Fit Up (6 page)

As the films played through I got up to stretch my legs and wander over to the shop window. All of a sudden a customer came in, I hoped that Hopkins would continue to sit quietly and look as though he were a
customer watching a demo tape. Fortunately, he was discreet while Jeremy gave out all the necessary information and they left happy and none the wiser. The clock ticked round to 11.30 a.m. when finally Hopkins stood up and said he was satisfied that he had seen enough. We were relieved as we were under the impression that he was going to be with us a lot longer, but he got Jeremy to sign a returned property sheet, letting him have a copy, and then left promptly through the back door. We both let out a sigh of relief but I knew that we would spend the rest of the day analysing what was said, what it meant, had we said too much?

Soon after this visit Jeremy had to visit the doctor for treatment of eczema, most probably brought on by the terrible stress he was under.

Our solicitor was still tirelessly working on Hopkins to get our property list of items seized at the house and shop, reminding him that this was very much overdue. Very often the excuses given were that they were either short-staffed, on holiday or sick.

Finally, on 21 February, we received the list by second-class post – and there were many pages of it. It was both infuriating and upsetting to see our possessions itemised in this way, but more importantly, we hoped that they were all in safe keeping. Patel had originally said that I would have this list within seven days and here we were, a week short of four months. Getting the list felt like we had had our house burgled all over again, as many of the entries only reminded us that they were missing, some we hadn’t even noticed had disappeared.

We were copied in on all correspondence from the solicitor and we were pleased to see that Mr Bennett had made the following point in relation to the Siggery matter that Jeremy had been worrying about among everything else:

Meanwhile, at work I received an email from Nicola Holder, the exhibits officer, who had been present during the raid and was the compiler of the list. She said that some items had been examined and were ready for return although she did not indicate what these were. To avoid Jeremy having to take more time off from the shop I said that I would meet her at the house. She arrived carrying a small bag of video films, cassettes, photographs that had been developed by the police from a roll of film and some pre-recorded CDs. As I picked about among the items I noticed that a few of the plastic casings were broken and CDs scratched. Noticing my discontentment, Holder weakly apologised and said that I should ask for a form in order to make a claim. It wasn’t about the money to replace the damaged CDs, it was the fact that we had had them for years in safe keeping and in five minutes in their care they were ruined. I worried for the rest of our possessions, especially those that were irreplaceable and had only sentimental value.

When she left I called Jeremy with the list of what had been returned and told him about the damage. I explained that we could make a claim and he said that we should wait until the end of the investigation in case there was anything else we might need to claim for.

Four days later, on 28 February, it was my birthday. I had bought cakes for my colleagues at work and as everyone came to visit me at my desk and wished me a happy birthday, for a moment I forgot all my troubles. Jeremy had taken time out to get me a gift and book dinner and, for the first time in months, I was the focus of attention. But our conversation always drifted back to talking about the case. I told him that we had to
accept that we were in a predicament out of our control and we would just have to go along with it. There was nothing we could do and we should leave it all in the hands of our solicitor.

Stephen Bennett was also pursuing Hopkins to find out when the computers would be analysed. He reiterated to them that the computers were required for both our personal and business use and that the continued retention of equipment was causing us serious financial loss. Their repeated excuse was that they were suffering from a backlog of work and were short-staffed, but that was no comfort to us. However, the pressure asserted on the police seemed to have paid off because on 19 March we received a letter telling us that Jeremy’s case had been moved up the list and was next to be dealt with.

Since Christmas we had been trying to resume as close to a normal life as possible. Jeremy seemed to have made a big effort to throw himself into work and I really had to get to grips with the details of my job, plus my boss’s to get ready for that promotion the following September. Every time Jeremy called me at work to update me on any news, I shook with nerves. I felt like a great weight was resting on my chest, it was so hard to breathe and my concentration was not consistent. I was glad to have confided in John as he supported me wholeheartedly and sympathetically.

On 14 April we received a letter from our solicitor stating that he had been in touch with Hopkins to ask what the situation was regarding the return to bail date currently set for 26 April. We had hoped that on this date Jeremy would go to the police station and be told that the case was at an end. However, it appeared that forensics had not completed their reports and it was now certain that this date would be rescheduled. We were bitterly disappointed to hear about this set-back as obviously we just wanted to get our possessions back and move on.

21 April was our fifth wedding anniversary. We agreed not to do presents and cards; we were far too tired and stressed. As much as it could
have been a pleasant distraction to go out for a meal, we just spent the evening quietly at home.

A few days later, on 26 April, which would have been the date to return to bail, Jeremy just happened to call his solicitor to find out that he had gone on holiday for two weeks. He asked the assistant if there was any news on a new date but she said that he would have to attend Watford Police Station in any case. Jeremy was distraught because he had been led to believe this would be done administratively, and if he did not turn up he could possibly be in breach of his bail conditions. This meant that he had to leave the shop yet again, though at least the phones would be answered by the temporary bookkeeper, we thought. More worryingly, however, was that the assistant added that the police had informed their office that images had been found but could offer no further information or advice. At this last piece of information, Jeremy frantically called Hopkins who confirmed that he did indeed have to turn up at the police station to sign a statement for return to bail. He took this opportunity to ask Hopkins about what images were found, insisting that there was nothing on any of the five computers that they had. Hopkins said that he had received a forensic report that said there were ‘images of note that may be of interest to the investigating officer’. Jeremy asked what that meant and Hopkins said that he would not know until he received the full report and the disc of images from his forensic expert. This was an astonishing revelation because he and I knew that there was nothing on any of the computers, at least nothing that he had requested or seen.

Jeremy called me at work in such a state. His voice was high-pitched and he was obviously trying to control his hysteria, his disbelief at what he had been told. Even more frustrating was that his bail had been re-set to 5 July, some ten further agonising weeks later, before he could find out what Hopkins was on about. I was momentarily stunned into silence, confused by this news, and I tried to comfort him but all he could say
was, ‘I haven’t done anything.’ With no answers to be forthcoming until 5 July, it was going to be an even longer painful wait.

Jeremy was furious at what he felt was the inadequate representation by his solicitor and wrote the next day to dismiss him from the case, giving the reasons why.

In my frequent researching of Operation Ore I had come across a law practice that provided some very interesting information on its website about cases that they had worked on regarding this subject. I gave the number to Jeremy and by the end of the day he had instructed a solicitor called David Campbell from Hamiltons Solicitors in London. At least that location was easier to access than the previous one in High Wycombe and Jeremy had arranged a meeting with him on 10 May to go over his case to date once he had received the files from Stephen Bennett. Jeremy felt much better with David Campbell, because it seemed he had found a solicitor that was not just representing him out of duty and business, but appeared sympathetic to his situation. He seemed much more pro-active and the fact that Jeremy could talk to him easily was a comfort. However, this relationship was short lived when, in mid-June, we received the bombshell news that David Campbell had resigned from Hamiltons Solicitors and Jeremy’s file was now in the hands of Angus Hamilton, the company’s owner. Hamilton told Jeremy that even if the ‘images of note’ came to nothing, there was still the case of incitement to purchase illegal images due to Jeremy’s credit card being used to access the Landslide website.

We busied ourselves in our respective jobs, though our social life had taken a definite downturn, with neither of us wishing to mix with friends simply because the effort of putting on a front was too stressful, and even if we did tell them what had happened, would they understand or alienate us? In any case, they would probably ask questions that we didn’t even have the answers for, so we just mixed with immediate family.

Jeremy had recently taken on a part-time bookkeeper called Julie Cullivan to get the books up to date. They had been re-created in a fashion but he was not happy with the result and found it hard to fathom where the business stood. There was still quite a lot of work to do and, despite the odd interference by Gerard, the business did not seem to be doing so badly. Julie worked about four hours a day, three days a week and gave Jeremy the camaraderie he so badly needed to take his mind off the ongoing police case. It seemed that the business was going in the right direction. The days were busier and Jeremy’s name was getting around for the right reasons. I felt relieved at this upturn in our fortunes, not least because I knew that while he was occupied he would not be ringing me for support every five minutes, meaning I could concentrate on my own work. It had occurred to me that I had attended far too many meetings in recent months where my mind had tended to drift, to the point that if I was asked a question, I realised that I had not been paying attention.

I think I winged most of it successfully and John had intervened at some of the awkward times. This embarrassed me because I hated to be ‘carried’, but he told me not to worry and that since I had only started my job at the beginning of 2003, I had made good progress. I knew we would not sleep much the night before the return to bail so we spent a lot of time talking or just watching television. Jeremy said that Hamilton would meet him at Watford Police Station at 9.30 a.m. to have a chat before the appointed time of 10 a.m. with Hopkins. He was not worried about having to close the shop as Julie had changed her hours and would cover until he got back. Obviously, he had not told her the real reason he needed to be out the next day. In the light cast by the flickering television I could see Jeremy had finally succumbed to sleep. Having nodded off intermittently at first I finally got a few hours of shut-eye before the alarm went off at 7 a.m. Feeling a little jaded, we both got up, kind of reluctantly, to the start of an uncertain day. We both
sat down to a light breakfast before I left for work, giving Jeremy a hug and kiss, wishing him good luck and asking him to ring me when he could. As I reversed out of the drive, Jeremy stood at the front door to watch me go. With his hands in both pockets, shoulders hunched, dark circles under his eyes, he cut a sad figure.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not take my mind off Jeremy. I spent time walking through the vast building, looking around all three floors and finding some peace in the basement. Time seemed to go by so slowly and I lost count of the times I had looked at my watch waiting for 10 a.m. to come. However, when it finally came, there was another target. How long would it be before Jeremy called me? I went back to my desk, made tea for everyone and decided to at least try to look like I was working. Midday arrived and I had to leave my desk to cover the receptionist while she had her lunch and, although my stomach was in knots, I was surprised to find that I was hungry. Eventually I made my way to the restaurant and got myself a light lunch, sitting with John who tried to instil an optimism in me I did not feel. I felt queasy, Jeremy still hadn’t called and I was now worried.

I got back to my desk at 2 p.m. at which point I desperately listened to my voicemail messages, hoping there was one from Jeremy. There wasn’t. I forced myself to concentrate on getting some work done and got lost in processing some invoices. Suddenly the phone rang, startling me. Heart thumping, I picked up the receiver and said, ‘Office Services.’ Jeremy said, ‘I’ve been charged.’

I
didn’t know what to say. Holding the phone to my ear and staring out of the window at some distant point, I felt dizzy and had difficulty inhaling.

Bringing me back to attention, Jeremy asked me to ring him back on his mobile. ‘The bastard has stitched me up,’ he shouted hysterically. ‘I’ve been charged for the credit card transactions and for possessing images that I have never, ever seen in my life which were found on the Tiny computer that I sold to Gerard.’ This was the computer that Gerard had purchased from Jeremy in June 2001 and owned until it was seized by the police in October 2003. I was aghast. If this went all the way, Jeremy could go to prison and be put on the sex offenders register. How could we carry on the business? What about all that we had invested? What would happen to us? What about our family, friends and worse, the stigma of being associated with child pornography?

My mind was all over the place and there was no way I was going to be of any use at work. The day was almost over anyway. John had been sitting at his desk, probably listening, but I explained what had happened and he said to go home and support Jeremy. The fifteen-minute
drive home seemed to take forever, the radio was on but I was not listening, my head filled with a thousand questions, my mouth dry and body shaking with nerves.

I was home first and got myself a glass of water, which I drank in one. I opened the patio door and stepped out, turning my face up to the sun to feel the late afternoon warmth. Although my eyes were closed, the tears started to trickle down my face, tickling my cheeks and finally spattering onto my blouse. I retreated from the garden and ran upstairs to the bathroom to splash my face with cold water, but as soon as I bent over the basin I started to heave.

After a few moments, when the spasms stopped, I sat on the bath edge. Jeremy would be home at any moment and I must get my act together, I thought. I had to be strong and supportive, so I washed my face and brushed my teeth, finishing off with mouthwash for good measure. Suddenly I heard the key in the lock and I rushed downstairs to greet him. He looked ashen and I had expected him to be crushed by what had happened. I was surprised, therefore, to find that he was quite the opposite. He was as mad as hell at what had transpired at the police station, going off raging about the whole thing in that something was not right and that he would do all he could to expose the truth.

We both sat down at the dining table, staring out into the garden with our cups of tea. I put my hand on Jeremy’s arm and asked him to tell me from the beginning what had happened that day.

On arrival at the police station, he met with Hamilton, who said, after a brief chat, that they were to go in and ask for Hopkins. As they entered the station, Hopkins was already there waiting and told Jeremy that he was being re-arrested and was to be questioned under caution. Before that, however, he was shocked to learn that he would have to be held in a cell again, which, apparently, was normal procedure. He also had to hand over the contents of his pockets, making him wish he had
not brought his wallet. He felt demeaned by the whole experience and fed up that, yet again, he was being treated like a criminal.

Jeremy was duly escorted to a cell by Hopkins, who informed him that he needed to speak to Hamilton first about the images that were found on the computer. As Jeremy stared back, struggling with incomprehension, Hopkins slammed the door shut, leaving him in the bleak, grimy room to contemplate this devastating revelation. He slumped down on the bench to take the weight off his trembling legs. His mind was in overdrive and he felt very afraid, thinking, ‘God, what images, how could that be? I have never, ever seen anything,’ then remembering all that he had read about Operation Ore and its failings.

Jeremy was only in the cell for about twenty minutes, but this seemed like an eternity confined within the four walls with absolutely nothing to do but think the worst. Hamilton eventually came to the cell and said that they needed to talk about the images that Hopkins had referred to. He was only allowed to describe the images, not show them to him – that would be done during the interview. He didn’t even want to hear the descriptions because he was adamant that he had not seen them.

Hopkins had told Hamilton that the images on the Tiny computer were regarded as ‘Category 1’. Jeremy asked what was meant by Category 1 and Hamilton explained that the scale of seriousness was from one to five, one being the least serious – like that was all right then! Jeremy responded in the most forceful way possible that he had never seen these images and that they were nothing to do with him. He began to suspect that they had been planted. To get through the next stage, Hamilton told Jeremy how he should conduct himself at the interview. He had to say ‘no comment’ to absolutely everything Hopkins asked. He did not want to hear a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, not even the slightest explanation; he had to say ‘no comment’ and nothing else. Jeremy said he felt uncomfortable about that because he wanted to defend himself against the allegations
that were being thrown at him but, at the same time, Hamilton was the expert and Jeremy reasoned that he must know what he’s talking about.

Hamilton then told Hopkins that they were ready for the interview. Hopkins sat next to an accompanying officer, opposite Jeremy and Hamilton. There was a slight delay because Hopkins had not got his laptop working and was having trouble bringing up information from a disc. He appeared bumbling and nervous.

Finally, the interview started and, as instructed, Jeremy said ‘no comment’ to everything, although in his head he was screaming out the correct answers that would have explained everything. The trouble is that no matter how much you think you can explain, how innocent and clear your explanations, there is always the possibility that your words will be turned around and used against you. Throughout the entire interview Hamilton did not look at Hopkins once, did not acknowledge anything, concentrating only on his notepad and scribbling notes. Jeremy felt very embarrassed because he could see Hopkins’s flushed complexion and facial expressions, his whole demeanour showing discomfort and exasperation because he kept hearing ‘no comment’ to every question. When Hopkins finally got around to showing Jeremy the images, he was appalled that he could be accused of purchasing such material. The images were so small that he had to move closer to the laptop screen to decipher what he was looking at, which turned out to be ten very fuzzy, grainy thumbnail images, which he knew he had never seen before. Jeremy became aware, as the interview proceeded, that the other officer appeared uncomfortable and did not say a single word throughout. The body language of both officers made him feel positive that he was being stitched up to take the fall. Thinking about how much manpower had gone into his case, getting the warrants to search our properties, examining all our confiscated belongings, forensically looking through five computers, fuelled with excitement by the
fact that Jeremy had a filming business which the police thought must be producing and distributing such material but had found nothing, he felt sure that the police needed to get a result to justify their time and expense. The thought crossed my mind that it could not have helped that Jeremy had been continuously complaining about Hopkins’s conduct during the investigation.

After each image was shown Hopkins asked questions and, with a hint of sarcasm, said that he knew Jeremy was going to say ‘no comment’ but was going to ask anyway. Three-quarters of the way through the interview, Jeremy said that Hopkins’s blood pressure appeared to be rising. It was taking all Jeremy’s effort not to scream out and tell Hopkins what a load of crap this all was, plus, saying ‘no comment’ all the time was becoming laughable. In frustration, Jeremy asked to stop the interview in order to speak to Hamilton, at which point they left the interview room temporarily. Hopkins was probably feeling confident that Jeremy was crumbling under the pressure and would return to the room to hold his hands up and admit his guilt.

All Jeremy wanted to do was to ask Hamilton if he was doing OK, because he could easily answer all the questions. The questions got repetitive because they were the same for each image. Hamilton confirmed that he was doing fine and told him to keep saying ‘no comment’. The interview carried on for a little longer, after which time Hopkins gathered his papers and laptop together and said that he needed to put Jeremy back into a cell while he went off to speak to the custody sergeant.

Furious about being put back in the cell again, Hamilton had whispered to Jeremy that it would be very unlikely that they could charge him with anything based on the evidence they had. He added that he would be very surprised if they did, but they might offer him a caution, which Jeremy had already decided he would not take. That would be admitting guilt when he had no reason to. There was no way he was going on
the sex offenders register and he was not going to give the police an easy ride by helping them close their files on this case.

After another fifteen minutes or so, a female officer came into the cell and asked Jeremy to go with her so that she could process him. He asked her if that meant he was being charged and she said, ‘Yes.’ Jeremy saw Hamilton’s face which registered absolute shock – he was obviously stunned to hear that the police were charging him. After having photographs, DNA samples and fingerprints taken Jeremy was absolutely drained. He was filled with disbelief and knew that something sinister was being engineered against him and that he would have to deal with it, but not today.

The charges were:

1. On 26 January 2001 at Watford [Jeremy Clifford] made an indecent photograph namely a level one image reference 05(1). Gif on Tiny computer exhibit JB/1 of a child.
   
2. On 26 January 2001 at Watford made an indecent photograph namely a level one image reference 06(1). Gif on Tiny computer exhibit JB/1 of a child.
   
3. On 30 October 2003 had in your possession indecent photographs of children namely 10 level one images on Tiny computer exhibit JB/1.
   
4. Jeremy Clifford on a day between 6 March and 7 August 1999 incited Landslide Incorporated, its proprietors and employees to distribute or show indecent photographs or pseudo-photographs of a child.
   

This fourth charge of ‘incitement’ would be very important as to what
happens in future events. The definition of this charge is that Jeremy, by his own purposeful actions, made a decision to use his credit card to purchase and then download illegal images.

Jeremy was finally released on bail and given back his belongings. Before leaving the station he saw Hamilton briefly, who said that he would be in touch about the date for the first court hearing before calmly walking off to the train station. The first hearing! Jeremy was aghast. What the hell had just happened in there? he thought. This was all such an alien concept, but this unfolding drama was evidently a well-trodden path for some, holding no fear for them. He was dreading having to tell me and the family that he had been charged as he now felt that he wouldn’t be believed. There was the worry about this being in the papers, that it would ruin the business as well as Gerard finding out and using the knowledge to his advantage. Though initially feeling crushed and deflated, Jeremy vowed that he would pursue every avenue and turn over every piece of information to find out how he had got to this stage. This was, by far, the worst day of his life.