My apologies in advance for the rather long post.
This story unfolds in Eastbourne on the morning of the 26th Feb 1990, a cold morning and previous night. I was soundly asleep after a late cold night up with a friend. ON that fateful morning, he awoke and dressed, preparing to leave, he woke me enough to say he was leaving and went locking all doors behind him.
I was tired from the night before and soon drifted off back into a deep sleep. At approximately 10:10am, I was awoken abruptly by a large strong man pulling me off my camp bed in a zipped up sleeping bag, then proceeded to hit me around the face and head with a 4ft long bannister rail (metal mounting ring attached) around my head and upper body.
I then felt a second and different impact that both simultaneously woke me fully then smashed me back into a state of semi-conscious agony. Blood was already pouring from the large wounds on my head and face, my right eye brow was by then hanging loosely down over my blood filled eye. It was then I heard my attackers shout something to each other and run from the lounge as my burglar alarm began sounding, slamming the small door shut behind them. I took this as a key to move myself from where I lay in a growing pool of my own blood.
Now fully awake, but blinded by the blood in my eyes, I tried to undo the cord at the top of the sleeping bag, hard with slippery fingers! but I managed to open it and wriggle out, then feeling my way towards the chair on my knees, toward where I knew my clothes were, reaching out and grabbing a pair of loose fitting track suit bottoms. I managed to pull them up and wipe my face on my t-shirt. I still could not see through the thick blood that continued streaming out of my face and head.
I was in agony, but the pain diminished as fear for my life took over, like a massive flood of panic and thoughts about what I was going to do next.
I had a display of martial arts weapons that I had lovingly fashioned myself and proudly displayed on the lounge wall, I reached out for a short bladed sword that was the centre piece if the display, and instinctively thrust it through the forcibly held-shut lounge door, in an attempt to drive the attackers away from the door. However after a short silence (a thousand loud seconds) the door burst open outwards and three people stormed back into the room, knocking me back onto the floor.
At this time, my tracksuit had fallen to the floor and the largest man stood in front of my holding the tracksuit around my ankles raising my legs high above me. There was another person, a woman, stood behind me, hitting me repeatedly with a 5Lb hammer and was attempting to stab me with a 15" screwdriver!
While my legs were being held high and the woman swinging wildly at my head and shoulders, the man in front of me smashed into my legs/arms/should/neck/head/feet REPEATEDLY with the bannister rail he initially assaulted me with. So I was being pulverised from in front, hammered and stabbed from the rear. I managed to grab both the hammer and screwdriver, but didn't have the strength to break her rip. So effectively the two had me lifted off the ground from either end.
As if that wasn't enough to finish me off, an old Polish ex-fire fighter walked casually across the lounge toward me and proceeded to strike me hard across the back of my head.
I let go of the screw driver and hammer, falling back to the ground free of the woman behind me. The man in front started dragging me towards the lounge door at the screaming instructions of the woman standing behind me.
The old man came up behind me again and I put my hand up to protect my head and The BASTARD BIT THE TOP OF MY THUMB OFF!
They had dragged me by my legs into the small hallway and then tried to open the stable door currently 2 feet behind me. Then I knew it was a matter of life and death for me and I tried to stop them from opening the door, but as I thought I was getting the upper hand, pinning my naked blood soaked body against the door, the old man came close once again and licked me square under the jaw! POW! But I took it and lay there door now open and two grown men forcing me head first out of the now fully open door.
You may have noticed in one of the photos, a large headed roofing nail in the step of the door? That nail embedded itself into my shoulder and was the ONLY THING PREVENTING ME DROPPING THE FIFTEEN FEET HEAD FIRST ONTO CONCRETE. WHERE A BIG WHITE VAN WAS PARKED COMPLETELY CONCEALING THE ENTRANCE.
When the police finally arrived, some 40 minutes after the assault commenced, they had responded to a neighbour opposite complaining of a loud commotion and an alarm sounding loudly for the entire time. After they opened the lounge door, they initially triggering my installed burglar alarm. They had a 60 second delay window where the alarm was in a state of silent countdown after triggering the lounge door sensor.
Only when the police stopped level with the garages, sirens ablaze, did they let go of me and step back into the kitchen area, hands in the air, like they'd done nothing!
IF THE POLICE HAD ARRIVED JUST FIFTEEN SECONDS LATER THAN THEY DID, I WOULD NOT BE HERE TO WRITE THIS TODAY... FACT!
But that's just the tip of the PTSD iceberg surrounding this traumatic story and miscarriage of justice.
I decided after so many years to speak out about my experiences, because I was recently and again refused ESA again, based on a zero point WCA 'fit-for-work' assessment.
My face to face hearing was scheduled for the 18th July 2017, But was called by the courts the morning prior to the hearing, she announced that they had to cancel the scheduled tribunal hearing because they couldn't get a someone from the medical board to attend. I then waited for months without further notification, only to receive a first class letter dated 14th Dec 2017, informing me that one Judge L Rahman had heard my appeal in my absence on the 13th December, denying my appeal basing his decision on the original WCA assessment findings.
It would be nice to say this story stops there, but alas I cannot. As I was left homeless after the assault, I bounced from one night shelter to another, for more than three years, on many occasions sleeping without a roof over my head. At a time when it was difficult enough to get work without foundation. Mental health and other longer term aspects if my physical injuries were overlooked and remained undiagnosed for decades.
It wasn't until my very poorly wife passed away in 2015, did I ever start seeking help with the accumulated health issues I had, as a result of not faced them while my wife was alive. Between April 2007 and November 2015, I tended to my wife's many various daily medical needs and went through the stresses of many long hospitalisations. Now with a complete lack of my own medical historical footprint, I am left without the required proof of my continued suffering.
I am a single parent now, caring for my 'Autistic & Asperges syndrome' teenage son, without family or professional support, or clinical recognition. I'm not living, I'm trying to survive!
This story unfolds in Eastbourne on the morning of the 26th Feb 1990, a cold morning and previous night. I was soundly asleep after a late cold night up with a friend. ON that fateful morning, he awoke and dressed, preparing to leave, he woke me enough to say he was leaving and went locking all doors behind him.
I was tired from the night before and soon drifted off back into a deep sleep. At approximately 10:10am, I was awoken abruptly by a large strong man pulling me off my camp bed in a zipped up sleeping bag, then proceeded to hit me around the face and head with a 4ft long bannister rail (metal mounting ring attached) around my head and upper body.
I then felt a second and different impact that both simultaneously woke me fully then smashed me back into a state of semi-conscious agony. Blood was already pouring from the large wounds on my head and face, my right eye brow was by then hanging loosely down over my blood filled eye. It was then I heard my attackers shout something to each other and run from the lounge as my burglar alarm began sounding, slamming the small door shut behind them. I took this as a key to move myself from where I lay in a growing pool of my own blood.
Now fully awake, but blinded by the blood in my eyes, I tried to undo the cord at the top of the sleeping bag, hard with slippery fingers! but I managed to open it and wriggle out, then feeling my way towards the chair on my knees, toward where I knew my clothes were, reaching out and grabbing a pair of loose fitting track suit bottoms. I managed to pull them up and wipe my face on my t-shirt. I still could not see through the thick blood that continued streaming out of my face and head.
I was in agony, but the pain diminished as fear for my life took over, like a massive flood of panic and thoughts about what I was going to do next.
I had a display of martial arts weapons that I had lovingly fashioned myself and proudly displayed on the lounge wall, I reached out for a short bladed sword that was the centre piece if the display, and instinctively thrust it through the forcibly held-shut lounge door, in an attempt to drive the attackers away from the door. However after a short silence (a thousand loud seconds) the door burst open outwards and three people stormed back into the room, knocking me back onto the floor.
At this time, my tracksuit had fallen to the floor and the largest man stood in front of my holding the tracksuit around my ankles raising my legs high above me. There was another person, a woman, stood behind me, hitting me repeatedly with a 5Lb hammer and was attempting to stab me with a 15" screwdriver!
While my legs were being held high and the woman swinging wildly at my head and shoulders, the man in front of me smashed into my legs/arms/should/neck/head/feet REPEATEDLY with the bannister rail he initially assaulted me with. So I was being pulverised from in front, hammered and stabbed from the rear. I managed to grab both the hammer and screwdriver, but didn't have the strength to break her rip. So effectively the two had me lifted off the ground from either end.
As if that wasn't enough to finish me off, an old Polish ex-fire fighter walked casually across the lounge toward me and proceeded to strike me hard across the back of my head.
I let go of the screw driver and hammer, falling back to the ground free of the woman behind me. The man in front started dragging me towards the lounge door at the screaming instructions of the woman standing behind me.
The old man came up behind me again and I put my hand up to protect my head and The BASTARD BIT THE TOP OF MY THUMB OFF!
They had dragged me by my legs into the small hallway and then tried to open the stable door currently 2 feet behind me. Then I knew it was a matter of life and death for me and I tried to stop them from opening the door, but as I thought I was getting the upper hand, pinning my naked blood soaked body against the door, the old man came close once again and licked me square under the jaw! POW! But I took it and lay there door now open and two grown men forcing me head first out of the now fully open door.
You may have noticed in one of the photos, a large headed roofing nail in the step of the door? That nail embedded itself into my shoulder and was the ONLY THING PREVENTING ME DROPPING THE FIFTEEN FEET HEAD FIRST ONTO CONCRETE. WHERE A BIG WHITE VAN WAS PARKED COMPLETELY CONCEALING THE ENTRANCE.
When the police finally arrived, some 40 minutes after the assault commenced, they had responded to a neighbour opposite complaining of a loud commotion and an alarm sounding loudly for the entire time. After they opened the lounge door, they initially triggering my installed burglar alarm. They had a 60 second delay window where the alarm was in a state of silent countdown after triggering the lounge door sensor.
Only when the police stopped level with the garages, sirens ablaze, did they let go of me and step back into the kitchen area, hands in the air, like they'd done nothing!
IF THE POLICE HAD ARRIVED JUST FIFTEEN SECONDS LATER THAN THEY DID, I WOULD NOT BE HERE TO WRITE THIS TODAY... FACT!
But that's just the tip of the PTSD iceberg surrounding this traumatic story and miscarriage of justice.
I decided after so many years to speak out about my experiences, because I was recently and again refused ESA again, based on a zero point WCA 'fit-for-work' assessment.
My face to face hearing was scheduled for the 18th July 2017, But was called by the courts the morning prior to the hearing, she announced that they had to cancel the scheduled tribunal hearing because they couldn't get a someone from the medical board to attend. I then waited for months without further notification, only to receive a first class letter dated 14th Dec 2017, informing me that one Judge L Rahman had heard my appeal in my absence on the 13th December, denying my appeal basing his decision on the original WCA assessment findings.
It would be nice to say this story stops there, but alas I cannot. As I was left homeless after the assault, I bounced from one night shelter to another, for more than three years, on many occasions sleeping without a roof over my head. At a time when it was difficult enough to get work without foundation. Mental health and other longer term aspects if my physical injuries were overlooked and remained undiagnosed for decades.
It wasn't until my very poorly wife passed away in 2015, did I ever start seeking help with the accumulated health issues I had, as a result of not faced them while my wife was alive. Between April 2007 and November 2015, I tended to my wife's many various daily medical needs and went through the stresses of many long hospitalisations. Now with a complete lack of my own medical historical footprint, I am left without the required proof of my continued suffering.
I am a single parent now, caring for my 'Autistic & Asperges syndrome' teenage son, without family or professional support, or clinical recognition. I'm not living, I'm trying to survive!
