25
TUESDAY 11TH MARCH 2003. Eighteen hundred hours. Our reconnaissance of the entire area was applied with military precision. We had tried jaw-jaw now it was to be war-war.
This is 21st century warfare. You are witnessing the advent of unique and powerful capabilities delivered by global technological forces in a revolutionary synthesis of weapons, sensors, and communications systems with reach and precision to dominate the unified arena of war extending across sea, land, air and cyberspace—providing invaluable strategic and operational advantage from the comfort of Bombardier Bloom’s armchair.
My analysis confirmed Truva Road was an opportune way lay point being divided into two containable segments- an inner one which was metal- fenced to hinder escape and an outer open perimeter. I noted the sturdy aluminium railings had two sprung gates either end thoughtfully placed to deter dog fouling.
The play apparatus was set inside a well-designed soft-safe environment of rubberised tarmac on the ground and rounded corners on every piece of equipment ideal for younger children with the ubiquitous slide, log segment climbing frame and a couple of swings. A graffiti-covered playhouse spoilt the look of what was an otherwise pleasant facility.
We took note zero hour would be around dusk. The weather forecast was overcast with light to moderate northeasterly winds. It was going to be chilly.
Our battle plan was to encircle the enemy in a pincer movement in the twilight and employ a sneak attack to her rear.
March 2003 was also the invasion of Iraq, codenamed "Operation Iraqi Freedom." The Second Gulf War and Gilgamesh’s prophecy realised. The element of surprise was the key.
Our assessment of our enemy was that she had not the defensive measures in place to repel our overwhelming force. We had decided that I would lead the first assault wave heavily armed. I would hit Rebecca full force with the printed text messages and employ a barrage of sophisticated psychological warfare.
It was going to be ‘shock and awe’ as Lita’s army boyfriend, Ryan, would say. He was a US Marine Reservist and just got the call to mobilise.
We had decided Cookie would take up the optimum strategic position hidden behind the large bushes near to the adjacent road. From there she could observe the battlefield and assess the situation. Cookie was the reserve guard that would launch a second wave to the enemy’s side: more American ‘gung-ho.’
THE ASSUALT CHARGE
‘RECORD OF INTEVIEW’ The police document was headed, ‘’WITNESS STATEMENT’ (CJ Act 1967. S9 MC 1980, ss5A(3a) and 5B MC Rules 1981, r 70)’
This was the police statement of Constable GODBOLT.
GODBOLT: Age Over 18 years.
I read it carefully.
On March 27th 2003 I interviewed Leonard Odysseus Bloom in interviews recorded on the following tapes:
Tape number 248409 which I produce as Exhibit BG/1:BG
Tape number 248408FA which I produce as exhibit BG/2:BG
A request for summaries of the tapes was forward to the tape summary office.
I received the summaries of these interviews, which I have read, and state that they are balanced, accurate and reliable summaries of these interviews. I produce these summaries as exhibits BG/1ABG and BG/2A respectively. Signed B Godbolt PC543.
Person Interviewed: Leonard Bloom
Place of Interview: Interview Room. North Haven Police
Date of Interview: March 27th 2003
Time commenced: 22:24. Duration of Interview: 47 minutes.
Audio Tape reference no. LOW/03/4264.
Interviewing Officer: PC Godbolt.
Other persons present: none.
After the usual introduction the interviewee is cautioned in accordance with CJPO94. The caution is explained. The interviewee confirms the interviewee understands the caution. The interviewee is advised of the interviewee’s legal right in interview but declines legal representation in this interview. He is reminded of his arrest on 27.03.03, suspected of an assault in Truva Park on 12.03.03 at about six in the evening.
Clock counter time 02:41
BLOOM: “…I had been sending anonymous texts to Rebecca for…three weeks as part of an investigation into her exploits as a prostitute. We had…..Rebecca in our care for ten months from April 2002 until January 2003 and we…. Had been informed by friends of the family and neighbours that Rebecca was meeting under age boys (thirteen or fourteen or so) for paid sex… We couldn’t prove this….but we had taken Rebecca to her doctor and he had diagnosed her as suffering from psychopathic disorder, … anti-social personality disorder….She went three times to a counsellor and then declared herself fit enough not to go any further. We contacted social services and we asked them to…investigate ‘cause she is suffering from delusions of all sorts. …We knew she was…a very accomplished liar. And the problem is….as a schoolteacher…I tried to help her.”
“As of July or August my wife had asked me to get involved with Rebecca because our daughter, Lita, had gone back to the States and ….there was nobody in the house…to be a role model to Rebecca. So I tried to encourage her to get on with her schoolwork and I actually attended a parents evening with her…”
Clock counter time 05:53
Bloom explains that van Hiller was academically able and had been given a place at the local college. He was worried about this. She had received a caution for indecency with two thirteen-year-old boys. Bloom and his wife knew she was unreliable, untrustworthy and promiscuous. The couple felt they had to obtain proof, confront her with the proof and demonstrate to various officials that she needed psychiatric help.
Clock counter time 05:53
BLOOM: “ …So we had started this anonymous texting, as of February 2003, to her…. asking about her availability to have…. paid sex. And she agreed that she had a week away with her boyfriend but on her return to town she would actually meet this person for sex and would have intercourse for £10 or £20, depending on what else was on offer. A week after this she got back from…her boyfriend’s. I sent her a text asking when it would be suitable for her and she sent a text to me giving information about the place and the time, which she said would be Truva Park at six in the evening on March 12th (which we both agreed was fine). I asked her to be alone and she said she would be alone……..that was the arrangement we made. Before going to Truva Park at five thirty I asked my wife to accompany me and we both drove up Odyssey Road and parked behind the bushes at Truva Park. My wife observed the whole scene. I approached Rebecca with …..three pages of printouts of the texts and she was very shocked to see me…I said.’ Rebecca, this is proof that you are seriously in need of psychiatric help. I could be anybody approaching you now. You’re a great danger to yourself…I have no choice: if you don’t get help immediately I’ll have to inform the school and the city college that you’re not fit to work with young children.’ She immediately started getting abusive. She said’ You’re ruining my fucking life. Go away. I don’t need this’….I said’ Rebecca, you really do need help. Please sit down and be calm.’ She started shouting and being very abusive at the top of her voice. I tried to calm her down. She sat momentarily and she took her cigarettes out and started to smoke one. But she was very shaken and obviously upset...I explained to her that I had no choice. She had already used me as a referee for her college application and I said, ‘ I cannot actually, as a teacher ignore my responsibility to the college,’ and I had to inform them of her behaviour…She told me: I let her down; I was no friend of hers…. I was a ‘complete fucking bastard.’ She got up and she decided she was going to kick me. She tried to kick me. She kicked me in the shins. I held her wrists trying to hold her back She was shouting abuse constantly. I tried to restrain her. But she fell back and dropped her bag and dropped her inhaler. Her inhaler fell out of her bag at that point. I walked- I ran back to the car where my wife was and I told her, ‘ Don’t get involved, Carla, because of what happened last time in January will happen again….she’ll kick and scream and fight you as well. You’d best keep out of it….best let her go and walk away.’ I ran back to Rebecca. She tried to pick up her inhaler. She couldn’t find it. So she just walked back to…five Eccles Drive. I followed her back because I live at number seven. I warned her on the way. I said,’ Please Rebecca. This is your last chance. I cannot let this go. I want you to get immediate psychiatric help to stop this behaviour. Please tell Cilla and please show Cilla these texts.’ And I made sure that I pointed to the texts in her hand.
I said, ‘ That is evidence, Rebecca, that you are reckless and a danger to yourself.’…. That was the last of that incident that night.
Clock counter time: 10:34
Bloom explains that van Hiller had had five addresses during the eighteen months before he and his wife looked after her because none of her family would. She had been promiscuous before being cared for by the BLOOM’S. Rebecca had given the BLOOM’S stepdaughter a list of thirty males whom she had had paid sex with. BLOOM explains that in April 2002 van Hiller lived at 13 Cedar Drive with his wife, Carla and his stepdaughter, Lita.
Bloom had always lived at 7 Eccles Drive and had never lived at Cedar Drive with them. Bloom had spent much time with van Hiller, observing her behaviour. He asserts she lies pointlessly and has no friends. He explains that the girl and Cilla Karibdis had visited Rebecca’s younger sister in February in breach of a court order. Van Hiller made a scene and a car was damaged. He explains Cilla is his neighbour, who at the time of this interview, looks after Rebecca and is completely taken in by her. On 12.03.03 after the incident in the park, Bloom and Carla wrote to Rebecca’s teaching staff and various government officials. They also telephoned the police station and spoke with a male officer. They urgently requested psychiatric help for van Hiller. Bloom explains that he and Carla had all the anonymous text messages printed out from the Internet.
Clock counter time: 16:24
Bloom explains that he and Carla had heard van Hiller had been telling school friends during the Autumn Term the he was her ‘sugar daddy’ and taking her out. He explains he had taken her to a few public houses to play pool. He explains he had become concerned about her state of mind when she had just laughed when a youth had grabbed her indecently in a pub while she was playing pool with him. Bloom explains he had supported her academically but had lost faith in her when he learnt Rebecca van Hiller had been lying to others (including Cilla) that Carla had sought to persuade van Hiller to have sex with Bloom to encourage Bloom to stay in their marriage. Cilla runs karaoke evenings. Rebecca had got to know her through attending these evenings run by Cilla. Van Hiller had built up a friendship with Cilla and spun a web of lies about the Bloom’s.
Clock counter time: 18:46
Bloom explains that when van Hiller was accepted on an ‘early learning’ course at the college, starting in September 2003, Bloom had expressed misgivings to the teacher in charge of the course.
Clock counter time: 19:42
PC GODBOLT: “You continued sending these texts messages to Rebecca which eventually…”
BLOOM: “Yeah”
PC GODBOLT: “…resulted in her agreeing to meet you?”
BLOOM: “Yeah”
PC543 “ …And that was in Truva Park at six in the evening on the twelfth of March?”
BLOOM: ”Yeah”
PC543 “ You said to her then to come alone?”
BLOOM: “Yeah….but I initially used the name ‘Baz’ because we spoke to some of her ex friends about who that she was really attracted to, and apparently…she wanted to have sex with someone called ‘Baz’. So we used the name ‘Baz’ initially and she immediately responded…we knew then that we were onto something here so we persisted with the texting.”
PC543 “…Did you move onto some other name after that?”
BLOOM: “We didn’t use….she was asking, ‘who are you?’ so then we just….thought, ‘well, it doesn’t matter who we are let’s push it and see if she will meet a complete stranger for sex.’”
Clock counter time 20:53
Bloom states they signed only one text message ‘Baz’. They then selected the name ‘sexihunk’ and used that instead. He asserts van Hiller met males through the Internet ‘chatrooms’ for the purpose of sex. She arranged to meet one male in the town without having any idea who he was. She had not realized Bloom and Carla were monitoring her Internet access and checking her emails for months.
Clock counter time 21:55
Bloom explains that he and Carla had undertaken a dry run on the 11.03.03. Because Van Hiller had assaulted Carla in January they decided Carla should keep her distance (Bloom had encouraged Cilla to look after the girl). They parked so Carla would have a good view from the car but could also walk closer if necessary. When they arrived Rebecca was walking around the park. There were three boys in the park, one of who shouted ‘whore’ at her. When she had clamed down and was smoking a cigarette in the park Bloom had returned to Carla and told her everything was all right.
Clock counter time 24:31
PC GODBOLT: “…Did Rebecca know it was going to be you that was there, do you think?
BLOOM: “ No idea.”
PC 534 “…from her reaction?”
BLOOM: “She was shocked. She was really shaking violently. She dropped her bag and when she dropped her bag…her….brown….asthma inhaler fell out. She struggled to pick it up.”
Clock counter time 25:35
PC GODBOLT: “….You…said…she tried to kick your shins and you held her wrists…..”
BLOOM: “She tried to slap me across the face and I grabbed her wrists.”
PC GODBOLT: “ ..What made her do that? Had something been said beforehand?”
BLOOM: “…I actually said, ‘Rebecca, you are a common prostitute. You are a prostitute.’ She said, ‘ I’m not a fucking prostitute.’ I said, ‘ Rebecca we’ve got witnesses you’re a prostitute.’….First of all she tried to swing at me and I jumped back…..She swung at me with her right hand. She tried to slap me across the face. And then immediately she tried to kick me so….I put my hand out to grab her other arm to hold her back form me. I ended up holding both her arms….trying to hold her at arms length….Although I was holding her with both arms she was kicking me in the shins.”
PC GODBOLT: “ ….She.. ..lost her temper and she tried to slap your face…..with her right hand.”
BLOOM: “ Yeah”
PC GODBOLT: “ But you managed to get hold of…her wrists.”
BLOOM: “ Yeah….her hands were flailing around at that point. She dropped her bag. Everything fell out of her bag.”
PC GODBOLT: “….Did she manage to kick you?”
BLOOM: “ Oh yeah…..she kicked me hard.”
Clock counter time 27:41
Bloom explains his knee was bruised by her kick and a mark remains from this. PC GODBOLT: notes a graze on Bloom’s right knee. When van Hiller ranted at him while he was holding her wrists she swore at him, calling him inter alia ‘ a wanker’, and told him to leave her alone and she did not need him any more.
Clock counter time: 28:59
PC GODBOLT: “….It was while you were holding both her wrists that she fell backwards?….”
BLOOM: “Yeah….she stumbled over her bag, I think. She stepped back and I think she caught her bag in the strap or something and fell backward.”
PC GODBOLT: “Did she fall backwards…..sort of onto her bum, was it? Did she go right down onto the floor?”
BLOOM: “ Well…yeah…she fell right back….I just let her go.”
PC GODBOLT: “….You think it was that point that….her inhaler actually fell out of her bag?”
BLOOM: “ Yeah…everything fell out of her bag: cigarette lighter…everything.”
PC GODBOLT: “….You then said at this point, …..after she fell to the ground and the bag fell over, you ran back to your wife and told her not to get involved?”
BLOOM: “ No, before that…..very early on…she seemed to be calming down….I told her to sit on the slide. There is a slide there. I said, ‘ Just sit down please, Rebecca, calm down.’ She was shaking violently. I said, ‘Please sit down. Let’s talk this through’….. she did sit down for a minute or two…..I said, ‘Just wait there. I’m just going to tell Carla what is going on. I just want to talk to you.’ So I ran over to Carla (I didn’t want to shout at her)…..”
PC GODBOLT: “….Did Carla stay there or did she drive off?”
BLOOM: “ I think she stayed there for a few minutes. But I said to her….if things look okay to you I’m going to walk back to the house with her. If you see me walking back to the house then everything is okay……just go home and I’ll phone you on the mobile.’”
Clock counter time 31:00
PC GODBOLT: “ …Rebecca is on the floor….she has….stumbled over her bag, causing her to fall down, and you said that it was then that all her stuff came out of her bag?”
BLOOM: “ Yeah.”
PC GODBOLT: “ It was then that Rebecca tried to find her inhaler, was it?”
BLOOM: “ I don’t know whether she did or not… She constantly dropped stuff. She was trying to take things out….she was rummaging through her bag to get cigarettes out and she kept dropping stuff. She was dropping a diary or something. Bits fell on the floor and I picked things up with her and… handed them to her to try to sit her down and get her calm.”
PC GODBOLT: “ ….You followed her back. How did the conversation go?”
BLOOM: “ I said, ‘Rebecca, you’re walking away and you’re swearing and you’re shouting. You’re angry….You need to sit down calmly and think about this…..Show these texts to Cilla. Get Cilla’s advice. Tell Cilla what is going on in your life.’….. Going back a week or so, after I went to see the mother at her house, I decided to …speak to Cilla…. I went to her and apparently….Rebecca just had a week off school. She had toxic shock syndrome. I didn’t know she had the week off school. And she was obviously ill…They invited me in and I went to the kitchen and I spoke to both Cilla and Rebecca…”
Clock counter time: 33: 41
Bloom explains they both walked together from the park to the front door of her house. He talked to her all the way. She kept telling him she did not want to know.
Clock counter time 34:19
PC GODBOLT: “…Apart from holding her wrist was there any other physical contact between yourself…..and Rebecca?”
BLOOM: “ No, not by me…..not at all.”
PC GODBOLT: “ It was…..approximately 6pm on the 12th of March you arranged to meet with Rebecca but at this time you’re not sure whether or not Rebecca realized it was you that she was meeting or-“
BLOOM: “ She had no idea who I was. None at all. She told me that. She admitted that…..she said to me, ‘ What are you doing here?’ ”
Clock counter time 35:32
PC GODBOLT: “ Because….it was…..an odd situation you asked your wife to accompany you to the park….”
BLOOM: “Well….we…we…actually were discussing the whole thing with friends and family and neighbours. ‘ How do we get this kid into help?’…I also discussed it with two other people. I discussed it with my mother and I discussed it with a friend of mine. And we all said that the only way was to do something drastic: to catch her out, to prove she was a prostitute. And the only way we could do this was by texting her. We used the Internet texting services because we knew we could print it all off and it would be anonymous….its all verifiable….we’ve got it all on computer.”
Clock counter time 37:36
Bloom explains he and van Hiller sat on a slide and he took one of her cigarettes out for her to light while he was trying to calm her down. He and Carla each had a mobile telephone with them. He had told van Hiller she could not work with young children if she was working as a prostitute.
Clock counter time 39:27
PC GODBOLT: “……You managed to get hold of her arms…..”
BLOOM: “ Yeah…. I got both arms. She dropped the bag…..it spread everywhere. I was holding both wrists and she was kicking out with both feet at me.”
Clock counter time 40:39
BLOOM: “….I only sent her a text….the week before congratulating her. She phoned me, said, ‘ I’ve just got into college, Leo’….”
Clock counter time 44:08
Bloom explains he has known van Hiller since April 2002. She had been staying at Carla’s home. When his wife had to visit New York none of van HILLER ’s family would look after her. Therefore Bloom moved into Carla’s home for a week to look after Rebecca. He has never had any form of sexual relationship with van Hiller.
Clock counter time 46:07
Bloom believes he wore a dark blue tracksuit and dark blue training shoes when he met Rebecca in the park on 12.03.03.
Clock counter time 46:45
PC GODBOLT: “….Rebecca……handed me a list of text messages.”
BLOOM: “ Yeah….that’s what I gave her. Should be about three pages.”
PC GODBOLT: “ Can I show you? That’s just one page.”
BLOOM: “ Yeah….I should add that ‘Saggipuss’ is her nickname at school because of her promiscuity. Everybody calls her ‘Saggipuss.’”
PC543 “ …..These are…. A list of text messages that you sent to her?”
BLOOM: “ Absolutely…..yeah.”
Clock counter time 47:40. 11.07 pm. Tape is switched off.
‘RECORD OF INTERVIEW’
Person Interviewed: Leo Odysseus Bloom
Place of Interview: Interview Room. North Haven Police
Date of Interview: March 27th 2003
Time commenced: 23:08 hours. Duration of Interview: 18 minutes. Audio Tape reference no. LOW/03/4264. Interviewing Officer: PC Godbolt. Other persons present: none. Time concluded: 23:25.
Clock counter time: 02:00
PC GODBOLT: “ Did you realize that……that Rebecca had a tape recorder with her….and she recorded your conversation?”
BLOOM: “ Er..well ….no….…of course I had no idea…..”
PC GODBOLT: “ ….In the light…. Because you now know she recorded your meeting at the park…is there anything else you would like to tell me….any…”
BLOOM: “ I didn’t want to get her into trouble…..she already had a police caution…..from the previous time… I went with her……”
PC GODBOLT: “ So you are sure she had no idea it was you….meeting …”
BLOOM: “ Like I said….she had no idea…it was me… If she had recorded it on the beginning you’ll hear her say,’ What are you doing here?’…That’s what she said.”
Clock counter time 5:33
Bloom explains that he knew, as a teacher, not to touch her unless attacked. He insists he asked her to be calm and sit so they could talk things over. He denies that he went to tell Carla to drive off. He explains she has had a history of manipulating her boyfriends. He denies taking her inhaler and throwing it.
Clock counter time 10:23
PC GODBOLT: “…She then says you slapped her across her left cheek with your right hand and pushed….her away. Did that happen?”
BLOOM: “ I don’t think so. If I had hit her she wouldn’t be standing…I can tell to you.”
Clocki counter time 11:21
Bloom asserts van Hiller had hit him several time. He believes he now has no choice but to prosecute her for assault.
PC GODBOLT: “ …Did you kick her left thigh?”
BLOOM: “ No…I never touched her.”
PC GODBOLT: “You grabbed hold of her left shoulder?”
BLOOM: “ That never happened.”
Clock counter time 14:18
Bloom explains that after the incident in the park he walked right up to the door with her and told her to show the texts to Cilla.
BLOOM: “ I’m sure she would tell Cilla she was going to see ‘Shev’ that night. That was always her cover when she came round mine from Cilla’s. She didn’t want Cilla knowing she came round to mine.”
PC GODBOLT: “ You are….any allegation that you assaulted her…you are categorically denying it?”
BLOOM: “ It’s all a complete fabrication.”
Clock counter time 16:11
Bloom explains he has witnesses to support his account of the texting. He has spoken to friends about the texting. A female friend read through the texts on the Internet with him and she agreed it proved van Hiller was reckless. He explains that when the boys left the park that night it was dark and non-one else was about so van Hiller could have been in danger. He explains Carla saw most of what happened. Carla had watched them walk away and has assumed that Rebecca had calmed down. He wants van Hiller to obtain psychiatric help.
Clock counter time 17:25
The 842 notice is served. 11:25pm: tape is switched off.
26
I shivered with the cold. I felt raw inside. My fingers were like ice and the numbness stiffened my neck. It was an awful, nauseous tension wracking me whole body. I still had the smell in my nostrils. Stale disinfectant. The sanitized and clinical sparseness of the holding cell had cut deeply into my subconscious. It had been only two hours confinement but it had felt like ten. They were punishing me already. No one knows what the desperation of imprisonment feels like until they endure it.
I lit the demo
Idle time tho’
Toil mid thee
Limited to He
Dim thee, toil
I dole them it
Let me, I do hit
Let him ode it
Hold me tie it
I tie them old
Idle to hit me
Tilted it home
Ode the limit
Hot Edit Mile
Hit me old time
I tilted home
Was I right to forego the attendance of the duty solicitor? I would have suffered a further two hours in there if I had insisted on it. But his voice had been reassuring on the phone.
I had nothing to fear. I only acted in self-defence. He said he would call me tomorrow and confirm an appointment to meet.
I lay curled shivering in my bed. Constable Godbolt-what is she really about? Does she believe me? Why did she keep me chatting in the police car for so long when she brought me home? She’s an odd looking woman at first sight. Not pretty, not even in that uniform. And I do love a woman in uniform. She has a strange look about her. Was that police work or was she curious about me? I had to get some sleep. School tomorrow.
27
TUESDAY 1ST APRIL 2003: PAUL THE GUNFIGHTER. It was Aprils’ Fool’s Day and Cookie was at my house. Ironic. She came here to aggravate the enemy. She stalked their territory.
I had already had my car scratched, my wheelie bin stolen plus we had the inception of the phoney war between Cookie and the whores next door.
Arm scratching Carla peered out from the rear bedroom window over the fence. She was on the snoop for a showdown. I had been keeping her updated about it for the past couple of weeks-the weather had been so dry and fair. Cilla had taken to hanging out her washing on the garden line again.
What now irked Cookie about that was that pegged for all to see, like trophies were Lita’s Fubu’s, Yankees sweats, jeans, new lingerie and more. They were the spoils of battle taken by the conquerors.
My wife was fidgeting, she was scratching those forearms raw but she stood steadfast and unbowed. She would seek to reclaim what was rightfully hers.
They say matadors use a red rag to antagonise the charging bull in the ring. Here were many red rags pegged and my Kooky cow was snorting and up for a thundering charge. She hissed and spat and shot out of my backdoor before I could say kamikaze.
I only managed to catch up with her because she failed to realise the garden gate was bolted both top and bottom. As I took hold of her arm she shrieked out a rebuke.
From the corner of my eye I saw a teasing Turk sneering from her kitchen window. If I had let go of that twisting, writhing arm right then I have no doubt I would have witnessed and almighty cat fight. Mustering up all my brawn and pacifying resolve I manhandled my wife back into the house whereupon she gave me a taste of the tongue-lashing she wanted to spatter at Cilla.
“ Leo, so often you are a vain and self-important man. I don’t trust you…I don’t even particularly like you. You tried things your way and look! They laugh at us! Look at that bitch sneering like she’s beaten me! Grow some backbone for once in your life. Stop being the mooch-you’re always acting the victim! Fight back! Oh, yes, you will get from me what you crave, don’t worry at least somebody in this family will do the right thing!”
I pleaded for her to be calm. We were both panting hard from the scuffle.
“I’ll back you up…Lita will back you up…we’ll be your loyal smoke screen so that no one will ever know for sure if all this was corruption of an innocent child by a cunning man or exploitation of a weak man by a corrupt child.
You tried to re make her in the image you wanted her to be. But she is what she is… a street whore….A wretch from the gutter and forever falling back into it. I saw you. So often like an old fool letting yourself stoop to be her plaything….you never had it the other way round…you deceived yourself…pathetic, foolish vanity and now she has tainted you….you are done!”
She finally tore her arm free. I wiped her spittle from my face. ‘Are you done?’ No, she wasn’t done. But the quietness that now fell over her told me some scheme was cooking away in that loose canon’s mind. She took herself to the sofa slunk herself into meditation mode and I let her be.
She suited the sofa less than the sofa suited her. She slumped gracelessly within its form. She had no elegance, no style as I watched the ogre stewing before me. Now I let my artist’s eye remodel the scene. Dispense with the fiery hag and replace with a younger, sweeter incumbent. A Lilly- fresh flowering beauty of the Dutch kind set before me would be a far more satisfying display.
But the street whore jibe? Yes, I guess warranted.
But oh the pleasures I might have if she let me pay her for my sins. But April was to end as such an awful month. And then Saddam Hussein lost Iraq. Carve carbine hell.
I do have such wicked intentions if given a free run at it. Not content with one form of eroticism I had lately evolved my very own complete kind of erotic symbolism revolving around all sorts of indecent games with my pliant pea.
The way this girl thoroughly slinks her pliable form so seductivey about the furniture put me in mind of Allen Jones' sublime depictions of a hat stand or a table sculpture. This malleable maid of my muse inspired all such crazy creations of artistic delight. Angela’s insight was helping me to be better informed that the most erotic symbols have their roots locked deep within the subconscious mind of the child within us.
This was not the kind of probing of my deepest character I could conceivably have shared with anyone else, not my wife, not Charlotte and certainly not ever in a million years with the likes of my first ogre, Molly.
Although to be fair to Molly I guess she was chosen by me as marriage material purely on her doll-like teen beauty. For when I met her she was a lifeguard at the Central Swimming Pool back home in Berkshire and I simply adored her in that one-piece red swimsuit. She was my first true spangled acrobat in talcum light.
When this upwardly mobile late twenties schoolteacher-‘own home and car’- caught her eye you could see on reflection why an impressionable and very pretty nineteen-year-old aspirant would jump at the chance to escape her minimum wage sterile chlorinated pool plant for the doting arms of bashful Bloom.
Whether it was their outward inadequacies that made these helpless, fawning objects so appealing to my own assertively challenged inward inadequacies I could not rightly fathom.
But my therapist did imply on more than one occasion that I appeared to possess issues stemming from the dysfunctional relationship I had had with my bullying over-bearing drunken father.
Perhaps the chaos of my early childhood just left in me a great gawping chasm: a yearning for stillness, order, and control and unthreatening interpersonal relations.
I just went on in my private world getting an erotic thrill at what most ‘normal’ men and woman would call bizarre. I just loved looking at naked mannequins in department stores.
I remember my mother taking me as a child of seven or eight to buy a winter coat and while she and a hapless sales assistant rummaged about for my size, out of sight, I seized my moment for a tacky fumbling grope with a statuesque hottie who let me put my hand up her skirt and stroke her and examine her indiscreetly while a plastic transfixed face beamed inanely. No one knew. It was hers and my secret and I knew she wouldn’t be telling on me.
Now vanilla muse was my love of statue when at rest. Reclining on the sofa but better on the rug I would lay her so that I had the advantage of being away from her sight, her one good eye on the goggle box while her other obstinate orb hid behind a floppy curtain of dark hair.
My sympathetic and indulgent therapist had directed me to scholarly readings on the matter and from that I have grown to accept it is not my fault my environment and my parents made me this way.
It is also true, and I have read this, that a somewhat less abnormal form of erotic symbolism probably shows itself in its simplest shape in the tendency to idealize unbeautiful peculiarities in a beloved person, so that such peculiarities are ever afterward almost or quite essential in order to arouse sexual attraction.
So just like the man who has become attracted to limping women I have been drawn to imperfect, flawed creatures. Even the most normal man may idealize a trifling defect in the object of his affections.
Our attention is inevitably concentrated on any such slight deviation from regular beauty, and the natural result of such concentration is that a complexus of associated thoughts and emotions becomes attached to something that, in itself, is unbeautiful. A defect becomes an admired focus of attention, the embodied symbol of the lover's emotion.
I remember it now like videotape found on a dusty shelf to be rerun in the back of a long fossilised quadrant of my subconscious. My mother had taken me to the circus.
That was where I first saw a woman shot out of a cannon-constrained first, tightly packed in like a sweet in a wrapper. That was the sublime first fantasy in a naïve little boy’s innocent, impressionable mind. That perfect little gypsy girl wearing the bright red outfit and her skirts blew up around her as she flew in the air. My first emission sequence replayed over and over.
In time supplanted by many other later new and improved versions but always the same variation on the theme: the performer, the display and the unintended exposure of the object of my obsession. But like any adolescent boy I felt the need to play over and over my personalised and self -indulgent mind games.
In the long, lonely hours of my childhood shut in my room, away my father’s disapproving gaze I would entertain myself.
I put all sexual fantasies into tonal and colour values. I graded them all into darker and darker shades of depravity. But tidy-minded as I am I always like to shuffle the pack and grade and re-grade colour charts then edit and review critically all my little erotic cameos.
Like those Edwardian ‘What the Butler Saw’ slot machines and you pay a penny to peek for a minute to watch her rustle her bustle, lift her skirts, loosen her suspender belt, teasingly play her hand up and along the curves of her plump white thighs.
That would be it in a nutshell. But to tease myself I would start very slowly-almost imperceptibly. From the palest upwards in order of increasing intensity, or darkening tones, I placed erotic phenomena that affected me thus: The slow, slinky walk of a woman in heels, then the sight of women's undergarments, then the fleeting valley of a woman’s cleavage, thereafter the smells and static sounds of a pair of stockinged legs crossing, then those mouth watering upskirt shots in men’s magazines, a long-time favourite for my idle contemplation and that spillage of the dew (ros).
I then gorge myself on pages of naked breasts, then follows full contact with her rounded form and unrestricted sucking at those creamy white breasts, then, after, to savour the smell and the taste of it and then the ultimate: coitus.
As they say, to me and other such morbid souls there exists such specialized esoteric erogenous power. Never be so harsh of man in his private thoughts.
Even a mere shadow may become a fetish. There was once a man with a reputation for ability, seemingly happily married and the father of a family, appearing altogether irreproachable in his private life, who on returning home one evening chanced to raise his eyes to a neighbour’s window and saw the shadow of a woman changing her chemise.
He fell in love with that shadow and returned to the spot every evening for many months to gaze at the window. Yet—and herein lies the fetishism—he made no attempt to see the woman or to find out who she was; the shadow sufficed; he had no need of the realty. So there is my root (radix), and branch (thyrsus).
I aim not to despoil or to waylay but merely to idolize and nurture carefully, gently and delicately, ever so passive and kind is Mr Leonard Odysseus Bloom.
LISSOM NIMBLE
Stendhal described the mental side of the process of tumescence as a crystallization, a process whereby certain features of the beloved person present points around which the emotions held in solution in the lover's mind may concentrate and deposit themselves in dazzling brilliance.
Devotion and love," wrote Mary Wollstonecraft, "may be allowed to hallow the garments as well as the person, for the lover must want fancy who has not a sort of sacred respect for the glove or slipper of his mistress. He would not confound them with vulgar things of the same kind."
Semen is but seed
Teste the beans mere fabæ
soft fruit of poma and mala
my manhood is a my arbor,
or a stalk or a ploughsharing vomer
Your labia so majora a minora of fine wings (alæ)
I seek thee as a field of ager and campus,
or a ploughed furrow (sulcus),
have the vineyard (vinea), or a fountain fons,
forsaking such pudendal hair
such irksome herbage (plantaria)
The Talmud makes my doors your labia minora
your labia majora hinges,
But your clitoris the key
Cunning Greeks find the myrtle-berry
Succulent fruit of sacred Venus,
The labia rose, reddened image of your femininity
Four o’clock came. The school bus would be dropping off at the post office. Cookie now waited in ambush.
She took Rebecca by surprise and shouted at her to give it up while she still had a chance.
“ You’re not in charge of me! I have a new mother now!” Came the rebuff from the young harlot. In her hand she brandished Lita’s mobile phone.
“ Return all the things you stole from my daughter….you can have your crap back when you do!” Came the challenge.
That evening E-mails were exchanged between Cookie and Cilla. There would be no more polite phone calls. There was no love lost now. It was all going to be by the book. A final handover was arranged for six in the evening on the second of April. They were going to come to Cookie’s.
The day came and so did a curmudgeonly PC Crumb as escort. Rebecca stayed in the car. She looked timid now. I watched from the bedroom window. Cilla brought in two small-knotted plastic carrier bags. She took out several large boxes and bags while the feckless fool of a policeman looked on.
I shouted down the stair, “ Cookie, don’t let them go without checking the contents in front of the police officer!”
We hastily gathered in the kitchen. Cookie cut upon the knotted bags. One broken mobile phone without SIMS card; one pair of black boots-zips broken on both and some screwed up old tee-shirts that had been worn but not washed.
A wicked, secret thought came to mind. Mmmm- the delight I would take in these returned treasures later from a new casket full of love-tokens.
“ Look…you see! This is not right!” Cookie pointed to the damages and the policeman studied the debris.
“ Well, madam, I suggest you need to report this to PC Godbolt. I can see for myself these items appear possibly to have been deliberately damaged. But have you got any receipts?”
Damage, indeed, and don’t doubt the deliberate, officer, I thought. Both boots with zips ripped in the same place? A broken phone that only weeks, nay, days ago the tramp must have been still using. And receipts?
“ Receipts? Receipts you say? You want us to show you receipts now? Jesus….what more proof do you need? These are our things…. You see the state they are in…trashed!” Crusty Carla fumed.
The Officer was having none of it. She was going to have to take it up with Officer Godbolt.
I left them to the kitchen- her fuming and he placating and took the bagged treasures to the lounge. I wished to contemplate more fully and study them alone.
As Laodamia did by Protesilaus, when he went to war, sit at home with his picture before her: a garter or a bracelet of hers is more precious than any Saint's Relique, he lays it up in his casket (Oh, blessed relic) and every day will kiss it: if in her presence his eye is never off her, and drink he will where she drank, if it be possible, in that very place.
I drew in through my nostrils the vanilla scent of my new gifts. Her perfume was as powerful as ever. I pulled apart the velvet soft leathery flaps of the boots and plunged my face into their dark wings- fragrant symbols of her alæ and I imagined her sweat-sweet tasting labia majora and minora.
My mind was taken instantly to her bean field- ager and campus- a ploughed furrow supping the juices of the sulcus, glorying in the vinea vineyard, or her fountain fons bared and alabaster smooth, no pudendal plantaria between our lips.
28
FRIDAY 11TH APRIL 2003. I’m going down hill fast. I can’t cope with all this stress. I need help. I am slowing down almost to a standstill. I phone in sick at work. I need to see my doctor. I see Angela a couple of times but even her soothing sessions are only temporary and fleeting.
Today Godbolt agreed to see Cookie to discuss this awful matter. She files a report for all the damaged and stolen property. Maybe something will be done now. Cookie and I spend more time at my place. Thirteen Cedar Drive no longer feels so welcoming. Cookie gives her notice to vacate the property and starts to pack. She’s either going to put all her things in storage and just disappear to New York for a break or find another little bolt hole suitable to her needs away from people who know us.
But still the Spring like wispy clouds tease across the blueness above in their full majestic beauty. The trees are budding, the grass smells delightfully fragrant and fresh from the first cut but we care not.
While at my place Cookie goes into the garden to inspect all Lita’s clothes again hanging on Cilla’s washing line as if to torment us. It’s galling. “ Let’s jump the fence and just take it from the fish hag!” She muses. But wait; there is someone in the house. The curtains twitch. It’s that bitch.
No, it can’t be, she’s been out for a couple of hours. We saw her leave in her car. Must be Rebecca. No not Rebecca. We understand she has moved out of Cilla’s and is living with her boyfriend now. So who is it? Cookie goes to the front of the house.
She peers through Cilla’s front window. We see two small figures in the bedroom above. It’s the two boys, George and Harrison.
“ Hey, Cookie, hi- did you want my mum? She’s not talking to you anymore!”
“ Hello, George, where is your mum? Are you on your own?”
No reply.
“Don’t answer, Harrison, don’t speak to them any more… you’re a pedal file!”
George shouts to me.
“Right, we will get the bitch now. Call the child hotline or whatever you Brits call it? RSVP or RSPA? Or something like that! This is child neglect those kids are only six and eight and she’s left them all afternoon alone!”
I get the number for her out of the phone book. She makes the call. The call is logged and there will be someone looking into it.
Just then a car pulls up. It’s Henry, Cilla’s ex husband.
“ What’s going on…where’s Cilla?” He exclaims.
Suddenly another car pulls up hard aside his. It’s Cilla. She’s out of the car and into the house like lightening. Henry is in hot pursuit. We sit on the wall outside. Fine mess…ha! Don’t mess with Henry. A man with blacksmith’s limbs, strong and stout and not one to suffer fools. Rag Ill Anvil!
Upon said wall our options are again discussed. Perhaps blood vessel-bursting Henry would be inclined to consider an alliance? My ginned up gossip fuelled wife had the persuasive powers I lacked. We need to work on that one. Let that sleeping black dog lay for a while.
In the meantime back to matters of police complaints. It’s an amazing fact that the British police are entrusted with investigating themselves when a complaint is levied against them. What a wonderful system we live in.
Who better to impartially consider and weigh the merits of a complaint against the police than the police themselves? How ironic. Judge and jury: one and the same.
No wonder more grievances are going straight to the civil courts, bypassing the sham procedure that is the Professional and Ethical Standards Department of East Mercia Police.
This is how Fred Clarke advised me to do it. Fred was recommended to me as he had a lot of experience in civil harassment cases at McCarthy, Pond & Sheen.
Although I had fallen out with Mr BS of the shineless spineless sheen I still had the scrap of paper he gave me of a jobbing local lawyer up on these civil disputes.
I was a bit surprised at that first meeting. Not quite what I had expected. Fred Clarke was an affable, unflappable shortish bald chap who had no airs or graces about him. Carla would class him as subtle and delicate as steak and kidney pie. Nothing like other solicitors I had met. He was more of the street-working class origins and a less pretentious man.
“ Well. Mr Bloom from what you tell me about this Rebecca van Hiller its clear the police should be putting a stop to her goings on. I don’t understand why they haven’t arrested her or charged her with any offences against you.” He shook his baldhead.
“ Look, I don’t want to start you down a legal path straight off. I think you’ve got to jump through a few of their hoops first and make a formal complaint against the investigating officer. You say it’s a female officer who arrested you? “
I nodded. He looks me up and down.
” Well, Leo. It’s fair to say you’re a tall man- imposing stature. I can see where the police are coming from. And bluntly put it’s more believable to them that a stocky six-foot older man intimidates the vulnerable and slight sixteen-year-old girl.
On top of that as she’s a schoolgirl and you’re a teacher who connived to meet her in secret. You don’t get any leeway, I’m afraid with that lot. Simple stereotypes, you see. They are out to get you if they can.”
I replied curtly, “ Surely, they should try to find out the truth though. Shouldn’t they?”
He offers up a sympathetic, weak smile, “ Truth isn’t what it’s about, Mr Bloom. It’s about what they can persuade a court to believe. We are in the age of performance targets. The police like any other public service have quotas to fill. They need convictions. I’m sure you have the same thing in teaching. Am I right?”
I couldn’t fault his logic: targets and buzzwords all right. But it was all so cynical. The police weren’t going to make extra work for themselves when it appeared to be a clear-cut case for a conviction against me.
I added, “ What I suppose won’t help at all is my ex wife is also a local police officer. I’m sure she has spoken to them about me, too.”
Clarke looked out of his office window momentarily and took deep breath.
“ Ah…I see….Do you get on well with your ex wife? He enquired.
“ Nope. Can’t say I do.”
He took up his pen and began to write down something on a piece of paper.
“ This is what I recommend. Write to East Mercia Police Headquarters. Draft out a letter detailing your concerns and put together a detailed chronology of the events, with dates and times-that helps a lot. I can’t promise you anything but what I do strongly urge you to do is keep a diary-some kind of written record. Writing letters of complaint irritates the hell out of the police, too. Trust me. You may feel its not getting you anywhere but you will be surprised what affect this has over time.”
He neatly folded the piece of paper then handed it to me.
“Call me if you hear nothing within twenty-eight days.”
We shook hands. As I turned to leave he wished me the best of luck. I get home and there is a note on the front door mat. I open it. It’s from Henry Flower. He wants to meet me. He gives his phone number to call. We arrange a meeting.
Flower comes to my house the following Friday evening. To my embarrassment I forgot Charlotte was coming over, too. She makes herself scarce and she discreetly hides herself upstairs once I realise who is at the door.
Henry comes in with his new wife. We shake hands and I soon realise she is American.
“How ironic! We’ve both found an Internet bride from the US. ”
We all laugh and the ice is broken.
“I want to bury the hatchet over Cilla, Leo. I guess we’ve been wary of each other these past years. I know all about what happened with you and Cilla. It’s water under the bridge and good riddance to bad rubbish I say.”
He then cuts to the chase. He wants his kids back. Not going to be easy though, he concedes. Cilla got him banged up for assault before their divorce. I hadn’t known about that.
“Cilla got me sent down for knocking her about all trumped up, of course. It’s her way. She lies all the time mate. I was drunk and foolishly admitted I’d grabbed hold of her when the pigs rolled up…next thing I know I’m doing three months as a wife batterer.”
I gave him my best sympathetic nod of the head.
“ Ah, not good! Sorry to hear! I’m learning fast myself now-the law favours the woman in a domestic!” I sympathised.
“Cilla’s that type-never happy till she hears the police sirens wailing. She got the house now- welcome to it. George and Harrison is what I want but she won’t budge on it” He scowls.
He tells me she only has the kids for the child support. She’s always been a lazy bitch. She won’t work. Idle pea-hop.
“Anyway, she’s got this new man off the Net…another mug easily impressed by a big pair of tits. I heard he used to be some big shot local councillor. Or he was. He got sent down for firearms offences. Apparently he had a run in with some gypsies over fake antiques. They came after him. He took pot shots at them with a shotgun. It was front-page news or something. …Paul Gadd….That’s his name!”
He called him ’Paul the Gunfighter.’ He asks me for a favour. Perhaps I could look into it-keep an eye out for trouble. I suggested we could find out more about this new man from the archives of the local rag. Cookie and me will look it up-some evidence for him as leverage for a future custody battle.
Henry then gives me the whole deal about what he knows on my case:
“ It’s a sorry mess you have yourself here, Leo. The police came to interview me in April. They asked me about Rebecca. ‘How did she treat the kids?’ I told them I wasn’t happy about her being there. I told Cilla to get her out or I would cut her money down. George told me she mistreats Harrison. I heard she teases him and makes fun of him-he’s got a speech impediment, you see, and is partially deaf, poor kid. She once made him get into a freezing cold bath-all for kicks-she found that kind of thing funny.”
I shake my head in disbelief. I just find it so hard to picture Rebecca having such a cruel side.
He goes on, “ I heard some guff that you beat her up. I got some civilian officer come visit me to take a statement. He wanted all the dirt on you, Leo. Cilla must have primed him beforehand. I told him that girl’s no angel- I heard she was a prostitute- he just said, ‘hearsay.’ He thought I’d have it in for you-I could tell from his attitude right away. But not me-I tells it like it is. Cilla can be a spiteful sea snake. I told him you and her had a fling years back and that was true- and I knew you finished it not her. I saw he didn’t write any of that down though”
I asked him how he saw it all going in his custody battle.
“I’m onto her now. I am really grateful you called the child protection hotline. I am building up a dossier of evidence against Cilla. It’s only a matter of time. I’m happily married now- I got a good wife, a decent home and just need my kids safe and well. I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do to help you in your case. But as they say, ‘the truth will out.’”
The new Mrs Flower smiles politely at me to emphasise her husband’s intent.
“One other thing, Leo, I know they say beware Greeks bearing gifts, but there’s something that comes to mind-it’s about your ex-wife….the police officer? I think it might be of some use to you, I don’t know-you decide.”
Henry tells me about a year or so ago, Cilla, in one of her gossiping moods repeated something her sister heard. Her sister’s husband was employed in the same police station. Apparently the rumours were that Molly had a brief fling with one of the sergeants -it was all hushed up-both coppers were married and all that.
“ But something that did come out was your ex claimed you knocked her about a lot and that’s why she divorced you. Well, Cilla, couldn’t tell me all this quick enough at the time. I guess it’s all water under the bridge but you know the old saying, Leo, ‘shit sticks.’”
It does and like glue, too.
29
I have to have a strategy here. I have no Special Forces nor M1 Abrams or Bradley fighting vehicles. No awesome firepower, no impervious armour.
Some suckers buy every bit of bull and the lies have been spun thick and fast from all quarters. ‘Armour vincit omnia.’
Who and what do I believe? Love conquers all. Was I dealing with a comedy routine, a Comical Ali from the Disinformation Ministry of Iraq?
Have I been mocked and made of a fool of from the start? The bullets fly, the bombs fall but the same story persists- the infidel American soldiers are dying in their hundreds slaughtered on the gates of Baghdad. Be assured, Baghdad is safe, protected. Iraqi soldiers are freedom fighters and heroes. Am I safe? My gut instincts make me feel evil forces are at work out to get me.
I will follow through what Fred Clarke advised me. On April 9th, Saddam Hussein emerged from his command bunker beneath the Al A'Zamiyah district of northern Baghdad, and greeted excited members of the local public.
The news is full of it. This was his final walkabout. I dug out an old file binder and began to put together the beginnings of my own case notes. I made a start on a chronology and drafting a letter to Police Headquarters.
I saw the news about Saddam-they are going to capture him, give him a fair trial then execute him. I already have the letters I sent out the day after the assault.
That was a smart move. It must show I acted conscientiously. I must be ready for war. Like any teacher would: you back up your argument with facts. I reviewed the letters I had sent and the replies I had back so far from the relevant contacts:
14.03.03
City College
Mrs Armand Assante
Head of Studies
Dear Mr & Mrs L Bloom
Thank you for your letter of March 13th about Rebecca attending college in September.
I would like to reassure you that Rebecca, as with all your other applicants, will only be accepted on to one of our courses if she has a clear Criminal Records Bureau disclosure and appropriate entry qualifications. In view of your concerns I have contacted her head teacher for further information about Rebecca’s suitability for the course.
When we have received all these pieces of evidence we will be able to make a judgment about whether Rebecca should come on the course or not; from the information we have received to date it would certainly not seem appropriate for us to confirm her place.
Please get in touch again if you need further information.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs Armand Assante
I read again the letter we had got back from Rebecca’s doctor. That filled me with much hope.
19.03.03
Holy Cross Medical Centre
North Road
Dear Mr & Mrs Bloom
Re: Rebecca van Hiller (dob 26.04.87)
Thank you for your letter of March 13th received by the practice on that day and by me on 17th March on return from leave: the contents of which are extremely disturbing.
After our discussions on 10th January when we all met I made a methodical enquiry, which I thought, had produces a result but clearly this is not the case.
As you correctly point out Rebecca is no longer my patient and I am taking the liberty of sending your letter to her current general practitioner so that he is fully informed of your current position, he should already have the rest of her medical notes.
Hopefully with the evidence you present and the increasing anxiety about this young lady, hopefully more will be done to help her. I am sorry if you feel I have let you down.
Yours sincerely,
P R Teazle MB MRCP
19.03.03
South Haven High School
Sandwood Hill
Dear Mr & Mrs Bloom.
Rebecca van Hiller – Year 12
Thank you for bringing to our attention your concerns about Rebecca. I can confirm receipt of your letter and your telephone call made to my deputy, Ms Newman, on March 13th. I can confirm that we will be keeping a close watch on the situation but we understand this is now a police matter and we cannot enter into any further correspondence on the matter.
We are sorry to hear of your predicament but trust the police will deal with the case satisfactorily.
Yours sincerely,
Greta Scacchi MSc. PGCE
It makes me seem a tad more the concerned professional reading all that. Perhaps, if this gets to court a jury will look at these and see I was trying to be the’ good guy.’
That one from her Dr Teazle was the pick. God, I needed his support. At least her own family practitioner could see how messed up she was. That bean was totally barking!
I wonder if Teazle would testify? No. I don’t think so: patient confidentiality or something. But at least I have proof. I have his letter. I have all the letters!
Well, this it Leo, old boy. What time is it? Almost four so get set for action. She’s on duty at six, she said. I’ll go for a run then I’ll write more letters.
I’ll give that Godbolt a quick call and tell her enough is enough. I’ll phone her on the number she put on the bail sheet she gave me.
When I dialled she answered promptly this time so I got straight into my assertive mode.
“Er…Mr Bloom. Let me stop you there…. …I have to advise you that Miss van Hiller has made a further allegation against you just this morning….text messages…as before. I’ve told her to bring her mobile phone into the station…”
“ Wait…now hold on here…hold on!” I interrupted,” I am calling to tell you the nightmare of the past few weeks….car scratched…clothes stolen….hang up calls…We’ve had it all …my wheelie bin stolen and found in another street and vandalised! Jesus….what am I supposed to do? I’ve seen a solicitor…it’s all harassment…. you’re now taking this kid’s side.”
In subsequent days, looting and unrest became a serious issue. Nothing of any value was left. This was Baghdad. On April 14th, Iraq's National Library and National Archives were burned down, destroying thousands of manuscripts from civilizations dating back as far as 7,000 years. Don’t let them destroy the evidence.
Her voice stiffened, “ Mr Bloom! Please let me finish….I have got a report about your alleged crimes on my voicemail message….your wife…she left messages about harassing phone calls….They will be investigated, I assure you…We are now getting accusation and counter accusation from your both side and Miss van Hiller’s…. I am doing my best. … your wife is coming in next week-come too if you wish when I’m back on shift. See you next Tuesday- we can go from there.”
The dolt Gumbolt was fobbing me off again and I was having none of it.
“Quit! Stop! Now hold on! What’s all this garbage about new text messages? You arrested me…you told me I was on bail….if I contacted Rebecca again I’d be pulled in again….I’m not stupid…I’ve done nothing…look….come take my computer…see for yourself…all these texts… I’ve done nothing…see for yourself check my phone records, too!”
“ Please calm down Mr Bloom I may wish to have possession of your computer for evidence at a later stage…phone records, too…whatever….please let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves here….first things first….let me meet with you wife next Tuesday…ok?”
I was not going to get any joy there. I let it go. My head was pounding. I went next door. I just wanted to plead with Cilla. She’s the adult: she must see it. I knocked at her door. A stranger answered, a rather portly, greasy looking man with thinning grey hair, leather slippers and a cravat.
I realised this was the Paul Gadd that Henry Flower had told me about. I’d better be wary. I politely asked if Cilla was home. She soon appeared and gave me short shrift.
I may have been speaking Chinese for all she cared. They are a lost cause now. I got the finger from her as a passing gesture.
They call this Asymmetric warfare. Opposing belligerents of unequal power or capacity of action interact and take advantage of the strengths and weaknesses of themselves and their enemies. This interaction often involves strategies and tactics outside the bounds of conventional warfare.
A week passed. Cookie had her police meeting. Low and behold Rebecca never took her mobile phone in to prove her latest allegations. Nothing came of that.
Ah, well, seems like kids can make any number of false allegations if they want! Another police officer came to interview my other neighbour who said she saw someone fitting Rebecca’s description strangely taking a wheelie bin up the road for a one-way walk. If it were someone else’s tragedy I would be laughing.
But finally, good old Cookie came up trumps. She got hold of the service provider of the mobile phone Rebecca had stolen from Lita. Although we now had the actual phone back (broken into bits) the SIMS card from it was missing.
My wife found out the SIMS card is actually the ‘brain’ of a mobile phone. It stores all the contact numbers and everything and without it the phone is useless.
Cookie had phoned Vistafone Mobile Customer Services who gave her the full picture. Apparently, Rebecca had somehow re-registered Lita’s phone in her name and at Cilla’s address. She was still using our SIMS card!
But the ace in the hole was Vistafone told Cookie that the re-registering of the phone was done on April 1st right before she gave it back to us broken.
Rebecca had applied for a number change for that SIMS and was immediately assigned a new number from that date. So it was impossible for her to have had any texts from me, as I clearly didn’t know she changed her number.
This was good news. I wrote my first letter of complaint to Police Headquarters. I enclosed my chronology of events as my solicitor had advised. Let’s see where this gets us.
I wanted the police to investigate Rebecca for false reporting of crimes. The proof was there. Surely they would see the little cow was lying. If she was shown to have lied about one thing then surely her credibility was blown on every other allegation.
The next few weeks were odd. The new man in Cilla’s life appeared to have moved in with her. It seemed peculiar seeing a new Porsche parked outside that Turkish harem beside the belly jiggler’s clapped out old jalopy.
It was a hot day in May as I recall when the letter came. I read it twice over. More bad news. It was not what I wanted at all. No charges were to be brought against Rebecca but a senior officer was going to meet with me to discuss my concerns about the investigation.
So much for the "End of Major Combat." I saw President Bush standing on the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln. He foolishly declared ‘mission accomplished,’ too.
What's the point of a 'justice' 'system' that picks and chooses the villains-arrest the easy target let the bigger fish get away? Cookie said something she thought it all apt but with an American twist: she said Rebecca was no Amy Fisher and I was certainly no Joey Buttafuoco. That particular reference went right over my British head.
30
MONDAY 5TH MAY 2003. So look around you. The month of May brings the whole world to light: either you are already in love or you have the feeling that it could happen at any second. The merry month of May is simply one of the best months and we anticipate a spring storm of wonderful feelings.
And with a beating heart, we begin to walk on air and so now can we possibly sense the rising buds of a crazy love story? The birds are at it and so are my neighbours. That nightly rhythmic banging and caterwauling permeated the party wall. That was my clue. Karaoke woman had found her Krakatoa man.
The following morning I drew open my bedroom curtains to see yonder lover’s swift departure. The man called Gadd was up and at ‘em with the larks.
Mister gadabout was sans cravat but sported one of those laughable silly western-style bootlace ties around his fat red neck held together by a garish chunky golden pin. His sideburns were pure late edition Elvis Presley –ridiculously profuse beneath a self-deluding comb-over.
The oaf revved up, spun a mean ‘U’ turn, gave a glad Gadd wave back at his harlot’s hovel and then he was off like a shot. The clot.
Clearly, those
