TB's Legacy to Victims of Crime

I had a fantasy… it was called justice.

I used to believe that I would live my life and not be touched by crime,
never become a statistic, never wake up in a sweat on hearing noise outside, and never jump when the fridge turns on, but the reality of having lived in Blair's Back Yard is very different to the fairy tale I used to believe in.

I have been the victim of 227 crime/incidents in just under 4 years whilst living in
the North East, resulting in damage amounting to over 75 thousand pounds.

I was targeted because I made a stand against wayward and lawless behaviour.

Behaviour that is still all so acceptable unlike the contracts, dished out, but
rarely enforced in a village within Sedgefield Constituency where Tony Blair was MP.

Endless broken windows, car wrecking, theft, burglary, attempted arson, criminal 
damage, death threats and intimidation has left me traumatised.

I have been verbally abused at any opportunity, as have my friends, when they have
had the iniquitous misfortune to visit me.

I have even suffered the shame of having 'Die Bitch' daubed across my
door for all to see.

Yes, shame, not fear.

It is not done to frighten, but to shame me. I dared to do the unforgivable.

I contacted the police.

Such has been the intensity of the threats libelled against me that Victim Support
advised me not to leave my house alone.

So there I was living under siege a virtual prisoner in my own home, because I dared to
do what we as a nation used to be proud to do, stand up and be counted.

But I stood alone in a community that bragged about running itself with a punch-(in the face) -line of ......I'm alright man, why aye.

And because I stood up I was made to suffer so-called low-level crime, 
such a misnomer if ever I heard one.

It isn't low level when you wait in the darkness night after night for the onslaught to
begin and when it does, count the cost of the damage to your home, and the invasion
of your privacy.

It lends me to a lack of confidence in a police service that sometimes does it's best, but is drowning in a sea of political paperwork.

I had a strict daily regime that helped me survive.
By 6pm the thick curtains lined with heavy voile to catch the glass were all pulled
tightly shut.

I learnt to cook by candlelight as putting a light on was tempting house bricks
through the windows like moths to a flame.

I didn't sleep in a bed for almost 4 years. 

For safety I slept downstairs on a sofa, with a fire extinguisher to hand, such was my
trust in the promises made to me face to face by Mr. Blair, that he would sort it out.

I still live in a constant state of hyper vigilism, always scanning, always aware of the time
of day, and where I am.

Knowing who is who and where they are in relation to my property is of prime
importance because, when the devil strikes, the first thing a police officer will ask is

What time was it? Where were you? And what were you doing?

That is not a normal run of the mill; stress free way of living, but it is one I was forced
into by vandalism and yobbish behaviour and a community that turned away.

I was an embarrassment for staying in my house as long as I did without giving
in to the yobs that roam the streets looking for trouble and finding it.

You will notice I said my house and not my home; it wasn't my home for a long
time. It was their home, they did what they liked to it, I just happened to live in the building.

What was expected in this neck of the woods was to put up and shut up or better still, use the baseball bat mentality to sort things out.

The few that that stand up against yobs are not well supported by a system that is in
total overload.

One is expected to either run out of money or run out of steam, or if your skin colour
doesn't fit, get run out of town. I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies by
their standards, that I am at least white.

All desire by me was lost to change things for the better and bring about an end
to yobbish culture in a community that for the most part ignores what it sees and
remains unmoved by the happenings to others.

How much of that is down to apathy or ignorance I do not know, but when grown
men cheer whilst youths stone the windows of a victim's home...... I despair.

I despair for the future of that community.

I despair for the future of those youths.

If you know the difference you can make a difference, but the onus is in the knowing.

Social education in a Socialist heartland is sadly lacking and the evidence is
there for all to see.

With the advent of ASBO's and ABC's Labour politicians and Tony Blair in particular
promoted a solution to social disaster that is now reaching epidemic proportions.

No Tony, in practise it's not enough, because asbos only work if the victim,

the recurring victim, is prepared to go on being a recurring victim.

Once you come forward, you are marked, cast out from the very society you are
trying to improve.

You won't remember me Tony, but I met you at your constituency surgery, I let you

know how I felt, I told you of my misery, face to face. You promised me help and the situation changed…….......It got worse.

Not satisfied with being left to suffer, I went back to your agent John Burton several
times, each time taking an independent witness with me from Victim Support.

In August 2005, Mr. Burton said he would come and see me, and the problems for
himself, as he put it the 'back end of next week'……. I'm still waiting.

I knew the days had become long since moving to the North East, I hadn't realised the weeks had too.

I have campaigned long and hard for the right to live peaceably and to go about my
day-to-day business in safety without harassment or distress, but it seemed that was not to be.

Where this will end I do not know, but have no doubt it will end in tears.

I trusted you Mr. Blair to be a man of the people, I trusted you to keep your word.

I have great disbelief as many others do at the generalised statement crime figures are down and yob culture has been cracked.

I'm afraid not Tony, I have the evidence before me, the multitude of police
statements, the photographs of damage, the endless repair bills.

You may have cracked the tip of the iceberg but it's what lies beneath that does the 
criminal damage.

I had a fantasy called justice… but the dream is long since dead.

I am living proof of the nightmare.

And still the misery goes on for others.......