Back in 2011, a BBC documentary team were busy compiling testimonies from women claiming to have been sexually abused as children, by the late TV presenter, Sir Jimmy Savile. However, just days before the programme was due to air, it was cancelled; a move that not only angered those women, but further fuelled rumours of a wider conspiracy, as even after his death, it seemed that any mention of wrongdoing on the part of “Old Jimmy” would inevitably only be met by a cold, eerie silence. A silence all too familiar for his victims.
A year later, a rival TV company decided to make their own documentary concerning the Savile abuse claims. After some initial reluctance, Kat Ward agreed to speak to them. This time, the programme did air – and the story was huge.
Literally overnight, a man who was in the eyes of the British public a national institution - as harmless as afternoon tea for many - now stood accused of crimes so heinous, that a collective air of disbelief began to descend, as people struggled to reconcile the claims with his cheery image as a children’s champion and charity fundraiser.
However, over the following days, more women came forward. Any disbelief soon vanished. Within a week, the list of potential victims had soared into the hundreds. Prime Minister David Cameron sought to appease a growing public demand for the posthumous revocation of his knighthood, and the Metropolitan Police publicly acknowledged Savile as a “predatory sex offender”. No tears were shed as his gravestone was demolished.
His victims must have thought they’d never see the day.
But Kat Ward had long given up hope of justice anyway. After suffering a tormented early childhood, in which she was abused by her family, she eventually found herself shuttled between care homes and approved schools; institutions that promised a sanctuary from abuse, but all too often seemed to sponsor it.
Many decades later, and after a life marred by depression, she was persuaded by a psychiatrist to write about her experiences, in the hope that doing so might be cathartic. She obliged, and last year the first two volumes of her autobiography took literary circles by surprise, as they became international bestsellers.
And now, in this much-anticipated third volume, she recounts her early-mid teen years; no longer a small child, but a girl on the cusp of adolescence. Still traumatized by her early experiences, but not entirely without that sense of vague hope that is the inalienable property of youth.
Now at Duncroft Approved School for “emotionally disturbed girls”, her life had come to resemble that of a prisoner; a good day was a bad one and a bad day was horrific. A pattern interrupted only by the periodic visits of a certain creepy old man in a shiny tracksuit, with a pocket full of a cigars and a caravan full of demands.
There were Rolls-Royce trips to London. There were jaunts to TV studios. And, of course, for Kat, as with most of the girls, there were dreams of a brighter future. But despite all the promises, there was simply no way out. For at almost every turn, another nefarious character was waiting to take advantage of the girls that no-one would believe anyway.
Now you can read her full story here. No punches pulled; no stone left unturned. Just the truth, committed to paper over many years, in the hope that it might help inspire the brave, enlighten the misled and heal the abused…
DISCLAIMER: This is a true story of child abuse, and as such, reader discretion should be advised. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
A year later, a rival TV company decided to make their own documentary concerning the Savile abuse claims. After some initial reluctance, Kat Ward agreed to speak to them. This time, the programme did air – and the story was huge.
Literally overnight, a man who was in the eyes of the British public a national institution - as harmless as afternoon tea for many - now stood accused of crimes so heinous, that a collective air of disbelief began to descend, as people struggled to reconcile the claims with his cheery image as a children’s champion and charity fundraiser.
However, over the following days, more women came forward. Any disbelief soon vanished. Within a week, the list of potential victims had soared into the hundreds. Prime Minister David Cameron sought to appease a growing public demand for the posthumous revocation of his knighthood, and the Metropolitan Police publicly acknowledged Savile as a “predatory sex offender”. No tears were shed as his gravestone was demolished.
His victims must have thought they’d never see the day.
But Kat Ward had long given up hope of justice anyway. After suffering a tormented early childhood, in which she was abused by her family, she eventually found herself shuttled between care homes and approved schools; institutions that promised a sanctuary from abuse, but all too often seemed to sponsor it.
Many decades later, and after a life marred by depression, she was persuaded by a psychiatrist to write about her experiences, in the hope that doing so might be cathartic. She obliged, and last year the first two volumes of her autobiography took literary circles by surprise, as they became international bestsellers.
And now, in this much-anticipated third volume, she recounts her early-mid teen years; no longer a small child, but a girl on the cusp of adolescence. Still traumatized by her early experiences, but not entirely without that sense of vague hope that is the inalienable property of youth.
Now at Duncroft Approved School for “emotionally disturbed girls”, her life had come to resemble that of a prisoner; a good day was a bad one and a bad day was horrific. A pattern interrupted only by the periodic visits of a certain creepy old man in a shiny tracksuit, with a pocket full of a cigars and a caravan full of demands.
There were Rolls-Royce trips to London. There were jaunts to TV studios. And, of course, for Kat, as with most of the girls, there were dreams of a brighter future. But despite all the promises, there was simply no way out. For at almost every turn, another nefarious character was waiting to take advantage of the girls that no-one would believe anyway.
Now you can read her full story here. No punches pulled; no stone left unturned. Just the truth, committed to paper over many years, in the hope that it might help inspire the brave, enlighten the misled and heal the abused…
DISCLAIMER: This is a true story of child abuse, and as such, reader discretion should be advised. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
