Renfrewshire vs Will Smile - How It Started
1. To Solicitor
Anthony J. Lenehan
TODD & MITCHELL
Terrace Buildings
The Cross
Paisley PA1 2YA
July14, 2004
Dear Mr Lenehan,
Thank you very much for helping me obtain release on bail in Paisley Sheriff Court on Monday 12th July.
When my possessions were returned to me by the Police (or Reliance Security), they did not include my hat or 5 CDs - in 3 cases - which I was carrying before the incident(s). As I was walking home after my 4 days in custody, I was recognised by the mother and daughter who called an ambulance when they saw me collapse and lie unconscious on Neilson Road on Thursday 8th July about 9.30pm. They were quite clear that the Police put the carrier bag containing the CDs into the ambulance with me.
Since I was arrested from a hospital bed, I assume these items were overlooked while my belongings were being handed over to the Police by the nursing staff.
As you may recall, condition (e) of my bail forbids me from approaching or entering RAH Hospital. Could you please act on my behalf and arrange for the return of these items to me? This would probably be best done right away since the longer they remain at RAH the more chance there is of them being misplaced.
I also did not receive a copy of the sheet of charges against me. I did not have time to read them properly when you showed me the sheet in court - and I was not wearing my spectacles - but I was shocked by the few phrases I did manage to register. Could you please obtain a copy of the charge sheet for me, as soon as possible?
I was unconscious at the time of the alleged incident and very groggy at the time of arriving at the Police Station. I have no memory of any interview prior to or at the time of being charged. If there was a statement or recorded interview, would you please ask for a copy?
Sincerely
2. To Friend
30 July 2004
Dear Margaret,
(Finally I’ve begun on possibly the most difficult letter of my life).
I hope you are well, and somehow managed to get that wee rest break you needed.
I am writing in an attempt to explain why I have gone out of touch. I am sure you will hear some story, but somehow I feel I ought to attempt to explain to at least one person the truth from my point of view. (I would prefer to do it in my own handwriting, but this way a copy will remain in my computer for whoever has to pick up the pieces later on).
The week after I last met you was hellish. Horrible illness, struggling to make some attempt to overcome the obstacles to getting my own accommodation, while feeling on the verge of collapse and just giving up. The doctor didn’t seem to believe my symptoms, or thought I was exaggerating them to get help with my housing application. My benefit was cut off, which meant I had to get that handled as well.
6 August 2004
On the Thursday, I made another attempt to deal with the £460 bill for rent arrears from my tenancy in Renfrew for the period when I was forced to take shelter at my mother’s, last June and July. I ran into the old impasse, getting passed from one office to another, same as had happened back at the time. I exhausted all the ideas I had, felt exhausted, terribly ill and hopeless (especially as I was only pursuing an allocation in Paisley so, when my Mum saw how unsuitable it was, she would help me to get a flat in Glasgow where I might have a chance of survival).
I e-mailed a birthday greeting to my nephew Sean from the library, then decided to have a few drinks to get some temporary relief from the pain and illness I had been experiencing for weeks (even when I last saw you). Just before 9 - when I mistakenly thought the off-licenses closed - I bought a half bottle of whisky and set off for Safeway to do a food shopping, go back to my flat and watch a program on BBC about the relaxation in attitudes towards cannabis over the last few decades. (Which, as you know, has been my “career” since 1986.)
Although I only found out about it 4 days later, from the very people who called the ambulance, a couple of hundred yards up the road I collapsed, banging my head off the pavement and lying there unconscious. I honestly wish that had been the end of the sad little tragedy of my life. It would have been better all round, especially as I didn’t even know it had happened. Everything after that has been a hellish inescapable nightmare.
From my point of view one minute I was walking up the road with a half bottle in a carrier bag along with some CDs I had got out of the library, next I was having a very strange dream where 3 or 4 policemen were all talking amongst themselves in front of me but I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
One of them eventually explained to me I was in hospital and I’d hurt my head. Sure enough, I was in a bed in a little room, with a very sore head and a needle in the back of my right hand, taped in place. Then he said I had touched a nurse on the breast. I remember saying “I can’t believe it”, then I believe I went to sleep again. Next I remember is a policeman telling me I was at the Police Station, explaining I had been brought from the hospital because I had “felt up a nurse’s breasts”. Totally disoriented, I said again “I can’t believe it”. Then I was in a bare cell on my own till Monday morning, in my underwear.
I still didn’t know how my head got hurt, wondering whether I’d been attacked or mugged. As far as touching a nurse, I thought it must have been an accident, while asleep or dreaming. While I was being fingerprinted, I read on the file “Indecent Assault” and thought “that’s not me”. I just hoped they hadn’t contacted my Mum as she’d accept it without question and the shock might kill her. Late on the Friday I was taken to a doctor, who said I had asked to see him. He didn’t even look at the head wound. All he said was that I couldn’t have Irritable Bowel Syndrome as Gaviscon, the medicine I had been prescribed, is for indigestion, not IBS. When two senior officers came round to ask me “is everything alright?”, I asked them when I’d get out on bail. They said only a court could give me bail and I’d be going up to court on the Monday. When I asked about speaking to a lawyer they said I’d get one at court.
Over the weekend I slept most of the time, as I was still terribly ill. The rest of the time I tried to remember or figure out what had happened. All I could think of was that if I had thought I was dreaming when I first saw the policemen, maybe I had been dreaming, with my eyes closed, when I had reached out to the nurse - though that’s not the sort of thing I can remember ever dreaming about. I realised it wouldn’t be much of a legal defence, but surely it couldn’t be considered much of an offence, a man lying on his back with his eyes closed, semi-conscious from concussion and alcohol.
That period in jail revealed to me just what a low condition my life was in. I realised no-one actually needed me out of there, I had no-one to call for help. I couldn’t even think of any reason I needed to get out of there, I didn’t have any life to be getting on with. I couldn’t eat the food I was given. I couldn’t even be bothered with the hassle of asking for tobacco (I could hear other guys going spare at how hard it was to get a guard to respond to any requests).
On the Monday morning I was allowed to wash my face. When my clothing was returned to me it was just a pair of hospital pyjama trousers, so I must have been arrested in these. Eventually the constable found a bag marked “Patient’s Property” containing the rest of my clothes. In the pockets I found my keys, lighter, stash box (empty) and a pair of scissors. This puzzled me later. Why weren’t these with my other possessions, as they would have been if my pockets had been emptied on arrival at the Police Station? But at that point I wasn’t noticing such oddities. I was realising the vulnerability of my position. The Police would have noticed that in three and a half days of custody no-one had come enquiring after me or reported me missing. If I wasn’t granted bail I might never see the outside world again. No-one would object if I was locked up as a ’nonce’ and exposed to the sort of treatment reserved for such. (Stabbing, I believe).
At the court, I was in a holding cell all day with 3 men equally afraid of mistreatment. One was charged with assaulting his wife. The Procurator decided to drop the charges on reviewing the evidence. She had trashed his flat and had just a mark on her shin after he threw her out. Before he left he told me it was common knowledge there had been lots of complaints from nurses at the local hospital of being abused by drunk patients and the Police probably wanted to provide them with a scapegoat. He told me not to worry too much as the CCTV tapes in A&E would show the exact truth of any incident. Another cell-mate was charged with rape (and scared). Visiting Paisley for a family wedding he’d had a quick shag round the back of a pub but the girl had later accused him of rape because he had refused to pay her taxi fare home. His wife refused to believe it and engaged a solicitor, who said the Procurator was unlikely to bring the case to trial because although there was evidence of intercourse there was none of rape. He said even the police who arrested him said they were sorry, it was just in the current climate of ’Zero Tolerance’ they were obliged to act on all such accusations. The other guy was also accused of rape, of his wife. Again, although he was scared, it was unlikely to come to trial since it seemed she was caught in a lie. She said the rape included buggery but medical examination showed no evidence of this. He had a huge bite on his upper arm worse than any dog-bite I ever saw. After several hours together I realised I was probably in deeper trouble than any of them, especially when a Social Worker who interviewed me to assess suitability for bail asked if I was on the National Register of Sexual Offenders because “I understand you’ve been in trouble for this sort of thing before” - referring back to my troubles in Renfrew (which, as I reported to you honestly at the time, developed from one constable’s allegation that he’d seen me doing something I hadn’t done).
When I finally got a Duty Solicitor, he didn’t discuss the case at all. He said “I presume you deny the charges” and that he would apply for bail. He said he would come down again to show me the charges and discuss them with me before I went into court. He didn’t.
The men accused of rape were told that the press were not allowed to name them until such times as they were found guilty. Somehow I thought the same applied to myself.
When I went into court, I was required to answer to my name, though my address and age were not mentioned, nor were the charges read out. My solicitor came over to the dock, put down a sheet of paper half covered by his hand and said “These are the charges against you”. I wasn’t wearing my glasses and hadn’t had them for 4 days. I tried to read the sheet but only had time to register - with shock - the words “lewdly”, “fondled” and “breasts”, because my solicitor interrupted impatiently “I’ve got the Procurator to agree to bail, alright?”, as though to say this wasn’t the time to get fussy or nit-picky but just think myself lucky to be getting out on bail.
Most of the following conversation in the court was inaudible to me, except the trial date (October 29) and the conditions of bail, which include staying away from the RAH hospital. The Sherriff looked at me as at a temporarily restrained and cowed stupid dog, saying slowly “You must stay away from RAH Hospital, do you understand that?” (I was probably peering blurrily after four days without my glasses, staring at the insides of my eyelids.) I immediately thought “What if I collapse again or anything happens to my Mum?” but realised I wasn’t in any position to ask such questions.
When I was finally released and got my possessions back, I was missing my hat and the CDs, which had been in the bag with the whisky bottle (now almost empty).
As I was walking back up to my flat, a little girl said to me “You got a bad smack on the head”. I thought she was referring to the bump and scar, which I still hadn’t seen myself, but it turned out she and her mother had seen me collapse. This was the first time I had been told how I got the head injury, and exactly where. It was they who called the ambulance. They hadn’t been able to tell if I was breathing, or dead. They assured me the Police had put the carrier bag into the ambulance with me.
I took the next day for a bath, a full laundry (I found small traces of vomit on my jacket and trousers) and a long rest in a decent bed, before getting my arse in gear to get things sorted, including making a definite effort to move to Glasgow and get the hell out of Renfrewshire, which has been bad for me since I first arrived here.
On the Wednesday, I wrote a letter to my solicitor asking him to get the CDs back for me, as I can’t go to the hospital. I asked him to get me a copy of the charges as I still hadn’t seen them. I told him that I was unconscious at the time of the alleged offence. As I went to deliver it I discovered my benefit had been cut off again.
My Accommodation Officer, Jim, had left me a message to come and see him. He showed me a copy of an article from the local newspaper. It felt like being shot by a firing squad. There was my name, age, address and a sensational report of “a series of sex attacks on nurses”. It sounded like a loony running round the hospital, jumping on nurses and trying to rape them, then giving a public demonstration of masturbation (“performed a sex act on himself”).
“That’s my life over” was the first reaction, followed closely by “I’ll never see my mother again. Or Margaret”. I was wondering how the papers got all this information, when all I had been told all the way through was that I had touched a nurse on the breast. I felt someone very much wanted me dead, to have done this. I’m effectively cut off from everyone I love, or who could help me. After all my struggle to stay alive, I’m to die in shame and disgrace, despised by everyone. I remembered the last time I saw you and how we were discussing mad things I have done after a lot of whisky. I briefly wondered if it could actually be true, me running around a hospital as a sex-crazed loony. I realised after all the experiences of recent years both my mother and yourself would find it possible to believe. While I was struggling to take it in, stop my vision from spinning, Jim was busy telling me “It’s been on the radio too, your name and address”, “We’ve got to get you moved out of there right away” and “I hear you’ve been in trouble for this kind of thing before. We should have been told.” Eventually he decided moving me to a hotel would probably be even more dangerous.
I realised this was what I had actually been dreading for over 2 years now, I just hadn’t foreseen the form it would take. I know my mother won’t doubt for a moment the truth of the allegations. I know she has neighbours who would just love to relay all this to her and the shock might kill her. (She might already be dead for all I know and of course I will be to blame. In fact I am going to get the blame whenever it happens.)
I went into shock, came back to my flat and gave up on my life, which is pretty much the position I’ve been in ever since. I wish I could die in my sleep. I’ve lost the will to live. I’ve no fight left. There’s nothing left to hang on to. I’ve had enough.
I had to wait about two weeks to get a copy of the charges against me, unlike the newspaper. My lawyer is asking me for defence witnesses, which only convinces me of the complete hopelessness of my position.
It occurs to me he may be the newspaper’s source of information, since the article clearly names him, which is good advertising for himself as it might encourage other hopeless cases to engage him as defence. He gets paid the same whatever the outcome.
I have looked again and again at the sheet of charges, wondering just what actually happened. The whole thing could have occurred in a matter of seconds, a minute at most. We are looking at man at least partly drunk just beginning to regain consciousness after an accident he doesn’t even know he has had. He is on his back, with his eyes closed. Even after the alleged offences he only has his eyes open for a maximum of a few minutes before the next morning.
Why am I bothering to write all this, since it is so very difficult for me?
1. For the last 3 weeks, whether I wanted or not, my mind has been working endlessly on composing this letter to you.
2. Silence may be interpreted as admission or acceptance of guilt as charged. I want someone to know I find myself not guilty.
3. In the last 3 years you are the only real friend I have had. I have always been honest with you and I wouldn’t want you to think otherwise. I know I am a weirdo, MCP and ’pervert’, but I am not and never have been a dangerous sex offender.
4. I don’t intend to put myself and family through the distress of the trial and whatever might follow. No-one would benefit.
After 4 weeks of examining all the clues, I honestly believe I have been set up, “framed”. There is just so much that’s fishy about this case:
Most notably fishy is that at the time of arrest and on arrival at the Police Station I was told I had touched one nurse on the breast. That was all. No other offences were mentioned. All the other charges appeared after I was locked in a cell.
How could it be that I had no awareness of what I was actually charged with until after it had all been sensationally reported in the press, along with my name and address?
Why was I not taken up to court on the Friday, like all the other prisoners arrested on Thursday?
I could not possibly have drunk almost all of a half-bottle of whisky in the 5 minutes or less it would have taken to walk the few hundred yards from where I bought it to where I collapsed. I don’t believe I collapsed due to drunkenness. I never did before, but always managed to get home somehow. Even in that midgie-raking incident I told you of a couple of years ago, I fell and hurt my head due to losing my balance in a tricky position, and still managed to get up and walk home. I believe I collapsed from the condition I have been suffering. I still feel near collapse all the time I am out and about or even walking around the house. So what happened to that whisky? I believe it was poured away, to convince myself and others I was more drunk than I actually was. I recall now when that first constable in the hospital told me I had hurt my head but before telling me of any offence, he said “You were drunk, weren’t you?” and I agreed. I suspect now it may have been part of a plan to establish a case. (Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.) The truth is I could recall wanting to be drunk, not actually being drunk.
I wonder at what point the Police realised who they had on their hands, in a vulnerable condition? If I was admitted to hospital unconscious (with a head wound that I have since discovered required 4 stitches) they would have had to refer to the contents of my wallet, like my Driving Licence. First priority would probably be to inform next of kin, but it’s a short step from that to recognising “hey, that’s the bloke who’s been making complaints about Renfrewshire Police” or “that’s that perv we’ve not been able to nick”. I blamed one particular policeman for the problems I developed in Renfrew. I had to make a formal complaint to a senior-ranking officer to get my video camera back. I repeated the complaint in my letter to the local MSPs and Councillors, just before Mum kicked me out. The way things have developed, it now looks like my complaints were false and the allegations against me in Renfrew were true. It will appear that way to my Mum, who was always quick to believe the worst about me. I reckon the nurses involved could easily be persuaded they were doing a good thing by helping to catch a bad man.
14 August 2004
Why was I moved from A&E into a private room on a ward (and thus away from CCTV and witnesses)?
What was I injected with, why, and what effects did it have?
Some things that neither the nurses nor the police would have known:
Because of my ill health I have had very little interest in sex (or masturbation) for about a year now. I have never masturbated in front of another (even when my wife asked me to). Even in private I would have required some sort of stimulation (porno). I have never engaged in sexual activity with two women, or wanted to. I never touch a woman without feeling I am being invited to. In any case my ‘programming’ has always been such that flirting, conversation, cuddling and kissing would have to precede any heavy petting like approaching breasts.
I am not able to rule out the possibility that under the influence of some drug, and alcohol, I may have been briefly aroused when my trousers were removed and replaced by women, believing myself to be dreaming, but I also can’t rule out being entrapped.
The truth of what happened that night will never be known, except by those two nurses. I doubt they will change their stories now.
I don’t expect anyone to believe my innocence, as I can’t even prove it totally to myself.
Anyway, I’ve done what I set out to do. I’ve told someone that I believe I was framed. Not all coppers are honest. It’s such a pity, since my life was already knackered before this. This has just proven the point to me. There is no future happiness for me. No point in moving into a flat with all the hassle and work that would involve.
My health has completely packed up now. My lungs are knackered. I’m having chest pains along with the pains and nausea in my stomache. I’ve caught a bad head cold which isn’t shifting. I’m exhausted all the time and can’t take pleasure in anything. There’s no hope left. None of the ‘mental health’ services offered are going to help me deal with any of the problems actually bothering me. I’ve really just been hoping my mother is making the most of the time before bad news about me arrives with her. I had the Police in yesterday, at your request, which suggests she hasn’t heard yet.
It really has been a nightmare with no relief except sleeping. I’ve been watching a lot my Video Diary tapes. A bit of a comedown as I now seem to see clearly what must have been obvious to you and others for ages. Pathetic lonely sad man struggling against illness and depression, slowly losing. Absurd relationship between me and my mother. Coming back up to Scotland was a gamble, but I lost. I really only would have had a chance if I’d got a flat in a suitable part of Glasgow.
My video tapes show me a lot of what I said and did was nonsense, gradually alienating myself as a weirdo nutter, repelling the very friendship and approval I hoped to attract. It has been a long battle against shyness, stagefright and lack of confidence. Paradoxically I have really enjoyed all the attempts, as I have my life overall. I still believe the cannabis made my life a lot happier and more exciting than it would otherwise have been.
There comes a time to realise the game is over, when there is no way you can possibly win and all you can look forward to is bad news, pain and suffering.
I can’t discuss this with anyone, for obvious reasons, not even yourself, since it would put you in a terrible position. My mother and ‘society’ would probably have you take actions that both you and I know would not actually ‘help’ me.
Anyway I have different values from my mother. I don’t agree with the extension of life if it’s only for suffering. I’m no more responsible for the sadness in her life than she is for mine. At least we parted with a hug, smile and wave, which is the best we could have hoped for.
Cheerio. Thanks for all your help and friendship.
Love,
3. To Solicitor
September 28, 2004
Robert Mitchell LL.B.
TOD & MITCHELL
Terrace Buildings
The Cross
Paisley PA1 2YA
Dear Mr Mitchell,
P.F.(PAISLEY) V "Cannabis Man"
INTERMEDIATE DIET; 12 October 2004
TRIAL DIET: 29th October 2004
I have an appointment to see you Wednesday 29th September at 5pm, about my defence in the above case. I believe that, rather than attempting to convey my information and worries in a confused verbal outburst, it would be better to make some more orderly presentation in writing before our interview.
I am extremely concerned that with my court appearances rapidly approaching I have still had no real discussion about the case or my defence. The last correspondence was a letter from your firm dated 29th July, saying I would be contacted the moment statements came to hand. I am alarmed that this still has not happened.
I believe I have been ‘framed’, that the charges against me are either entirely fabricated or represent gross exaggeration and embellishment of relatively innocuous behaviour on my part while I was unconscious or semi-conscious, concussed from an accident involving head injury, under the influence of alcohol and whatever drug I was injected with at the hospital. I know it is hard to believe there might be deliberate dishonesty on the part of whichever police officer(s) compiled the charges against me - even to the extent of persuading witnesses to commit perjury - but that is what I believe.
In an attempt to simplify my presentation of what is to myself an overwhelmingly complex business, I am enclosing 2 addenda:
1. A list of the odd features which lead me to believe the charges are false.
2. Background on my relationship with Renfrewshire Police, to explain motive for false charges.
My life was already in dire straits before the events of 9th July. I was in poor health, homeless and depressed at the apparent failure of all my career ambitions. The potential consequences of conviction on these charges are so serious I seem to have spent the summer paralysed into inaction, with no motivation to continue attempts to revive my ambitions in life. I found it frightening that a sensational account of the charges against me was published, with my name and address, in the local newspaper and on local radio, the day after the charges were presented in court. Apart from causing fear of being attacked this effectively cut me off from my mother who, since my return from England in 2001, was the only person in Scotland from whom I could expect help or support.
I would like to make it clear I am not presenting myself as a flawless character. I have obviously made mistakes for my life to get into its current condition, but these errors were poor choices in my ‘career’ and personal life, not criminal actions on my part. I don’t have a problem or conflict with all police or authorities. I believe my life in Renfrewshire has been seriously handicapped by the dishonesty and prejudice of one particular officer. He has branded me with the stigma of ‘sexual offender’ or ‘pervert’, leaving me vulnerable to attack from ‘vigilante’ citizens (acting on whatever motives) and prejudicing all other agencies from whom I seek help - Housing, Social Work, etc - to assist me with less than full enthusiasm and support.
I admit I have very little hope of getting out of this mess now, having been alone in my depression for so long. There seems little point in continuing to struggle against the outrageous slings and arrows when I can’t find even one person who believes I might be the victim of injustice (not even my mother, who was always fast to condemn and slow to support). So really I am begging you for help. It is unlikely I will overcome my housing, career or personal problems without first clearing away these accusations. If you honestly consider it wiser, I will accept that is impossible and see if I can somehow survive being found guilty.
Yours sincerely,
Addenda:
Odd features about the case.
1. I have no recall of any experience between walking up Neilston Road and waking up in hospital with 3 or 4 policemen in the room. (ie: I have no reason to believe I am guilty.)
2. When I woke up - briefly - I noticed a hypodermic needle inserted in my right hand, taped in place. This suggests I was injected with some drug, though I have no knowledge of what drug it was, or its effects.
3. The policeman who woke me said I had “touched a nurse on the breast”. When I arrived at the Police Station I was told I had been brought from the hospital because I had “felt up a nurse’s breasts”. I was never formally charged and had no knowledge of the other charges against me until 5 days later when I read them in the local newspaper.
4. Although I was arrested on Thursday 9th July I was not taken to court on the Friday, but held until the Monday.
5. On the Friday evening I was taken to see a police doctor. He told me I had asked to see him, though I had not. He did not look at my head wound, though I later found out it had 4 stitches (which I eventually had to remove myself).
6. On the Monday morning, most of my clothes and shoes were returned to me in a bag marked “Patient’s Property”. In the pockets I found my house keys, a lighter and a pair of scissors. My other possessions were not returned to me until I was released on bail. This suggests the police took all the other contents of my pockets at the hospital, when my clothes were removed, while I was unconscious. This is not standard procedure.
7. When my possessions were returned I was missing my hat and 5 CDs I had been carrying in a plastic bag with the whisky bottle which was returned. I had just borrowed these from the public library an hour or so before I collapsed. Although I asked Mr Lenehan of your firm to enquire about the CDs (and he wrote to tell me he did) they have not been returned to me or the library. This distresses me as I will be charged the cost of replacing the CDs which is difficult on Income Support.
8. While being held at the Court, before my appearance, I was interviewed by a Social Worker who asked me if I was on the National Register of Sexual Offenders, saying “I understand you’ve been in trouble for this sort of thing before.” I consider this odd, since I have never been charged, prosecuted or convicted on any sexual offence, nor have I ever committed any.
9. When I met your Mr Lenehan and signed the forms for Legal Aid, he said he would get a copy of the charges and come to discuss them with me before I went into court. He didn’t. In the courtroom, he didn’t give me time to read the charge sheet, which was mostly covered by his hand. I wasn’t wearing my glasses. From the little I read I still thought I was charged with touching one nurse on the breast, since the only words I managed to make out were “lewd”, “fondling” and “breasts”. I am sorry if it appears I am complaining about a member of the firm engaged to defend me, but these facts later struck me as odd, as did the fact that Mr Lenehan, himself knowing the seriousness of the charges, did not suggest taking action to prevent my name and address being published. Neither my address nor the charges were read out in court, but still managed to be fully reported in the newspaper - along with Mr Lenehan’s name!
10. I didn’t actually see the sheet of charges against me until 2 weeks after the alleged offences, having written to request a copy from Mr Lenehan.
11. When I was awakened by the police in hospital, one officer explained to me I had hurt my head and suggested to me I had been drunk, implying that was why I had collapsed. I have never collapsed due to alcohol even when I have consumed much more than I had drunk that evening. I believe I collapsed due to the illness I had been suffering, as I had actually been afraid for weeks that I might break down. When I was released on bail, the half bottle of whisky returned to me was almost empty. On my way home I found out where I had collapsed, from the very woman who called the ambulance. It was only 200 yards from where I had purchased the half bottle, a matter of maybe 5 minutes walk. I have never consumed whisky that fast in my life and certainly wouldn’t have been drinking it while walking along the street, since I am fully aware that is an offence. Just after purchasing it, I went into a phone box to roll a cigarette and take a swig from the bottle, intending to drink more (watered down) when I got home, there being a TV programme I particularly wanted to see. Obviously I can’t prove this, but I suspect the rest of the whisky was poured away in the hospital, to suggest to me and others I was more drunk than I actually was - also apparently explaining why I had no memory of the alleged offences.
12. The woman who called the ambulance told me I was unconscious when put on to the ambulance and that the bag containing the CDs and whisky was put on with me by a policeman. This suggests my identity would have been established by the police by reference to my driving licence and that would have led to recognition that I was a person who had unproven allegations against him of sexual offences (and had also complained to senior officers, local councillors and MSPs about police failure to clear me of these allegations, resulting in my homelessness).
13. I find it odd that I woke up in a private ward, away from any witnesses other than those accusing me, and away from any CCTV cameras in A & E. If my condition was considered serious enough to be removed to such a ward, how could I have been so easily discharged when arrested, with no further attention being paid to my medical condition?
14. As mentioned before, why was I injected, with what, and what effects would it have (when mixed with alcohol)?
15. In fact I have had little interest in sex (or masturbation) for over a year now. I have never masturbated in front of another - even when it was suggested by my ex-wife. I believe the charge about masturbating, if it has any truth, refers to simple unconscious attempts to adjust my underwear after having my trousers removed by the nurse(s), since I realised later I was wearing a pair of underpants far more loose and revealing than I would have worn if I had been expecting anyone to see them.
16. I have never engaged in sexual activity with two women, or wanted to. I find it hard to believe my psychology would suddenly change after all these years. If I was drunk enough to consider such activity, I would be too drunk to realise it. Of course, I do not know the effects of whatever drug I was injected with, or what verbal encouragement I might have received from the nurse(s).
17. I have had several highly satisfactory sexual relationships, in which I have not found alcohol necessary or helpful. Since 1986 I have had little interest in casual sex. On the few occasions where some interest has been aroused I have not in fact done anything about it. I never touch a woman without feeling I am being clearly invited to - especially in Scotland since I know the particularly strong feelings held here about ’abuse’. My psychology or ’programming’ has always been such that flirting, conversation, cuddling and kissing would have to precede any heavy petting like touching breasts.
Very little of the above can be proven, but I find it impossible to believe that I took any action against any nurses without their consent or encouragement, that could be considered frightening, dangerous or criminal. I also believe there has been some deliberate conspiracy to make me look guilty of serious offences, in order to justify earlier accusations and to invalidate my complaints that Renfrewshire Police failed to help me adequately when I was the victim of offences. (See ‘Background’.)
2. Background on my relationship with Renfrewshire Police, to explain motive for false charges.
I will try to keep this as brief as I can, but I feel there is some value in knowing some of my background and how I got into this pathetic, depressing situation. I can report on this far more accurately than any Social Worker (or the Police).
My Original Sin was in daring in my teens to rebel against my mother’s obsessive control and constant nagging criticism, which were causing me to develop shy, lacking in confidence and social skills, though academically brilliant. This led to me dabbling with psychedelic drugs, dropping out of University and moving to the South of England. I worked my entire 20s for the ‘Church’ of Scientology. I no longer have any interest in or support for this subject or organisation, but at the time I honestly believed I was unselfishly helping to improve or “save” the world.
In the early 80’s I built up and sold a retail business, then became a successful property speculator. From 1986, using the money I had made, I was engaged full-time on a crusade to legalise cannabis, again from a genuine desire to improve the world acting on what I honestly believed to be true. During the 90’s - after my capital ran out - this crusade took the form of attempting to independently produce video films (intended for television), conveying to different sectors of the public more accurate information on cannabis and its uses than they had previously been given.
This came to a peak with the short-lived campaign for Legalisation in the “Independent on Sunday” in 97/98, after which it became clear cannabis would never be legalised as I envisaged it and I would be foolish to continue pushing in that direction. It was also clear that I was completely broke, with a CV that put most kinds of normal employment forever completely out of the question. With my wife I began to produce video material aimed more at simply entertaining the now huge market of cannabis users, through cable or internet TV channels. The idea was probably sound in theory, but I was seriously handicapped by lack of funds and then the break-up of my marriage. In 2001, when my son had to be put up for adoption due to the obvious insanity of my ex-wife, my health broke, resulting in depression.
I decided, at the age of 50, to return to Scotland to provide support to my elderly mother, who has a fatal medical condition. I believed she would now treat me with respect as a mature adult and provide some financial support that would allow me to edit my video material into a less controversial, humorous product. In fact, she would not even provide the assistance for me to get accommodation in Glasgow, where I could make best use of whatever skills I have acquired in life. Instead I got an unsuitable little flat in Renfrew from the Council, in March 2002.
Over the years I was working on the legalisation of cannabis, particularly 1986-1988, I was accused or suspected of many things, including murder, arson, terrorism, heroin smuggling, arson, fraud, embezzlement, pornography (obscenity) and wife-beating (ABH). In truth, the only things I was found guilty of were those I was actually guilty of - cultivating 2 small cannabis plants (1996 - Conditional Discharge) and smashing a small window of a friend I was angry with (Criminal Damage, 2001 - £50 fine, £50 damages). Yet, because of the strong opposition to my cannabis crusade I am sure there are a long list of question marks against my name in CRO.
In April 2002, drunk at pub closing time, I was foolish enough to follow along the road 2 scantily clad middle-aged women who had been flirting with me all evening. From the way they kept looking back at me I honestly believed they were inviting me to follow them, but just didn’t want the other regulars of the pub to know they had picked me up! It turned out to be a wind-up as they ended up shouting insults at me out of a window, saying I was a stalker. I went home, but on the way was stopped and questioned by a police officer. It has proven difficult for me to get this constable’s name, but I believe it may be PC Black of the Renfrew Station. Next day he took it into his mind to go to my mother and ask her if I was a sex pervert. Then he came to my flat and said I had been “jumping out of bushes at women”. I denied this, explaining the only reason I was in any bushes was to avoid urinating in a public place, but he insisted I had jumped out of bushes at women, like some sort of flasher. What worried me was that he said he had seen me with his own eyes, which is a lie. That was the start of my current problems.
In May 2002 I got active again on my career ambitions. I got my video camera out again, to continue with what I considered to be my humorous style of filming myself talking to camera while walking about outdoors. I was stopped in Hairst Street in Renfrew by 2 PCs in a car, when I wasn’t filming and warned (for no reason) that I had better not be filming women or young children. A gang of boys who overheard this immediately began to harass me as a “Paedo!”, quickly becoming violent towards me and my camera.
A few days later I began to be the subject of a campaign of harassments and threats from a man who lived along the road from me. He accused me of being a “Paedo” and “beastie” and threatening to “kick the shit” out of me or kill me. Over a period of 11 months he repeatedly made such accusations and threats, suddenly out of passing vehicles when I was walking down the street, in the local corner shop, or from one of his vehicles parked outside my window. He would bang on my windows at odd times of the day or night, shouting his accusations and threats. I repeatedly had graffiti, eggs or spittle on my windows. The window was smashed twice. He drove his car straight at me one time in Safeway car park. I repeatedly reported these incidents to the police, but they said they could take no action without witnesses.
This man, ironically called Allan Guy, managed to frighten other neighbours, particularly those with children, with his allegations, so that they made complaints about their fears to Social Work and the Renfrew Council Housing Office. This meant when I went to these offices desperately seeking assistance to be moved to another location away from this terrifying stress, they refused me help because of these complaints, although there was in truth absolutely no reason to suspect me of being a “Paedo beastie”.
During this whole period of being terrorised, I was too afraid to take my video camera outdoors (except to film the demonstration against the Iraq War in Glasgow on 15th Feb 2003). Eventually at the end of May 2003, when I was being threatened nearly every day and had eggs thrown at my windows, then masonry paint - and had the same PC (Black?) out to tell me that Allan Guy had been told to stay away but he had said I was bothering him - I took my camera out to film the next threat, so I wouldn’t need witnesses to prove he was committing an offence against me and the police would have to take action. He tried to attack me, which I filmed, then I escaped and ran into the corner shop asking the staff to call the police on 999. When they arrived, the same constable (Black) arrested me for Breach of the Peace. My camera was confiscated.
I was too scared to sleep in that flat any more. I took refuge at my mother’s house, while attempting to get the police to see that I was the victim and asking the Council Office to rehouse me elsewhere. I engaged solicitors Dykes and Glass of Bath Street, Glasgow, but we got no result. The window of the flat was smashed again. The Council wouldn’t clean off the masonry paint. The police wouldn’t return my camera, or even watch with me the tape which showed Allan Guy had attacked me, threatening to kill me. When the camera was eventually returned it was faulty and this section of the tape had been erased.
The police kicked in the door of my flat saying they were worried about me - though they knew I was at my mother’s - and searched my belongings. The Council changed the lock so I couldn’t re-enter the flat, leaving notice that my tenancy was being terminated as “abandoned” - though all my furniture and belongings were clearly still in the flat, even down to my food stocked in the fridge-freezer.
I went into deep depression at my mother’s, since neither I nor my solicitors could get any help from the Renfrew Police, Housing or Social Work. Eventually I managed to rescue most of my valuable belongings, though I lost quite a few, plus all my furniture and the fitted carpets, and became homeless. My health became very poor - Irritable Bowel Syndrome keeping me seriously ill all the time.
I eventually got my camera back and the charges against myself dropped, in November 2003, after I made a complaint to the senior police officer in Renfrew , which was investigated by a Chief Inspector from Johnstone. I made the mistake at that time of agreeing to drop my complaint against the officer who had started all this trouble for me (Black?).
Between August and November I was in correspondence with Renfrew Neighbourhood Office over a bill for £460 which they claimed was rent due for the period June and July, which they said couldn’t be covered by Housing Benefit as I had “abandoned the tenancy”. When they stopped sending me this bill - and the other one for Council Tax for the same period - I assumed my argument had been accepted and the bill cancelled.
I wanted to move to Glasgow, which would involve renting private accommodation. My mother was loath to provide the financial assistance, suggesting I should seek accommodation for the homeless in Paisley - a “model lodging house”, as she puts it.
After a long miserable winter, with both myself and my mother seriously ill, in deep depression and in constant conflict, she threw me out in March 2004. Since then I have been in temporary accommodation provided by Renfrewshire Council. They could not offer me permanent accommodation since it turns out the Renfrew Neighbourhood Office is still demanding I pay their bill of £460 for unpaid rent. All this time I have been in deep depression and terribly ill, feeling on the verge of breakdown. At the end of June I attempted to get this bill cancelled by having the Renfrew Office review my earlier correspondence. This meant I had to start arguing once again that I had been falsely accused and harassed out of my previous tenancy as a “paedophile” - a subject I find loathsomely distressing and fearful to discuss. This is the context in which these current charges against me arose. On 9th July, the date of my arrest, I had been over to Renfrew to obtain my last GP’s assistance with my housing application and had also visited the Renfrew Neighbourhood Office asking them yet again to cancel the bill or cover it with Housing Benefit - with no joy.
I consider that one policeman, by creating falsely the idea that I am a sex offender or “pervert”, has caused tremendous trouble in my life (and my mother’s) that has gone on for 2 years and now looks near impossible to correct. I believe that these current charges are seen as some sort of ‘solution’ since they seem to invalidate my complaints that the Renfrew Police allowed all this trouble to develop in my life by failing to protect me when they should have, while simultaneously proving the original allegations that I am a ‘pervert’. I suspect that the nurses named in the charges against me may have been persuaded that they are doing a good thing by testifying against me, helping to bring a bad man to justice.
Although I feel this account is far too brief and hastily written, I apologise that it is so lengthy. From experience, I believe solicitors are experts at reading vast amounts quickly while still digesting the material accurately. I am sincerely hoping that this material will persuade you there may be some truth in my claim that I am falsely charged and I am the actual victim here. I really do need help to get out of this, otherwise, if I am not attacked in my home or the street, or even worse prison, I fear I may break down completely.
Anthony J. Lenehan
TODD & MITCHELL
Terrace Buildings
The Cross
Paisley PA1 2YA
July14, 2004
Dear Mr Lenehan,
Thank you very much for helping me obtain release on bail in Paisley Sheriff Court on Monday 12th July.
When my possessions were returned to me by the Police (or Reliance Security), they did not include my hat or 5 CDs - in 3 cases - which I was carrying before the incident(s). As I was walking home after my 4 days in custody, I was recognised by the mother and daughter who called an ambulance when they saw me collapse and lie unconscious on Neilson Road on Thursday 8th July about 9.30pm. They were quite clear that the Police put the carrier bag containing the CDs into the ambulance with me.
Since I was arrested from a hospital bed, I assume these items were overlooked while my belongings were being handed over to the Police by the nursing staff.
As you may recall, condition (e) of my bail forbids me from approaching or entering RAH Hospital. Could you please act on my behalf and arrange for the return of these items to me? This would probably be best done right away since the longer they remain at RAH the more chance there is of them being misplaced.
I also did not receive a copy of the sheet of charges against me. I did not have time to read them properly when you showed me the sheet in court - and I was not wearing my spectacles - but I was shocked by the few phrases I did manage to register. Could you please obtain a copy of the charge sheet for me, as soon as possible?
I was unconscious at the time of the alleged incident and very groggy at the time of arriving at the Police Station. I have no memory of any interview prior to or at the time of being charged. If there was a statement or recorded interview, would you please ask for a copy?
Sincerely
2. To Friend
30 July 2004
Dear Margaret,
(Finally I’ve begun on possibly the most difficult letter of my life).
I hope you are well, and somehow managed to get that wee rest break you needed.
I am writing in an attempt to explain why I have gone out of touch. I am sure you will hear some story, but somehow I feel I ought to attempt to explain to at least one person the truth from my point of view. (I would prefer to do it in my own handwriting, but this way a copy will remain in my computer for whoever has to pick up the pieces later on).
The week after I last met you was hellish. Horrible illness, struggling to make some attempt to overcome the obstacles to getting my own accommodation, while feeling on the verge of collapse and just giving up. The doctor didn’t seem to believe my symptoms, or thought I was exaggerating them to get help with my housing application. My benefit was cut off, which meant I had to get that handled as well.
6 August 2004
On the Thursday, I made another attempt to deal with the £460 bill for rent arrears from my tenancy in Renfrew for the period when I was forced to take shelter at my mother’s, last June and July. I ran into the old impasse, getting passed from one office to another, same as had happened back at the time. I exhausted all the ideas I had, felt exhausted, terribly ill and hopeless (especially as I was only pursuing an allocation in Paisley so, when my Mum saw how unsuitable it was, she would help me to get a flat in Glasgow where I might have a chance of survival).
I e-mailed a birthday greeting to my nephew Sean from the library, then decided to have a few drinks to get some temporary relief from the pain and illness I had been experiencing for weeks (even when I last saw you). Just before 9 - when I mistakenly thought the off-licenses closed - I bought a half bottle of whisky and set off for Safeway to do a food shopping, go back to my flat and watch a program on BBC about the relaxation in attitudes towards cannabis over the last few decades. (Which, as you know, has been my “career” since 1986.)
Although I only found out about it 4 days later, from the very people who called the ambulance, a couple of hundred yards up the road I collapsed, banging my head off the pavement and lying there unconscious. I honestly wish that had been the end of the sad little tragedy of my life. It would have been better all round, especially as I didn’t even know it had happened. Everything after that has been a hellish inescapable nightmare.
From my point of view one minute I was walking up the road with a half bottle in a carrier bag along with some CDs I had got out of the library, next I was having a very strange dream where 3 or 4 policemen were all talking amongst themselves in front of me but I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
One of them eventually explained to me I was in hospital and I’d hurt my head. Sure enough, I was in a bed in a little room, with a very sore head and a needle in the back of my right hand, taped in place. Then he said I had touched a nurse on the breast. I remember saying “I can’t believe it”, then I believe I went to sleep again. Next I remember is a policeman telling me I was at the Police Station, explaining I had been brought from the hospital because I had “felt up a nurse’s breasts”. Totally disoriented, I said again “I can’t believe it”. Then I was in a bare cell on my own till Monday morning, in my underwear.
I still didn’t know how my head got hurt, wondering whether I’d been attacked or mugged. As far as touching a nurse, I thought it must have been an accident, while asleep or dreaming. While I was being fingerprinted, I read on the file “Indecent Assault” and thought “that’s not me”. I just hoped they hadn’t contacted my Mum as she’d accept it without question and the shock might kill her. Late on the Friday I was taken to a doctor, who said I had asked to see him. He didn’t even look at the head wound. All he said was that I couldn’t have Irritable Bowel Syndrome as Gaviscon, the medicine I had been prescribed, is for indigestion, not IBS. When two senior officers came round to ask me “is everything alright?”, I asked them when I’d get out on bail. They said only a court could give me bail and I’d be going up to court on the Monday. When I asked about speaking to a lawyer they said I’d get one at court.
Over the weekend I slept most of the time, as I was still terribly ill. The rest of the time I tried to remember or figure out what had happened. All I could think of was that if I had thought I was dreaming when I first saw the policemen, maybe I had been dreaming, with my eyes closed, when I had reached out to the nurse - though that’s not the sort of thing I can remember ever dreaming about. I realised it wouldn’t be much of a legal defence, but surely it couldn’t be considered much of an offence, a man lying on his back with his eyes closed, semi-conscious from concussion and alcohol.
That period in jail revealed to me just what a low condition my life was in. I realised no-one actually needed me out of there, I had no-one to call for help. I couldn’t even think of any reason I needed to get out of there, I didn’t have any life to be getting on with. I couldn’t eat the food I was given. I couldn’t even be bothered with the hassle of asking for tobacco (I could hear other guys going spare at how hard it was to get a guard to respond to any requests).
On the Monday morning I was allowed to wash my face. When my clothing was returned to me it was just a pair of hospital pyjama trousers, so I must have been arrested in these. Eventually the constable found a bag marked “Patient’s Property” containing the rest of my clothes. In the pockets I found my keys, lighter, stash box (empty) and a pair of scissors. This puzzled me later. Why weren’t these with my other possessions, as they would have been if my pockets had been emptied on arrival at the Police Station? But at that point I wasn’t noticing such oddities. I was realising the vulnerability of my position. The Police would have noticed that in three and a half days of custody no-one had come enquiring after me or reported me missing. If I wasn’t granted bail I might never see the outside world again. No-one would object if I was locked up as a ’nonce’ and exposed to the sort of treatment reserved for such. (Stabbing, I believe).
At the court, I was in a holding cell all day with 3 men equally afraid of mistreatment. One was charged with assaulting his wife. The Procurator decided to drop the charges on reviewing the evidence. She had trashed his flat and had just a mark on her shin after he threw her out. Before he left he told me it was common knowledge there had been lots of complaints from nurses at the local hospital of being abused by drunk patients and the Police probably wanted to provide them with a scapegoat. He told me not to worry too much as the CCTV tapes in A&E would show the exact truth of any incident. Another cell-mate was charged with rape (and scared). Visiting Paisley for a family wedding he’d had a quick shag round the back of a pub but the girl had later accused him of rape because he had refused to pay her taxi fare home. His wife refused to believe it and engaged a solicitor, who said the Procurator was unlikely to bring the case to trial because although there was evidence of intercourse there was none of rape. He said even the police who arrested him said they were sorry, it was just in the current climate of ’Zero Tolerance’ they were obliged to act on all such accusations. The other guy was also accused of rape, of his wife. Again, although he was scared, it was unlikely to come to trial since it seemed she was caught in a lie. She said the rape included buggery but medical examination showed no evidence of this. He had a huge bite on his upper arm worse than any dog-bite I ever saw. After several hours together I realised I was probably in deeper trouble than any of them, especially when a Social Worker who interviewed me to assess suitability for bail asked if I was on the National Register of Sexual Offenders because “I understand you’ve been in trouble for this sort of thing before” - referring back to my troubles in Renfrew (which, as I reported to you honestly at the time, developed from one constable’s allegation that he’d seen me doing something I hadn’t done).
When I finally got a Duty Solicitor, he didn’t discuss the case at all. He said “I presume you deny the charges” and that he would apply for bail. He said he would come down again to show me the charges and discuss them with me before I went into court. He didn’t.
The men accused of rape were told that the press were not allowed to name them until such times as they were found guilty. Somehow I thought the same applied to myself.
When I went into court, I was required to answer to my name, though my address and age were not mentioned, nor were the charges read out. My solicitor came over to the dock, put down a sheet of paper half covered by his hand and said “These are the charges against you”. I wasn’t wearing my glasses and hadn’t had them for 4 days. I tried to read the sheet but only had time to register - with shock - the words “lewdly”, “fondled” and “breasts”, because my solicitor interrupted impatiently “I’ve got the Procurator to agree to bail, alright?”, as though to say this wasn’t the time to get fussy or nit-picky but just think myself lucky to be getting out on bail.
Most of the following conversation in the court was inaudible to me, except the trial date (October 29) and the conditions of bail, which include staying away from the RAH hospital. The Sherriff looked at me as at a temporarily restrained and cowed stupid dog, saying slowly “You must stay away from RAH Hospital, do you understand that?” (I was probably peering blurrily after four days without my glasses, staring at the insides of my eyelids.) I immediately thought “What if I collapse again or anything happens to my Mum?” but realised I wasn’t in any position to ask such questions.
When I was finally released and got my possessions back, I was missing my hat and the CDs, which had been in the bag with the whisky bottle (now almost empty).
As I was walking back up to my flat, a little girl said to me “You got a bad smack on the head”. I thought she was referring to the bump and scar, which I still hadn’t seen myself, but it turned out she and her mother had seen me collapse. This was the first time I had been told how I got the head injury, and exactly where. It was they who called the ambulance. They hadn’t been able to tell if I was breathing, or dead. They assured me the Police had put the carrier bag into the ambulance with me.
I took the next day for a bath, a full laundry (I found small traces of vomit on my jacket and trousers) and a long rest in a decent bed, before getting my arse in gear to get things sorted, including making a definite effort to move to Glasgow and get the hell out of Renfrewshire, which has been bad for me since I first arrived here.
On the Wednesday, I wrote a letter to my solicitor asking him to get the CDs back for me, as I can’t go to the hospital. I asked him to get me a copy of the charges as I still hadn’t seen them. I told him that I was unconscious at the time of the alleged offence. As I went to deliver it I discovered my benefit had been cut off again.
My Accommodation Officer, Jim, had left me a message to come and see him. He showed me a copy of an article from the local newspaper. It felt like being shot by a firing squad. There was my name, age, address and a sensational report of “a series of sex attacks on nurses”. It sounded like a loony running round the hospital, jumping on nurses and trying to rape them, then giving a public demonstration of masturbation (“performed a sex act on himself”).
“That’s my life over” was the first reaction, followed closely by “I’ll never see my mother again. Or Margaret”. I was wondering how the papers got all this information, when all I had been told all the way through was that I had touched a nurse on the breast. I felt someone very much wanted me dead, to have done this. I’m effectively cut off from everyone I love, or who could help me. After all my struggle to stay alive, I’m to die in shame and disgrace, despised by everyone. I remembered the last time I saw you and how we were discussing mad things I have done after a lot of whisky. I briefly wondered if it could actually be true, me running around a hospital as a sex-crazed loony. I realised after all the experiences of recent years both my mother and yourself would find it possible to believe. While I was struggling to take it in, stop my vision from spinning, Jim was busy telling me “It’s been on the radio too, your name and address”, “We’ve got to get you moved out of there right away” and “I hear you’ve been in trouble for this kind of thing before. We should have been told.” Eventually he decided moving me to a hotel would probably be even more dangerous.
I realised this was what I had actually been dreading for over 2 years now, I just hadn’t foreseen the form it would take. I know my mother won’t doubt for a moment the truth of the allegations. I know she has neighbours who would just love to relay all this to her and the shock might kill her. (She might already be dead for all I know and of course I will be to blame. In fact I am going to get the blame whenever it happens.)
I went into shock, came back to my flat and gave up on my life, which is pretty much the position I’ve been in ever since. I wish I could die in my sleep. I’ve lost the will to live. I’ve no fight left. There’s nothing left to hang on to. I’ve had enough.
I had to wait about two weeks to get a copy of the charges against me, unlike the newspaper. My lawyer is asking me for defence witnesses, which only convinces me of the complete hopelessness of my position.
It occurs to me he may be the newspaper’s source of information, since the article clearly names him, which is good advertising for himself as it might encourage other hopeless cases to engage him as defence. He gets paid the same whatever the outcome.
I have looked again and again at the sheet of charges, wondering just what actually happened. The whole thing could have occurred in a matter of seconds, a minute at most. We are looking at man at least partly drunk just beginning to regain consciousness after an accident he doesn’t even know he has had. He is on his back, with his eyes closed. Even after the alleged offences he only has his eyes open for a maximum of a few minutes before the next morning.
Why am I bothering to write all this, since it is so very difficult for me?
1. For the last 3 weeks, whether I wanted or not, my mind has been working endlessly on composing this letter to you.
2. Silence may be interpreted as admission or acceptance of guilt as charged. I want someone to know I find myself not guilty.
3. In the last 3 years you are the only real friend I have had. I have always been honest with you and I wouldn’t want you to think otherwise. I know I am a weirdo, MCP and ’pervert’, but I am not and never have been a dangerous sex offender.
4. I don’t intend to put myself and family through the distress of the trial and whatever might follow. No-one would benefit.
After 4 weeks of examining all the clues, I honestly believe I have been set up, “framed”. There is just so much that’s fishy about this case:
Most notably fishy is that at the time of arrest and on arrival at the Police Station I was told I had touched one nurse on the breast. That was all. No other offences were mentioned. All the other charges appeared after I was locked in a cell.
How could it be that I had no awareness of what I was actually charged with until after it had all been sensationally reported in the press, along with my name and address?
Why was I not taken up to court on the Friday, like all the other prisoners arrested on Thursday?
I could not possibly have drunk almost all of a half-bottle of whisky in the 5 minutes or less it would have taken to walk the few hundred yards from where I bought it to where I collapsed. I don’t believe I collapsed due to drunkenness. I never did before, but always managed to get home somehow. Even in that midgie-raking incident I told you of a couple of years ago, I fell and hurt my head due to losing my balance in a tricky position, and still managed to get up and walk home. I believe I collapsed from the condition I have been suffering. I still feel near collapse all the time I am out and about or even walking around the house. So what happened to that whisky? I believe it was poured away, to convince myself and others I was more drunk than I actually was. I recall now when that first constable in the hospital told me I had hurt my head but before telling me of any offence, he said “You were drunk, weren’t you?” and I agreed. I suspect now it may have been part of a plan to establish a case. (Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.) The truth is I could recall wanting to be drunk, not actually being drunk.
I wonder at what point the Police realised who they had on their hands, in a vulnerable condition? If I was admitted to hospital unconscious (with a head wound that I have since discovered required 4 stitches) they would have had to refer to the contents of my wallet, like my Driving Licence. First priority would probably be to inform next of kin, but it’s a short step from that to recognising “hey, that’s the bloke who’s been making complaints about Renfrewshire Police” or “that’s that perv we’ve not been able to nick”. I blamed one particular policeman for the problems I developed in Renfrew. I had to make a formal complaint to a senior-ranking officer to get my video camera back. I repeated the complaint in my letter to the local MSPs and Councillors, just before Mum kicked me out. The way things have developed, it now looks like my complaints were false and the allegations against me in Renfrew were true. It will appear that way to my Mum, who was always quick to believe the worst about me. I reckon the nurses involved could easily be persuaded they were doing a good thing by helping to catch a bad man.
14 August 2004
Why was I moved from A&E into a private room on a ward (and thus away from CCTV and witnesses)?
What was I injected with, why, and what effects did it have?
Some things that neither the nurses nor the police would have known:
Because of my ill health I have had very little interest in sex (or masturbation) for about a year now. I have never masturbated in front of another (even when my wife asked me to). Even in private I would have required some sort of stimulation (porno). I have never engaged in sexual activity with two women, or wanted to. I never touch a woman without feeling I am being invited to. In any case my ‘programming’ has always been such that flirting, conversation, cuddling and kissing would have to precede any heavy petting like approaching breasts.
I am not able to rule out the possibility that under the influence of some drug, and alcohol, I may have been briefly aroused when my trousers were removed and replaced by women, believing myself to be dreaming, but I also can’t rule out being entrapped.
The truth of what happened that night will never be known, except by those two nurses. I doubt they will change their stories now.
I don’t expect anyone to believe my innocence, as I can’t even prove it totally to myself.
Anyway, I’ve done what I set out to do. I’ve told someone that I believe I was framed. Not all coppers are honest. It’s such a pity, since my life was already knackered before this. This has just proven the point to me. There is no future happiness for me. No point in moving into a flat with all the hassle and work that would involve.
My health has completely packed up now. My lungs are knackered. I’m having chest pains along with the pains and nausea in my stomache. I’ve caught a bad head cold which isn’t shifting. I’m exhausted all the time and can’t take pleasure in anything. There’s no hope left. None of the ‘mental health’ services offered are going to help me deal with any of the problems actually bothering me. I’ve really just been hoping my mother is making the most of the time before bad news about me arrives with her. I had the Police in yesterday, at your request, which suggests she hasn’t heard yet.
It really has been a nightmare with no relief except sleeping. I’ve been watching a lot my Video Diary tapes. A bit of a comedown as I now seem to see clearly what must have been obvious to you and others for ages. Pathetic lonely sad man struggling against illness and depression, slowly losing. Absurd relationship between me and my mother. Coming back up to Scotland was a gamble, but I lost. I really only would have had a chance if I’d got a flat in a suitable part of Glasgow.
My video tapes show me a lot of what I said and did was nonsense, gradually alienating myself as a weirdo nutter, repelling the very friendship and approval I hoped to attract. It has been a long battle against shyness, stagefright and lack of confidence. Paradoxically I have really enjoyed all the attempts, as I have my life overall. I still believe the cannabis made my life a lot happier and more exciting than it would otherwise have been.
There comes a time to realise the game is over, when there is no way you can possibly win and all you can look forward to is bad news, pain and suffering.
I can’t discuss this with anyone, for obvious reasons, not even yourself, since it would put you in a terrible position. My mother and ‘society’ would probably have you take actions that both you and I know would not actually ‘help’ me.
Anyway I have different values from my mother. I don’t agree with the extension of life if it’s only for suffering. I’m no more responsible for the sadness in her life than she is for mine. At least we parted with a hug, smile and wave, which is the best we could have hoped for.
Cheerio. Thanks for all your help and friendship.
Love,
3. To Solicitor
September 28, 2004
Robert Mitchell LL.B.
TOD & MITCHELL
Terrace Buildings
The Cross
Paisley PA1 2YA
Dear Mr Mitchell,
P.F.(PAISLEY) V "Cannabis Man"
INTERMEDIATE DIET; 12 October 2004
TRIAL DIET: 29th October 2004
I have an appointment to see you Wednesday 29th September at 5pm, about my defence in the above case. I believe that, rather than attempting to convey my information and worries in a confused verbal outburst, it would be better to make some more orderly presentation in writing before our interview.
I am extremely concerned that with my court appearances rapidly approaching I have still had no real discussion about the case or my defence. The last correspondence was a letter from your firm dated 29th July, saying I would be contacted the moment statements came to hand. I am alarmed that this still has not happened.
I believe I have been ‘framed’, that the charges against me are either entirely fabricated or represent gross exaggeration and embellishment of relatively innocuous behaviour on my part while I was unconscious or semi-conscious, concussed from an accident involving head injury, under the influence of alcohol and whatever drug I was injected with at the hospital. I know it is hard to believe there might be deliberate dishonesty on the part of whichever police officer(s) compiled the charges against me - even to the extent of persuading witnesses to commit perjury - but that is what I believe.
In an attempt to simplify my presentation of what is to myself an overwhelmingly complex business, I am enclosing 2 addenda:
1. A list of the odd features which lead me to believe the charges are false.
2. Background on my relationship with Renfrewshire Police, to explain motive for false charges.
My life was already in dire straits before the events of 9th July. I was in poor health, homeless and depressed at the apparent failure of all my career ambitions. The potential consequences of conviction on these charges are so serious I seem to have spent the summer paralysed into inaction, with no motivation to continue attempts to revive my ambitions in life. I found it frightening that a sensational account of the charges against me was published, with my name and address, in the local newspaper and on local radio, the day after the charges were presented in court. Apart from causing fear of being attacked this effectively cut me off from my mother who, since my return from England in 2001, was the only person in Scotland from whom I could expect help or support.
I would like to make it clear I am not presenting myself as a flawless character. I have obviously made mistakes for my life to get into its current condition, but these errors were poor choices in my ‘career’ and personal life, not criminal actions on my part. I don’t have a problem or conflict with all police or authorities. I believe my life in Renfrewshire has been seriously handicapped by the dishonesty and prejudice of one particular officer. He has branded me with the stigma of ‘sexual offender’ or ‘pervert’, leaving me vulnerable to attack from ‘vigilante’ citizens (acting on whatever motives) and prejudicing all other agencies from whom I seek help - Housing, Social Work, etc - to assist me with less than full enthusiasm and support.
I admit I have very little hope of getting out of this mess now, having been alone in my depression for so long. There seems little point in continuing to struggle against the outrageous slings and arrows when I can’t find even one person who believes I might be the victim of injustice (not even my mother, who was always fast to condemn and slow to support). So really I am begging you for help. It is unlikely I will overcome my housing, career or personal problems without first clearing away these accusations. If you honestly consider it wiser, I will accept that is impossible and see if I can somehow survive being found guilty.
Yours sincerely,
Addenda:
Odd features about the case.
1. I have no recall of any experience between walking up Neilston Road and waking up in hospital with 3 or 4 policemen in the room. (ie: I have no reason to believe I am guilty.)
2. When I woke up - briefly - I noticed a hypodermic needle inserted in my right hand, taped in place. This suggests I was injected with some drug, though I have no knowledge of what drug it was, or its effects.
3. The policeman who woke me said I had “touched a nurse on the breast”. When I arrived at the Police Station I was told I had been brought from the hospital because I had “felt up a nurse’s breasts”. I was never formally charged and had no knowledge of the other charges against me until 5 days later when I read them in the local newspaper.
4. Although I was arrested on Thursday 9th July I was not taken to court on the Friday, but held until the Monday.
5. On the Friday evening I was taken to see a police doctor. He told me I had asked to see him, though I had not. He did not look at my head wound, though I later found out it had 4 stitches (which I eventually had to remove myself).
6. On the Monday morning, most of my clothes and shoes were returned to me in a bag marked “Patient’s Property”. In the pockets I found my house keys, a lighter and a pair of scissors. My other possessions were not returned to me until I was released on bail. This suggests the police took all the other contents of my pockets at the hospital, when my clothes were removed, while I was unconscious. This is not standard procedure.
7. When my possessions were returned I was missing my hat and 5 CDs I had been carrying in a plastic bag with the whisky bottle which was returned. I had just borrowed these from the public library an hour or so before I collapsed. Although I asked Mr Lenehan of your firm to enquire about the CDs (and he wrote to tell me he did) they have not been returned to me or the library. This distresses me as I will be charged the cost of replacing the CDs which is difficult on Income Support.
8. While being held at the Court, before my appearance, I was interviewed by a Social Worker who asked me if I was on the National Register of Sexual Offenders, saying “I understand you’ve been in trouble for this sort of thing before.” I consider this odd, since I have never been charged, prosecuted or convicted on any sexual offence, nor have I ever committed any.
9. When I met your Mr Lenehan and signed the forms for Legal Aid, he said he would get a copy of the charges and come to discuss them with me before I went into court. He didn’t. In the courtroom, he didn’t give me time to read the charge sheet, which was mostly covered by his hand. I wasn’t wearing my glasses. From the little I read I still thought I was charged with touching one nurse on the breast, since the only words I managed to make out were “lewd”, “fondling” and “breasts”. I am sorry if it appears I am complaining about a member of the firm engaged to defend me, but these facts later struck me as odd, as did the fact that Mr Lenehan, himself knowing the seriousness of the charges, did not suggest taking action to prevent my name and address being published. Neither my address nor the charges were read out in court, but still managed to be fully reported in the newspaper - along with Mr Lenehan’s name!
10. I didn’t actually see the sheet of charges against me until 2 weeks after the alleged offences, having written to request a copy from Mr Lenehan.
11. When I was awakened by the police in hospital, one officer explained to me I had hurt my head and suggested to me I had been drunk, implying that was why I had collapsed. I have never collapsed due to alcohol even when I have consumed much more than I had drunk that evening. I believe I collapsed due to the illness I had been suffering, as I had actually been afraid for weeks that I might break down. When I was released on bail, the half bottle of whisky returned to me was almost empty. On my way home I found out where I had collapsed, from the very woman who called the ambulance. It was only 200 yards from where I had purchased the half bottle, a matter of maybe 5 minutes walk. I have never consumed whisky that fast in my life and certainly wouldn’t have been drinking it while walking along the street, since I am fully aware that is an offence. Just after purchasing it, I went into a phone box to roll a cigarette and take a swig from the bottle, intending to drink more (watered down) when I got home, there being a TV programme I particularly wanted to see. Obviously I can’t prove this, but I suspect the rest of the whisky was poured away in the hospital, to suggest to me and others I was more drunk than I actually was - also apparently explaining why I had no memory of the alleged offences.
12. The woman who called the ambulance told me I was unconscious when put on to the ambulance and that the bag containing the CDs and whisky was put on with me by a policeman. This suggests my identity would have been established by the police by reference to my driving licence and that would have led to recognition that I was a person who had unproven allegations against him of sexual offences (and had also complained to senior officers, local councillors and MSPs about police failure to clear me of these allegations, resulting in my homelessness).
13. I find it odd that I woke up in a private ward, away from any witnesses other than those accusing me, and away from any CCTV cameras in A & E. If my condition was considered serious enough to be removed to such a ward, how could I have been so easily discharged when arrested, with no further attention being paid to my medical condition?
14. As mentioned before, why was I injected, with what, and what effects would it have (when mixed with alcohol)?
15. In fact I have had little interest in sex (or masturbation) for over a year now. I have never masturbated in front of another - even when it was suggested by my ex-wife. I believe the charge about masturbating, if it has any truth, refers to simple unconscious attempts to adjust my underwear after having my trousers removed by the nurse(s), since I realised later I was wearing a pair of underpants far more loose and revealing than I would have worn if I had been expecting anyone to see them.
16. I have never engaged in sexual activity with two women, or wanted to. I find it hard to believe my psychology would suddenly change after all these years. If I was drunk enough to consider such activity, I would be too drunk to realise it. Of course, I do not know the effects of whatever drug I was injected with, or what verbal encouragement I might have received from the nurse(s).
17. I have had several highly satisfactory sexual relationships, in which I have not found alcohol necessary or helpful. Since 1986 I have had little interest in casual sex. On the few occasions where some interest has been aroused I have not in fact done anything about it. I never touch a woman without feeling I am being clearly invited to - especially in Scotland since I know the particularly strong feelings held here about ’abuse’. My psychology or ’programming’ has always been such that flirting, conversation, cuddling and kissing would have to precede any heavy petting like touching breasts.
Very little of the above can be proven, but I find it impossible to believe that I took any action against any nurses without their consent or encouragement, that could be considered frightening, dangerous or criminal. I also believe there has been some deliberate conspiracy to make me look guilty of serious offences, in order to justify earlier accusations and to invalidate my complaints that Renfrewshire Police failed to help me adequately when I was the victim of offences. (See ‘Background’.)
2. Background on my relationship with Renfrewshire Police, to explain motive for false charges.
I will try to keep this as brief as I can, but I feel there is some value in knowing some of my background and how I got into this pathetic, depressing situation. I can report on this far more accurately than any Social Worker (or the Police).
My Original Sin was in daring in my teens to rebel against my mother’s obsessive control and constant nagging criticism, which were causing me to develop shy, lacking in confidence and social skills, though academically brilliant. This led to me dabbling with psychedelic drugs, dropping out of University and moving to the South of England. I worked my entire 20s for the ‘Church’ of Scientology. I no longer have any interest in or support for this subject or organisation, but at the time I honestly believed I was unselfishly helping to improve or “save” the world.
In the early 80’s I built up and sold a retail business, then became a successful property speculator. From 1986, using the money I had made, I was engaged full-time on a crusade to legalise cannabis, again from a genuine desire to improve the world acting on what I honestly believed to be true. During the 90’s - after my capital ran out - this crusade took the form of attempting to independently produce video films (intended for television), conveying to different sectors of the public more accurate information on cannabis and its uses than they had previously been given.
This came to a peak with the short-lived campaign for Legalisation in the “Independent on Sunday” in 97/98, after which it became clear cannabis would never be legalised as I envisaged it and I would be foolish to continue pushing in that direction. It was also clear that I was completely broke, with a CV that put most kinds of normal employment forever completely out of the question. With my wife I began to produce video material aimed more at simply entertaining the now huge market of cannabis users, through cable or internet TV channels. The idea was probably sound in theory, but I was seriously handicapped by lack of funds and then the break-up of my marriage. In 2001, when my son had to be put up for adoption due to the obvious insanity of my ex-wife, my health broke, resulting in depression.
I decided, at the age of 50, to return to Scotland to provide support to my elderly mother, who has a fatal medical condition. I believed she would now treat me with respect as a mature adult and provide some financial support that would allow me to edit my video material into a less controversial, humorous product. In fact, she would not even provide the assistance for me to get accommodation in Glasgow, where I could make best use of whatever skills I have acquired in life. Instead I got an unsuitable little flat in Renfrew from the Council, in March 2002.
Over the years I was working on the legalisation of cannabis, particularly 1986-1988, I was accused or suspected of many things, including murder, arson, terrorism, heroin smuggling, arson, fraud, embezzlement, pornography (obscenity) and wife-beating (ABH). In truth, the only things I was found guilty of were those I was actually guilty of - cultivating 2 small cannabis plants (1996 - Conditional Discharge) and smashing a small window of a friend I was angry with (Criminal Damage, 2001 - £50 fine, £50 damages). Yet, because of the strong opposition to my cannabis crusade I am sure there are a long list of question marks against my name in CRO.
In April 2002, drunk at pub closing time, I was foolish enough to follow along the road 2 scantily clad middle-aged women who had been flirting with me all evening. From the way they kept looking back at me I honestly believed they were inviting me to follow them, but just didn’t want the other regulars of the pub to know they had picked me up! It turned out to be a wind-up as they ended up shouting insults at me out of a window, saying I was a stalker. I went home, but on the way was stopped and questioned by a police officer. It has proven difficult for me to get this constable’s name, but I believe it may be PC Black of the Renfrew Station. Next day he took it into his mind to go to my mother and ask her if I was a sex pervert. Then he came to my flat and said I had been “jumping out of bushes at women”. I denied this, explaining the only reason I was in any bushes was to avoid urinating in a public place, but he insisted I had jumped out of bushes at women, like some sort of flasher. What worried me was that he said he had seen me with his own eyes, which is a lie. That was the start of my current problems.
In May 2002 I got active again on my career ambitions. I got my video camera out again, to continue with what I considered to be my humorous style of filming myself talking to camera while walking about outdoors. I was stopped in Hairst Street in Renfrew by 2 PCs in a car, when I wasn’t filming and warned (for no reason) that I had better not be filming women or young children. A gang of boys who overheard this immediately began to harass me as a “Paedo!”, quickly becoming violent towards me and my camera.
A few days later I began to be the subject of a campaign of harassments and threats from a man who lived along the road from me. He accused me of being a “Paedo” and “beastie” and threatening to “kick the shit” out of me or kill me. Over a period of 11 months he repeatedly made such accusations and threats, suddenly out of passing vehicles when I was walking down the street, in the local corner shop, or from one of his vehicles parked outside my window. He would bang on my windows at odd times of the day or night, shouting his accusations and threats. I repeatedly had graffiti, eggs or spittle on my windows. The window was smashed twice. He drove his car straight at me one time in Safeway car park. I repeatedly reported these incidents to the police, but they said they could take no action without witnesses.
This man, ironically called Allan Guy, managed to frighten other neighbours, particularly those with children, with his allegations, so that they made complaints about their fears to Social Work and the Renfrew Council Housing Office. This meant when I went to these offices desperately seeking assistance to be moved to another location away from this terrifying stress, they refused me help because of these complaints, although there was in truth absolutely no reason to suspect me of being a “Paedo beastie”.
During this whole period of being terrorised, I was too afraid to take my video camera outdoors (except to film the demonstration against the Iraq War in Glasgow on 15th Feb 2003). Eventually at the end of May 2003, when I was being threatened nearly every day and had eggs thrown at my windows, then masonry paint - and had the same PC (Black?) out to tell me that Allan Guy had been told to stay away but he had said I was bothering him - I took my camera out to film the next threat, so I wouldn’t need witnesses to prove he was committing an offence against me and the police would have to take action. He tried to attack me, which I filmed, then I escaped and ran into the corner shop asking the staff to call the police on 999. When they arrived, the same constable (Black) arrested me for Breach of the Peace. My camera was confiscated.
I was too scared to sleep in that flat any more. I took refuge at my mother’s house, while attempting to get the police to see that I was the victim and asking the Council Office to rehouse me elsewhere. I engaged solicitors Dykes and Glass of Bath Street, Glasgow, but we got no result. The window of the flat was smashed again. The Council wouldn’t clean off the masonry paint. The police wouldn’t return my camera, or even watch with me the tape which showed Allan Guy had attacked me, threatening to kill me. When the camera was eventually returned it was faulty and this section of the tape had been erased.
The police kicked in the door of my flat saying they were worried about me - though they knew I was at my mother’s - and searched my belongings. The Council changed the lock so I couldn’t re-enter the flat, leaving notice that my tenancy was being terminated as “abandoned” - though all my furniture and belongings were clearly still in the flat, even down to my food stocked in the fridge-freezer.
I went into deep depression at my mother’s, since neither I nor my solicitors could get any help from the Renfrew Police, Housing or Social Work. Eventually I managed to rescue most of my valuable belongings, though I lost quite a few, plus all my furniture and the fitted carpets, and became homeless. My health became very poor - Irritable Bowel Syndrome keeping me seriously ill all the time.
I eventually got my camera back and the charges against myself dropped, in November 2003, after I made a complaint to the senior police officer in Renfrew , which was investigated by a Chief Inspector from Johnstone. I made the mistake at that time of agreeing to drop my complaint against the officer who had started all this trouble for me (Black?).
Between August and November I was in correspondence with Renfrew Neighbourhood Office over a bill for £460 which they claimed was rent due for the period June and July, which they said couldn’t be covered by Housing Benefit as I had “abandoned the tenancy”. When they stopped sending me this bill - and the other one for Council Tax for the same period - I assumed my argument had been accepted and the bill cancelled.
I wanted to move to Glasgow, which would involve renting private accommodation. My mother was loath to provide the financial assistance, suggesting I should seek accommodation for the homeless in Paisley - a “model lodging house”, as she puts it.
After a long miserable winter, with both myself and my mother seriously ill, in deep depression and in constant conflict, she threw me out in March 2004. Since then I have been in temporary accommodation provided by Renfrewshire Council. They could not offer me permanent accommodation since it turns out the Renfrew Neighbourhood Office is still demanding I pay their bill of £460 for unpaid rent. All this time I have been in deep depression and terribly ill, feeling on the verge of breakdown. At the end of June I attempted to get this bill cancelled by having the Renfrew Office review my earlier correspondence. This meant I had to start arguing once again that I had been falsely accused and harassed out of my previous tenancy as a “paedophile” - a subject I find loathsomely distressing and fearful to discuss. This is the context in which these current charges against me arose. On 9th July, the date of my arrest, I had been over to Renfrew to obtain my last GP’s assistance with my housing application and had also visited the Renfrew Neighbourhood Office asking them yet again to cancel the bill or cover it with Housing Benefit - with no joy.
I consider that one policeman, by creating falsely the idea that I am a sex offender or “pervert”, has caused tremendous trouble in my life (and my mother’s) that has gone on for 2 years and now looks near impossible to correct. I believe that these current charges are seen as some sort of ‘solution’ since they seem to invalidate my complaints that the Renfrew Police allowed all this trouble to develop in my life by failing to protect me when they should have, while simultaneously proving the original allegations that I am a ‘pervert’. I suspect that the nurses named in the charges against me may have been persuaded that they are doing a good thing by testifying against me, helping to bring a bad man to justice.
Although I feel this account is far too brief and hastily written, I apologise that it is so lengthy. From experience, I believe solicitors are experts at reading vast amounts quickly while still digesting the material accurately. I am sincerely hoping that this material will persuade you there may be some truth in my claim that I am falsely charged and I am the actual victim here. I really do need help to get out of this, otherwise, if I am not attacked in my home or the street, or even worse prison, I fear I may break down completely.
posted by Professor Smile at 12:23 AM
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