crime Archives | Sell My Story

Abuse at the hands of a parent or guardian | Share your story

September 30, 2014 by Laura Elvin

Have you been the victim of sexual abuse at the hands of a parent or trusted guardian?

If you wish to tell your story in order to help others in a similar situation, we can help you.

Our friendly, trained journalists help hundreds of people each year share their tragic and amazing stories of survival.

Use the form on this page to get in touch, or contact us here.

Recent Client – Jodie’s Story

Most people imagine rapists to be evil strangers who prey on vulnerable women and attack them whilst they are alone. But that’s not always the case.

I was sexually abused and raped repeatedly from the age of eleven by someone I thought I could put all of my trust in – my adoptive dad, Bernard Chapman, 64.

He was supposed to be there to look after me, to love me unconditionally and protect me from harm. But he was the person I needed to be protected from.

That’s why when I heard about this campaign I knew I had to be a part of it.

Confiding in my family and reporting my dad to the police was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was the best decision I could have made. I finally feel free.

Growing up I didn’t have a care in the world and on the outside my childhood looked idyllic.

On the outside my childhood looked idyllic

My younger sister, Kirsty, was four and I was nine when we were adopted by Bernard and his wife, Valda, 55, after they were unable to have children of their own.

We moved into a big house in the countryside near Caldicot, Monmouthshire and for the first time we each had our own bedrooms.

We had a big garden to play in, pet dogs to take for walks and enjoyed meals out and holidays abroad – just like any other family.

My adoptive parents ran their own business and dad worked away during the week, but when he got back he would give me his undivided attention.

It wasn’t long before I was a complete daddy’s girl.

After a year with him our relationship changed

I enjoyed the love and attention he showed me, but after a year with him our relationship changed.

Kirsty and I had been outside messing around in the chicken pen. We found an egg and ran indoors to proudly present it to mum.

Kirsty was leaning on the door frame, struggling to pull off her wellies and without thinking I slammed the door, trapping her thumb.

She screamed in pain and burst into tears. I felt terrible, but mum reassured me it was just an accident and bundled Kirsty into the car to take her to A&E.

She was kept in hospital overnight, as she needed surgery on her hand, so mum stayed with her, while dad looked after me.

Scared and confused

At home he plonked himself down on the sofa in front of the TV, while I danced around the living room.

Smiling, he tapped his lap and said: ‘Come and give me a cuddle.’

He pulled me up onto his knee, only he then started touching my privates over my pink Eeyore nighty.

I froze with fear, before panicking, leaping off him and running upstairs – scared and confused.

The next morning dad didn’t say a word about the night before, it was as if it never happened.

But a fortnight later, dad put up the fold-out bed for me to sleep in the lounge with him.

He flicked on a pornographic channel. Shocked, I had never seen anything like it before.

He told me to lie down on the bed before forcing himself on top of me and having full penetrative sex.

I wanted to cry out, but I was too frightened to say or do anything

It was painful and I tried to get him to stop, but he put a pillow in my mouth and I bit down on it hard.

I wanted to cry out, but I was too frightened to say or do anything, apart from what he told me.

When it was over he told me to go and shower. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up in the loo.

Afterwards I climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep.

For Kirsty’s sake I didn’t breathe a word. She was happy in our new home and I didn’t want to drag her through foster care again.

I didn’t know any different

From then on dad started to rape me whenever he got the chance.

Young and innocent, I began to think it was normal. I didn’t know any different.

Every weekend when he was home he used to say goodnight to mum and Kirsty, shutting their bedroom doors behind them, but instead of tucking me in he would leave my door open so I could sneak out.

I would creep across the landing and down the stairs. He gave me privileges like playing games on his mobile phone if I kept quiet.

Dad started to give me a drug called amyl nitrate, also known as poppers, on a few occasions before abusing me too.

To keep me sweet, he bought me gifts. When I was 13 he gave me make-up.

Mum spotted me in bright eye-shadow and red lipstick and confronted dad when I told her he had bought it for me.

She asked him what he was playing at, telling him I wasn’t old enough for make-up.

He said he would bin it, but instead he hid the make-up and made me wear it when he abused me.

Mum said I couldn’t have a bikini either and she hit the roof when she found out dad bought me one.

I began to realise that what dad was doing was wrong

As I got older, I began to realise that what dad was doing was wrong.

I began trying to make excuses or pretend I was asleep. But if I didn’t do what dad wanted then he would make life a living hell for all three of us.

When I turned 16 and got my first boyfriend, dad wouldn’t let him near the house.

I got a job at a fish and chip shop and started earning my own money and gaining independence. Dad didn’t like it and claimed I was ‘running wild’.

It was only when I was 19 – almost a decade after the abuse started – that I finally blurted it out.

Mum and I had got into an argument about a couple of friends I knew.

The boy was 21 and he was with a 13-year-old girl. I thought it was normal.

‘It’s wrong,’ mum told me. ‘You can’t condone it.’

‘They aren’t having sex,’ I insisted.

‘Of course they will be,’ she said. “Look at your sister. She’s the same age as that young girl. Her body isn’t properly developed. What would you do if an older man was having sex with her?’ mum asked.

‘Dad’s been doing it to me for years,’ I said.

I blurted it out before I even had the chance to think about what I was saying.

‘Think about what you’re saying Jo,’ mum warned me, tearing up. ‘Because if that’s true, it’s going to blow this whole family apart.’

‘I’m not lying,’ I croaked, desperate for mum to believe me.

She ran for the bathroom and I could hear her retching as she was sick, while Kirsty stood there in utter shock.

Mum came back and sat with me.

‘Tell me everything,’ she whispered.

She couldn’t help but blame herself

I told her when it began and recounted the times he had abused me, and as mum listened it all started to make sense to her.

‘Why did you never tell me? I could have protected you,’ mum sobbed. She couldn’t help but blame herself.

In a split second I had turned our whole world upside down and changed it forever.

Mum and dad had been married for 23 years. They were best friends and business partners.

Now I had to tell her he wasn’t the man she thought she knew and loved.

For ten years he had been acting as the protective father and doting husband, but all the time he was living a lie.

Dad was in the office when mum confronted him.

‘She’s told me everything,’ she screamed at him.

He turned and said to me: ‘You spiteful bitch.’

Mum called the police and dad was arrested.

Mum called the police and dad was arrested

Dad denied it and even took a lie detector test to prove his innocence. But it came back he was lying on all counts.

At Cardiff Crown Court, Bernard Chapman pleaded not guilty to four counts of rape of a child under 13, six counts of rape and four counts of sexual activity with a child.

I broke down as I gave evidence from behind a screen.

The court heard how his crimes were made worse by the use of ‘coercion and threats’ against me.

At the end of the trial, I sat holding my fiancé Wayne’s hand as the jury delivered the verdict.

My dad was found guilty on all 14 charges and he was jailed for a total of 18 years. I wept with relief.

Instead of guarding me from the monsters, dad was the monster.

Mum, Kirsty and I never want anything to do with dad anymore and we won’t let his actions tear us apart.

Share my story about sexual abuse

We helped Jodie tell her story to Take a Break magazine and Reveal magazine. If you would like to raise awareness about abuse, share your story, help those in a similar situation, and warn others, we can help you. Every week we help people tell their story, their way. We handle all stories sensitively and professionally, and ensure that you achieve the highest fee possible for you or a charity of your choice.

If you are thinking about selling your story to the press, fill out the form on the right hand side of this page. All correspondence is confidential and preliminary at this stage (until you advise us otherwise). One of our friendly team will let you know if it’s something we can help you with, and the fee that your story is likely to achieve.

SWNS is the UK’s largest press agency supplying up to 20% of content to the daily newspapers and magazines each day. If you would like to read other stories that we’ve printed recently, take a look at our Latest Clients page.

Evil Sister Cancelled Our Wedding

March 27, 2014 by Sell My Story

Fiance’s evil sister cancelled our wedding day…

Ann, 50, didn’t like her brother David’s young fiancé so in a bid to stop them tying the knot she impersonated her and cancelled their wedding.

Despite introducing them, sneaky Ann wanted to stop David, 52, getting hitched to her former friend, Sandra, 28, so without the couple’s knowledge, Ann called the registry office pretending to be her future sister-in-law. She told officials to scrap plans for the big day and then rang her brother and said: ‘I’ve saved you on the divorce. I’ve cancelled the wedding. Would you like the confirmation email?’

Luckily devious Ann failed to wreck her brother’s nuptials and he and Sandra married 20 days later as planned after reinstating the booking.

After her failed attempt, Ann even turned up at the registry office to shower the newlyweds with abuse as they left as husband and wife. But her actions landed her in trouble with the law when the furious pair reported Ann to police.

At court, Ann admitted a charge of harassment and insisted she still doesn’t approve of her new sister-in-law. While Sandra and David have said they will never forgive Ann.

My partner, David, 52, was at his job as a labourer when I plucked up the courage to give him a call on his lunch break and get something off my chest. ‘I think we should get married,’ I blurted out, before I had the chance to change my mind. There was silence at the end of the line, before David finally got over the shock and replied: ‘OK.’

It was far from romantic and might have seemed mad – we had only known each other for three months – but I knew he was ‘the one’ so I thought ‘why wait?’ We started making plans straight away and David took me shopping for an engagement ring.

That evening he treated me to a slap-up meal before getting down on one knee to pop the question properly. With the sparkler on my finger, I couldn’t have been any happier. But not everyone was as thrilled about our news.

David’s sister and my former friend, Ann Duffy, 50, was livid. From day one she made it clear she did not approve of me and vowed to stop me marrying her brother. She was constantly calling David and ranting down the phone. ‘Sandra’s no good for you. She only wants you for your money,’ Ann would spit, in an attempt to drive a wedge between David and I.

Every time she rang and bombarded us with a barrage of abuse I would be left in floods of tears, questioning why she hated me so much. It was Ann who introduced us after all.

I had been at the pub with Ann when she invited David along to join us for a drink, in July, 2012. David was tall, dark and handsome and we got on like a house on fire, despite the 24 year age gap. That evening we swapped numbers and the next day I agreed to meet David for a coffee in our hometown of Plymouth, Devon.

From that moment on we had become inseparable. Our romance was more of a hurricane than a whirlwind. Within three weeks I had moved into David’s place. My flat had been under renovation and after showing David around he insisted that I come and stay with him until the work had been carried out. I stayed at his for two-and-a-half months before asking him to live with me in my flat. I met his kids from a previous relationship and we got on well too.

I had never knowingly done anything to offend Ann and I just didn’t understand why she couldn’t just be happy for us – or at least civil. When David and Ann’s mum, Cecelia, 78, developed dementia, David didn’t want her going into a care home. ‘She can live with us,’ I told him. I had lost my mum, Linda, 58, to cancer in May, 2013, just six months before the wedding and it had hit me hard. Mum had helped me pick my dress online and she had secretly bought it for me, but it broke my heart that she never had the chance to see me in it.

David had been my tower of strength throughout losing her and now it was my turn to support him. In August, 2013, Cecelia moved in and I became her carer, looking after her 24/7 – showering her, dressing her and cooking her meals. It was tough, but I knew if the tables were turned he would have done the same.

‘You’re taking my brother and my mother away from me,’ Ann snarled nastily, one day during another of her rages. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ David told her. ‘She’s not done anything wrong.’ ‘She can’t pretend our mum is her mum,’ Ann shot back. She had really touched a nerve. Now she begrudged me for only trying to help the family. It seemed no matter what I did it was wrong in Ann’s eyes.

David worked 12-hour days while I was at home caring for Cecelia. ‘She’s just jealous. She must feel threatened by you,’ David said, reassuringly, wrapping his arms around me. With David’s long hours and looking after Cecelia we were exhausted and the wedding was put on the back burner.

I demanded Ann never come to our home after the way she spoke about me. David agreed and he arranged to take Cecelia out to meet with Ann, but she rarely showed up and was always making excuses. So at the start of November, 2013, when Ann took her mum out for the day we were surprised she was making the effort. She offered for Cecelia to come and stay with her daughter, Kelly, for a fortnight to give us some respite, we were shocked at the gesture but grateful.

The care Cecelia needed was demanding and although we loved her, a break was just what we needed. ‘It’ll give us a chance to get the wedding plans back in motion,’ David said excitedly. We had already made a good start. With the registry office booked, invites posted and the arrival of my bridal gown, the countdown to our big day had officially begun.

We chose a royal blue colour scheme in keeping with David’s favourite football team – Chelsea – and my brother David set about making up a cake. ‘It won’t be long before you’re Mrs Greatrex,’ David said, beaming from ear to ear. But even with the date fast approaching, Ann wouldn’t give up. ‘I’ll get him away from you,’ she insisted.

By now I had learnt to just ignore her. I knew David loved me, and his bitter sister wasn’t going to come between us. Then we found out Cecelia wouldn’t be coming back to live with us, Ann had arranged for her to live with Kelly full-time and she planned on keeping her away from me.

David and I had bought Cecelia a new outfit for the wedding, but Ann wouldn’t let her come. We were both distraught, but we were determined not to stoop to Ann’s level. Then on Tuesday 5th November, 2013, just as we were climbing into bed, David’s mobile rang. ‘Not her again,’ I sighed, sick of Ann’s relentless abuse. ‘You better put me on speaker phone,’ I heard her bellow down the line. David refused, but it didn’t matter, I could hear every word she said.

‘I have saved you on the divorce. I have cancelled your wedding,’ Ann announced, smugly. ‘Would you like me to send you the confirmation email?’ My jaw dropped and David remained calm. ‘That’s fine, I’ll call them back in the morning to re-book,’ he said, hanging up on Ann.

‘I know she hates me, but she wouldn’t go that far, would she?’ I sobbed. We were due to tie the knot in just 20 days’ time, now it might not even be going ahead. It was 10pm and too late to call the registry office and check what Ann was saying wasn’t some sort of sick joke, so we spent the night pacing back and forth and full of worry.

My brother, David, 29, had really helped us out with the costs of the wedding, along with the rest of our families, I was adamant that all the help and effort of our nearest and dearest would now have been wasted.

After a sleepless night, we called the office as soon as it opened. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing booked in on November 25th,’ the woman at the other end said. My heart sank in my chest. ‘How could Ann do this to us?’ I cried hysterically. I knew how devious she could be but even I was shocked by her latest stunt.

‘It’s all been paid for,’ David explained. ‘But my sister rang yesterday to say she had cancelled it.’ Eventually the lady found the cancellation list and luckily there was a record of it. We discovered Ann had taken matters into her own hands and sneakily impersonated me to scrap plans for our nuptials.

Luckily she failed to scrap the ceremony completely and we were able to reinstate the booking. Although I was upset by Ann’s actions, I was determined not to let her taint it for us. Furious and at our wit’s end, we reported Ann to the police.

When our wedding day rolled around I felt like the luckiest woman alive as I walked down the aisle to wed David. Despite the fact Cecelia couldn’t be there, the day was perfect and went ahead as planned and our 50 guests who attended the service were none the wiser until Ann showed up to voice her disgust.

Even though she had never been invited, she tried to spoil it by turning up and showering us with abuse as we got into the car to be driven to the reception. She made rude gestured with her hands and stood there effing and blinding. Ann shouted ‘commiserations’ as we left. But I just turned to David and smiled. We had just become husband and wife and there was nothing she could do to stop us.

In time Ann appeared at Plymouth Magistrates Court where she admitted a charge of harassment, but she made it clear she still didn’t approve of our marriage. She said she had cancelled our big day to cause me distress, but not to upset David.

We will never forgive Ann for trying to ruin our big day. Ann did her best to stop us from getting hitched but all she has done is bring David and I closer. We are stronger than ever now after all Ann put us through, so her plan backfired.

David said: ‘From the very start she didn’t like me and Sandra being together. ‘She was really jealous, she kept accusing Sandra of trying to take her brother away. When I told her we were getting married she told me I was making a terrible decision.’ She said ‘It’s not going to happen, I’ll make sure of that – blood is thicker than water.’

‘The relationship between me and Ann was never really good after that. We rarely spoke. But I never thought she would cancel her own brother’s wedding. Neither of us will ever forgive her.’

If you have a wedding disaster story you’d like to sell to a magazine, just let us know about it by filling out the form on the right hand side of this page. We’ll won’t use anything without your express permission, but one of our writers will let you know how much it’s worth.

Or if you’d like to know more about the story selling process, read the Sell My Story page.

I’LL KICK THE BABY OUT OF YOU – NEIGHBOUR FEUD TURNS NASTY

February 25, 2014 by Sell My Story

Toni, 25, was six weeks pregnant when she was attacked by one of her mum’s former tenants and neighbours, Rhiannon, 34.

The brute lashed out at Toni as she walked home from her job at a fish and chip shop, after a dispute about the property she had previously rented. She snarled: ‘I’ll kick the baby out of you’ while booting Toni’s head and stamping on it. Rhiannon pinned Toni to the floor, slapping and punching her while she screaming: ‘I don’t care, I’ll kill it. I’ll kick it out of you now.’

Police were on the scene in minutes as Toni had called them when she spotted Rhiannon storming towards her from a distance, after an argument earlier in the day. Toni had moved into a house her mum had rented to Rhiannon before, but after it was refurbished Rhiannon changed her mind and didn’t want to leave, begrudging Toni for getting to move in.

Rhiannon was handed an 18-month community order with supervision and Toni was granted a restraining order. Now 32 weeks pregnant, a scan has confirmed her baby is unharmed. Luckily the neighbour feud did not lead to disaster… this time.

Rhiannon Edwards, 34

Perched nervously on the side of the bath tub, I gripped the plastic stick in my hand and waited with bated breath. The minutes ticked by so slowly they felt like hours. ‘Come on,’ I urged, eager for the results. My hands were shaking as a faint blue line eventually appeared on the home testing kit. Flinging the bathroom door open, I was met by my partner Carl’s nervous expression.

‘I’m pregnant,’ I shrieked, leaping towards him excitedly. A huge grin quickly spread across his face. ‘That’s great news,’ he cried, wrapping his arms around me and planting a kiss on my cheek. I had splashed out on one of the more pricey tests so I could tell that I was already three to four weeks gone.

I knew I shouldn’t really be telling anyone until I had been for my first scan, but when I popped to my mum Susan’s house for a cuppa I couldn’t help but blurt it out. ‘Aw love, I’m so happy for you,’ my mum cooed. ‘I can’t wait to have another grandchild.’

Mum only lived five minutes away from our home in Bryn Ifor, Caerphilly, and I always nipped to hers for a catch up, while Carl, 25, was at work. My little boy, Connor, three, loved playing at his nanny’s and she was always fussing over him so it gave me the chance to put my feet up. ‘Just you relax,’ mum would insist, as she ran around after Connor. He was such a handful.

My second pregnancy already seemed harder than the first. I was constantly exhausted, so relished mum taking my troublesome tot off my hands for a few hours each day. Instead of cravings, I had developed an obsession with the smell of citrus cleaning products. At home I would scrub the kitchen until it was spick and span and take deep breaths to inhale the lemon scent. While I was out and about I always kept a bottle of hand santiser on me so I could sniff it whenever I felt like I needed a fix. ‘You are strange,’ Carl teased when he caught me having a whiff.

We had always planned to add to our family and desperately wanted a little brother or sister for Connor. As soon as I discovered I was expecting we rushed out and bought babygros, booties and plush toys for our new addition. Soon it was piling up and it was clear we needed more space. We talked about moving to a bigger house, somewhere we could settle down, and the timing couldn’t have been better. My mum owned a three-bedroom property just a couple of doors down from her house and her current tenant, Rhiannon Edwards, 34, had handed in her notice.

Mum was pleased to see the back of her. She had been nothing but trouble from the word go. Rhiannon and her fella lived there with their eight children and their dogs. Aged between a few months and 17 years old, Rhiannon’s kids seemed to run riot. When mum inspected her property she found doors were kicked in and there were drawings all over the walls. Rhiannon complained that it was too cramped for her brood and demanded mum get a conservatory or extension built to give them more room. But mum refused, unable to afford it, so Rhiannon decided to move out.

Rhiannon knew my mum was a soft touch and she had always been late paying her rent. She turned up on mum’s doorstep one day and said: ‘I did have the money but I threw it in the bin by accident.’ I couldn’t believe my ears – of all the excuses! ‘I’d be chasing the binman down, running after that rubbish truck if that were the case,’ I thought to myself. But I bit my tongue, not wanting to get involved.

It wasn’t the first time Rhiannon had not been able to cough up on time, but my mum was sympathetic. ‘Don’t worry, just get it to me when you can,’ she told her. ‘If she ever leaves, we would move in in a heartbeat,’ I had always said. After Rhiannon had finally said she was leaving, mum told me I could have the house. Knowing I would take care of it, she decided to spruce it up. ‘It will look as good as new with a lick of paint,’ she chirped, flicking through colour charts.

Two weeks later though and after hearing I would be replacing her, Rhiannon changed her mind and tried to take back her notice. ‘I’m sorry but you’ve already given it to me and I’ve promised it to Toni now,’ mum said. Storming off huffing and puffing, Rhiannon was fuming. But mum stood her ground. ‘I’ve had enough of her,’ she groaned, glad Rhiannon would soon be out of her hair. We thought that would be the end of it, but one Sunday we all gathered at mums for lunch.

Pregnant Toni was worried she had lost the baby

My older brother, Craig, and his partner, Melissa, joined us and we sat down to a roast dinner. Just as we were tucking in, there was a thud outside and fits of giggles. ‘What was that?’ I asked, just as puzzled as everyone else. Dashing over to the window, there were more splats before I noticed Rhiannon’s eldest two girls making a run for it. Eggs were running down the outside walls.

Craig, Melissa and my dad, Calvin, 55, ran out to catch Rhiannon’s daughters in the act, but they sprinted to the park. Before long mum and I heard screams and Craig ran up to us shouting: ‘They’ve got Melissa.’ The teens had thrown stones at my poor dad and started on Melissa. Her face was a state.

Luckily the police had already been called and managed to drag them off her. Rhiannon had shown up and was effing and blinding, while being held back. It was clear she was a nasty piece of work and I knew to stay out of her way. From then on she had it in for my family. She followed me up the street one day when I left my mum’s house, swearing as her toddler tottered behind her.

‘Put him down, I’ll have you,’ she spat after me. ‘I’ll be done for murder now,’ she joked, referring to my unborn baby. I was disgusted and covered Connor’s ears as I frantically made my way home. That evening Craig dropped me off for my shift at the fish and chip shop. One of Rhiannon’s children came in and bought some chips, before leaving on their mobile phone.

I worried she was calling her mum to let her know I was working, but I pushed any niggles I had to the back of my mind – forcing myself not to be silly. But when I left at 8.30pm, I spotted Rhiannon at the end of the road. I didn’t want any trouble so I put my head down and walked on, but Rhiannon stormed up to me. After her threats that morning I was frightened of what she might do so I grabbed my phone and my hands shaking I called my mum.

Officers were at her house taking a statement from her after the trouble, so within minutes they were on the scene, but not before Rhiannon violently lashed out at me. ‘I’ll kick the baby out of you!’ she screamed, hurling heavy punches at me. She kicked me to the ground, pinning me there as she stamped on my head. Sobbing in agony, I begged her to stop and to think of my unborn child. Slapping me, she snarled: ‘I don’t care. I’ll kill it. I’ll kick it out of you now.’

Police prised her off of me and bundled me in their car for safety. I could barely breath I was in such a state – terrified that I might have lost the baby. I was taken to hospital on a stretcher in an ambulance to be checked over. There was blood pouring out of my head from where Rhiannon had stamped on it. I had cuts and bruises all over my arms, where she had dragged me across the concrete. My hair had been ripped out in clumps and I needed an x-ray of my jaw to check it wasn’t broken.

Sharp pains twinged in my stomach and I instinctively clutched my barely visible bump. Unable to have a scan there and then I paid to have a private one before my routine 12-week one was due. I breathed a sigh of relief when the sonographer told me the baby was fine, but throughout the rest of my pregnancy I panicked whenever I had the slightest twitch.

At Merthyr Tydfil Crown Court, Rhiannon admitted assault occasioning actual bodily harm and was handed an 18-month community order with supervision and an alcohol activity requirement. The judge told her: ‘It was more by luck than judgement after you had kicked, slapped and punched her that she did not sustain more serious injuries. ‘Your attack could have put at risk the life of that unborn child. One can only imagine the grief that would have brought. If there is any trouble between you and the neighbours you should contact the police and not resort to jungle justice again.’

Rhiannon was also made the subject of a three-year restraining order not to go to the area and not to contact me or my family. She also had to pay a £60 victim surcharge. I was relieved but until I cradled my baby in my arms I knew I wouldn’t feel totally at peace.

Jacob was born a healthy 7lb 5oz after being induced

On Monday 9th December, I was induced and I gave birth to a healthy baby boy, named Jacob, on Tuesday 10th December. Weighing 7lbs 5oz, he arrived on Connor’s birthday and his big brother couldn’t have been any prouder. I felt like the luckiest mum alive – especially after all I had been through. I know it could have easily been a very different story.

ENDS

Have you been the victim of a crime? Have you been in a feud with a neighbour that has turned nasty? Or, have you taken somebody to court and won?

We want to hear about it. Tell your story and make money at the same time. Just tell us a little bit about your story using the form on the right hand side of this page and we’ll get back to you if it sounds like something we could print.

To find out more about selling your story, see the Sell My Story page.

Navigation