Sex that is not consensual is called rape. Yet the word ‘rape’ seems to hold an unfair stigma, for a crime that is as common as being mugged or having your bike stolen. Rape is widely considered the second most serious crime after murder, and yet it is 100 times more likely to happen to you. In England and Wales, there are 600 homicides per year, compared to more than 60,000 rapes.
When I was 24-years-old I was raped by someone I met on a dating app. I made it very clear that I didn’t want to have sex, but he forced me to anyway. Despite him biting my lip so hard that it bruised for days afterwards, when I realised what was happening, I did not fight or scream, I froze. I suddenly thought: if he is capable of this, then what else is he capable of? I didn’t know this man, perhaps he would get more violent. So I waited for it to end, politely made my excuses - do not anger him, do not make this worse - and got out of the door as quickly as I could. In that moment I understood why people don’t scream or fight. It can be a matter of survival.
I did not report the incident to the police. I didn’t even tell my friends or family. I was embarrassed and confused by the whole ordeal. A few months later he came up as a match again on the same dating app. I was angry, first at the algorithm and then because I imagined him doing it to other women. But in all honesty, it never crossed my mind to report the incident to the police, I just wanted to forget about it. In the years since I have occasionally wondered what would’ve happened if I had reported. Would he have been arrested? Would I have felt relief or regret for saying something? What would the process have been like?
Five years later, I had the chance to understand more about how reports of rapes are investigated and witness the impact it has on those who do report. I am a documentary filmmaker and in late 2020, I began making a film for BBC Panorama to investigate why rape convictions are at an all-time low in England and Wales, despite more people reporting than ever before. What I discovered was that of those people who do report to the police, just 1% get a successful conviction. It's a staggering fact in itself and even more so when you consider that over 80% of rapes go unreported, according to the March 2020 Crime Survey for England and Wales. Speaking with friends more openly these days, I discover that many have a similar story to mine.
'57% of people who report rape withdraw before the criminal case concludes'
I spent 18 months embedded with Derbyshire Police to find out more. I wanted to go behind the headlines and see what was really happening on the ground. I wanted to follow the process first hand and see where the problems lie. Why do 57% of people who report rape withdraw before the criminal case concludes? Are stranger and date rapes the problem or is it our own family members and partners committing the majority of these crimes? Why do nearly 99% of rape reports not result in a prosecution?
The first thing I discovered is that people are slipping through the net. I followed two sisters, Alex and Chyann, whose allegations of childhood sexual abuse by their father were rejected three times by the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) over a period of 11 years. Eventually, in January this year, a jury unanimously found him guilty of 14 charges of rape in less than two hours, and he was sentenced to 40 years in prison. But if it hadn’t been for the sheer perseverance of those remarkable young women, he would still be walking free.
It appears that juries are too often not getting the chance to hear cases and decide verdicts because the ‘evidential standard’ required to get to trial seems to be so subjective. In Alex and Chyann’s case, three CPS lawyers had turned it down before the sisters submitted their own, final remaining chance to appeal, in which a different lawyer agreed a prosecution should go ahead, because he, unlike his colleagues, believed there was a realistic prospect of conviction beyond reasonable doubt. But what does ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ mean when it comes to an offence that overwhelmingly takes place in private spaces?
Assistant Chief Constable of Derbyshire Police, Dave Kirby told me that 'the police will put forward any case that we believe meets the evidential standard and that has a realistic chance of a prosecution'. However, he admits there are often limitations when it comes to investigating rape.
'Many rapes take place behind closed doors, with no other witnesses, without the ability to gather things like CCTV that you might do for a burglary. We investigate them thoroughly and we take them extremely seriously, but that’s the key reason why evidence isn’t available to that evidential standard of beyond all reasonable doubt.'
Vera Baird, the Victims’ Commissioner for England and Wales describes a ‘cycle of caution’ from the CPS that is having a domino effect on how many cases are being put forward by the police to CPS, and in turn, by the CPS to the courts. With charge rates hovering around the 1% mark, it’s no wonder that our faith in the justice system is so poor - just 14% of rape survivors believe they will get justice by reporting to the police.
I interviewed Charlotte Caulton-Scott, Head of Rape and Serious Sexual Offence for CPS East Midlands, who told me more about the CPS’s role in deciding what cases reach trial.
'Our role is not to second guess what a jury is going to think, but of course a realistic prospect of conviction means that there is that standard, there is that level that we have to reach evidentially in order to take a case forward to court.'
There can be no doubt, however, that the impact of not being believed by our criminal justice system is devastating for those involved. In those years of waiting for a trial, both Alex and Chyann contemplated suicide and suffered deeply with their mental health. Even when the CPS decided to prosecute, it still took nearly two years for their trial to go ahead - partly because of the pandemic and partly because the criminal justice system moves very slowly when it comes to rape prosecutions. On average it takes nearly three years from reporting for a rape case to reach trial. Every time I filmed with Alex and Chyann and every time their trial date was postponed - three times in total, resulting in an arduous four-year wait for justice by the end - my heart broke a little bit more. It’s no wonder people pull out of this process, I thought.
'On average it takes nearly three years from reporting got a rape case to reach trial'
Rape is an invasion of both body and mind. A thinking, breathing human being stripped of autonomy for someone else’s temporary pleasure and desire for control. For many of the people I interviewed for the documentary, it is the psychological injury that causes the deeper, longer lasting harm. In fact, often there are no physical injuries at all. But losing your sense of trust in people and the world around you can cause ongoing trauma.
I realised through making the documentary that the way the police and the CPS handle rape cases is not the only thing that urgently needs our attention - funding support services is absolutely vital too. I met Fran Carr, an Independent Sexual Violence Advisor (ISVA) for the Sheffield Rape and Sexual Abuse Centre and followed her supporting a middle-aged man called Adam during the course of the film, who had been abused by his uncle as a child. I was in awe of the work that Fran and her colleagues do - they truly are a lifeline for those they work with - but waiting lists are long, with some people waiting up to two years to access this kind of support.
So, what does the future hold? Well, there’s certainly a long way to go. On the night that 22-year-old Alex went out to celebrate her father going to prison for raping her as a child, she was sexually touched against her will by an older man on a dancefloor.
As for me, making the documentary has felt like an emotional battering, as well as an important crusade into one of the most urgent issues of our time. I think this would have been true even without my personal experience - though I believe you’d be hard-pressed to find a woman who has not been sexually assaulted or degraded in some way by my age. The weight of making the film began to feel heavier - even more like endlessly wading through a crater of trauma-laced treacle - since the rape and murder of Sarah Everard swept the news a year ago, in March 2021. An anger and deep sadness for the true state of things erupted inside me, which I’ve had to both detach from - for my own sanity - and try to channel into a documentary that raises awareness.
The figures are disheartening, but I know that if I’m ever unlucky enough for anything else to happen to me again, I will feel much more able to say something. Reporting might not result in a charge, trial or conviction, but it would allow me the opportunity to access support and therapy if I wanted it - something that can be so crucial for those whose sense of safety has been ripped from underneath them.
Beyond Reasonable Doubt: Britain’s Rape Crisis is on BBC One at 9pm on Monday 28 March, and available on BBC iPlayer