Earlier this week Tracey Shelvey killed herself after a jury found the man she had accused of rape not guilty. She had given evidence against him in court on two separate occasions. A year earlier, Frances Andrade killed herself after giving evidence against the choirmaster who had sexually assaulted her years earlier. Her family claimed that she wasn’t given enough support during and after the court process by Greater Manchester Police, who have come under fire for their handling of both cases.
One person who knows how they felt better than most is Sara*, a former criminal lawyer who was living in Manchester when, two years ago, she reported her sexual assailant to the police, only for him to walk free from court. ‘I’m never going to know why the jury found him not guilty. I guess they thought that because I was the sort of woman who went out with my friends and drank, and kissed a strange man, I must have been lying. Or maybe they thought I deserved everything I got,’ she told The Debrief of her experiences.
Sara had spent 10 years working as a lawyer in the city, including on several rape cases, so thought she’d know what to expect when she found herself in court as a witness for the prosecution. What she wasn’t prepared for was the extent to which the British justice system works against victims of sexual assault. ‘I reported the guy to the police, and he was arrested and charged with sexual assault by penetration, an offence that goes straight to the Crown Court and carries a sentence of 6-11 years of imprisonment. It took 18 months for it to go to court, and in the meantime, there were examinations, medicals and interviews,' she recalls. ‘The police couldn’t tell me anything, and my CPS (crown prosecution service) witness liaison was absolutely useless. At one point I had to tell the CPS that we needed to change courts. My flatmate, who was a witness for the prosecution, was a barrister at that court, which meant there was a conflict of interests. Had I not pointed this out, the entire case would have been adjourned on the first day, and I’d have had to go through it all again. No-one was telling me anything and I felt like I had no control over the situation at all.’
Even for Sara, who understood the system, and spent her working days in court, the trial was an intimidating experience. ‘With all my prior knowledge and experience, I still wasn’t prepared for what happened when I arrived in court that morning, for the first day of the trial. I had a 10-second chat with my barrister, who I’d never met before, then I was left on my own in a room before I was called as a witness. If I could have legged it I would have done. They used to have specially-trained ushers in the room, but when the Ministry of Justice started making budget cuts, they were the first thing to go.’
Sara’s nightmare started a year and a half earlier, when she went to a house party with a female friend. ‘I didn’t know anyone else at the party except my friend, but I remember looking forward to it. I got speaking to a group of people, including the guy who later attacked me. My friend wanted to leave early, but I was having a nice time, so I stayed and talked to the new people I’d met. I danced with the guy, and we kissed briefly. I wasn’t interested in taking things further, so I called a taxi and got ready to leave. As I walked into the bathroom I realised he’d followed me in there and locked the door. It didn’t faze me at first. I laughed and told him to leave. Instead he pinned me against the shower screen and tried to kiss me again. His face was expressionless and his eyes were dead – and I knew instantly what was about to happen. Thinking about it now makes my stomach turn. I don’t know why but he stopped halfway through, and I managed to get away. I made it home before I broke down completely.’
Despite her initial reservations, Sara decided to go to the police. After all, what if he did it to someone else? ‘I later found out he’d been accused of raping another girl the week before me, and she didn’t report it. Ironically, she was at the party that night. She could have taken me to one side and told me to stay away from him – but I guess she was too scared.’
Sara chose to give evidence in court, but behind a screen. 'I could have given evidence via video link but I knew that the conviction rates are higher if you're there in person. I wanted to be able to look him in the eye, but I knew I wouldn't be able to go through with it if I could see him.' As it was, being cross-examined by the prosecution was harrowing enough. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind that the barrister questioning me crossed a line. I have a tattoo on my waist that you could see through the mesh on my top, so I showed it to the bloke who attacked me. Apparently this was relevant to the defence – because everyone knows showing a man a tattoo is code for, “I want to have sex with you in the bathroom.” The other thing the lawyer kept going over was how much alcohol I’d drunk that night. As it happens, I was far from drunk – not that it makes the slightest bit of difference.’
You and I might not think that how much alcohol a woman drinks, or how many tattoos she has are a plausible defence for sexual assault, but clearly some people do. Barristers take these lines of questioning for a reason – because they work. ‘While I was being cross-examined, I’ll never forget the looks I got from several of the jury – especially the white, middle-aged men. It was pretty obvious what type of person they thought I was.’
The irony of all of this is that, while Sara’s tattoos and drinking habits were deemed relevant (relevant enough to essentially discredit her as a witness), the jury weren’t allowed to know that all of her witnesses were barristers, solicitors and police officers. Or that Sara herself was both a solicitor and an Advocate of the Court – meaning that she had taken a professional oath never to lie in court. ‘The defence barrister didn't want my occupation mentioned as he felt it would potentially prejusice the defendant, and the prosecution barrister agreed to this without consulting me, which never should have happend – it was incredibly frustrating. The fact that I was a legal professional spoke volumes about my credibility as a witness, but the jury wasn’t allowed to know this. This man assaulted me, yet it was my integrity in question, and there was nothing I could do to defend myself.’
Tracey Shelvey’s case has lead to a call for change in the way vulnerable witnesses are treated in court. One that Tony Lloyd, police and crime commissioner for Greater Manchester, says he and his team will take lessons from. ‘The court process is a brutal one, and the fact that we have had at least two people in Greater Manchester alone who have taken their lives after going through this ordeal is of grave concern,' he's said. 'Many, many rape victims say that the court process is as traumatic as their original ordeal. This can't go on – a root and branch review of how victims and witnesses are treated is urgently needed. A chain of vulnerability exists from the moment someone reports an incident to police, and it can break at any point.'
Meanwhile, an investigation by The Independentrevealed that thousands of suspected rape cases may have been wrongly discontinued over the last two years because police forces and prosecutors may be misinterpreting official guidelines. Clearly the system isn’t working for anyone.
Sara’s worked hard to move on with her life, but stories like this show that the issues she faced aren’t going away any time soon. ‘I almost feel a responsibility to try and change the system and try and highlight the flaws. The fact is, it still isn’t working for victims, there is still too much of an emphasis and focus on getting a conviction against the offender. The victim gets lost in the process, and can be left in a terrible way regardless of the verdict. Victims need support counselling and more consulting through the process,' she says. ‘Before the trial, I’d always had sympathy for the witnesses in these sorts of cases, but I only realised quite how traumatic it was when I went through it myself. As a lawyer, I never appreciated the sort of guts it takes to get up on the witness stand.’
Inevitably, Sara’s attacker was found not guilty. ‘It wasn’t a unanimous verdict, which means at least some members of the jury believed me. Unanimous or not, I assume he’s still free now,' she says. ‘I wasn’t in court when the verdict was announced but the policeman in charge of my case was. He told me that after they announced their decision, the judge told the jury about my occupation and the fact that I was a High Court Advocate. Apparently several members of the jury turned ashen at this news – I guess once they realised I was an educated professional, and not just a drunk woman with a tattoo at a party, I stopped being the sort of woman who deserved it.'
But though she still feels let down by the system, Sara's trying to move on with her life. ‘I feel indifferent towards my attacker now. He’s had enough of my time and energy, and he’s not having any more. What makes me really angry is the way I was treated by the British Justice System, which I’d always believed in and worked to uphold.’ Sara left her job and moved to London soon afterwards – 'I ended up taking a lot of time off work in the end – I struggled in public places for a while, so it seemed like a good time to make the move. I felt like I needed to go somewhere where people didn't know me.'
*Name has been changed for legal reasons
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.