It's Ok to Tell

By Marie Giles

It’s Ok To Tell started out as diaries to help me get through this turmoil. You can see how I was not able to express so well at the start of the process but was able to develop this ability as time travelled. I have decided to get it published in order to help and encourage others to speak out and to show how diffi cult it is to do so, so

• Language: English
• Publisher: STAMPA GLOBAL
• Release date: Sep 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781734074932

Book preview

Diaries for 2002 

Contents for January 2002

17 January

- Justin

- Ben

- The Phone Call

- Cheryl

- Josephine

- Telling My Parents

- Reporting It to the Police

- My Local Police

- The First Three Nights

- Everybody’s Hurt

- The Letter

- Why Am I Writing This?

18 January

- My Kids

- Melony

- My Granny

- His Wife

- Joe

- Smoking

20 January

- Control

- Dan

- Andrew

17 January 

Justin 

These events took place on 31 December 2001.

When Ben and I got home from the pub, I was so upset at this stage. And for some reason, I telephoned Justin and told him that I had something very serious to tell him, that I hoped he would believe me, and that I was sorry to be putting this on him.

So I told him of the sexual abuse and I was crying a lot and I kept on repeating myself by saying that I was so sorry to be doing this to him and that I hoped he believed what I was telling him.

Meanwhile, he kept on saying that he did believe me. And finally, at one stage, I realised what it was that he was saying, and I then asked him, ‘what do you mean?’

Then he said, ‘I do believe you. He tried it on me.’ I had to get him to repeat it, as I was so shocked to hear this.

Never for one minute had I ever thought of the possibility of him abusing other people also. At this point, I started to roar and scream in horror, in shock, in disgust, and in pain for both Justin and myself. And then we hung up, as the two of us were just a mess.

Ben 

Over the years, it has all been there at the front of my mind, but I was very good at pushing it all to the side. Ben knew about the sexual abuse and the side effects that affected me and my family.

At the end of the night out to celebrate the New Year, before I discovered about Justin, Melony had come to the pub with her attitude that everyone can see except for our parents, and she put Justin and me into bad form. As usual, my parents made excuses for her. Justin, his wife, Ben, and I had a deep conversation about this. Immediately, the sexual abuse and the side effects came to the fore of my mind, as it is all related.

I got so angry, as did Ben. After we got home, I then telephoned Justin.

After I hung up on Justin, I went to tell Ben, and I hit out at him and ripped his shirt off him. I was hitting him and basically bashing him. Of course, he could not just sit there and take it, so he had to fight back and tried to restrain me. I do not blame Ben for this, and I am not proud of myself and how I reacted.

I do love Ben a lot; he is a very good father. He is a worker and works for the children and me. Ben does frustrate me at times because he can’t and won’t try to talk about his feelings. A lot of the time, he will not tell me his true feelings. He says things that he thinks I want to hear. He is not a very good listener; he only hears what he chooses to hear and blocks out the rest. Or he is very good at interpreting things the wrong way. He also has an attacking tone in his voice when talking to people. He is not very affectionate either. Having said all this, I love Ben more than he thinks I do, and I know he loves me and is a good man and means well. I also know that Ben hates to see me hurting like this and does not know how to deal with it or how to help me. I would be lost without him, as he and the children are my life, and I don’t say this lightly.

What I would like is for Ben to try to express himself better, for his own sake as well as mine. I try to be positive in my life or try to find something positive in the negative. I would like Ben to listen to what is said before he interprets the conversation his own way. I would also like for him to give me a kiss or a cuddle without it leading to sex.

I am guilty of a lot of things as well, but I have been trying to be honest with myself; I am aware of my own faults. I, for example, am not too affectionate towards Ben, and that is because if I cuddle him in bed, he automatically thinks we are going to have sex. That puts me off. Ben needs sex a lot more than I do; I know this. Most times, when we do have sex, I enjoy it, but I don’t want it every night. It is pretty much like doing the ironing. The thought of it makes you sick, but once you get started, it is not that bad at all.

I know Ben loves me a lot. I know that, with him, the children and I come first and before his own family in Ireland. Ben is not a big drinker, is not a gambler, and is not a womaniser, nor is he a bad man at all. I do consider myself very lucky to be his wife and the mother of his children.

Ben and I are very good at not allowing issues to build up inside. People who do not know us very well think we are fighting at times, but we are not. In every sense of the word, we are not false with each other.

Ben, if you ever do end up reading this, please don’t get offended. I do love you. I know you don’t understand why this whole situation is an issue now, as I have always been aware of what he did to me. But it is a whole different story now. I cannot explain why, but it is an issue for me.

The Phone Call 

On the morning of New Year’s Day, at approximately 2.30 a.m., I found out I was not the only one he had abused. Justin was also a victim in some way or another. He has closed up and is not speaking about it.

I then phoned him the bastard, and informed him of the fact that I knew I was not the only one and that it was I who had sent the letter to his wife. He said, ‘I wondered who sent it.’ I was also told to watch what I said and who I said it to, because it was my word against his.

I said, ‘Oh no, it is not.’ I told him that so far it was his word against two, and I was sure there were more of us.

The phone call lasted for a good hour (when I get my phone bill, I will know exactly how long).

During the phone call, he never once denied any accusations, although he never directly admitted to them either.

The two of them remained nice and calm through it all.

They told me I was a disturbed girl, and his wife said, ‘You should talk to your mum about it.’

I replied, ‘Don’t you worry about that. I will be speaking to her and a lot of other people about it. It will no longer be kept a secret.’

There was lots more said. He also tried to change the subject once or twice, so I said, ‘Don’t be changing the fucking subject.’

He responded with ‘Oh,is it New Year’s Day with you now?’ or ‘Look, Marie, we have visitors’ as a way to keep the focus off the subject at hand.

I replied, ‘I don’t give a fuck who is there!’

I was so full of anger, and yes, I was drunk at this stage. It was a good thing I could not see him, with the anger I had inside me. Ben said to not ring him until tomorrow when I would be sober, but I would not listen, as it was the drink that gave me the courage to ring him in the first place. I would not change it for the world, as it is the best thing I have ever done.

I talked about how he had the cheek to come to my wedding and wish me all the best. How my father insisted on me taking him for a drive in my first car and I kept refusing. Whilst my dad and I were arguing over this, he stood and watched and listened and said nothing. In the end, I had to take him, and him being the bastard that he is, he came with me. His wife then asked me if I was saying that he abused me on that occasion. I replied no, we didn’t even speak a word.

At one other stage of the phone call, I said, ‘You can think I am crazy all you like and report me to the authorities. I don’t really care, but that is out in the open now.’

His wife replied, ‘Marie, we won’t be reporting anything.’

In another part of the phone call, the two of them were very quiet, and I said to his wife, ‘Please make a noise so that I know you are listening to me.’

She said, ‘I am listening.’

His wife also commented that she knew him better than anyone, and he was not like that here. I responded with ‘I hope not, for your children’s sake. And why should he be like that with you? You are his wife and probably at least should be consenting to sex before he proceeds.’

I also commented on the fact that when I wrote the letter to her, I was really concerned for her daughters, but now I found out I needed to be concerned about her sons also. If I ever find out his children are being abused also, I will have a social worker standing in his house before they can say boo!

I did also tell him that now that this was no longer a secret, he would have to watch his back, as there was going to be a lot of very angry people.

At the end of the phone call, I told his wife that I was not attacking her. I just wanted her to be aware of anything that would be strange, and if she ever wanted to talk to me, she was welcome to call me.

The phone call, according to my phone bill, lasted for forty-one minutes and four seconds at 04.13 a.m. on 1 January, Australian time. Jim Watt has been faxed a copy of the bill.

My question is, if you were an innocent man, then why would you stay on the phone for such a lengthy amount of time?

Cheryl 

Over the next few hours, I tried to call Cheryl, as my instinct told me that he sexually abused her too. I left messages on her answering machine, begging her to call me back.

On New Year’s Day, between approximately eight and nine p.m. Australian time, she did call me back.

I asked her straight out if she was ever sexually abused as a child. She went very quiet and then asked me where that came from. So I told her about myself, and she said yes, he did it to her as well.

We both cried and said we would talk later.

I roared, cried, and screamed afterwards, as I was devastated for Cheryl as well as myself.

Josephine 

After this, I phoned Josephine and asked her if she was ever sexually abused by him, being the closest one to him in age. She said no and could not understand why I would ask her such a thing.

I told her what happened with Justin, Cheryl, and me.

She gave me the encouragement to go tell my parents.

Josephine was devastated and could not speak any more. She left work and returned home, told her husband, and rang me back at my mother’s house. She spoke to both Mum and me.

Telling My Parents 

At 11.00 p.m. on New Year’s Eve I finally picked up the courage to go to my parents’ house and tell them what had happened. It was probably one of the hardest things I ever had to do. My whole body had so much pressure built up inside, to the point that I felt like I had a stick of dynamite stuck through the middle of my body and the end was lit and was ready to explode. As soon as I told them, I had instant relief from the pressure in my body; it was good.

My parents were obviously very shocked, and my mum started to try and think back to see if there were any signs now in hindsight. She was thinking that she should have known, and she felt really bad at the thought that we had to live with this horrible secret for more than twenty years. She was angry with him because she considered herself close to him—she had done so much for him throughout the years.

My father felt very angry and definitely felt useless because he could not do anything about it, especially because he was living here in Australia. Like most people, his first thought was to go see him.

Two weeks later now, and I am not sure what they think of it all, as they don’t really discuss the matter with me. They can talk about things related to the matter but not about how they feel. I would like to know how they both feel.

Reporting It to the Police 

At around 3.00 a.m. on 2 January 2002, Australian time, I was still awake. I could not sleep. I decided I would not wait until the next day to report this to the police here in Australia; I would just take the bull by the horns and go through the police in Northern Ireland.

So I rang them and explained the story. The officer I spoke to was very nice to me. He apologised and said that he was not able to deal with this and asked for my details and would get the right person to call me back. And so he did.

Within one hour, a Jim from the police care unit rang me back. I gave him the details (he was brilliant). He told me that I had to make a statement here in Australia and that someone would be in contact with me. Cheryl was to make a statement also. We would not get Justin to make one at the moment so that we would not be putting too much pressure on him, as the suicide rate was very high in male victims. Jim then concluded with the fact that he would keep me updated with things.

My Local Police 

At around 6.30 p.m., on 3 January 2002, the local police rang me to come in and make my statement with a detective. He was also very nice and professional with me.

I asked my mum to come with me that evening, as I did not want to go on my own, and I also thought it would do her good to come and listen to the details and to just be involved.

She said yes, she would come with me. It was very hard for her to sit and listen to what I was saying, and I do feel sorry for having her do so.

I was full of mixed emotions whilst making the statement and was not sure what to expect next. When I was finished and left the police station, we returned to my mother’s house, and I was very hyped and delighted to be told that I may need to go back to Ireland and testify in a trial if this was to go ahead.

The First Three Nights 

For the first three nights,