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    Becky’s Story

    Reading Time: 2 minutes

    Becky’s Story

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    Becky (not her real name) was referred to NCDV by the Police.  From the outside, her marriage to Jason (not his real name) appeared to be a perfect. Jason, a successful businessman, Becky, a stay-at-home mum to two young children, Emma and Noah. But behind closed doors, it was far from perfect!

    The abuse started subtly, at first. Hurtful comments which he said were “constructive criticism” or “just a joke,” Jason’s unpredictable temper was always lurking just beneath the surface. Over time, those comments became slaps, and the slaps turned into punches. Becky – once a confident and happy woman – became a shadow of her former self.  She became quiet and subdued, always trying to second guess Jason and trying not to make him ‘angry’.

    The children, too young to understand the abuse and violence, were still affected by it. Emma, at six, asked why her mother cried so often, why her face was sometimes swollen and bruised She would often say to people “Mummy’s eyes were leaking”. Noah, barely four, clung to his mother’s leg whenever Jason was around, sensing his mother was afraid. Becky would tell herself that Jason had never hit her in front of the children so they couldn’t be that badly affected by the abuse!

    One evening, however, Jason’s rage reached a boiling point. After a trivial argument about money, he punched Becky, knocking her to the ground. Emma screamed. Noah hid in the corner, shaking, as he watched Becky struggle to get up. It was in that moment that Becky knew something had to change.

    Days passed. Emma had become quieter and more withdrawn, while Noah started wetting the bed at night. Becky couldn’t ignore the signs. Her children were suffering, too.

    Becky knew she had to find a way out, for her children, and for herself. But each attempt to leave was met with either threats from Jason or promises that it would not happen again. In the end, the promises that is would not happen again stopped and Becky knew she was not leaving because of fear, not love!

    It wasn’t until the night Jason went too far – beating her badly and stamping on her phone so that she could not call anyone for help, that Becky knew she had to leave. She felt very afraid that Jason would kill her.  She managed to get his phone and called the Police.  When the Police arrived, they arrested Jason.  Becky declined to go to the hospital to get her injuries checked over as she didn’t want to leave the children or her home, but she did agree for them to refer her to NCDV.  Jason was kept in the cells for the night and the next day he was bailed to stay away from the house, Becky and the children, pending further investigation.  This window of opportunity enabled Becky to call NCDV, who allocated her to one of its panel solicitors.  Becky was given a 12-month non-molestation injunction, and crucially, an Occupation Order, which meant that Jason was not allowed to go near the house and Becky could stay in the house with her children whilst she was deciding what her future held.

    As far as we know, Becky and the children remain protected by the court orders and there have been no further incidents.

    Share Your Story

    In this series we are using the brave stories of domestic abuse survivors to bring hope to others currently facing abuse. Their stories are sadly not unique, the victims share them willingly to help others get the support they did.
    Share This Story

    By Fiona Bawden, Times Online (8th May 2007)

    “Steve Connor, a student at City Law School, is a man on a mission. Six years ago he was a fairly directionless 27-year-old. Today, as well as taking the Bar Vocational Course, he is chairman of the National Centre for Domestic Violence, a ground-breaking organisation that he dragged into existence after a friend could not get legal help to protect her from an abusive partner.

    Connor’s route to the Bar has been circuitous. In 2001 he returned from a year in Australia (he says that he would not dignify describing it as a gap year), and took a job as a process server in South London. The job (“I just saw it advertised in the paper”) was not quite as dull as it sounds. On one occasion he was threatened with a machete, on another, he was nearly stabbed by a man he had arranged to meet on Clapham Common to serve with a non-molestation order: “He’d seemed really friendly on the phone…”

    The turning point in his life came when a friend, who was being abused by her partner, turned to him for support. Connor went with her to the police. She did not want to press criminal charges so the police suggested that she visit a solicitor to take out a civil injunction. “We must have seen 12 solicitors in a morning. We just went from one to the next to the next to the next. Everyone was very eager to help until we sat down to fill in the forms for the legal aid means test,” he says. The woman, who had a small child, did not qualify for public funding. But, Connor says, her financial situation as it appeared on paper did not bear any relation to her financial situation in reality. “She had a part-time job and she and her partner owned their home. Yet she didn’t have any money. Her boyfriend was very controlling and controlled all the money; he kept the chequebooks and didn’t let her have access to the bank account.”

    The injustice of the situation got under Connor’s skin. “I just couldn’t believe that there was no help available to people who did not qualify for public funds but could not afford to pay.

    I just kept feeling that this must be able to be sorted if only someone would address it.”That “someone” turned out to be him.

    In 2002, thanks entirely to Connor’s doggedness, the London Centre for Domestic Violence was formed. It started out with him and a friend, but is now a national organisation, covering 27 counties, and has helped approximately 10,000 victims last year to take out injunctions against their partners.

    NCDV now has nine full-time staff, 12 permanent volunteers and has trained over 5000 law and other students as McKenzie Friends to accompany unrepresented victims into court. We have also trained over 8000 police officers in civil remedies available regarding domestic violence. The National Centre for Domestic Violence (NCDV) has branches in London, Guildford and Manchester and is on track to have branches in 16 areas within the next two years.

    NCDV specialises exclusively in domestic violence work and could be characterised as a cross between McDonald’s and Claims Direct. The high degree of specialisation means that its processes are streamlined: clients can be seen quickly and the work is done speedily and cheaply. “Sometimes, we will have one of our trained McKenzie Friends at a court doing 10 applications in one day,” Connor says.

    Clients are not charged for the service. NCDV staff take an initial statement: clients who qualify for legal aid are referred to a local firm; those that don’t get free help from the centre itself. It runs on a shoestring, heavily reliant on volunteers and capping staff salaries at £18,000 a year.

    Steve expects to qualify as a barrister this summer and hopes that having a formal legal qualification will give the centre added clout. “We are already acknowledged as experts and consulted at a high level, so I thought it would be helpful if I could back that up by being able to say I’m a barrister,” he says. He is just about to complete a one-year full-time BVC course at the City Law School (formerly the Inns of Court Law School) and, all being well, should be called to the Bar in July. Although Connor sees his long-term future as a barrister, he says that he has no immediate plans to practise. “I want to get NCDV running on a fully national level. Then I may take a step back and have a career at the Bar.”