His Freedom Became My Prison
From grooming and rape to safeguarding failures and institutional disbelief, Ava* shares the long-lasting impact of a system that never truly made her feel safe. This anonymous account explores the lasting impact of abuse, institutional failures, and the reality of seeking justice as a child
*Name changed for anonymity
The recent headlines of youth defendants avoiding custodial sentences has brought back the familiar feelings of injustice and pain that many years on I live with each day. At 12-years-old I was groomed and raped by a 16-year-old teenage boy. He avoided custody through a sentencing ‘loophole’, that rewarded a guilty plea on the first day of trial, 18 months after I had reported the rape. His sentence: a small fine, a 10 ½ month referral order, and 2 ½ years on the sex offenders register. I was left fearing for my safety and feeling betrayed by a justice system that had so starkly failed me, even with a conviction. During the 18-month long investigation I endured a life that, on reflection as an adult, I do not know how a child so young survived. The repercussions of reporting the rape continue to be felt in every aspect of not only my life, but my family’s too.
I met my rapist through a mutual friend online. He created a power dynamic through the large age gap that allowed him to manipulate me through fear and isolation. I was particularly vulnerable to such grooming due to undiagnosed ASD which was later diagnosed during the court process. His behaviour quickly turned sexual and he started to pressure me to meet him to ‘have sex’, the concept of which I did not particularly understand at such a young age. One day after school he took me to a secluded area in the town centre, behind the Church associated with the school, and raped me.
The first reaction to my disclosure was not that of concern, but dismissal, a theme which echoes through my experiences. Senior safeguarding staff framed the rape as gossip that ‘would blow over’ rather than that of a serious sexual offence that needed immediate police intervention. It was only because of my mother’s drive for them to respond to the disclosure appropriately that it was reported to police. This attitude of belittling continued in their treatment until I left as a student. The school opted for a supposed ‘neutral’ response which prioritised his rights over mine, seriously compromising my safety at times – the most memorable of which being that he was allowed onto the same corridor as me due to staff incompetency, risking serious harm. He was even allowed to attend the school prom which fuelled gossip that he was innocent of my allegations.
After he left school, and their duty of care towards him ended, there was still a general disbelief among senior staff that I had been raped, and it was hard to ignore how the religious Church of England background of the school influenced how I was treated, with a rife rape culture among staff and pupils. There was an apparent loyalty towards him and his family who were strongly connected to the church associated with the school. The school systemically failed me, causing inconceivable trauma. The guilt and shame that they instilled in me is something I have carried since.
At school I was heavily bullied and isolated. I had been labelled a liar and disowned by the majority of my closest friends. I was spat at, shouted at, called names, and intimidated and stalked on corridors. Mine and my family’s support network completely fell apart. I found myself avoiding school and generally scared to leave my house, terrified of seeing him and his friends who often waited around the area he knew I lived in. His freedom effectively became my prison. The thought of him being convicted and going to prison is what motivated me to keep the case open despite the immeasurable trauma it was causing.
After the sentence I was completely devastated, left feeling suicidal, and yet I was told by police to be grateful that he had been convicted; they acted as though there was an entitlement in the expectation of a custodial sentence for raping a child. I cannot describe the immense injustice and rage that I still feel. His sentence was not proportional to his actions. He had premediated to rape a young child and yet he will never spend a day in custody. In my victim impact statement, I repeatedly stated that I needed time without him in the community for my life to return to some sense of normality, and the lack of a sufficient sentence means that I have never felt the peace of being able to leave my house and not fear his presence. His lack of a custodial sentence meant that after court I frequently saw him in the community, and at one point I was sharing public transport with him on my way home from college. I lived in constant apprehension whilst trying to get an education in the hopes of leaving my hometown for a new beginning.
Because of his continual presence in the community there has been a presumption that he was never found guilty and so I am still often labelled as a liar. When I revisit my hometown, I feel as though I walk around with what happened to me written on my forehead, a label I doubt he carries. I live in fear of being confronted as a result of such assumptions and having to prove his guilt. Despite him admitting his guilt in court, the protection of his identity – of which there would be legal consequences for somebody to reveal – allows him a certain privilege of avoiding accountability, with him having started over, whereas I find myself still trying to rebuild my life many years later through endless therapies.
I carry the anger and disbelief at his sentence each day. It feels like an utter dismissal of the trauma he inflicted on myself and the domino effect of trauma among my family and friends. There is no greater violation than being raped, and yet his sentence reflected that of petty crime. I often struggle to believe that it was ‘that bad’ because of the sentence he received and the lack of validation it served to the suffering I still feel. And yet I now find myself struggling to remember this period in my life in all the ‘gory details’ because of the intensity of the trauma that I repeatedly endured. I have only been able to truly begin to process my trauma since becoming an adult and leaving my hometown, however I find that the injustice I feel from his lack of punishment and rehabilitation has kept my PTSD thriving.
The criminal justice system is failing victims of rape perpetrated by teenage boys, with a serious disregard for the seriousness of sexual offending in youth. I have been quietly campaigning for years for changes to youth sentencing to be implemented to prevent such miscarriages of justice with no prevail. Without public outrage there is no pressure for the system to change and protect future victims.
