Lisa’s Story

The Start

That night when I was 18 and it all came out was the worst of my life. I found out later that Daddy called the police to come to the house. The lady Detective Sergeant told me that I was being arrested and I found my hands being dragged behind me by the uniformed cop and handcuffed. Daddy followed us to the police station in his car.

At the police station the car parked in a yard at the back and the cop had his hand around my arm and made me walk to a door with a coded lock which buzzed us in. We were now in Custody Reception which was very loud. There were drunks everywhere and everyone was shouting. The DC patted me down and felt in the pockets of my jeans. We had to sit on a bench against the wall until it was our turn and then the DC and the PC flanked me up to the desk.

There were lots of questions about who I was and had I been arrested before and did I do drugs. Daddy was nowhere to be seen but I found out later that he was not allowed to see me for this bit. I had to hand over my bracelet and watch and they were sealed in a plastic bag. I kept asking what was happening and what happened next but they just struck to the standard *********** which they gave to everyone. A uniformed woman PC had turned up and she put on blue plastic gloves and took me, still handcuffed, into a small side room with the DC in tow.

I can remember the DC calmly telling me, when my cuffs were off, that they would need all my clothes – ALL of them – for evidence and they would provide me with clothes.

So, I stripped stark naked which was a dehumanizing experience in front of the two of them. I could feel that they had decided I was a monster and were relishing what they knew would happen to me. They took a grey track suit in a plastic bag out of a drawer and made me put it on. I asked about undies but they just refused. They gave me a pair of white plastic flip flops to put on and I asked for the loo. The PC handcuffed my hands in front and took me into a loo with a sliding door. She left the door slightly open and I know she was watching me through the crack. Of course I could hear all the din from Custody.

Then we went back into Custody where they made me sit on the bench. From somewhere they found some leg shackles and locked one end around my ankle and the other to the frame under the bench. Then they just left me there on the verge of tears, well I did cry a bit but quite quietly. There was a wall clock over the desk so I know that I sat there for over two hours then the same WPC came and unshackled me from the bench but she then shackled my ankles and led me to another small room where a man in a white coat sat at a desk with his back to me. There was also a nurse in a blue uniform. The cop told me that I had to have a medical exam before being interviewed by detectives. She removed my handcuffs and shackles then, to my alarm she sat down on a wooden chair by the door – so now three people including a man were going to watch me strip.

About a year before my GP, a woman, had given me an examination when I had bad period pains but this one was much more thorough. They looked me over literally from going through my hair to examining my feet. Of course I was calmly made to bend, sit, stand and he prodded up my ass and all around and inside my pussy. All the while he was asking questions about my periods, sex life, drugs use (none), masturbation (I went scarlet – could feel my face burning). The nurse was logging everything on her clip board in between arranging me just right and nudging my legs farther apart. By the end I was extremely hot and barely knew which way I was facing. I found that all people who do this sort of stuff have the same dull, monotonous tone and they get you into a habit of compliance. You just obey like a robot.

I lost track of how long that took and, in the absence of windows, had no idea if it was day or night. I was told to dress then the cop put me back in cuffs and shackles for the walk to the cells. This involved going through two metal grilles and, eventually, into a corridor with three cells on either side. The cop picked up a felt tip which was hanging from a small whiteboard outside the door of one of the farthest cells and wrote my name on the board. Then she opened the door before taking off all the ironwork and standing aside for me to enter. I noticed that she herself was not going to go into the cell with a dangerous monster.

I walked in slowly and the door slammed shut behind me. The small flap in the door slid up and she peered in then she shut the flap and I was on my own.

The cell was painted pale pink with translucent windows high up. There was a ledge with a padded top and a toilet behind a low wall so that someone at the door could see you on the loo but only above the waist. I had not thought to ask how long I would be here.

I sat on the bed – where else was there? I looked up at the windows which were long and narrow and divided into small squares. There was daylight outside. It had to have been about 9pm when they brought me in and now it was light so that meant it was 6am or after. I lay down and slept.

I was awoken by a banging on my cell door and a male voice asking if I was decent. I shouted my reply and he peeped through the hatch and asked what I wanted for breakfast. We settled on scrambled eggs on toast. Now I was aware of other doors being banged and lots of voices, mainly female. I didn’t know it but there was a shower at the end of the corridor.

Breakfast came on a plastic tray with compartments. A plastic mug of lukewarm tea was settled into the cupholder compartment. They always put lots of milk in hot drinks so that prisoners cannot throw boiling beverage at police.

I had breakfast, used the loo and washed hands and face in the tiny basin attached to the wall. There was no towel so I used my top as a towel. My waiter came back for the tray and said that my dad was outside with a solicitor. Apparently, it was my choice whether or not to see them and I said yes although I had no idea what my dad would say to me or even whether I could find any words to talk to him.

The female Detective Sergeant from last night came with a uniformed WPC came who hand cuffed my hands in front and we walked along confusing corridors to a door marked, “Achieving Best Evidence Suite”. Although the door had a red light to show that it was occupied my escort led me inside and it was not what I had expected.

It was a carpeted room with two narrow upright windows and it had soft furnishings. The walls were painted pale green. Daddy was there with a smartly dressed lady and they both stood as we entered. Daddy looked terrible although he must have been home because he wore different clothes from yesterday and the lady was a solicitor from his work. The solicitor had a cut glass voice and asked for the cuffs to be taken off me which the WPC did after a nod from the DS. The Detective said that she would return in approximately half an hour to begin a formal interview after which I would almost certainly face serious charges. I did not like either her sharp manner or what she had said.

When the two cops had gone, Daddy gave me a huge hug and we were both in tears but Daddy said we had to talk seriously as we only had thirty minutes. There was a box of tissues on a low table so we did our best to clean ourselves up.

The solicitor said that, in view of the evidence, we could not hope for me to be released without charge but she and Daddy had discussed a possible solution which could be called, “Damage Limitation”. She told me that what I had done would mean that I had no hope of avoiding a custodial sentence. That was the first time that anyone had used those words. For the first time it hit me like a train that I was going to jail!

Pretty much straight after that the two cops came back and the one in uniform stood beside the door. The DS had an armful of papers and she sat on a plastic chair. She said that the interview was being recorded and filmed (although I saw no equipment). DS also said that no equipment had been in operation until she entered the room and our time together had not been monitored.

I discovered that Daddy had arrived at the front of the Police Station last night shortly after I came in at the back and he had been in Public Reception for hours while the Police sorted me out. Quite late they had told him that I would be held overnight and that he could see me this morning so he had gone home.

DS took a full statement from me about what had happened and I tried to say that Wayne was older than me and he had a hold over me. No-one called me a liar but the cop calmly went on asking me questions.

There was a small alcove at one end of the room with cupboards and a small fridge and we ate packaged sandwiches and I had a soft drink in a carton with a straw. There was also a loo but the WPC stood in the half open doorway while I peed.

When the DS had my statement, she started talking to Daddy and the solicitor and I did not understand much of that. I felt that I had suddenly become invisible. After what seemed ages, the DS told me the charges which would be made against me and the list just went on. It seemed that Daddy and Solicitor had to go now and I would be left in the hands of The Law.

The WPC put my handcuffs back on and the two of them took me back to Custody where we had to sit on the bench to wait our turn at the desk. When our turn came, we stood in front of the desk and I was told exactly where to stand with the WPC behind me. The DS told the desk sergeant the charges and then they were read to me and I had to sign a long form.

When that was done, I was taken to yet another little room off Custody where I was photographed – front and both sides and they took my fingerprints and palm prints by making me press my hand to a glass plate. It was after 3pm when I was marched back to my cell and locked in. I was to stay locked up all night with the shouts of women prisoners from the other cells.

The following morning, I was allowed a shower, of course under the eyes of a WPC, and I had breakfast from a plastic tray. I have no idea what time it was when a WPC arrived to handcuff me for a walk along the corridors. This time she put a thin chain around my waist and locked it with a padlock then she locked my handcuffs in front of me to the chain. We arrived outside of a room marked “Interview Room 4” which had its red light on but we went inside. There was a middle-aged woman with short, dark hair who introduced herself by a name which I have forgotten – she had come to take a psychiatric report and the WPC would wait outside until we were done.

It seemed that the reason for the waist chain was that I could not be left alone with anyone unless I was secured so that I could not make a grab for her.