Fit Up (2 page)

At 12.30 p.m. the search of the house seemed to be finally coming to an end as the officers departed to their vehicles. I was anxious to close the door on all of them but noticed that Patel was speaking on her mobile phone at the front door. She told me that I would have a list of all items removed from the house within seven days and I felt relieved that there would be an account of our belongings. Little did I know at that time that it was to be almost four months before I received that list. She then added that information had been received that we had a shop in Borehamwood. I confirmed that we had set up our new business, UK Professional Video, at the beginning of August 2003 and that I had a set of keys with me.

To my horror, Patel said that I was to be taken to the shop in order to
carry out a search, but on the way she needed to stop off at the Magistrates’ Court to pick up the search warrant. She said that either she could meet me there or take me in her car. I knew I was in no state to drive as I was very shaky and probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the road.

Wearily I went to my parents to tell them that my ordeal was not over and that I had to be at the shop for it to be searched. My mother was anxious for me but I told her I would update her as soon as I could.

Patel unlocked the car, which I was glad was unmarked, and I got into the passenger seat. As I sat there two boys on bikes were passing by and looked at me. Up ahead they were riding on and off the pavement, weaving across the road, and as we drew level with them Patel opened the window on my side, leaning across me to show them her badge. I just knew she was going to say something to them about their bike riding on the pavement but I could not make out whether her assertion of authority was for my benefit or theirs.

We set off to Watford Police Station first, where the Magistrates’ Court was also located, and I waited in the car for Patel to get her warrant. I looked at all the windows of the police station, desperately wondering where Jeremy was within its walls. I could only imagine what he was going through and I knew he equally worried for me.

Patel finally returned to the car and we were on our way to Borehamwood. I just leaned back and stared out of the window, my head empty of thought as the landscape passed by like a film reel. Suddenly, a police van parked outside a McDonald’s restaurant came into view. I looked back as Patel laughed, confirming it was the search team looking for something decent to eat. Apparently the police canteen back at the station served up some pretty poor food. It must be really bad, I thought, if they have chosen to have a McDonald’s for lunch. I settled back in my seat, noticing that the sky had begun to darken, with rain clouds obliterating the last rays of sunshine of the day.

I directed Patel to the car park at the rear of the shop. The search team had caught us up quite quickly. They had parked their van and were waiting for me to grant them access. For this I had to go to the front entrance to unlock the shutters and deactivate the alarm.

There was a narrow footpath around the side of the building to the high street. I led the way, hugging the wall in a sideways motion, and Patel followed. However, just as we were about to exit onto the high street, Patel attempted to pass me by overtaking on the grass. Unfortunately for her she slipped on the incline and fell in a heap. Struggling to dig in her heels in the mud to get up I felt I ought to ask if she was all right, not that I cared. When she did manage to get up her hands and one side of her immaculate black trousers from hip to toe were covered in mud. I could not tell if she was cross with herself or embarrassed in front of me but I smiled inwardly at her predicament.

Quickly entering, I walked to the rear of the shop to unlock the door, allowing the officers to continue their search.

Across the road, I noticed two women getting out of a parked car and looking directly at me. They came across to the shop and introduced themselves as DI Burn and DC Barber. Whereas Patel had been more kindly and accommodating, these two were more hostile and gave me a look of disdain. I had been with the good cop, it seemed, and now it was time to deal with the bad cops.

They joined in the search and swept everything they wanted into boxes and bags. Again, I had to ask for certain tapes of August weddings to be left for delivery to our customers. After some reluctance from Burn I persuaded her to leave them by showing her the customer files that matched the tapes. I felt relieved to be doing something constructive to save the life of our business. Burn and Barber were going to take our demo DVDs, however, which would make the next week’s business appointments difficult to keep with nothing to show prospective clients. They
were beginning to tire of my interference by this point and insisted that they had so much substantial evidence on Jeremy that they were entitled to remove items of interest to their investigation. I showed them the diary of appointments and played the wedding DVDs. After some sarcastic observations about the happy couples, they decided I could keep these and most of the blank video tapes.

UK Professional Video also filmed corporate work and the officers were getting quite excited about some of the names on the tapes, which I revealed to them as gardening products in a catalogue. It was becoming apparent to me that these two extra officers were only here in the hopes of being part of a potential big bust of a filming business that was quite possibly filming, packaging and distributing obscene material. Instead, they had bags full of computer media to run a business, the male and female names on tapes were of legitimate married couples and the odd names on others were gardening products.

As we had three desktop computers, one laptop and an editing computer, Paul Smith at last had something to do. All of these were packed into plastic bags and removed. I explained to him that the editing computer was just dedicated to that job and had no internet access. He insisted on removing it and I complained to Patel that this was the lifeline of our wedding business and that there were films already stored on there for customers to collect. I reiterated that we would be liable for their loss or non-delivery. A special note was made and I was assured that I would get this computer back within seven days. Exasperated, I sat at one desk, letting them get on with it, when I was asked what the little black box under Jeremy’s desk was. I said it was a voice recorder that recorded incoming and outgoing telephone calls for training or legal reasons should a dispute arise with a customer. Not really quite sure of its purpose, Paul Smith decided to leave it. Unbeknownst to me at the time, that black box was to become a very important part of evidence gathering.

Tiring of it all, I thought I would find myself some space outside in the rear car park. Now was the time to call Jeremy’s sister, Suzanne, and I contacted her at work and explained that he had been arrested and what the charge was. She swore in shock and said, ‘You know that isn’t true, that’s not him you know.’ I replied calmly, ‘Yes, I know, but the police keep on about substantial evidence and I don’t know what that is because there is nothing in the house and nothing at the shop.’ She said she would call David, my brother-in-law, about getting a solicitor, but I said that it seemed Jeremy had refused one, because Patel told me so. Suzanne asked why he had done that and I said, ‘Because he knows he hasn’t done anything wrong and he doesn’t need one.’ As I said that I felt uneasy because I myself was not a believer in that old adage: ‘If you’ve got nothing to hide you have nothing to fear.’

I said that I would keep her up to date on developments. I then received a call from Jeremy’s younger sister, Claire, who had already been informed of what had happened. She said that she was near the area and asked if I wanted support. I had got to that stage of the day when I could do with someone batting for my side and asked her to come to the shop.

She arrived and saw my ashen face, hugged me and asked what it was the police were looking for. Burn took it upon herself to interrupt us, saying that they had substantial evidence against Jeremy for the purchase of illegal images. Claire took a big intake of breath and was about to protest but she took a look at me and decided to remain quiet. Moving away from earshot of the officers, she asked me what the substantial evidence was. I told Claire that I had heard this statement about three times and there was no other information forthcoming.

Time passed and I noticed that the search officers’ demeanour was one of deflation and boredom. They had obviously expected to find some juicy evidence but had found nothing that I had been alerted to during the search of the house and shop.

Claire and I sat down at one of the desks, of which I noticed that the lock had been broken, as the search was coming to an end. Patel came up to me and said that she had had a call from the station and that Jeremy wanted me to phone the restaurant to cancel dinner for that evening. It was Jeremy’s birthday on 2 November and in all the chaos of the day I had forgotten that we had a family meal booked at a restaurant. As I was about to make the call, Patel said that it was not really necessary to cancel the dinner because they would be finished at around 4 p.m. Again I was astonished at her insensitivity and lack of perception. Our lives had been turned upside down in the most terrible way and she thought that we would carry on getting ready for an evening of celebration. She really had no idea how shattered we felt.

It was 4 p.m. I had cancelled the restaurant booking and the officers were finally leaving the shop, with more promises of a property list being made available to me within seven days. Claire offered to take me home and told me that she had called her mother to tell her what had happened to Jeremy. Obviously she was very concerned and wanted to see her son as soon as possible, so we decided to pick her up on the way.

I tried to explain to Estelle, as best I could, the events of the day. The headlights from oncoming cars only highlighted the concern and perplexity on her face. She probably had as many questions as I did and I was anxious to be with Jeremy. Staring out at the rain running down the windscreen, I felt as miserable as the weather.

Just then my mobile rang. It was Jeremy. Finally, I was able to speak to him. He said, ‘Hello, this is your paedophile husband.’ I was shocked at what he said and he then added that he was in the back of a police car being taken home by two officers. He sounded irritated so I guessed the paedophile comment was for their benefit.

He asked where I was and I replied that I was about fifteen minutes from home and that Claire was driving. I added that his mother was
also with us. At this he shouted hysterically that he did not want anyone to see him. He had had a terrible day and wanted some peace. He only wanted to see me.

Finally, the journey came to an end as we drove into my road. I thanked Claire for the lift and told her and Estelle that Jeremy and I needed some time on our own first. They understood and I promised to call them the next day.

As they drove away, I turned around to look up at the house, our haven, which no longer felt welcoming or safe. I felt exhausted from the shock of it all and it felt like I had been gone for an eternity instead of just an afternoon. Turning the key in the lock of the front door and entering the hall, I was startled to see Jeremy appear from the shadows with just the lamplight from the street illuminating his face, which was ashen, his eyes dark-ringed and expressionless.

‘I hope you are on your own,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t want to see anyone, don’t you get it?’

Turning on the lights, I said quietly, ‘This isn’t my fault, is it?’

He moved towards me and held out his arms. We hugged for a long time, not saying a word. I had lots of questions about his day, as he probably had about mine, but all I could ask first was if he wanted something to eat.

Neither of us could contemplate a meal but I said we ought to have something. I remembered that I had eaten nothing all day and had hardly had any fluids. Not being bothered to cook, I busied myself making toast and cereal. Jeremy told me he was given a meal earlier but that just by looking at it he knew it was inedible and I remembered why the search team chose to eat at McDonald’s.

As I prepared our evening meal, which looked like the breakfast we had both missed, Jeremy asked if I had seen any of the neighbours and wondered what they must be thinking. I replied that I was not particularly bothered
about the neighbours – we hardly came into contact with them anyway. They would only be able to speculate among themselves about what they had witnessed that day, and I thought they would suspect that it could be drugs. Thinking of how we must be perceived, a double-income couple, no kids, early forties, however, even that theory seemed absurd.

I told him about the search team going over everything and taking loads of stuff from the house and shop, and that we should get a list within seven days. There was no response from Jeremy but we sat down to eat while watching the TV. We were both very tired and traumatised.

All he managed to say before going to bed was that he was suspected of the most terrible crime, worse than murder, and wished he had been accused of that. As he turned away, head bowed, shoulders slumped, I was overwhelmed with sadness for him.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. It was my hairdresser and friend, Joan, who had been due to do my hair that morning and had seen the police at my house. She asked if everything was OK and I felt the tears start to well up. Through a shaky voice I said that I was not up to talking and without any prompting from me she said, ‘I bet this is something to do with Lloyd.’ I added that I could not say but that I would call her to re-arrange my hair appointment.

Saying nothing more about the day we went to bed early. That morning I had thought of our home as our sanctuary, but now I was beginning to understand the violation felt by burglary victims. Strangers had pored over all our possessions, rifling through clothes, cupboards and drawers, looking at private papers and then taking it all away. Preferring to remain in the comfort of the darkness, with just the glow of the television, we lay entwined in each other’s arms and hoped for sleep to come.