Is My Sex Offender Dead Yet?

A Survivor’s Perspective

Do victim-survivors of childhood sexual abuse want and need to know when their abusers die or get prison recalls? For many of us, yes, we do! Why? Because we get an ending: an end to feeling unsafe, an end to more victims, and an end to unwanted contact. For some, it’s the justice and closure we’ve waited decades for.

Forty years ago, my father pleaded guilty to several charges of indecent assault against me and my sister. He was given a two-year probation order on the condition that he see a psychiatrist and stay away from us. After his arrest, my father ‘vanished’ entirely from my life, and I was relocated to a new town and school to ‘put it behind me.’ His conviction, albeit grossly inadequate, was before the creation of the sex offenders register and once the probation period was over, he went ‘off the radar’. Knowing he was out there unmonitored, raping women and children, plagued me my entire adult life.

In an era of CSA institutional cover-ups and taboo conversations, I was repeatedly told to forgive and forget, let go, move on, leave it to the police to worry about, pretend that my father is dead, get on with life, stop dwelling on the past and other unhelpful platitudes that undermine or delay recovery and healing. When my children were the age I was abused, I hit a crisis and felt driven to find out what happened to my father. After many years of searching, I learned he was in prison, serving a ten-year sentence for further rapes, indecency and indecent assault charges against minors. They got him! Finally, some protection and justice, and he would be on the sex offender register for life and ‘monitored in the community’ upon his release. I am incredibly grateful to the police officer who put his job on the line in sharing this ‘privileged information’. But that isn’t the end of the story.

At different stages in my healing and recovery, I’ve needed answers, not least whether my father was still alive. I felt I had a right and a need to know. One of the most challenging aspects of being an incest survivor is the annihilation of the family. Survivors often have to self-exile from their family of origin for their own mental and sometimes physical safety. This means having no contact with family members who may have contact with the abuser, not attending family gatherings, weddings and funerals and often having no contact with any family member at all. I haven’t had any contact with my father’s side of the family since I was a child—and minimal contact with My mother’s side and my siblings since her suicide. Contact is too painful to navigate. I have tried over the years, but it’s never ended well. I dont know what it is like to exchange family news; there is no family.

My requests to probation and victim support services for information about my father’s management were constantly rejected. Eventually, in sheer desperation and at significant risk, I located his whereabouts to find out for myself. Over what can only be described as the most surreal, inappropriate and stressful cup of tea, he and his wife took my email address and agreed to only use it in the event of his death or prison recall. It was possibly the hardest request I have ever made and not something any survivor should have to do.

Five years later, I received an email. Had he died then? Was it finally over? No! It was an online Christmas card. The unwanted contact hit hard, and I tried to ignore it. Then, I received another email two years later with a subject heading alluding to his imminent death. Was he really dying this time? No. It was a rouse to establish contact so he could espouse his latest religious fanaticism; it felt like a mindfuck. His previous ‘hunting ground’ was in the Mormon church, so alarm bells rang. I blamed myself for giving him my email address and exposing myself to more of his games.

Nevertheless, I built up the courage to report him to the MET Police with the understanding that a convicted sex offender isn’t allowed to contact a ‘victim’. A crime number was duly issued, and a police visit was arranged, but they cancelled at short notice. After some persuasion, they agreed to send him an email notifying him that instigating further communication with me could lead to his arrest. Alarmingly, they gave him my new surname, which I’d recently changed by deed poll and my local police station, so he knew my rough location, neither of which he knew before.

I made a formal complaint and was minimised, stalled, victim-blamed and given inconsistent information regarding the protocols for convicted sex offenders contacting their victims. I persisted until my complaint was formally recorded and investigated. The IOPC outcome stated that he hadn’t committed a crime, his emails weren’t malicious, no data breach had occurred, and the ‘alleged’ historical child sex abuse was a separate incident. Defeated, re-traumatised, and in crisis, I put myself back into therapy.

My story is not unique. There are many more survivors from the 1970s and 1980s feeling unresolved, with no closure, no justice or forced into unwanted contact with their abusers. We have fallen through the net with no legal rights or protections, left to worry if our kin are still committing sexual offences, with information regarding death or recidivism being unobtainable or data protected. Denying pertinent information to survivors and leaving them in limbo perpetuates toxic secrecy, prevents healing and recovery and creates cognitive dissonance and re-trauma.

This year, I turn 52, the same age as my mother when she took her own life. I believe she would still be alive were it not for my father. Some days, the agony of knowing that my father is living comfortably in the community, having spent five decades raping women and children, many of whom have ended their lives, is too much to bear, and I want him dead. My therapist tells me revenge and avenge fantasies are normal, and she encourages me to ‘lean’ into them as a way of processing unresolved trauma, but it feels edgy and taboo. That leaning in might entice me to do something. I wonder what would happen if I called the police and told them I was thinking about committing Patricide. Would they section me? Refer me to my GP for counselling. Can I be arrested for THINKING about committing murder? The truth is I am too socially compliant and law-abiding; even though I’ve spent hours and days thinking about it, I’m no killer. But neither can I find peace knowing he is in the community. I cling obediently to a system that consistently fails to protect women and children, and I hate myself for it. It’s a torturous path to walk, and on dark days, I feel like it is either his life or mine. I fear sometimes he might win… again.

We are ensnared, unable to mete out retribution upon our abusers due to the looming spectre of legal consequences. Forgiveness may serve as a balm for aching souls in such shadowed realms. At times, herculean self-restraint is the only option. Failed justice, safeguarding negligence, and the protected existence of one’s tormentor cause paralysing frustration, removing all spontaneous action lest one succumbs to vigilantism. Everything else in life becomes frivolous and meaningless in comparison.

I call for a system where CSA survivors can ask to be notified when their offenders get recalled to prison or die.

I call for tougher sentencing for repeat offenders.

I call for trauma-informed policing and timely and appropriate protection from unwanted offender contact.

I call for urgent reforms to the victim's code and data protection policy so that all victims of CSA, historical and current, are given appropriate information about their offender's treatment and management.

I call for an official apology from all the organisations and institutions that place the protection of sex offenders over the healing and recovery of their victims and survivors.

Healing and recovery often begin when justice is served and/or when an abuser dies. For some, it brings closure, a time to move, and, for others, the first chance to speak out. Remember the fallout after the death of Jimmy Savile and the disclosures of hundreds of unresolved victims who were finally able to come forward and the healing that could start to take place.

I often wonder how many of my father’s victims would come forward if they knew about his convictions or death. What healing could take place then? I can only imagine and hope for such a day and try to remind myself that the best revenge is a well-lived life, but even that feels like a silencing and neutralising tactic. How can you live a well-lived life whilst your father rapes women and children? Try not to think about it, pretend he’s already dead, distract yourself with whatever works and pray that another victim comes forward to send him back into prison where he belongs.