, the sadness and confusion led to me going to Tracy’s house to ask why it was all like this, and to ask her to stop communicating with Jane Fisher about me.
Tracy was hostile and made me out to be mentally ill, claiming it was only my paranoia about the Dean and Jane Fisher and that I was still welcome in St. Clements, even though I explained to her that I could not feel welcome under the circumstances. I begged her to stop being in contact with Jane Fisher.
She said no, and that she was going to phone Jane Fisher as soon as I had gone.
I told her I could not live with this.
I told her about the Dean calling me wicked and saying I was not abused and she repeated what Jane Fisher had previously said to me ‘we do not know what was said when you went to the Dean’s house’

- I had gone to the Dean’s house because Lou Scott-Joynt said ‘oh, what did Bob do?’ as if he had done nothing wrong. And I had said to the Dean that the way he had behaved was wrong and wicked, this is when he called me wicked and talked about the Lihous and Juliet and made out that that was all the same thing as what had happened with the Avertys, and he said I was not abused. It is claimed in court that I went there swearing and shouting, which I didn’t.

Anyway, Tracy and Jane Fisher then called the police, claiming that I was suicidal. Because I had said I couldn’t live with this.
The police turned up, shocking me and startling my landlady.
They spoke to me outside and I said that there was nothing to worry about and that Jane Fisher was manipulating Tracy and driving me mad.
I also told the police that the fact that they had turned up had put my tenancy in danger.
The policewoman replied ‘Lie to your landlady and tell her that we came to see you because you were a witness to something’.

I was shocked that a policewoman could tell someone to lie. But I did as she said, which proved to be to my detriment when the police were next sent round by Jane Fisher.

That evening I fled the Island. I was at breaking point, I had been called wicked by the Dean, nothing was being done, I was truly in a bad way.  I had not been able to go Tracy’s ordination as the Avertys and the Dean had been there. I had been without hope for so long and things were only getting worse. The Bishop who had seen me briefly had said he would see me when he came to do Tracy’s ordination but he did not and would not. He had only seen me briefly in a set-up meeting previously that I had been lied to about.

In England I was in collapse and at present I am struggling to remember it. I stayed with my friends but they were going away on holiday and were sure I was a high risk of suicide and so they changed their minds about leaving me alone in their house while they were away.
My friend Anne, who was not one of the friends I was staying with, was dying of cancer, Tracy and Jane Fisher knew about this and tried to use it as the reason I was having a breakdown and had fled the island. This made me angry.

Jane Fisher reported me missing when I was not missing and she had not made any attempt to contact me. So the police turned up at my house in Jersey where I still had my tenancy and had told my landlady that I was going to see my dying friend. So my landlady was made aware of the church and police’s version of things, but to her credit she didn’t kick me out.

I attempted suicide and was traced and taken to hospital. Hampshire police contacted Jersey police and were told a load of completely incomprehensible things and a psychological report was written based on that and not on what I had told the assessor.
According to Jersey police I was wanted  for criminal damage to a car. This caused me to collapse further because I had not damaged a car, this report by the police turned out to be untrue, there was nothing on me for damaging cars. I gather this was an attempt by the Avertys, as I later saw their car and it was all smashed in at the back, but I was certainly nothing to do with that. I may be angry but I would not ram a car deliberately and damage my own car. I guess I will never know what that was about.

Anyway, this criminal damage allegation never went any further.
The psychological report, though completely inaccurate and based on what the police said and not what I said, exonerated the Dean, Jane Fisher, Tracy and the church, even though I had made it quite clear that this was what caused the distress I was in. The report tried to make me out to be grieving for my Dad and claimed I had been close to him, even though I had stated that I hadn’t always been close to him.

I was furious but was beginning to realise that I would be gagged and the Church of England exonerated no matter who I turned to.
However, a very long time later, due to trauma and circumstances delaying it, I did manage to add an amendment to the report, which stated the Dean and the church as the cause of my distress.

Anyway, the assessing team said I was not mentally ill but was distressed and vulnerable and they were reluctant to let me go as I had nowhere to go, but they also could not admit me as I was not mentally ill.
Once assessed, they allowed me to go and see my friend Anne, who was seriously ill in the same hospital and then arrangements were made for me to go and stay with some other friends.

I stayed with my friends, vulnerable and absolutely traumatized and having been told that I was facing a warning on behalf of the Dean when I returned to Jersey.
But on return to Jersey I was told that the bit of paper was not a warning, that the matter with the Dean had been swept under the carpet and that the bit of paper that the victim support worker signed on my behalf was about Jane Fisher and the Bishop and that it not even a warning and wasn’t on my file and that it was about getting two sides of things and that I had been phoning and emailing the Bishop out of office hours. It seemed senseless to me, the Bishop’s wife had told me I could phone out of office hours and she phoned me out of office hours, so did Jane Fisher, and Jane Fisher emailed me when it suited her.
The policeman said it didn’t even go on my record.
This is an accurate account of what happened to me. I was not given a warning about the Dean, although I was told I was going to be. Even though the Dean and his wife had been so unreasonable and I had gone to them because I was horrified that despite persisting with a complaint against the Dean, I gathered from what Lou Scott-Joynt said, that my complaint had not been taken seriously.

Eventually I returned to my lodgings and my work, both of which I had nearly lost. But I was a broken person by the time I returned from England to Jersey.
My car had broken beyond repair while in England. The money saved to repair it had gone on my fare to England. So on return to Jersey I was unable to return to my cash-in-hand work and I was not as useful to my main employers due to being unable to travel to the garden centre for things I needed and unable to take machinery to the dealers for repairs and servicing, and all other tasks that required a car were now beyond me. I was handicapped by the lack of the car.

I was furious with the Diocese for everything, I knew that things were not and had not been done properly, and I did not understand why I had been given a warning for contacting the diocese while they had apparently had me reported missing for not contacting them and why they were apparently still handling my complaint but having me warned by the police for contacting them about it and for contacting Lou Scott-Joynt when she was supposed to be ‘helping me’.

Anyway, I was now attending St. Brelades church, but they were very quickly ‘made aware of me’, by Jane Fisher/Bob Key and I was safeguarded against and reprimanded by Mark Bond and Judith Davey, to whom I replied that there were two sides of things, they did actually listen to that but they did share hurtful things they had been told. I will go into more detail of that at a later date as it is distressing and needs to be part of my statement about the churches in Jersey.
But to add, Mark Bond and his wife were friends with the Dean and would have him round for supper when his wife (who they said was the real Dean of Jersey) was away. Mark Bond made me aware of this friendship early on and I said I did not like the Dean and please could mark not discuss me with him? Mark replied that he and the Dean had a different theology and saw things differently.
I was upset that I had not escaped the Dean/Jane Fisher intrusion and influence on my worship, and that nothing appeared to be being done about my complaints and instead of anything being done about the Avertys and the Dean, the Bishop and Jane Fisher had got me into police trouble and damaged my work and home and worship and relationships.

It was September, the Bishop was in the island and though he made no effort at all to meet with me or communicate, he was at the Deanery, with the Dean, allied, while I was left shamed because he had had me in police trouble and I was being shamed whatever church I went to, shamed by Mark Bond and Judith Davey at the same time as them trying to help me. But it was too late for help now. I was waiting to die. My biggest regret at that time was that the suicide attempt had not worked.
Mark Bond said that many people actually gave up and waited to die or tried to speed the process up, he said that his mother did, she tried to drink and smoke herself to death.

The Bishop then apparently said to Judith Davey at a review at the Deanery that he was ‘grateful to her for helping me’.  I was furious, as far as I was concerned no one I was maligned to could help me and it was too late and there was the Bishop sitting at the Deanery with the Dean, talking about me, letting me be given a bad name and refusing to even communicate with me about my complaint.

I snapped, I phoned the Deanery and was furious and said the Bishop should be leaving his meeting in an ambulance or something.
The record of this that was read in court was incorrect, the time they stated was a few hours wrong and I cannot remember what else was inaccurate, I did lose my temper and say things I shouldn’t but that was in one phonecall, the only one I had made to the Deanery in months and again the report in court was inaccurate.
The only other person I think I emailed was Jane Fisher. But I was beyond anything by then. Anne was in hospital in a serious condition because the doctors could not get a needle or line into her to do dialysis and this seemed like the end for her, the end with Jane Fisher and the Diocese having intervened in my friendship with Anne as she was dying and having used Anne as an excuse for my breakdown, as well as trying to imply to me and others that I was seriously mentally ill.

The next morning I was due to be working on a volunteer project all day. But I was now in collapse and had not actually known what to do after making contact with the Deanery and Jane Fisher, nearly throwing myself into the sea but also knowing that this matter was unfinished and I was unheard and thus I needed somehow to find someone who would bring justice.

I was arrested.
But it was a mess.
Some police officers came into the house early on Sunday morning. They asked if I was ****** who owned a blue Rover metro, registration plate *******, I was puzzled and told them that the car had been scrapped.
The officer didn’t seem to know what to say and claimed he was making conversation or something.
Then the other officer came in but they remained unclear.
They searched my room, claiming to be looking for ‘computer equipment’ or something.
Money on my table went missing and was not seen again and I was powerless to report it later as I was homeless in England and treated as if I was mad anyway.

The police were not clear with me, they put me in the police car and spoke to my landlady. The police could not clearly tell me whether it was the Dean or the Bishop who was having me arrested, they mentioned both, alternately, and I think they mentioned Jane Fisher as well but I am not sure. I kept asking them who I was being arrested for, but they remained unclear.

In the police station and before, I was handled roughly. When I had been arrested I had not been wearing a bra, and I felt very vulnerable. I had gone to sleep in my semi-pyjama outfit, my leggings were tracksuit that I used as pyjamas normally, my top was my daytime jumper and I had socks and shoes and knickers on but not a bra.

The custody sargent knew me from elsewhere and jeered and claimed I was not autistic ‘because I could carry on a conversation’.
I do not recall what happened properly. They said I had an appropriate adult on record who now refused to act for me, they treated that as if it was my fault and I was bad, the appropriate adult would either have been Philip LeClaire, who no longer worked for Autism Jersey, or the Victim support worker who was phoning me when she was drunk and causing me problems so I said she wasn’t to work with me.
But I was treated as if it was my fault. I do not know what paperwork was done or what happened. I remember being dragged and carried and thrown about.
I remember being dizzy.
I remember calling out for my Dad in Hebrew, his preferred language ‘Abba, Abba, Eyphoh, eyphoh?’ because I remembered my Dad telling me that when he was in a police cell he felt at risk from harm from the police and so he walked round his cell singing praise to God all night and the police didn’t touch him.

I remember knowing that I had no hope at all, that Bob key had won completely in his battle to avoid accountability, and no matter what happened now, I would never have a clean record or quality of life again.
I still did not know whether the Bishop, Jane Fisher or Bob Key had had me arrested, or all three.

I fell.
I do not know what happened or how time passed.

The custody sargent who knew me was jeering at me through the cell door.
I was sick but I had only had water and the sick went in my hair.

I was not fully awake most of the time I was there and I do not know how long I was in a cell for. I suffer claustrophobia.
The Doctor who had been there to assess me when the Avertys complained about me was there, he was jeering. As were the police, they talked about putting a needle in my eye to wake me up and stripping me and putting me in a cell suit, but I couldn’t properly wake and tell them that I was not feeling well.
One of them, a police or a doctor, took hold of me by the chest and pulled me. I couldn’t wake but I kind of knew they were there.
They did something else to try and wake me but I didn’t feel it. I knew they were there and then I knew nothing.
Someone spoke to me by name and said a man was there who would get me out of there or something. But I couldn’t wake.
Someone spoke and told me they would be back in the morning, I think it was the Doctor.

I woke, I do not know when. Someone spoke, he was sitting in the doorway on something.
He said he was the St. Helier Centenier. He said he was charging me, something to do with the Dean. No one else was in the room or present that I could see, unless they were in the corridor.
I did know that the centenier would be a close colleague of Bob key and with him at liberation day and all events like that, and probably even part of his church.
I don’t remember after that.

It was morning and the custody sargent who jeered was saying something to me about me ending up in LaMoye if I didn’t respond.
I was awake.
He said something about a doctor.
I tried to get up.
I tried to walk myself to the doctor, the police would not keep their hands off me.
I do not know what the doctor said, apart from saying something about me ‘freshening up’. I did not know what was expected of me or what I was being asked.
I did not do the freshening up, I did not know what it meant. There was no one to tell me and no one who cared. There was no appropriate adult.
I was taken back to the cell.
I do not know or understand what that was about.
I did not eat or drink, I was terrified out of my mind on top of knowing that Anne might be dead and that I was never going to be ok again.

I was roughly treated further and locked in a tiny cage in a police van. I think it was this time but it might have been coming away from LaMoye that I was whimpering in terror and a man in another of the cages in the van shouted out ‘Is it your first time, love? Don’t worry, you get used to it’.
I couldn’t imagine how anyone could ‘get used to’ being bad and almost be matter of fact about it.

I continued to be brutally treated and dragged by my arms by the police, my upper arms are very sensitive indeed, and I tried to tell the police this and told them I was autistic and they said I wasn’t and they said that everyone makes excuses and they flung me on the floor of a cell in the court. I stayed on the floor.

I do not know how long I was there, the other people in cells asked for coffee and toilet paper and things as if this was all normal and ok.

I was taken to a room, the woman there was the other side of a barrier and I could not hear her and she could not hear me.
So she was allowed to sit with me.
She told me I had been bad. That I had done bad things and no matter what had happened to me I was in the wrong.
I told her there was more to it than that. I told her I had been abused and that the Dean and Diocese had been unhelpful and I hadn’t been able to cope. I did my best to explain in the state I was in. But as far as she was concerned I was bad.

She told me that I was to ‘reserve my plea’ in court and that bail meant I might have to hand in my passport and have a curfew.
I did not know what all of it meant but I was only doing as I was told.

So I did as I was told in court and no one told me how to address the judge but I think I called him ‘Sir’.
I knew it could have been bad being in court because Bridget Shaw, the wife of the Rector of St. Clements was the main magistrate then, but I don’t think she was in court, I do not know who was.

The person in court claimed I had gone to the Deanery swearing and shouting when I had not, and made it sound like I had been phoning them all the time and stopped when I was given a warning, but I had not been given a warning and I was not phoning the Dean all the time and then they said I stopped when I was given the warning until that time I phoned about the Bishop the previous day, but they gave a very very inaccurate time of me phoning the Deanery. And other innacuracies but I cannot remember. I do know it did not describe things.


The court told the police to phone my work and home to see if they would accept me back, but I knew that was bad because the police had treated me bad so far and never understood me. I could imagine that I would not be allowed home and I knew I would lose my job because I worked for a nursing home and everyone’s contract said that if you got in police trouble you were likely to lose your job.
I was put back in the cells while the police did that, I do not know how long for.

I was put back in court and I do not understand all of what was said but my landlady would not have me back so I was sent to prison.

I was put in the police van, I seem to remember that they let me walk this time and were not too brutal letting me get in the police van.
When I got taken to the prison I was terrified.
I thought I was going to be knocked about more. I did not have my glasses and had not seen those since I had got put in the police cell and I could hardly see without them.

When I got took to the prison. I was put in a room with benches and they tried to give me a hot drink but I was terrified because I was trapped, in prison, bad, never good again, it was the end of me. I did not know that prison staff are different from police and could be ok.

A female prison warder spoke to me, she said something like ‘Hi mate, do you smoke? Shall we go and have a fag and a chat?’ This was so very different from the police brutality that I was shocked, I was in prison and was being spoken to as if I was a real person and as if everything was ok.
I do not remember if I even responded, I returned to the kind of semi-conscious state, I don’t know if I fell or crawled but I was under a bench.
I know what exactly happened but the prison staff, instead of being brutal, seemed baffled, and I heard someone say they thought I had fainted and someone say ‘…then she was under the bench’.
The female warder came back and said to me something like ‘you look like you need a good sleep, maybe a nice shower and a good sleep’ and I went with her and she found me some prison tracksuit clothes and showed me to the shower, but I didn’t want a shower when I was being watched, I am a very very private and modest person and I never show my body to anyone.
The lady said she would let me shower without watching, but she wasn’t completely truthful because she did watch and later told the prison records person that she didn’t see any scars on me when I was showering. I didn’t know if the scars I do have were important enough to record.

Anyway I showered myself and was grateful, I was indeed in need of a shower and I went through my routine of washing everything three times, until the lady said ‘that’s enough!’ and I felt embarrassed.

Then I put on the grey tracksuit and she let some male prison officers take charge and they took hold of me and I completely freaked out and they were dragging me and calling for backup but the lady prison officer said to them ‘no, let her go, it’s because you are male, let her go and it will be ok’ and they did and she walked with me to where the cell was in the remand wing where there was only one other prisoner.

They put me in a cell and I went to sleep. There was almost nothing in the cell and only basic bedding which was supposed to be safety bedding so I could not hurt myself.
I went to sleep and I needed to sleep, I was exhausted.
But the man kept coming past and tapping on the door and asking if I was ok? I think, or apparently he did a thumbs up sign at me but I hadn’t got my glasses and I couldn’t see him but he thought I knew he did the thumbs up sign.

Everything is a blur but I am not sure where anything fits in place after that but there is a lot to write.

I could not see very much and I did not always know what was expected of me and I wasn’t always told, nor was I told the prison routine and sometimes that was a problem.

I am terrified of people standing in doorways and the staff always stood in the doorway, basically I was now living all my worst fears.

There were a number of staff and my ability to recognize people is impaired anyway and without glasses at first I could not tell who was who.
The female member of staff who had been involved so far continued to work with me, she had been told or realised that I was autistic and made an effort to ensure that I understood her.
There was another female member of staff who also made an effort.
I kept hiding in a with my blanket over my head, but they said I should not do this because they were meant to observe me and me going in the corner was making observation difficult.
I tried to be co-operative but I was utterly petrified and hiding in the corner under the blanket was my way of trying to be safe.

They kept bringing me food and drinks and I was not hungry but kept being sick or ‘bringing up food’ - I will explain in a minute.
They kept urging me to eat, and they were not the police, they were genuinely trying to help, so I did my best to co-operate even though I was not hungry.

There was a video camera in the cell, I was on camera all the time and so I was embarrassed to go to the toilet. One of the male staff asked if I was ‘making myself sick’ and I assured them that I was not.
Within a few days the female warders were taking me out of my cell to encourage me to help them when they made me a hot drink.
The drink was made in a blue plastic mug and was made with powdered milk and I realised that the milk might be contributing to the problems.
I told them nervously that I might be being sick because I couldn’t digest powdered milk. They responded by arranging for some proper milk for my tea.

They tried to encourage me to come outdoors for exercise and I told them I would go mad with grief if I was taken outside but not free.
They also turned up with my glasses and asked why I had not asked for them, I responded that I had not known that I was allowed my glasses, I had not known where they were and had written them off as lost.
I did not want to wear my glasses at first as I did not want to see that I was trapped.
I was in a bare cell and under watch all the time.
But the staff were aware that I was terrified and were trying to help.

The church of England chaplain was sent, I do not remember if I asked or not. But when she came, I was under my blanket in the corner of the cell floor.
The staff tried to get me to poke my head out of the blanket, and they told me the chaplain had come to help.
She was wearing a green shirt.
I said ‘dog collar?’ and she said ‘yes’, and I said ‘Bible?’ she said yes and asked if I wanted a Bible, I said I did.
I was not comfortable about seeing a Church of England chaplain and had a feeling that any church of England chaplain would be linked to Bob Key and others in the island churches who had hurt me, at the time I didn’t think Jane Fisher, but I should have done when later on, when I specifically asked to see a methodist or Catholic chaplain (the prison had both), the church of England chaplain continued to turn up despite me being specific and again the ‘forcing on me’ which is typical of Jane Fisher, meant that this Church of England chaplin kept coming.
It is like being raped, every time Jane Fisher exposes and violates me trhough other people.

Anyway. The staff at LaMoye continued to try and help me, but some things were not explained to me at all, including that they have a ‘lockdown’ once a week when all staff are in a meeting and they do not even provide breakfast, or didn’t to me when it was like that.
My blood sugar drops when I don’t eat, and I am not supposed to fast because I become ill. So that didn’t help. And I didn’t know about it. No-one formally explained anything, like when the medicine comes round you are meant to go and get it, so I missed out on my medicine because I did not know, was scared of the medicne person and not well and I didn’t know I was allowed to go to the cell door when it was opened.

The cell had to be cleaned very day, and at first the warders did it and then supervised me having a shower and then they taught me to clean the cell and they brought my day clothes, nicely laundered (but I was still without a bra, much to my shame), and then as time went on they let me shower and the restrictions on me were lifted so that I could have proper bedding and a CD player with some CD’s and some books, they kindly took me to the library and got me lots and lots of extra books, and they got me pen and paper so I could try and write down what had happened to me, but in that state I could barely write adequately.

The staff asked if I would like to go upstairs and meet the others, I was downstairs in the remand wing and the sentenced prisoners were upsatirs), I said no, I remembered that old television programme with the scary prison women on it.
But eventually I came upstairs. The other women, aware that I was ‘special needs’, were extremely kind and supportive, they told me about themselves and they encouraged me to play pool and card games (which I struggled to understand), they chatted with me, lent me books and sent notes down to my cell via the warders and generally were so very nice that I wished I had met them all outside of prison as I felt safe with them. They did their very best to work with my autism and communicate clearly and I wish there was a better way of paying tribute to them.

One young woman in particular befriended me and I was allowed to sit in her cell with her, she had all her things in there as if it was her home, we sat on her bed and chatted and I taught her some sign language and she showed me the computer she had, which was actually very good, it had music and everything. Her boyfriend was in prison as well and they had a young daughter who was living with her mother. When her boyfriend was marched past the block, she waved to him out the window.

The support and activities with the other women was very helpful to me.
They were immeasurably kind and reassuring.

But I hated it that the guards had to search me every time I returned to my wing, they were sympathetic, unlike the police, and they knew that the touch hurt me, but they had to do it.
They also tried to get me to go to the gym with the other girls but seemed to forget or be unaware that I had no bra, I had been taken from my home not fully dressed for daytime and had no bra and I was too embarrassed to tell them this.

The other woman in the remand wing was noisy and angry, shouting all the time at the staff, and it echoed, it drove me mad with distress, and worst of all, she played music on top volume, but when I wrote it down for the staff that it was upsetting me, that seemed to be one thing they could do nothing about.

I am grateful to the staff for everything they did do for me, they said they have no choice as to who comes into prison but they try to work with, and help, everyone who did come in.

They also let me have as much computer access as they could to enable me to write. No internet but plenty of word processing.
And someone tried to interest me in an art group but I freaked out and couldn’t cope.

I was allowed extra time in the library, and there was a chapel service on Sundays but people I knew had come in to run it and I was too ashamed to go, St. Matthews people.

The prison warders also took me to see the manager at the prison to work out how to help me cope with being locked in and in prison, because I was so stressed. He asked me what I did when I was not in prison and got stressed, what helped to calm me down? I told him that I would go out to Noirmont or Corbiere and climb out on the rocks there and sit alone.
He did his best to ensure that I could be out of my cell and out in the exercise yard as much as possible.
Basically the staff really tried to help, even when they got the churches side of things against me.

People who came to see me in Prison:

A prison psychologist. I am not sure why but at first someone said she worked out why people did things that made them go to prison, but then she seemed to understand, and I am not absolutely sure on this, she seemed to understand that I was not actually deliberately bad. One time I had to say I could not see her because I felt ill, and the reason I got ill was that I had two duvets on my bed, and I wanted both, for comfort but it was causing me to overheat and get drowsy and headachy.

The chaplain, the CofE chaplin who turned up even when I asked for an alternative chaplain, I now know that this is Jane Fisher’s doing and I feel violated by it as I feel violated by all her interventions.
This chaplain was determined to be involved even when I specifically wrote to staff asking for a different chaplain.
One day she took me upstairs to talk and a Catholic Bishop was visiting and I got to meet him. But she was asking me about things, as if she didn’t know, and I got suspicious and asked if she had been discussing me with the Dean and she said she had only been in the island a short time and didn’t know anyone involved. But seeing as the Dean and Deanery select Clergy, that couldn’t strictly be true, but then she was in a hurry to put me back in my cell.

The Mental health woman: This was a nasty intrusion and this woman treated me as if I was bad, she was abrupt and rude and I felt as if she was forced upon me and that this was another attempt to make me out to be insane.
I do not understand why she came into things and I fail to see how she helped, in fact the things she said were very upsetting to me and wounded me.

The solicitors: I was sent a lawyer, an English lawyer who apparently was not allowed to represent me in Jersey courts.
Thus I wondered and wonder what the point of him being involved was.
I didn’t really understand much about it. He or the prison staff gave me a load of paperwork and told me to read it and reply, but I was traumatized, this was apparently statements from the Dean and the Bishop and jane Fisher, the Bishop and Jane Fisher and a policeman were named as the Dean’s witnesses.
I didn’t read anything. I was already too hurt and traumatized and trying to keep myself sane in prison, mainly by dissociating and dreaming that I was roaming the roads of South Hampshire alone and free.

The solicitor was there with the rude mental health woman and he said I had no good choices.
The subject of being bound over to leave the island came up somehow and I said that might be best as I had no home, no job and legally wasn’t allowed to sleep rough in Jersey and would not be able to take another home and job and have to live branded officially for the benefit of the church community who already treated me so badly.
And of course, my biggest concern was that if I didn’t agree to being bound over then I would have to be kept in prison because there was nowhere to go and nothing for me.
I made the solicitor aware that I had been trying to get help and that I had been awaiting my first psychological appointment, after so long of being refused psychological help because of my autism.

The solicitor made me read something to him and asked me what it meant and I tried to explain but I was bewildered and I wanted the mental health lady not to be there because I didn’t like her.

The solicitor sent a clinical psychologist to assess me in prison and the psychologist said he found me free from serious mental illness
(which is what church people in Jersey had been implying for so long and even Jane Fisher and Tracy LeCouter had made me out to be seriously mentally ill).
I guess they have no understanding about the psychological harm I suffered or the Post Traumatic Stress.

My friends came to see me in prison but the warder would not give me space and privacy to talk to them but kept standing over me. My friends said they would write a letter to the court on my behalf, but the solicitor intervened and breached confidences to them, embarrassing me by sharing what I was supposed to have done, again not explaining my own circumstances that led to what I did.

My friends did write me a letter though and that went to the solicitor and then the courts.
My friends also said they would have me to stay when they returned to England if I got out of prison.
My friends also paid money for me because I had no access to money and I was supposed to be paying the prison for my food and laundry and things and I have no idea how people who live in prison do that but I was in prison without my money or possessions and so I was in debt to the prison and then my friend.

The English Solicitor was not allowed to represent me in court as he was not qualified under Jersey Law, so there was another female solicitor who I did not get to know and know nothing about.

Back to court:

I will keep this brief because it is traumatic and because I am not sure I remember anything properly.

Before I was due in court again, one of the prison staff started talking to me about food menus, they had just been bringing me whatever prison food was available and not a choice like the sentenced people had, but the member of staff said I should have a menu prepared in case I came back to prison after court, I thought they were telling me I was coming back after court, and I broke down in tears and they tried to comfort me and tell me they hadn’t meant it like that.

I was handcuffed and put in a cage in a police van.

I do not remember how long I had to wait to go in court but the new lady solicitor was taking the case, I was told to plead not guilty to Jane Fisher and Bishop Scott-Joynt’s charges against me but to plead guilty to Bob key’s charge against me.
The mental health woman was there and was being bossy and rude, she was taking my hand and leading me about as if I was an idiot and I felt like an idiot and I resented her, but I felt that if I did not go along with everyone then I would end up back in prison.
I knew I wouldn’t survive if I was put back in prison, even with all the nice people. I have always been an outdoors person and worked outdoors all my working life, and outdoors is my life force.

My friends from Hampshire were there, there were not many people there. The mental health lady took my hand and took me into court. I didn’t like her being there but at least someone was there. I sucked my thumb because I was very distressed.

I do not know what a lot of court things mean.
I do know that the judge man and the people up there seemed slightly surprised that I was pleading not guilty to Jane Fisher and the Bishop and pleading guilty to Bob Key, but I just did as I was told, I do not understand enough to know what it all meant and why. I know I was being condemned as bad forever that is all. (but when Jane Fisher and the Bishop had me arrested again in 2011 it was claimed in court that they had had me convicted in Jersey, even though it was bob key who I was made to plead guilty to in Jersey).

The judge said something about how hard I had worked to educate myself and he hoped I would do that some more when I went back to the mainland. But I wondered if he understood that once you are a criminal you are bad forever and no amount of education makes you employable or acceptable and that there was no point whatsoever in me trying to finish my education now. People who are deemed bad live in the gutters and smoke and drink because they are not going to get employment or volunteer work or houses or be welcome anywhere.

Anyway, I do not know what it all meant and the judge and whoever else was talking talked about me being bound over to leave the island and that seemed to be what happened and they made an error something about thinking I was going back with my friends who were in court or them arranging me going back. But I don’t know but the judge had to come back because of it.

So then I was taken back to the police station but they did not be nasty any more, they got me hot drink and made me fingerprint and photo and paperwork and everything I did not really understand and they talked about booking me a flight and where was my passport and they did an identity sheet because I did not know where my passport was.

Then they took me to my house. All my things were there but instead of getting me any things they brought out the bags of clothes I had ready for the charity, which were no good for me and they thought that was my clothes but I couldn’t tell them, and they found my passport, which was a Jersey passport.

My landlady came to sit in the police car with me and she was so concerned and so upset, but she had said she wouldn’t have me back so that is why I got put in prison so it was hard for me to talk to her.

Then I got taken to the airport and put on a plane and I came back to England.

I got back to the airport in Southampton and had nowhere to go. I logged onto the internet there where I had weeks worth of emails from friends, charities and various things. But it seemed that everyone in Jersey who I worked for and with knew I had been bad and condemned and they wouldn’t speak to me.

I booked myself into a hotel now that I could access my money, but the money that had been in my room when the police arrested me was never seen again and I never got my possessions back either.
I went in the hotel room and looked through the clothes the police had brought out, thankfully there was an old bra in there and I put that on though it was not very comfortable, it was better than nothing.

I cried and shook all night, trying to calm myself with the quiet calming music on the radio, but I knew what had happened was wrong even if I had retaliated to the church, they had made me out to be bad but they had done bad and what happened to me was real.
Ever since then, until the shock of recently being traced and ‘apologized to’ by the Bishop and Archbishop, I have been alone with all this and unable to face what has happened.
I didn’t realise that night that the matter was not over, Jane Fisher and the Bishop were not going to let me alone and were immediately contacting my friends and sending messages via Juliet Montague, who had covered up what her husband did to me and to his daughter and who had heavily involved herself in the case in Jersey, but against me, and yet, Jane Fisher emailed Juliet when I came back from Jersey and used her to pass her and the Bishop’s side of things on to my friends in Juliet’s parishes, including my friend Anne, who died estranged from me as a result!

But that is for another statement.
Anything ommitted from this is omitted because I have forgotten or didn’t know about it or understand it.

from the article in the Guardian - so it's not just me who suffers

"The cruelty, the unkindness, the lack of understanding towards people with autism is horrifying. Not just police and social services, but people, the public," she said. "Adrian was lovely, a fantastic lad and so special to us. It's the way other people treated him that was the problem."

This is Essential Reading -because THIS is what it is like!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/jun/14/autistic-adults-abused-by-friends-survey?CMP=twt_gu

It made me cry, because it is true, police and social services treat us like sh*t, treat us as mad, and no one does a damn thing to help when we are being hurt and abused, no one is stopping the Diocese of Winchester driving me to my death! And too late, they will wake up, when I am dead and do loads more inaccurate and defamatory reports about how I could have been helped.

After Winchester written 11/06/2014

• No one  can imagine, unless they have to live through it, what it is like to lose your home, suddenly be a criminal, be homeless, be banned from your home and lose all your posessions, be homeless and be unable to get help because of continued branding and interference by the people who left you homeless and destitute this way.
• It is a terrible cold empty world, where this happens, and the people doing this to you are church people who have utterly failed in their duty and have scapegoated you for it.

In 2011 I started a handwritten diary, because I expected to perish on the streets, driven from homeless services and help by the Church of England and the record they got me, and I felt that unless I started writing, then if I died, only the police who treated me as mad and bad, and the Diocese, would be the ones to have a say about me in the press, and to a certain extent, I still feel that, in life and in death, they are the ones to brand me, they are the ones with the voice. I didn't see much good in myself anyway. But the journal and then the blogs, became my lifeline, my voice, and they remain my only voice.

Here is some of my journal from 2011, copied onto 'Homeless':

I am copying my old journal again in order to get rid of the paper copy and have it on here instead.

I was writing about myself again here, in the hope of letting my family know something about me for when I died, as they know as little about me as I know about them.

I am apparently 5ft7, I cannot do measurements due to my learning difficulties, I am average height. My shoe size is also average, 7.
I wish that the rest of me was average. I have trouble telling my weight, it varies rapidly and startlingly, I am usually overweight, sometimes slightly sometimes by quite a bit.
I have a learning difficulty to do with maths that caused me to be called stupid just about every day of my childhood.



I also have receptive dysphasia or a slow processing speed that is linked to autism, it is very variable in intensity but has improved dramatically from the severity it was when I was a teenager. It still affects my ability to use a phone and hear one to one conversation in a crowded room or have a conversation with two or more people.

I have been called 'ignorant', 'awkward', 'useless', daft and many other names as a result of my difficulties.
This used to really hurt and frustrate me when I didn't know what was wrong but knew I wasn't being deliberately awkward.

I seem to be overweight and not overweight, overweightness runs in my family, but I have skinny arms and other places and a big belly and thighs, no matter what I eat or don't or no matter how much work or exercise I do. I hate my funny lumpy misshapen body and wish my neck would let me hold my head up.
Sometimes in the mirror I look tall and tanned and confident with glowing skin and hair, sometimes I look pale and pasty and droopy and ugly.
My clothes also vary like this, but the worst thing is when they smell bad when I can't wash or change them.

I am very childlike and my voice is high and thin and sounds like a defensive chld. It is very embarrasing if I do use a phone as people are rude and think I am hoaxer or something.

Do I have a personality? What is it like? well I don't know, I am me, but I am sure the Hometown diocese would make me out to have a personality disorder if they could, in order to plant the blame for everything on me.

It is difficult to know who I am since the church branded me. I seem to be who they say I am, and yet I am not who they say I am.

I have a sense of humour, they haven't changed that.

It is hard not to write about myself in the past tense because I have felt like who I am and was has been blotted out by the church and diocese, so excuse the past tense in my writing.

I believed in good, in honesty and celibacy and refraining from using drugs, alcohol or cigarettes, I believed in returning lost items to their owners and having integrity, I believed in not being scared by media hysteria, I believed in lots of things, but my fragile world and beliefs are invalid because of the church being untruthful and condemning me.
The church have condemned me as wicked and a liar and a troublemaker, and they have broken me.

I have to stop writing now because it is too much for me.

Do I consider all this writing to be:

• Self-indulgent?
• naval gazing?
• Selfish?

Yes. But that is not all it is. It is written in order to tell my side, explain me, and hopefully to help other people who are suffering to know that they are not alone.

I cannot comletely cure myself. I am one solitary autistic person, and autism literally means 'self-ism', trapped in one's own self, and despite that, clumsily, I try to reach out and help others, ever more tentatively.

Despite being condemned forever as the Bad Person by the church, I;

• Help push cars that break down
• return wallets and valuables that I find to the police or the owners
• help people up when they fall
• help carry heavy loads
• avoid begging or asking for help
• offer to help if someone is upset
• and do anything I can to help despite not being able to be a volunteer any more.

These are problems that I associate with my mixture of trauma and Autistic Spectrum:

• Touch sensitivity
• Noise sensitivity
• Heat sensitivity
• disphasia
• frustration, irritability and low mood
• inability to cope with relationship problems
• Incomprehension of situations and explanations
• need for large amounts of solitude and freedom
• need for 'adult' help
• Anxiety
• motor problems  (always makes me think I have a motor that doesn't work)
• need for structure and routine
• communication and speech problems
• easily overloaded with stress
• claustrophobia
• eating problems
• depression
• flashbacks and inability to escape from bad things in the past
• need for things to be correct
• negativity

An exhaustive list?

After Winchester 2011

• The CofE are reading all this and making sure no-one corroberates my story. That would be funny wouldn't it? To think a church can be that dishonest to save their skins.

• Most of my Story from October 2011 to Now, is in print on this blog lifeafterthediocese.blogspot.co.uk This blog is a merge of  'Wanderer' blog and the newer 'Life after the Diocese blog, and goes back to 2011. There are complex parts that are not included in great detail on this, about the struggles I had to get help from medical and homeless services, and how I ended up unable to get the help I needed and being a fugitive and misunderstood and villified due to the record I was given, I will write about these in more depth later on.
• My other blog 'Homeless' is back online for the first time since 2012, but I will only be making posts visible again gradually to make sure it is all censored and suitable for the now general public who read my blogs rather than the select few who used to read it in 2011/12, currently only 4 posts from 2011 are visible http://thisishomecoming.blogspot.co.uk/ I will be working to liberate posts on this blog for reading.

• London, Summer 2011. I remained without help and very traumatized, I went into an NHS trauma clinic in Camden and was told that they had over a year's waiting list and referrals were supposed to be through a doctor, but my experience so far with my doctor and the maudsley didn't give me any hope of referral, so that was not an option, and basically, I didn't think I was going to last another few months, let alone a year, I was profoundly traumatized and without hope.
• Completely hopeless on the streets, I did not give up looking for help, ever, even though I was usually turned away and fobbed off, because they only have to look you up when you are on the system, and you are rubbished and turned away, anyway, I made contact with a trauma charity, who were worse than useless, they are called 'Assist' and I would not reccomend you contact them in distress.
• Assist, after failing to understand me, told me that I should go to casualty, this gets a bit sickening after a while, it is NOT a good response to anyone, and someone needs to educate all these people that sending people to waste casualty's time.
• Anyway, this was a time when, in the terrible state I was in, and with the flaming brand of serious mental illness by the Diocese, going so deep, that I had started to believe it again, as I did in Jersey, I went to casualty.
• I went to casualty one evening, and I was terrified by a man there who was seriously mentally ill, and although he had got himself to casualty, he was going mad.
• I guess all the people who incorrectly told me to go to casualty didn't think I would be a waste of time in a place where there were people who were really in need of help.
• The incident of the man going mad and having to be sedated, shocked me and worsened the fear and trauma, seeing this man forcibly restrained reminded me of the diocese making me out to be like him and wanting the same treatment for me.
• I was in casualty until the early hours, they could not help me as they said I was not mentally ill, and of course, as ever, I was not going to be needlessly further detained and traumatized by admitting to being suicidal.

Homeless in Winchester part 3

• But anyway back to the day when Anne told me that she had had this email, I went back to the police, I was again in a terrible state, I said to the police that the diocese were still driving me mad and sending emails to my friends and I didn’t want to contact the diocese so could the police stop them please? 
• The police were less believing this time, I told them that Jane Fisher was sending emails that were upsetting my friendships and provoking me, and that the diocese had no further reason to be involved now that they had got what they wanted.
•  I told them that the diocese had got me done for retaliating to the terrible situation in Jersey, they asked me who had investigated the abuse in Jersey, they asked me Anne and her husband’s name and asked about JM and Jane Fisher, they asked if I was suicidal and mistakenly said they thought I had come in suicidal and dangerous because of this incident and I said no, that I was just very distressed.
• I had not come in threatening suicide, but asking in despair to be protected from the Diocese, which I never was.

• they asked if this had happened before and I was puzzled, they said they had seen it on the system about the time when I had ended up in the police station because the WPC had considered me suicidal due to my row with George and Jill. 
• I said I was not suicidal – I did not want or need to be locked in and hurt any further, the police seargent turned nice and said that they would speak to the diocese and that I should take things easy and that I would have good and bad days and things would get better eventually.
•  I found this helpful and reassuring, as well as the fact that I had now been in a police station twice without being battered and locked up. The policeman and saergent said they would speak to the diocese and get back to me.
•  They never got back to me but I know the diocese well enough to know how well and efficiently they would have covered up, all the words about how they were ‘trying to help me’, ‘concerned for me’, ‘sorry that they had to take action against me but they did and they were worried for my welfare’, 
• all the empty smooth talk, and the fact that what they had done the situation they had caused and the fact that they were hurting and provoking me beyond bearing while I could do nothing to defend myself and was watching my precious friendships go down the drain at the hands of the people who had just had me convicted and imprisoned seemed irrelevant and forgotten, but I refrained from contacting the diocese. I trusted the police, wrongly, to ask these people to refrain.

• I spoke with my other friends, Elizabeth and Peter, again they had been made aware of the situation by other people, not me, I asked who, and they tried to avoid the question, they said ‘people who are concerned about you’, I persisted in asking who, and they said ‘oh, Anne and other people who were concerned’
•  Anne and her husband said they had spoken to no-one, Elizabeth and Peter’s friendship with me had always exclusively been me going to see them at (their home), the only places I saw them were at their house, at the church, and at the fete or the school
•  But Elizabeth wanted to meet me in town, which seemed very odd, and reminded me of the diocese, of Tracy suddenly telling me I couldn’t come to her house without explaining why, after Jane Fisher had interfered, and how that damaged me.

• I was suspicious, I met with the Elizabeth and Peter but told them not to discuss anything, Elizabeth refused to answer my continued questions and so I told them  just as I told Anne and and her husband that I believed them to be unsafe friends to me due to the diocese.
• there were no protests or attempts to stay in touch, and the church friendships had become, through the diocese, just empty tools of pretend concern, my friends were gone,
•  My friend Shirley made attempts to contact me and to come to the Nightshelter with things for me, I had told the nightshelter that no-one from the church was to come or to interact about me, but they had ignored that and Shirley left me some things of mine that had been at her house, and a note, which made me upset and angry, 
• I did not want the raped destroyed friendships from the church penetrating the nightshelter and I was angry that the instruction to the nightshelter that no-one from the church was to contact me or discuss me with the nightshelter had been overridden, and I reinforced that wish angrily, and told Shirley to leave me alone.
•  I also found out that the Bishop of Winchester is patron of the Nightshelter, and so my stay there was under the shelter of the man who destroyed me and he was free to access my records and cause prejudice and unsettle me and separate me from the helpers. Which is what he and Jane Fisher did.

• So I had been back a week and seen the diocese completely wipe out years of trust and friendships, my strongest, oldest and most valuable friendships, and humiliate me completely, I had been back a week and had had to go to the police twice, I had been back a week and the nightmares and distress and panics were being heaped on me by the church when what had happened was already unbearable.
• I referred myself to the council after the support workers failed to do anything about the housing process, but after an hour and a half trying to survive a meeting with the council we had made little progress and I was exhausted, they made another Appointment for two days time, but I was ill that day and the support workers at the shelter suddenly wanted to be involved, they cancelled the appointment and no more appointments were made so I gave up.
•  later on after I had left the shelter, the support worker who now crosses the street tried to get me an appointment without even asking me, I cancelled it as I was just too confused and wary, more recently the Mental health services encouraged me to go back to the council but I was simply not able to cope with the meetings and paperwork and was at a point where I prefer to be street homeless and would not want to be on a council estate anyway, it would bring me down not lift me up, I know council estates, I am not being arrogant but I don’t belong there.

• The support worker who originally helping me, was a housing support worker, and she was very good at first, she helped me to get benefits, as I would not have been able to do this on my own, which is one of the reasons I remained in Jersey when things were really bad, applying for state benefits is prohibitively difficult. 
• Anyway, this support worker remained helping me for a while on the streets, even though the building she worked in was hard to get into.
• She did make me a council appointment without my permission though and I cancelled it, the Diocese's side of things had been fed to the council and they were not helpful, I could not cope with the housing process, had no wish to be in council
• This support worker told me that the diocese had been in touch with the Nightshelter, she was the one who innocently confirmed it - but in response to my outrage and distress, which was not violent or out of control -she told me it was 'because they wanted to know what church I was going to' as if that made it acceptable.
• This was before I found out I had been slandered to every church in the Winchester Deanery and churches together in Winchester.
• But obviously it got back to the church and nightshelter that I was angry about this, and the support worker started to avoid me, I know I did nothing to her, but she was someone who had provided evidence that the Diocese and nightshelter had acted illegally and breached data protection and my human rights.

• Before this support worker abandoned me without word, she tried and failed to get me into a women's shelter, which as described elsewhere horribly failed when the Diocese's criminal record of me and opinion got to them through the council and nightshelter and I suffered the horrible blow of being called an abuser instead of a survivor of abuse.
• The shelter, who had been very hopeful and encouraging until their heard the diocese's side of things, turned me away as an abuser and told me to go to my doctor to get housed, it is absolutely crazy how many people think casualty or the doctor are housing services, when they are medical services.

• So when this shelter plan fell through and I was on the streets in the snow, this support worker joined the growing inane cries to me to go to casualty, this crazy 'go to your doctor/go to casualty' cry dogged me throughout my time in Winchester and onwards, when I was seeing a doctor regularly and the doctor could not help and going to casulaty for homelessness is a wicked waste of emergency services time, and when I finally actually obeyed this foolhardy request, in London later, I was indeed a waste of their time and left casualty in the early hours, traumatized and vulnerable when I should have been asleep in my hedge, with the hospital unable to help as I was not mentally ill.
• So the Diocese were very succesful in blocking me being housed and removing friendship, safety and confidentiality from me and leaving me shamed and branded on the streets, with the police refusing to act for me and protect me.

Homeless in Winchester 2010 part 2

• I made no contact with the diocese on my return to Winchester, I had no intention of doing so, and stupidly believed that they would do likewise, stupidly, stupidly believed that now they had destroyed me and made it clear beyond anything that they did not believe me and believed Key, that they would accept that they had severely ‘punished’ me and would leave me alone, but I was mistaken, very mistaken, I had forgotten Jane Fisher’s job of protecting the church’s reputation, and here I was in Winchester, destroyed and such a danger to that reputation, and I have no doubt that despite this statement being true, Jane Fisher has and is there to ‘hush things up’ that too will be hidden and covered so that it does look like the diocese were simply ‘concerned’ about me, despite being the ones who destroyed me and their ‘concern’ having no benefit to me whatsoever and being of great harm to me as well as the fact that they refused to withdraw their interventions since I came back and went on and on intervening as I screamed at them in anguish, my reopening of communication with them was entirely provoked as continued to be hurt, shocked and harmed by their intervention and its impact on me.

• And guess what they did about me going out of my mind and screaming at Jane Fisher to back down and asking the Bishop again and again to withdraw her from intervention? They had me attacked by the police, covered up their intervention and made it look as if I was mad, I was treated nastily and brutally by the police, and was bruised and thrown around screaming in terror and distress, I was locked up and had the police outside the cell calling me paranoid and a troublemaker and getting my CRB  check on the computer and the diocese having hidden what had happened in Jersey and dissociated themselves from it, I was called a troublemaker because of what they read about what was written, that one sided destroyal of me in Jersey, so there I was, destroyed by what had happened in Jersey and having suffered and suffered at Fisher’s hands since my return to Winchester, being called a troublemaker and seriously mentally ill because the diocese took offence at my autistic despairing reaction to the terrible and wrong continued interference in my life.
• Anyway that comes later, back to the story:
• I went to the Trinity Centre the next day after a night of sickness and nightmares at the Nightshelter, and when I went to the Trinity Centre I had a terrible terrible shock, Lou Scott-Joynt phoned me, she had somehow got my number muddled up with (my friend's)number and was obviously aware that (my friend) was involved with me, she was trying to phone (my friend) about me and had phoned me! I collapsed, Lou Scott-Joynt realised she had phoned me and said ‘oh is that ******? This is Lou Scott-Joynt’. I told her to go to hell and I put the phone down in shock, 

• later I found that I also had a previous missed call from her on my phone, I was so shocked I escaped from the homeless centre and was sobbing and sick, I phoned (my friend) who was still in Jersey, I told her that Lou-Scott-Joynt had been trying to phone her and that I was going to the police, I told her I could not cope with the diocese continuing to interfere now that they had destroyed me, (my friend) said that if anyone spoke to her that she would speak to them and would listen and that her opinion would still be her own, but the diocesan interference and (my friends) being involved at all took away the trust of that long strong relationship, I did not feel that I am safe from the prying church and their interference and I felt ashamed and humiliated and unwilling to confide anything to these friends any more, can I ask you to imagine the impact of this on me?

• My friends may may be different ages to me, but they were some of my first friends and it was a long, strong and trusting relationship where I didn’t feel judged, as a result of what happened  I felt l condemned and ashamed and humiliated and unable to trust until I stopped  seeing them, in all appearances the relationship would seem the same as ever, but inside the bonds  frayed and the solidness is gone. I am sorry to admit that, it breaks my heart, Lou Scott-Joynt really stuck the knife in by what she did, if she had got hold of my friend instead of me and it had been kept quiet, I do not know what would have happened, but she got me, and she left me traumatised and shocked to realise that the diocese thought they could simply continue to rape my life for their own ends.
•  'Genuine concern for me' would be their glib answer, but if there had been any genuine concern, they would have left me and my relationships alone and allowed me to rebuild my life instead of violating me and having me slated for my response, what they did was callously cruel and unhealable.

•  I do not know if Lou Scott-Jouynt proceeded to talk to my friend, but people obviously have, and so I felt ashamed when I go to see my friend, my friend’s daughter  was obviously unsure of me after I was forced to leave Jersey, and one day she was there with her friend, her friend had obviously been told whatever my friends' view of the matter was as she blurted out something about it in a very bright and humiliating way and went on to say something about me wearing her friend's old top, even though at the time I wasn’t, I was wearing similar, but she seemed to think it was all a great joke, and I was very humiliated, while her friend tried to get her to hush up and go upstairs with her.
• This is some of the impact of the Diocese and their violations, can you imagine if you were publicly disgraced like this and powerless and helpess against this humiliation? No one reading this would want to go through what I did.

• Back to the story, I went straight from the homeless Centre to the police station, I was so shocked and seeing police on top of that was the last thing I needed, but I could not stand the thought of the diocese going on and on and on hurting me, 
• I was broken beyond healing and I do not know how I got through those first terrible days back in Winchester, the policeman who I spoke to was actually very nice, this was before the Bishop and Jane Fisher had their say to the police, the policeman looked at my phone and I told him what had happened, I was panicking from being in the policestation and I was in shock from the call from Lou Scott-Joynt,
•  I do not know how I didn’t break down completely, I showed the policeman the number on my phone, afterwards I worried in case I had shown him the nightshelter number which is similar and had also come up when the nightshelter secretary had tested that she had my mobile number by phoning it. 
• The policeman said he would phone Lou Scott-Joynt and ask her not to contact me and for the diocese to leave me alone, he said I did not look like a troublemaker when I explained to him how the diocese had got me done for retaliating to what had been happening in Jersey. He said he would phone me back to let me know about it, but he never did.
• Basically the Diocese had all the voice and when I repeatedly begged the police to stop them, the police treated me as mad and refused to do anything. It remains that they have not and will not restrain the Diocese from harming me.

• I went to See Anne and her husband, the last thing I wanted to do was bring my problems to them, I wanted to see them, in all this destroyal the sweetest thing was to be able to see Anne and her husband,
•  I went to see them, I didn’t go on about what had happened to me or my situation, the last thing I wanted was to load them with my problems even though they are emotionally balanced and don’t get overwhelmed with anyone’s problems
• , I made a great effort to be cheerful and happy to be in Hampshire, I told them that I was in the nightshelter and we just chatted. Anne wanted me to come back and see them again soon, and I said I would, sadly a few days later I spoke to Anne on the phone about coming to see them when she had said I could, but she told me she had had an email forwarded to her by JM, which was from Jane Fisher, I was indescribably shocked and angry, this woman Jane Fisher was using JM who had covered Fred’s abuse by calling me malicious and who had involved herself in the matter in Jersey and harmed me by doing so, 

• Jane Fisher was using JM in this matter as if I was not shamed and humiliated enough! And was raping my friendship with Anne and her family this way, humiliating me, giving the church’s opinion to my friends, there was an is no way that the arrest and imprisonment will ever heal for me, and it was bad enough my friends knowing that this terrible thing had happened, but for the diocese to go on and interfere in this way after what had happened was intolerable. I do not know what Jane Fisher said in her email, I do know that there is no way whatsoever that this could have been beneficial to me.
• Anyway after Anne repeatedly trying to talk to me and force this onto me while I screamed, that was the end of my friendship with Anne and her family, Anne was dying and died a few months later, with me estranged from her, and the diocese would not even let me grieve, they raped my grief and used it to the police as well, a friendship of over 10 years and full of love, was destroyed by the Diocese's influence that they used to cover their backs and defame me, friendships of 10 years and more were wiped out and I was defamed, to church members and officers such as Anne, and as most of my friends were church members and position holders, I watched my friendships and the whole structure of my life in my hometown of Winchester, swept away.

After Winchester 2011

• I fled Winchester in early Summer 2011, having been defamed, villified, separated from my friends, humiliated, shunned, violated, having had my rights, dignity, privacy and the data protection act breached by the Diocese through all services in Winchester, I was completely and utterly flogged, heartbroken and unable to understand why I was not allowed to escape the Diocese.
• The amount of people and agencies who I turned to and begged for help, who turned me away is incredible, the Diocese and the record they got me and their powerful voice against my weak one, which the Diocese pronounced as mental illness rather than a legitimate cry for help and protection, is horrendous.
• I went to, or contacted the police for help a number of times, and they treated me as mad, and instead, they had me brutalized and detained for the diocese, and continued to refuse my complaint against the Diocese, this is a terrible miscarriage of justice, and it has left a massive psychological wound.
• Leaving Winchester did not take away the record the Diocese gave me, or the shame, and as a result, I remained homeless, and continued to be 'caught up with' because of my records, wherever I went, and condemned and treated badly, a completely one-sided record that, for me, as I had no self esteem anyway, ripped me apart, anyone else would have committed suicide in this bleak trap, but I bloodymindedly fought on with my life, until, as I started to recover and rebuild, the diocese once again, and publicly this time, forced into my life, had me villified and ruined, and left me shattered and destroyed, with no possibility of them making it two sided and giving me a voice, and so they plan to do the same yet again, and again, unless, before they kill me, someone actually stops them.
• A classic massive wound among the many, in 2010/2011, was when someone thought it would be a good idea for me to apply to a woman's refuge, and as usual I was more than happy to be obliging and try. The woman's refuge were initially polite and helpful and told me they thought they could help. Then they spoke to the council and the Bishop's nightmare shelter who I had been slandered to, and they were rude to me, made me out to be an abuser who harassed people and thus would be a danger to the women in their shelter, and tried to tell me, as the CAB did, to go to my doctor, not a single person who fobbed me off this way would take into account that I saw my doctor regularly and was not considered mentally ill or dangerous, not a single person took my story, they just condemned me on weight of what the Diocese said.
• Basically I was left damned as an abuser, no one was told my side or that I was abused or autistic, they were just told the Diocese's side, while FM, who had abused me and was provided for, housed, and not publicly villified by the Diocese, laughed at me in the street with other church members.
• I was not allowed to be a vulnerable abuse survivor and get help and be protected or even housed without the Diocese's condemnation following me. I was branded and condemned.
• Now if you expect someone to behave normally with the full weight of the damage I suffered in Jersey and Winchester, to behave ok and normally, to behave ok regressed, abused, condemned, invalidated, brutalized, violated, laughed at by abusers, you expect too much. No human being would be able to be ok and normal after that, especially not one with autism and severe trauma, voiceless and being made to continue to suffer. 
• And so my actions and reactions would continue to be used against me by the Diocese, in a vicious endless cycle of condemnation, reaction and further condemnation, no sign whatsoever of Christianity from the Diocese. It will be years, if ever, if I recover.
• The doctor at the homeless centre in Winchester told me I would probably recover in two or three years, now that was in 2010, before several more brutalizations and detentions by the police, continued harm by the diocese, a few years of homelessness and the horrific last 15 months. If the Diocese don't stop soon, then I will not recover in another three years, I will be dead, and what they have done will affect me profoundly for a very long time if I live.
• Can anyone see the issue between the public apologies and the vicious underhand campaign of destroyal of me and self-protection that they carried out in Winchester? Which has not been examined by any 'safeguarding investigation', interesting isn't it? No investigation into any of that, because the key player is the person behind the catastrophic mess of the Diocese and Deanery war, to protect her own hide. Jane Fisher, the woman who had me destroyed, while all the time pretending to care.

when does a victim get excluded from an investigation?

The reality is, it was quite clear from the Bishop and his chaplain in the beginning that my input in the investigation was unwelcome, I had been traced and violated and left fearful and distressed just for the churches, own reasons, for show, and because concerned people were contacting the Diocese about me.

The Diocese never have cared, and it shows in the threats from the Bishop when I begged the Diocese not to do a repeat of 2010/11 where they slandered, smeared and violated me in my old home town of Winchester and I was left raging, rejected and devastated, there was nothing more unChristian than what they did then in leaving me outcast and getting me beaten and detained for my reaction, and nothing more unChristian than the Bishop threatening me last year after they illegally had me traced through the police and I begged them not to continue to harass me and drive me from my community - but they did.

I am voiceless and defenceless in a situation where the church can go on harming me, and if it wasn't for Bob Hill and this blog, it is quite obvious I would have been excluded completely from investigations, as I have been, and would go unheard, as I have.

The interconnected wrongdoers in the Deanery have had plenty of voice, in the press against me, and to Dame Steel, who has acted for them, while I have been made to suffer for 14 months.

Safeguarding investigation? No, a half-million pound waste of money and 14 months of harm to someone who has survived too much and wont survive much more.

Could you all contact the Archbishop and appeal for this murderous charade to stop - to save my life.

An email to the Bishop of Winchester and The Archbishop of Canterbury:

Tim Dakin and Bob Key between them have wasted more than half a million and left an abuse survivor ruined.

Archbishop Welby thinks Bishop Dakin is great, and that Bob Key is someone to have faith in.

Archbishop stands by his 'apology' to me, even though he never apologized to me and is wrecking my already wrecked life and is doing and has done nothing to help me.

Church of England classic!

You, the Church of England, are killing me in a very slow and horrible way by causing repeated collapses.

You are a dreadful, deceitful and very very evil and unchristian organization, and your press releases are nothing to do with Christ, how can lies and cover-ups that are killing someone slowly and extremely horribly be Christian?

Today I had a collapse as a result of the rubbish spewed by Welby on BBC Jersey,

so why does he stand by an apology that never happened and why is my legacy to be a thousand despairing screams of help to people who's vain waffle about caring does not match the reality of the harm that is being done to me?

Why does Welby stand by an apology he never gave and at the same time condone the man who did the harm? Makes sense? No, like the rest of this horrific mess and most of the CofE press releases ever.

The CofE needs a new press co-ordinator, they have not made sense throughout this awful murderous, sick and twisted charade.

In all seriousness, I am likely to die if this kind of stress continues to cause nervous collapses, tachycardia and high blood pressure.

I AM DOWN AND UNABLE TO KEEP GETTING UP, AND THIS PACK OF HUMAN HYENAS WHO CALL THEMSELVES CHRISTIANS WILL NOT STOP INFLICTING HARM ON ME WHILE I AM DOWN.

Just to add, it is very interesting to hear that it was the Bishop's staff who pushed for the channel islands to be moved to Canterbury, for Bishop's staff, read 'Jane Fisher'.

HG

Anything and everything

Good morning,
This blog has rested for some time as I am too ill to do much with it.

I was just researching spiritual abuse yesterday when I came across this site, it is a bit more extreme than Battered Sheep Ministries http://www.wickedshepherds.com/index.html

I should say something about Good Friday and Easter. But I can't think of anything, I went to communion last night but I don't feel well enough to go to any service today.

I have very little memory of Good Friday, I remember vaguely, helping with the Easter Garden at JM's church, and the big showing off that the Lihous and their church used to do, which was more about them than Jesus. I have no other recollection of Good Friday. Although I believe last Good Friday, the Diocese were crucifying me, and I expected the same again, last year I had pneumonia and this year I have a chest infection.

Funny how things change. Last year homeless but blissfully happy in my community until the Diocese wrecked my world, this year I am housed, sitting in bed sick and wishing I could be back a year ago and happy.
I kind of knew indoors would leave me sick and despairing, that's why I stayed out there.

Christians

If the people in the Diocese and Deanery war are Christias then why can't they settle this civilly?

I am caught in the middle and it is making me ill, especially the wait to  be damaged by unbalanced and inaccurate reports that condemn me instead of investigating my complaint. Reports that cover for wrongdoers.
Why am I being crucified for my sins when I do not work for the church and other wrongdoers do, hence their wrongs, which they will not take responsibility for, are worse, while I am on my knees pleading for forgiveness and absolution!

ps, the dioce appear to have made that NSPCC bid only to be able to put something in their press statement to cover for themselves.
'working hard accross the diocese to provide me with help'? Ha!

Anything and everything

I am considering doing a linked blog to my childhood story, which is fully written.

But I thought to get back into the Jersey story, I will try to do a brief chronology.

It was  July 2008 when I arrived in Jersey.
I met the churchwarden in July or August.

The Churchwarden 'adopted' me within weeks of meeting me.

It was October or november he first introduced inappropriate touch,
and he had already been talking inappropriately. 

It was November that the Churchwarden got me to go and live with them,
but he was already behaving wrongly, and churchpeople had observed him
holding my hand, hugging me etc, but done nothing, while his wife disapproved.

There was a disasterous Christmas, described elsewhere,
and immediately after this, the Churchwarden's behaviour got much more inappropriate.

I became sick with depression and was told that it was a virus by doctors,
who had no idea what was going on.
 The churchwarden's wife went on about me 'beating myself up'
But never told me what it meant.

By March 2008, I had referred myself to Autism Jersey and
was having counselling, but not feeling any better,
Being regressed when my original childhood was so bad
was as bad as the sexual abuse

The counsellor told me that what the churchwarden was doing was wrong
and told me to slap him on the nose when he crossed boundaries
but didn't completely realise that my sense of boundaries was impaired.

In April/May, I was actively looking for a new home and 
the Churchwarden's wife, though openly resenting me,
was helping me look,
while her husband was talking about how
I would come round for supper every day when I left
which neither I nor his wife, agreed with


I was still suffering stress and depression
as you will see in the 'year of emails' 
when I launch it on the blog.

I moved out without saying goodbye
and tried to cope with life
after being part of a family
while the churchwarden sought incorrect advice
from a group who mess with lives and use God's name in vain
'The walk of 1000 men
chauvenist charismatic evangelicals
who are like rabid wolves 
after souls but with no concern for human welfare

the churchwarden had told me in detail
how he had been inappropriate with 
young women during partaking in
this dangerous charismatic rubbish

By summer 2008, my life was in collapse
From summer 2008 to Autumn 2010
I fought the church of england in vain to do something
about the abuse and subsequent cover up and discrediting of me
but I ended up homeless and with a criminal record instead.

The church, to this day, prefer destroying me rather than dealing 
with my side of things and my abusers.
And they use my distress and mustrust against me 
to continue to villify me.