Love Rat Stories Archives

Revenge Porn Victim couldn’t leave the house after boyfriend posted naked pics online

December 9, 2014 by Stacey Byles

Revenge porn victim Folami Prehaye felt so violated when her ex posted sexually explicit pictures of her online she compared it to rape.

Distraught Folami said she felt utterly violated when her bitter ex-boyfriend Thomas Samuel posted sex pictures of her online which were viewed 50,000 times. Jilted Thomas Samuel, 45, walked free from court after admitting sharing indecent images of Folami which ended up on porn sites across the world. He was given a suspended sentence, but Folami doesn’t believe his punishment was harsh enough. Folami said: “My life has been completely turned upside down.

“When Thomas and I took those photos, we were in love and planning on getting married. I sent him one picture and the others he took of me himself. They were for our eyes only and I trusted him to keep them between us. We were in a happy relationship and it never crossed my mind that Thomas would share the pictures publicly and use them against me. When I discovered he’d put them online and they’d been viewed by my family, friends and the people I worked with I felt sick to the stomach. I felt raped, numb and crushed. It was so violating.”

The office manager, from Bristol, met customer advisor Thomas, in January 2012 through a mutual friend. Within four months Thomas had invited Folami, 44, and her teenage son to move in with him. “When we first got together I thought ‘wow’ and I told my kids: ‘he’s the one’. I was besotted. We seemed to have so much in common,” she says. “From the word go, Thomas and I discussed getting married and we started looking for rings, a venue and my dress. “Thomas told me he was planning on officially proposing to me last Christmas. It didn’t happen though.

“He said he’d been to buy an engagement ring but they didn’t have the right size. “Looking back I don’t know whether he was telling the truth. Either way I think I had a lucky escape.” Not long into their two-year romance Thomas’s vindictive side began to show. Folami says: “He soon went from caring and thoughtful to controlling, manipulative and jealous. “Thomas would regularly get angry about the things I would say, the clothes I wore and me wanting to spend time with my friends and family. “He liked his own company and preferred me to stay in with him rather than see anyone else.

“Thomas would claim he didn’t mind me socialising, but if I did he would call me all the names under the sun. “If he took issue with an outfit I was wearing he’d call me a slut. In rows he’d say the C-word in earshot of my son. “Then later Thomas would claim he didn’t mean any of it and tell me he loved me. “Eventually I couldn’t cope with it any longer. “It wasn’t fair to put my son through it either. He was having to listen to Thomas being disrespectful towards me. “I knew we both deserved better.” Folami first split with Thomas in January this year.

She says: “When I broke up with him he kicked my son and I out. “We moved in with my brother, and for a few months Thomas and I tried to make things work between us. “But me not being there every day was killing him. He hated not knowing where I was and what I was doing at all times. “He had become so nasty, I couldn’t cope with it anymore. In March I left him for good.” Not long after, Folami discovered her former partner had uploaded the intimate photos they had taken to Facebook. He had set up a fake profile in Folami’s name – adding more than 15 of her friends, family and work colleagues in the process.

The pictures he posted included two of her performing a sexual act and three others of an intimate nature. They were removed by the social networking site within hours, but by then it was too late. Many of Folami’s friends, relatives and colleagues had already seen them. She later learned they had also been shared on porn websites. Folami says: “A week after we broke up Thomas started sending me text messages warning me not to tell other people our business. “He asked me why I had been talking about him; I told him I hadn’t. “I think his neighbours probably saw me moving out and started asking him questions which annoyed him and made him think I had been gossiping.”

Thomas then sent a more sinister message. It read: ‘I see you like telling everyone our business… I know how much you love to share and I also know you love to show everyone what you’ve got visually so I thought as we’re divulging private info you won’t mind if I share a few photos of our time together with your friends.’ Folami says: “I knew he was threatening to reveal our private pictures, but I just ignored him. “I knew he didn’t drive and thought if he was walking and bumped into any of my friends they wouldn’t stop for him to show them indecent images.

“I didn’t even consider he might plaster them all over the internet. “But a few hours later my phone started going off with messages and calls. “My friends and family were telling me they’d received a friend request from me on Facebook, although we were already friends on there. “Assuming I was setting up a new profile, a few of them had accepted the request and seen the graphic photos Thomas had put online. “I knew I needed to see it for myself. “I was helping my daughter to move, and we were in the car at the time. “She used her phone to search my name and found two profiles come up – my real one and another which had the same profile picture of me.

“She clicked on it and became hysterical. “I couldn’t believe it. I was devastated and completely in shock. “She said: ‘Mum, I don’t understand how you can be so calm.’ “I told her: ‘If I’m not, I won’t be able to think straight.’ “Although it was deeply distressing, I knew I had to remain level-headed. “Confronting Thomas wouldn’t help the situation. It’d probably only have made things worse, so the first thing I did was contact the police. “I rang them and the call handler told me to get the pictures taken down.

“She shouldn’t have given that advice as the officers later told me they needed to see the pictures as evidence, but we didn’t realise that then. “My daughter clicked through each of the pictures and report them individually for abuse. They were removed not long after.” Folami thought that was the end of Thomas’ abuse, but when the local newspaper reported on the court case more evidence of his vile behaviour emerged. Folami said: “An article came out and I was contacted by the director of HR at my work place who informed me that the photos were still on the internet. “I was told if I type my name into Google the pictures appeared. They had been uploaded to porn websites as well as Facebook.

“I easily found them online and this time the police took screen shots. “I was mortified that Thomas had gone so far. This time I couldn’t help but cry with disbelief and anger.” At Bristol Magistrates’ Court, Thomas Samuel admitted sending a communication conveying indecent images. He was handed six months behind bars, suspended for two years. Folami says: “Thomas’ sentence doesn’t reflect the seriousness of the crime, but if I had done nothing he would have got nothing. “At least this way he hasn’t completely got away with it. He has a criminal record and he’s lost his job.

“You only need to search his name online to read about what he’s done. “Other women will see his name, whether it’s weeks, months or years down the line and if they type it into Google they’ll be made aware of his past.” She adds: “I think revenge porn definitely needs to be a specific crime. The internet isn’t policed. You can get away with virtually anything online now. “It’s growing so fast and the safeguards aren’t being put in place quickly enough to protect people’s privacy. “I would say to other victims: ‘Don’t sit and do nothing, go to the police.’

“And there needs to be better support for victims because revenge porn is on the rise, so more people are being affected by it.” Folami is determined not to let Thomas’ actions ruin her life. She says: “Now when it comes to a new relationship I think my barriers will be up for longer. This has made it harder for me to trust people. “But although it’s been a struggle for me I am trying to turn a negative situation into a positive. “I’ve started work on a website for victims of internet crimes – voic.org.uk – to provide them with advice and support. “I want to encourage other women who might have been affected by revenge porn to do what I did and report the perpetrator to the police. “You’re not the one in the wrong and they shouldn’t get away with it.”

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Gambian Love Rat

June 18, 2014 by Laura Elvin

Gambian Love Rat – I Thought He Loved Me But He Was Only After a Visa! If you have a similar story that you’d like to share with the press, or warn others in a similar situation, get in touch today and find out how much your story is worth. We guarantee to pay the highest fees for your story. Read our latest love rat story here.

I sat on the bed staring at my over-flowing suitcase and feeling overcome with doubt.

What am I doing? I said to myself.

I had just split up with my partner of 10 years and here I was, getting ready to fly half way around the world with him. It was madness!

We had booked a two-week holiday to Gambia while we were together, and things hadn’t worked out between us.

But, Instead of throwing the holiday of lifetime away, we decided to be grown up about it and just enjoy ourselves.

Remembering all this, I jumped off the bed with renewed energy, grabbed my suitcase and my keys, and marched myself out of the house and into the taxi waiting to take me to the airport.

It was 2007 and I had never been to Africa before. It all seemed so exotic and mysterious; so much better than a wet and miserable British winter.

I cooed when we arrived at our hotel – separate rooms, of course.

“It’s wonderful, my ex said. It’s just what I need to get my head together,” I said.

He agreed with me, but warned me about the local men.

“Don’t worry,” I said.

“I’ve heard all the stories of women falling for men and being duped out of their money, and it certainly won’t happen to me.”

I wasn’t looking for love anyway, so I was determined not to fall for the old tricks.

But on our 4th day there, I was approached by a man named Lamin Sidebeh.

He walked up to me on the beach, introduced himself and offered to show me the island.

“I can take you to places the tourists never see,” he said.

He was big, tall, dark and muscular, with dreadlocks and an enchanting smile.

I was immediately bewitched, but I told myself that he was only after my money.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said, putting my sunglasses back on and turning towards the bright blue ocean.

I should have known then that he wouldn’t leave me alone.

I saw him a few more times over the next few days, and each time he would yell at me:

“Hey, Lady Diana! Where are you going?”

I couldn’t understand why he had chosen to call me that. It must have been my blond hair, but despite ignoring him, I couldn’t deny there was something that drew me to him.

Eventually, I agreed to let him show me the Gambia the tourists never see.

We explored the secret spots of the coast, and he took me on walks through the plantation, telling me everything he knew of his country.

Of course, I had to pay him, but it wasn’t that much money, and he was such a gentleman – so charismatic and charming.

That evening we went for dinner together and then he took me for a walk on the beach before making a bonfire in the surf.

“Watch this,” he said, before jumping up and juggling some sticks he had lit in the fire.

I was mesmerized. All thoughts of being sensible and foolish left me. I had to admit, the break-up with my ex had affected me more than I realised.

For the remainder of the holiday we were inseparable. He was an amazing drummer and all the girls fawned over him. I felt so lucky that he was with me.

On our last night together before I caught my flight home, while we were sitting on the beach, Lamin got down on knee and asked me to marry him.

“I think it’s a bit soon, darling,” I said. “We’ve only known each other for ten days.”

But Lamin didn’t care. He said he loved me and that was that.

“When you k now, you know,” he said.

But I didn’t know. I’d had a great time and thought he was a lovely bloke, but I wasn’t ready to get married. Not at my age anyway!

He gave me a beaded necklace as a gift and told me to think about it.

But when I got home to my home in Bournemouth and to my job as a carer, I felt I had made the right choice.

My friend, told me that I would have been crazy to marry him.

“He obviously only wants a visa and a free ride,” she said.

She was right.

I’d booked a trip back almost as soon as I got home, but I quickly changed my mind and cancelled the trip.

“I’m just not ready to jump into anything right now, Lamin,” I said during one of our daily phone calls.

“Plus, my mother isn’t well – it’s just not the right time.”

In reality, I had gut feeling something wasn’t right. So I said to myself, if he really is genuine, then he can wait until I’m ready.

Eventually, after a year of daily phone calls, Skype calls, and texts, he convinced me.

“OK, OK,” I said. “I’ll come back,” I said, after one of his more persistent phone calls.

“And what about the other thing?” he said.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” I said, and added with a smirk: “But you better get the rings sorted.”

“You got it! What’s your ring size?”

But I should have known something was rotten in Denmark when I arrived in November 2008 to find he hadn’t bought the rings after all.

Luckily, I had an old ring of my own which we used, and I was able to pick up a cheap one for Lamin.

I had bought a dress in Bournemouth, but when we arrived at the registry office, there was a queue of Western women all waiting to marry their own version of Lamin. They were all hiring wedding dresses direct from the office; a ‘one size fits all’ sign on the dress hanger.

What am I getting myself in for? I thought to myself.

A few friends joined us at the ceremony before we headed down to the beach for food and photos.

It felt glorious to be married. I was in my late forties then and to be married to someone like Lamin was a dream come true.

I put all the doubts and uncertainties out of my mind and just tried to enjoy the wedding.

But as soon as the ceremony was over, I spent the rest of the holiday up to my eyeballs in paperwork.

“Why don’t you come and have a drink, Lady Di,” Lamin said.

“Because if we don’t get all this paperwork sorted, then I’ll be flying back to England on my own,” I said.

At that, he got stuck in. We filed applications for a spousal visa, documents to the high commission, getting character references and photographs done.

All in all it must have cost a few thousand just to get the right visa for him

We must have spent half the time printing papers at a local internet café.

Two months later, In January, after being delayed due to the application process, I met Lamin at Heathrow airport.

I was delighted that it had all worked out so well and we were now able to spend the rest of our lives together.

–

In the beginning, we were quite happy together.

Lamin was so excited about being the UK he couldn’t sit still for a minute.

“Let’s go to London,” he said. “Let’s go exploring.”

It was lovely that he was so keen to get out and about. I really worried about the cultural difference for him, but he seemed to approach it with joy.

I tried to find him a job, but as he had no qualifications, none that would pass her in the UK, it was an uphill battle.

I enrolled him on a course to help him with his English, but he didn’t stick with it.

He changed almost immediately.

He began drinking heavily – sometimes five or six cans of super strength lager a day.

He wanted to go clubbing all the time and wanted the best of everything – the newest mobile phone, and designer clothes.

“I can’t afford any of this.” I said to Lamin getting frustrated.

“I’ve taken out a credit card to fund our new life, but it’s maxed out.”

But he didn’t seem to care. He would spend all day on the phone ringing his friends in Sweden, Switzerland, Italy, France and back home in Gambia.

I must have spent close to £20K and I just couldn’t afford it.

One day, while we were sitting on the sofa watching TV – one of his favourite hobbies – he turned to me and said:

“I think we should adopt a baby from Gambia.”

I was utterly shocked. I had never thought about children, and at 50 years old there was no way I was going to start now.

“Are you mad?” I said. “I’ve no intention of being a mother.”

I thought it was a cultural thing so I offered to go to marriage guidance with him, but he refused. He wasn’t willing to do anything to save the marriage. And by that point it really needed it.

He was like a different person.

Throughout the two short years we were together in the UK, I spent all my time away from work helping Lamin with his home office application.

In order to prove he was contributing to society and eligible to stay, I had to help him find work, which I did eventually, as a cleaner at a Bournemouth hospital.

I even arranged for all my bills to be paid via direct debit from his bank account, which I set up too.

I even paid for him to have a professional CV done.

And the day he had been waiting for finally came around. In March 2011, Lamin was granted indefinite leave to remain in the UK.

Almost as soon as he got it he accused me of cheating.

He said he had proof of me cheating in a locked suitcase he had kept hidden on top of the wardrobe. But he wouldn’t show me.

I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and cut it open, it was full of photocopies of my bank statements, bank account details, passports, visa applications, bills, and proof of address.

It was obvious that he was getting ready to leave.

But to my complete shock, he called the police and told them I was brandishing a knife. They came and arrested me and I spent a night in the cells.

I was released the next day after police told me I couldn’t be held for damaging my own property.

I was distraught. I couldn’t understand how my own husband could do this to me.

When I confronted him, he apologised, but I knew our marriage had broken down.

A week later, after he saw me taking some Paracetamol for a headache, he phoned for an ambulance telling them I had taken an overdose.”

It was the last straw.

The paramedic told me, ‘you don’t deserve to be treated this way. You’re a good person’.

She was right. He was trying to make me out to be insane. I decided then and there to leave him and I started getting myself ready to tell him.

But a few days later, Lamin walked out on me!

He left me a bunch of flowers and took a framed picture of our wedding day.

The next day, he sent it back recorded delivery.

He’d got his visa. He was granted leave to remain in the UK indefinitely. That was all he ever wanted from me; that and a free ride.

I filed for divorce straight away. But Lamin kept disposing of the divorce papers in public places.

Eventually I had to get a bailiff to serve him the papers.

But he didn’t even have the decency to show up for the decree nisi in November 2011 and I was granted a divorce in his absence.

I honestly believe that all he wanted was a visa and I was his cash cow to getting one.

He’s a professional conman and he ruined my life.

How many more women are going to fall for these fraudsters?

Someone needs to speak out.

Most women are too embarrassed to tell anyone. But I’m fuming that he can get away with this.

I’ve spoken to the home office, but there’s nothing they can do.

When approached, Lamin argued that his wasn’t the first marriage ever to break down, implying that walking out on Julie a mere weeks after getting his indefinite leave to remain in the UK was just a coincidence, and bad timing.

“Things work, things don’t work,” Lamin said

“The authorities have finished everything now, so what else can you do?”

Gambian Love Rat!

It’s a sad fact that many people are the victims of love rats, con-men, and cheats. It’s easy to be blinded by love and infatuation, and some people make a living from being professional liars, so it’s no wonder that so many people are taken in by these despicable rats.

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Conman Love Rat

February 10, 2014 by Sell My Story

Conned by my Love Rat Fiance

Divorcee Jean, 55, signed up to online dating website plenty of fish in the hope of finding Mr Right. She was flattered when a user called Gary, 57, messaged her and after a few weeks she agreed to meet him. A widow, he said his wife had died of cancer.

He was a charmer and the couple quickly made their relationship official. It wasn’t long before Gary got jean’s name tattooed on his arm and within months he popped the question.

Together they planned their wedding – booking the church, choosing jean’s gown and ordering the bridesmaid dresses. But just weeks before the big day, Jean found out Gary wasn’t the man she thought he was. He was a crooked casanova and his wife was alive and well.

Conman Gary had a number of aliases and his real name was Richard. Jean later discovered the love rat had three other women under his spell and had fleeced them out of a total of £18,000.

Conned by a Love Rat

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ I thought to myself, tapping my details into dating website Plenty of Fish.

At 55 and with two failed marriages behind me, I was more than ready to find my ‘Mr Right’. My sister, Gail, 53, had met her man online ten years ago and they had been together ever since, so I didn’t think there was any harm in creating a profile.

‘Fun-loving and looking for someone honest and reliable,’ I typed, keeping it brief. I didn’t have a long list of criteria for a potential suitor to meet, but after suffering the heartbreak of a cheating ex, I knew I could only be in a relationship with someone I could trust.

Logging on and scrolling through my messages soon became addictive, and as soon as I got home from my job on the deli counter at Asda I would be straight on the computer having a browse. I had met up with a couple of the men I had met through the site, but it was fair to say the dates had been disastrous. One man even looked so much older in the flesh than his picture I genuinely thought it was his dad.

So when a man named Gary Richardson, 57, got in touch I was flattered, but he had no photos of himself so I knew I had to be cautious, and requested he send one across. We exchanged mobile numbers and it wasn’t long before we started texting and speaking on the phone. Within a few days we arranged to meet up at the Toby Carvery in Chester, Liverpool, a short drive from my home in Little Sutton, Ellesmere Port.

I was a nervous wreck, but Gary quickly put me at ease with his warm smile. We tucked into a roast dinner and sat chatting for hours. Gary really opened up and revealed he was a widow and that his wife had died of cancer. I could tell it had really affected him and felt a pang of sympathy, as he became choked up. At the end of the date he was a gentleman and offered to pay.

A few days later we met for lunch too and although he seemed lovely, I just didn’t feel the instant connection I had been hoping for, so afterwards I cowardly sent him a text. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think this is going to work,’ it read. There just wasn’t any chemistry. ‘But I think you’re gorgeous,’ he was quick to reply. ‘Please let me take you out again.’

Grovelling Gary was such a smooth talker and he kept pestering me until I agreed to meet up for the third time. ‘One more date won’t hurt,’ I thought to myself, as I applied some lipstick and took a final twirl in front of the mirror. Gary pulled out all the stops, picking me up and whisking me away to Llandudno, Wales, for fish and chips by the seaside.

As we sat having a glass of wine in the pub, I started to see a different side to Gary. He was charming, funny and confident. I was glad I had given him another shot. He turned out to be everything I was looking for in a man. ‘I really like you, Jean,’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye. He was so forward, it made me blush.

We checked into a B&B down the road and made a weekend of our trip. It wasn’t long before we became a couple and made our relationship official. I introduced Gary to my children, Lee, 35, Vicky, 33, Connor, 18, and Jennifer, 16, and he started to spend more and more time at the house.

Watching him in the mornings as he ruffled his hair in front of the mirror I would joke: ‘You take longer to get ready than me.’ He always pulled on a freshly-ironed white shirt and did up his tie. When he put his suit jacket on to head his job as a debt collector for Lombard’s Finance he looked really smart. I had to admit it was nice to have him around, especially when I got home from work at the end of the day.

As I walked through the front door after work one Sunday the smell of chicken and vegetables wafting through the house hit me. I was shocked to see Gary was slaving away over the stove, rustling up a roast dinner with all the trimmings for the whole family. ‘I thought I would treat you,’ he said, beaming. ‘What did I do to deserve you, eh?’ I laughed, wrapping my arms around him.

Within a couple of months Gary and I had become serious and I was starting to think I might have finally found ‘the one’. I could hear Gary downstairs on the phone to his daughter one morning and it sounded like there was a problem. ‘Look Sam, I’ve helped you out in the past, please help me. I really need you to,’ he said.

‘No, I don’t know if she has any money. I’ll ask,’ he continued. My ears pricked up when I heard he might be in financial trouble. ‘Jean,’ he bellowed up the stairs. ‘Would you be able to lend me some money?’ he asked. I popped my head over the banister and feeling a bit pressured I agreed.

Gary explained he used to own a Jaguar garage and sell and repair the cars, but he had been the subject of a tax investigation. He said he needed to pay off a whopping tax bill before he was able to open a bank account and that he was due money from a £88,000 pay-out following his wife’s death.

He promised that if I let him borrow £4,000 his daughter would transfer it back to me within a week. Ignoring my gut instinct, I handed Gary an envelope containing a wad of cash and made a note of what he owed me.

‘I’m going to get a tattoo of a rose on my back,’ I told him one day, hoping he would come with me to hold my hand. ‘I’m going to get your name then,’ he smiled. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ I giggled, brushing it off, thinking he was joking. But Gary was serious and when we got to the parlour he had ‘Jean’ with two hearts permanently inked on to his wrist.

‘See, I’m never going to leave you,’ he said, holding up his arm to show it. As weeks passed and the money Gary had sworn his daughter would return never appeared, I started to badger him about it. But Gary had made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere, ‘so what’s the rush?’ I thought to myself, not wanting to put pressure on him and drive him away.

He was under enough stress as it was with the investigation. ‘That’s my daughter, always letting me down. I will pay you back, don’t worry,’ he would say reassuringly. With no reason to doubt him, I believed every word he said.

In the meantime he insisted we spend our days off going on mini breaks together. He took me to Shropshire, Southport, Blackpool and Colwyn Bay for weekends away and we were constantly going out for meals out, he would insist of wining and dining me. And it wasn’t long before he popped the question.

Unable to afford a ring, he took me to a swanky jewellery shop where we were treated to champagne and chocolate. Gary told me to pick something expensive. ‘You deserve it,’ he said, using the money I’d lent him to put down a deposit on the diamond and agreeing to pay it off before I could pick it up and wear it.

We had an engagement party with a few of my nearest and dearest, but Gary hadn’t been able to pay the full amount for my ring so embarrassed I slipped one my ex-husband had given me onto my finger. Meanwhile I kept lending Gary a few thousands of pounds here and there to help with his tax bill, while he waited for the pay-out. He promised to repay me as soon as he had cashed it in, and with us soon to get married, I knew he wasn’t about to up and run away.

We started to plan the wedding together, booking the church in Port Sunlight where my dad had been buried. With the invitations sent out to our guests, the purple colour scheme chosen, flowers arranged and reception venue organised, there was only one last detail to sort out – my dress.

Slipping into my elegant gown, I took a deep breath in as Vicky tied the lace-up back. ‘How do I look?’ I asked, giving her a twirl. ‘Just beautiful mum,’ she sighed. Glancing at my reflection, I felt every bit the blushing bride and I couldn’t wait for Gary’s expression as he saw me walk down the aisle towards him.

Gary had been determined to contribute towards the big day and wanted to pay for mine and the bridesmaid’s dresses. But it was only at my final fitting, just weeks before the ceremony, I discovered he hadn’t coughed up. He had lied to me and said he would fork out the money for it, but at such late notice I knew there would only be one thing for it. I would have to splash out again. Fuming, I was sick of it.

It was the final straw. I confronted Gary and told him I was cancelling the wedding. Devastated and humiliated, I had to pop notes in all of my family and friends doors saying the wedding had been postponed due to financial difficulties. But despite the disappointment, I still carried on seeing Gary. He convinced me that we could re-arrange the wedding when his pay-out finally came through.

He suggested we book a holiday to Barbados to get over our upset and so we wouldn’t be moping around while we were supposed to be tying the knot. Two days before we were due to fly, I called the tour operator to complain our tickets hadn’t arrived and was told the balance hadn’t been paid.

‘Typical,’ I thought to myself. I started to see that Gary was a crooked Casanova. And before long Gary had disappeared without repaying me the money he owed. It was only a few months later, when the police turned up at the supermarket and pulled me to one side, telling me Gary had been arrested on fraud charges. I discovered that Gary was a seasoned fraudster who conned women he’d wooed through online dating websites.

He used a sob story claiming his wife had died of cancer, when she was actually alive and well. But the cruel deception was all part of a con to trick vulnerable women – including myself – out of a total of £18,000.

Eventually his lies had caught up with him when he was jailed for offenses committed between 2010 and last year.

Gary even had the cheek to call me from jail, but I knew there was nothing he could say to worm his way back in. I found out he had snared four victims through internet dating sites. I wasn’t the only one – and some of us had overlapped. He was a love rat.

He didn’t have job either, so where he was going when he was suited and booted was anyone’s guess. I felt like a fool. Gary wasn’t even his real name. He had used various aliases and was actually named Richard Robinson. It all started to make sense. I had questioned him about his old mates calling him ‘Robbo’ and he had convinced me it was a nickname from his school days.

He already was jailed for four and a half years for a bank fraud too. But was sent back to prison for an additional 12 months for the latest offences. The court heard how his wife – who he was separated from at the time – was standing by him despite his actions. I’m just thankful I didn’t walk down the aisle with him and now he’s out of my life.

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Love Rat Policeman – Copping Off at Work

October 11, 2013 by Sell My Story

MY LOVE RAT PC HUBBY WAS COPPING OFF AT WORK

LISA, 40, THOUGHT LIFE WAS PERFECT. SHE HAD TWO BEAUTIFUL GIRLS WITH HER HUSBAND OF MORE THAN TEN YEARS. BUT LITTLE DID SHE KNOW, (HER NOW EX) PETER, 40, HAD BEEN LIVING A LIE AND ABUSING HIS JOB AS A PCSO.

HE WAS USING THE POLICE DATABASE AS A ‘DATING AGENCY’ TO TRACK DOWN THE CONTACT DETAILS OF VULNERABLE WOMEN ON HIS BEAT AND STARTING AFFAIRS WITH THEM, WHICH SPANNED FIVE YEARS.

CHEAT PETER EVEN KEPT A SECRET MOBILE PHONE HIDDEN AT THE STATION, WHICH HE USED TO ORGANISE LIAISONS WITH LOVERS AND WOULD TURN HIS POLICE RADIO DOWN TO SLEEP WITH THEM WHILE ON PATROL.

BUT HE WAS CAUGHT OUT AND JAILED FOR SEVEN YEARS. IT IS ONLY WHEN CLUELESS LISA READ THE LOCAL NEWSPAPER THAT SHE FOUND OUT WHAT WAS REALLY GOING ON.

BUT NOW SHE’S MOVED ON AND IS ENGAGED TO HER CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART.

Love Rat Policeman

As I opened the local newspaper, my heart leapt up into my chest. There on the page was a picture of my husband of more than ten years, Peter Bunyan, 40. ‘PCSO charged over alleged affairs with vulnerable women’ the headline read. As I skimmed the article, taking in word after word, I started to feel physically sick. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I realised Peter had been playing me for a fool.

I was in the hairdressers, having my roots done, when I received a frantic phone call from my mum, Barbara, 69. ‘Go and buy a copy of the paper, whatever you do don’t read it but come straight to mine,’ she instructed. ‘What? Why?’ I stammered, startled by the urgency. ‘Please just do it,’ she said, hanging up before I had the chance to ask any more questions. I could tell by the tone of her voice that whatever had happened must be serious.

Jumping in the car, I made the short drive from the salon to her house, stopping at the newsagents on the way. As soon as I caught sight of the news I collapsed in my mum’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably as the extent of Peter’s cheating, lies and deceit began to unravel.

While working as an officer, with Devon and Cornwall Police, he had been using the database as a ‘dating agency’ to track down the contact details of attractive women on his beat. He had started affairs with numerous women, which spanned five long years. Peter had been charged with a string of offences relating to misconduct in a public office and would be going to court. I struggled to absorb the disturbing details. This wasn’t the man I knew, the man I had married.

My hands shook as I dialled his number. ‘I know what’s been going on… How could you do this to me?’ I cried, inconsolable. He tried denying it, but it was no good. It was there in black and white for the whole world to see. My family had heard about it on the radio and it was all over the TV too.

I knew as soon as it all came out that it was over between us. Nothing could make up for what Peter had done. The damage he caused was irreversible. But suddenly my mind flashed to thoughts of our daughters. We were blessed with two beautiful girls, Emily, 12, and Rosie, nine, and the thought of our family being torn apart was heart wrenching.

Just the night before we had all sat around the kitchen table at our home in Redruth, Cornwall, laughing and joking as we tucked into our favourite dinner. Those few hours earlier, I couldn’t have imagined life getting any better. Peter had always been the perfect husband and model father – as far as I was aware.

We had met in our 20s, while both working in a supermarket. I was on the check-outs and he was a security guard. After hitting it off straight away, we went on to tie the knot before having the girls. Like all couples, we had our ups and downs, but I would never have imagined that Peter would stoop to the level he had and copped off at work.

I knew he had been suspended from the force in February 2011. But he convinced me it was for an over-zealous arrest he had made and with no reason to doubt him, I believed what he said. ‘It’s ok, we’ll get through this,’ I said reassuringly, wrapping my arms around him, when he broke the news to me. Completely oblivious, I had stood by him until September 2011, without a clue as to what was really going on.

Now looking back I felt so stupid. Peter had spun a web of lies.

I knew rumours would be circling in the playground and I didn’t want the girls to have to hear the gossip. It was his mess and he had to sort it out. ‘It’s not fair on them,’ I told Peter. ‘You needt to sit Emily and Rosie down and explain your behaviour.’ He reluctantly agreed and after school he told the girls that mummy and daddy were no longer together. Breaking my heart was one thing, but doing it to our daughters was something else entirely. It was unforgivable.

I told Peter he needed to leave, but we continued to live under the same roof for three weeks while he found a new place. I just wanted him gone. I often felt like breaking down and screaming at him to try and get answers for the things he had done, but I knew I had to put on a brave front for the girls. We spent the whole time avoiding each other and when he finally moved out I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Some moments I would catch myself staring at Peter trying to figure out how he had changed. I thought marriage was meant to last a lifetime, but my happily ever after had ended in heartbreak. Peter was seen as a pillar of the community. When he was wearing his police uniform, he seemed so trustworthy. I had no suspicions or doubts – he hid everything from me so well.

It turned out that Peter had a secret mobile phone, which he kept hidden at the station. He used it to organise liaisons with his lovers and would send and receive sexual texts too, requesting naked pictures of the women. ‘I don’t know where he has been or who he has been with,’ I said to my mum over-the-phone one evening. ‘I think I should get myself checked out.’

Walking into a sexual health clinic, in my late 30s, was so humiliating. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I knew it had to be done and thankfully I hadn’t caught anything from my promiscuous husband. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

When Peter’s case came to court, I refused to go along. I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression and for it to look as if I was supporting him. He had put his sexual appetite before his public duty and bedded four women before or during his policing shift – sleeping with one lover up to ten times when he was supposed to be working. One of Peter’s lovers had mental health issues.

The jury heard he attended her address with a colleague after she called the police but returned alone after – with the ‘welfare visit’ which ended with her performing oral sex on him. A second woman, a single mum, met Peter when he came to take a statement from her after she reported her partner for domestic violence. Peter had spent ‘several hours’ taking the statement before asking her intimate questions and contacted her two days later to ask if he could visit for a ‘check-up’. He arrived at her home and is said to have pushed her against a wall before kissing her – marking the start of their encounters.

A third woman met Peter at neighbourhood unit and saw him again when she visited a police station to report domestic abuse from a partner. Peter then got in touch after obtaining her number – eventually buying her phone top-ups so she could send him naked pictures. Peter sent her sexual texts through the day while on duty, with one reading ‘woah, yum’ and ‘more please’. Another read: ‘More sex and more getting to know you’.

He met the fourth woman on a foot patrol and later arrived at her home. They then developed a sexual relationship too. He said his patch would take him past the address of the woman and he repeatedly called in to continue their affair.

Peter admitted wasting police time but insisted he had not neglected his responsibilities because he kept his radio on during the trysts. Randy Peter even took one of the women to the local police station where they had sex.

He denied 12 charges of misconduct in a public office but was found guilty of eight counts following a three week trial. Peter confessed that over the course of the affairs, between 2006 and 2011, he failed to correctly fill in police notebooks and records – leaving some days blank. He was convicted of sleeping with four women and illegally accessing data on the Criminal Information System. He was jailed for seven years after taking advantage of his profession and also given a three year sentence for the wrongful use of a computer and 18 months for sexual texting, all to be served concurrently.

The girls know that their dad is in prison and they understand that what he did was wrong. To avoid being associated with him, we’ve changed our surnames.

I thought I would never be able to trust a man again after Peter’s betrayal, but I’ve landed on my feet. I bumped into Reuben Rowe, 46, a man I knew when I was in my teens. He bought his children to the Rainbows class I ran and we got chatting. I had no idea his relationship was in just as rocky a state as mine and Peter’s, but we soon confided in each other and realised how much we had in common. We took it slowly at first, but I knew he was different and when he popped the question I had no hesitation in saying yes. I couldn’t be happier.

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Move in with me… and my WIFE

May 31, 2013 by Laura Elvin

ONLINE DATING can be a minefield for any woman looking for romance.

Tantalising replies from handsome young foreign men flood into inboxes with offers of sun, sex and love. For those that respond, a bruised ego or an empty bank account is the usual consequence.

But when Jenna El Taher, 54, found out her online Egyptian lover Rambo was already married, she ignored all her friends who told her to dump the two-timer and move on.

Instead, she married him – and even made friends with his wife.

“Some say three’s a crowd, but for us, the more the merrier,” says Jenna.

Some say three is a crowd

“When I first met Rambo (Corr) in April 2012 I was single, and with three failed marriages under my belt, had given up all hope of ever finding love again.

“But Rambo stirred something in me I thought I would never feel again. He called himself the Last Pharaoh and as soon as we got talking I knew there was something different about him.

“I might be wife number two, but I’m still his number one.”

The couple met on a dating site and, within two days of chatting, had confessed their love for one another.

“When he told me he loved me, I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to have keep my eye on this one,’ says Jenna.

Not wanting to get sucked in by a charming con-artist, she decided to come clean before things went any further.

“I told him I had no money and couldn’t have children. I told him about my sciatica too and that some days I struggled to walk,” says Jenna.

“But whatever I threw at him, Rambo wasn’t put off. He said, ‘I don’t care. I just want to look after you.’

“He didn’t even have a desire to come to England, like so many would-be toy-boys.

“He genuinely wanted me to be part of his life.”

Rambo, 42, a wealthy businessman and hot-air balloon pilot from Egypt, proposed a few days later over the webcam.

Jenna says: “He told me to close my eyes and answer from the heart. Then he asked me to marry him.

“Instinctively, before I knew what was happening I had said ‘yes’.”

Within a few days of being engaged Rambo had bought Jenna a one-way ticket to Egypt.

Although Jenna’s mother had given her the age-old ‘only fools rush in…’ advice, and it had been less than three weeks since they had first ‘met’, Jenna had packed her bags.

The course of true love however, never does run smooth as Jenna soon found out after touching down at Hurghada Airport, Egypt.

“Rambo was tall, dark and so handsome. Exactly as I dreamed he would be,” says Jenna.

“But after arriving in a wheelchair and with my glasses on I doubt I was exactly what he had been dreaming of.

“Nevertheless he was so passionate and attentive and accepted and loved me for who I am. He showed me around his favourite beaches and markets, he’d cook for me and treated me like a queen.

“However, when I realised I wasn’t the only queen in his life, I couldn’t quite believe it.

“He sat me down and confessed that he had another wife. But to be honest, what shocked me more was that I was understanding about what he had just told me.”

Rambo admitted to Jenna that he had another wife through an arranged marriage and that he had three children with her.

“‘I care for my wife but she isn’t the one for me,’ he told me. ‘You are’.

“Most women would have run for the door, jumped on the next plane home, but I couldn’t be cross with him.

“It’s normal for men of his religion to have more than one wife. How could I expect this relationship to be any different?”

When Rambo asked if Jenna still wanted to marry him, he got more than he bargained for.

“I told him of course I still wanted to marry him. In fact, I wanted to meet his family.”

Jenna and Rambo were married less than a week later in a brief ceremony surrounded by friends.

The newly-weds then went to Rambo’s family home to meet his other wife.

“When we arrived his mother came out to greet us and gave me a huge hug,” says Jenna.

“Then his wife, Tehya, 36, and their three children, Negbra, 8, Nora, 6, and Wada, 1, greeted us like family.

“She said something to Rambo, then he turned to me and said, ‘She’s happy to meet you’.

“It was such a relief.

“None of it seemed strange to me. Obviously it was something I’d never experienced before, but they made us feel so welcome, it all just felt completely natural.

“Tehya went off to make food and Rambo showed me the rest of the house.”

The house was separated into flats where his mother, brother and wife lived.

Rambo said that he wanted to build a flat on the roof where he and Jenna would live.

Only when the evening approached did Jenna begin to question the situation she found herself in and the huge change in cultures she had accepted so glibly.

The question of where a woman’s husband will sleep is rarely questioned, but when that husband shares his home with two wives, it’s another matter.

Rambo needed to choose between sleeping next to wife number one or wife number two.

“Before Rambo had the chance to decide, I made my excuses and went to bed alone,” says Jenna.

“It was the right thing to. I didn’t feel right sharing my bed with him and upsetting Tehya.

“It was her house, after all.”

But before Jenna drifted off to sleep Rambo came creeping into her room.

Jenna says: “‘I’m meant to be sleeping downstairs but I didn’t want you to get lonely’, he said.

“I screamed ‘Haram, Haram’ at him jokingly, which is Arabic for ‘not allowed’.

“He told me that he no longer had a physical relationship with Tehya.

“Fair enough, I thought, but I didn’t want to disrespect her by having one with him.”

The couple slept in separate beds and while their relationship blossomed, so did Jenna’s with her newly-adopted family.

Over the next few weeks, Jenna and Tehya became close and even laughed and joked together.

Tehya couldn’t speak very much English and Jenna knew little Arabic, but the couple often swapped make-up and clothes and chatted like sisters.

Tehya even began to let Jenna help out around the house, do the shopping and pick up the kids from school.

“We became like a team,” says Jenna.

“And when the subject of a third wife for Rambo came up, we joined forces to nip it in the bud.

“Tehya was getting upset after a female friend kept calling Rambo, so I took her hands and told her: ‘Rambo’s only having two wives: you and me.”

Jenna has now moved back to London to continue working in order to save up to buy a guesthouse in Egypt.

But she insists she will live happily ever after with her new husband – and his other wife.

ENDS

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