Stigmata and Sweets
(From the page “Lies and Injustice: A True Diary of a False Allegation”)
Monday, 17th April 2017
It’s been a month since I last posted. It’s like counting up the milestones. Another Easter has passed. I can’t believe how long this is all taking. Worse still, there seems no way to speed it up — at all. I can’t grow in confidence about it as time goes on because, in truth, the length of time it takes means nothing — it just means the CPS haven’t pulled their finger out.
Easter made me think about it in a different way. Morbidly of course. Crucifixion — horrendous way to die. Designed to be public and painful. Nails through the hands, wrists tied to stop the weight of the body ripping the hands off the nails. The body tries to hold upright to breathe, but eventually it slumps, slowly suffocating the … well, I want to say victim because with that torture, what other word is there?
It’s now nearly an entire year of my life I feel like I have lost. I’ll never get that back. And from everything I have heard, I’ll never get my 100% innocence back either. Always be that stigma. Oh, that’s a word often used to describe the holes in the hands of a crucified person. How ironic that thought came this weekend.
I wonder if this is the tactic when there is no evidence. Leave us on bail so long we lose the strength to defend ourselves. Apparently, if I get charged, the system suddenly moves into hyper drive and I could end up with a matter of weeks to build a defence. But out of what? I didn’t do it. How do you prove you DIDN’T do something? Like sticking a kid in one of those old sweet shops with the jars for 5 minutes alone, then taking them outside and saying: “PROVE you didn’t steal anything.
Now, they have no proof you DID, but hey — you’re a kid in a sweet shop, so you MUST have done it. So prove you didn’t. Had I know the allegation was going to happen I would have set cameras up in the sweet shop to record the fact I didn’t touch a single jar. But who goes into a sweet shop assuming they will be accused of stealing?
I fucking well will for the rest of my life. That’s for sure.
Rick
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