My days in Court.

This blog post is about a touchy subject, relating to my days in court and from having experienced sexual abuse growing up.

I haven’t talked about my court days a lot but I felt it was time, to put it out there. So here goes.

Read the post about having lived with PTSD to get more of the back story to this post.

I still remember the days in court, and I’m still filled with anger.

I had expected more of the court system and how it turned out left me distrusting the system.

It wasn’t fair and it did more damage then good.

I don’t regret taking my case to the court, I’m not upset that I lost, I’m angry how I was treated.

Backstory following up in short:

I was 18 years old; I had been living with sexual abuse from my foster father and had just escaped them.

To begin I didn’t want to go to court with it, I only called the police to get a restraining order against my foster father, and my foster mother, but the police officer told me I should make it into a case because what if he would do it again to others.

A thought occurred, that what if he would have more kids living with him, another girl, and it would be on me, if I didn’t try and prevent that.

So, I went down to the police station to file a report.

It was slightly terrifying and the police officer who interviewed me didn’t go gentle on me.

He told me after that he had to make sure I was telling the truth and that he got all the answers he needed to see if there was a case.

In sexual abuse cases its word against word, its almost impossible finding evidence that it happened, since no one normally witnesses it or records it.

He told me that he believed me and that he thought it was a case, it might be a hard win, but they would investigate it and see where it got us.

I was sent to talk to an attorney, and with her I meet a few times before the court was about to happened.

I had a few friends from back in my school days who I had told about the abuse, and the police found a woman at the club I went to as a teenager, who had been suspicious about something going on back then.

My diary was sent to evidence and everything was in order.

The days of the court arrived, and I was only there for a few hours of the 2 days It went on.

I had to testify, and I was there as moral support for when my friends had to testify.

When I got there, I was followed by my father my boyfriend and my layer, and he was there with all his family and friends.

The look on the faces I had once known as family was so cold, and I get it, it must have been a shock to find out I was taking this to court.

I had kept it a secret for years, and never expected my secret to get out, I never wanted any pain or distress on them, but I had to go through with it, for the fear of, what if he did it to others.

As they saw it, I was lying.

The day went on, and the atmosphere got more and more cold, it was horrible being there, sitting in the same room as them. My family versus their family.

My family and friends where well behaved, I had asked all of them to promise me they would be nice. No anger and no drama, I couldn’t take it. Just pretend all was fine. Even though it was hard for my dad and my boyfriend being there, I could tell.

But we had to trust in the justice system.

When my friends had to go to the bathroom they where pushed and taunted by his family, and no one was there to make sure everyone played nice. I’m still appalled that we all had to be in the same room.

I was sent in to testify to my story.

His layer went at me hard. He asked me “Fay I was told that you used to like making up stories as a kid, and that you wanted to be a writer, is that true?” I told him yes, I do want to be a writer, he then asked me if this was just another of my stories, accusing me of lying.

I was shocked that he was so direct and told him no, I wouldn’t lie about this. I had been asked of my layer to only say yes or no and answer as directly as I could. But it was hard, I got more and more upset about these questions.

I was asked if I was a good liar since I had been lying a lot when I was a kid.

I had tried to conceal the part in my journal that had talked about the abuse, since I had been terrified my foster mother had tried to read it when I was living there, so after I got out, I had carefully drawn back the lines.

They had found that out but didn’t believe that I had just drawn over the same words that it was written as back then.

When I was done testifying, I went away crying and when I got back out into the main room, everyone of his family was laughing and smiling that I was upset.

The next day arrived and it was time for a verdict, I didn’t have a lot of hope for anything at this point I just wanted it over with.

So, we all went into the room, and the verdict came, not guilty.

What I saw next is still horrifying me to this day.

All the judges (there where 3 I think) went over to my foster father, smiled and shook his hand, and then walked away, didn’t even take one look at me.

His family and friends where laughing smiling, roaring like it was a football match and someone had just scored.

I had expected some sort of justice to happen, at least some basic human decency that any behavior like that would be frowned upon or the guards would stop it. I especially didn’t expect the judges to pretend I wasn’t there and be treated as the violator not the victim in this case.

There is a couple of things I wish was different back then.

I had gotten some papers form my psychologist at the time, that I was suffering from PTSD, that evidence was disregarded by the court and wasn’t included in the case. My psychologist was shocked to know that fact.

It would have been a statement to testify that my emotional state wouldn’t just come from nothing and that it was clear I wasn’t lying.

The police officer I had talked to was convinced from the moment he had talked to my foster father that he was guilty.

He told me he had been a police officer in a long time, and he could tell these things now.

I wish those papers had reached the court, maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But the thing I wish for the most, is that the guards would have stepped in when his family where pushing around my friends, giving us death stares, and laughing when I had burst into tears.

I wish the judges had either been neutral to both of us or at least acknowledged I was there too. A human being who was in pain, a victim of a crime.

I later heard from some friends of his, that no longer spoke to my foster father, because they believed me, and had apparently themselves suspected something was off with that family, they told me that he was still a foster father to my foster brother, Nothing changed. They were still allowed  to have foster kids, even after my days in court.

I get why it’s a hard case to make and prove. Its not like anyone was in the room with me and my foster father when he did what he did, but the scars I wore mentally from the abuse lasted years, and he got off scotch free.

Worst part is that he is still allowed to be a foster father, but I can’t do anything about it. I tried, and I’m proud that I did go through those horrible days in court.

I did what I could, to try and prevent him from doing what he did to me, to another kid.

Most of the people who experience sexually abuse don’t go to court, and I read that the ones who does, its only around 30 % who wins the cases.

Other cases of abuse:

When I was growing up, my football coach liked slapping the girls in the ass, and some of the girls talked about that he would always be touching them inappropriately. We never told anyone.

He didn’t do it to me, but didn’t think much of it, since I grew up thinking this was normal behavior from a guy.

My dad’s friend tried to kiss me, a few times, I didn’t tell my dad until I was 20.

My mom’s gypsy friend would try to kiss and touch me when my mom was making coffee in the kitchen, I did tell her, and she stopped talking to him after.

I was under the age of 18 when this happened, around 15.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen people like my foster father.

The statistic in Denmark says every 10 child experiences sexually abuse at some point in their lives.

When I look at my friends group growing up, I don’t think those numbers are far off.

I knew so many who had experienced the same.

One was sexually abused at an orphanage growing up. She started working with prostitution after and started taking drugs.

My niece was sexually abused by a German tourist at the playground.

My friends’ brother same story.

A colleague of mine was sexually abused by her stepdad,

A friend of mine also by her stepdad.

Another friend of mine sexually abused by her cousin.

The list is long, and only 2 on this list took it to court, one got dismissed as her lying, and the other one was convicted because he told the court the truth.

We hear so many stories, that its awful when a guy gets wrongfully accused and it can ruin his lives, but what about the victims in this. What If he gets off scotch free and nothing is done, and the victims gets treated like they were the criminals in this story.

I wish we had a better legal system where the victims at least where treated a little better in the court system, at least with some neutrality. I can’t imagine anyone would lie about being sexually abused.

I have known people saying there where sexually abused and then trying to take it back, like I did when I was younger because I felt ashamed and scared of telling the truth growing up.

Its still a touchy subject talking about my court days, I’m still angry at how it turned out, but I wouldn’t do it differently. I’m happy I tried to make a difference. I didn’t do it for myself, since from the beginning when I talked to the police officer and my layer, they told me it was a hard case to win. I didn’t do it for revenge, I was out of there, and would never have to experience it again, but I’m still worried that he might one day do it to someone else.

I think its important that as a society we keep addressing and talking openly about sexually abuse. It happens a lot more then we think it does, and its still a subject that’s ridden with silence.

Its not easy for the victims to talk about it, mostly out of fear of how people will react to it, if we can take that fear away maybe that would change things.

Everyone I knew who was affected by sexual abuse kept it quiet until they reached adulthood, or they told someone as a kid, but no one believed them or thought there where lying. If we can take that mistrust away would it make a difference.

And when it comes to the court system, we need to change it up. At least separate both parties so they don’t have to spend the time there in the same room, or at least have supervision.

That’s the story of my days in court. I will write more about the time after my court days and How I recovered from my past in another upcoming blog post.