Why don't women come forward immediately when they allege they are victims of sexual assault? Why would they prefer to speak to a journalist than to the police? I’ve been asked these questions hundreds of times since the weekend when my paper, the Sunday Times, published its joint investigation with The Times and with Channel 4’s Dispatches into allegations that Russell Brand raped a woman and sexually assaulted three more at the height of his fame between 2006 and 2013.
The answers are, of course, individual. But if you speak to women's charities such as the End Violence Against Women coalition, they talk about the effective 'decriminalisation' of rape - recent figures show that only one in 40 adult rape cases investigated by the police in 2022 has led to a criminal charge or summons. A series of horrific stories - including the murder of Sarah Everard by Wayne Couzens, a constable in the Met - has unsurprisingly eroded women's confidence in the police. But there's also the treatment women receive by the criminal justice system: would you really want to pause your life for the perhaps two years it might take for your case to reach a trial? As journalists we've had to ask deeply intrusive questions to these women, but the experience of going on the stand may be even more intimidating.
Investigations like ours are always a group effort. I don't believe we would have been able to publish without the incredible work of my colleague Charlotte Wace. She found the woman we called Nadia, who had a tranche of evidence including text messages and therapy notes from the rape crisis centre that she attended the next day. Charlotte and I were lucky to have the help of one of Britain's best investigative journalists, Paul Morgan-Bentley, too. Additionally, there's a brilliant team of editors and lawyers who make everything possible; their wisdom and advice were vital. But most of all, of course, we should emphasise the bravery of these women, in particular Alice and Nadia, for making this story possible.
It takes great strength to come forward as a victim of an alleged sexual assault. It takes even more strength when the alleged perpetrator has power or influence, such as an army of fans who will pour scorn on any accusers and sniff a conspiracy to take down their idol where there isn’t one. Despite what has been claimed in the darker corners of the internet, these women were not paid for their contributions and they did not do it for attention; they spoke out because they believed it would help protect other women in the future.
Sixteen years in the journalistic trenches have given me a thick skin for online abuse, and I have been almost bemused as Brand’s fans have cycled through all the predictable attacks, from the anti-Semitic claim that my colleagues and I are being paid by the billionaire philanthropist George Soros (we're not) to the idea that this is a conspiracy by a mainstream media (it isn’t). My favourite of them all is that I’m working for MI6; that amused me because I actually applied straight out of university for the intelligence services and was swiftly rejected, a decision which shows that their vetting processes work (I had already told half of London that I had applied). My friends have pointed out too that a full-house of the internet’s most objectionable men have backed Brand over us, including Andrew Tate, who made his name promoting misogyny online and is currently awaiting trial in Romania on charges of rape and human trafficking. Tate denies the offences.
We've had time to steel ourselves for this reaction because it's been such a long road to here, especially for me. I first began work on this investigation in 2019 - but it was alongside my day job, first as Brexit correspondent, and then as media editor. I have also had two sons in that time; in fact, we've published while I'm on maternity leave with a four-month-old. A day after giving birth, as I lay in my hospital bed with my newborn on my chest, a source I'd been wanting to speak to for many weeks called and I answered, hiding in the loo with my baby so that the other new mothers didn't overhear. I'm not a maternity leave martyr, though - I don't believe women should work during this time as caring for a newborn is the hardest job there is - this is just an exception. I felt that I owed it to the women I have spoken to to ensure that the investigation had the best possible chance of publication. I fully intend now to spend some wonderful months with my sons.
Ultimately, they were one of the reasons I kept plugging away at this investigation, because it isn't just important for women that we have conversations around consent and healthy relationships - it's vital for men too. I've thought a lot about these issues over the past four years and the best line I heard came from a mother talking to her son before he went to university. She said: 'Consent is the bare minimum; hold out for enthusiasm.' I will one day be giving my sons that same advice.