Sure enough, a couple of days later, the phone rang and Jeremy answered. Gerard did not recognise Jeremy’s voice introducing UK Professional Video first off. Gerard said, ‘Hello, my name is Lloyd Gerard from Video Action, may I ask who I am speaking to?’ Although expecting this moment for a long time, it was still a heart-stopper and Jeremy replied, ‘Oh, hi, Lloyd, this is Jeremy.’ There was a short silence – obviously Gerard was struggling to comprehend this situation – then: ‘Jeremy, what is going on?’
‘Well, Lloyd, I decided to set up my own business.’ Jeremy replied.
Gerard retaliated as expected in his usual hostile manner and said threateningly to Jeremy, ‘I will have you out of business by December and I will be lowering my prices even if it means I have to sell at a loss so that this happens. As I am going on holiday for two weeks, consider yourself on a honeymoon period.’ Then he hung up – one can only imagine forcefully on his end.
It was the call Jeremy had dreaded but did not feel intimidated by – he had a lot of support from the industry and there was plenty of business to go round. By offering good customer service and being polite to callers he did not feel there would be a threat. As it turned out, Jeremy hit the ground running in the coming weeks and the ‘honeymoon period’ which Gerard said was all he would have did not materialise. He did reduce prices, however, as promised, where he was selling equipment at a loss. However, when customers phoned Jeremy to tell him they had seen the prices cheaper at Video Action he simply directed them to the DVDoctor.net forums so that they could make up their own minds about which company they wanted to deal with. More often than not, they returned to UK Professional Video.
Jeremy did have an encounter with Gerard after a customer had said that she had mistakenly sent her CDs of music for her wedding video to Video Action. The post office said that the package had been signed for at that address and that Gerard should have refused to do so as they were not addressed to his company. Jeremy knew he had to call him about them for the customer’s sake and found that someone else was now working with Gerard. He was fiercely loyal and said that he had been told all about Jeremy and that he had signed for another package that day to give to Gerard. Jeremy had shouted at him, told him that what he was doing was illegal and that anything addressed to our company should not be tampered with. Gerard had phoned later to say that he was never returning anything and was pleased to be an inconvenience. We had to buy new CDs for one customer, but another happened to be a policeman and he made a point of visiting Gerard and retrieving his CDs. He later told us he thought that he was a rude and arrogant man.
One evening after I’d finished work, Jeremy asked me to meet him in Borehamwood so that we could go out to have a meal at one of the restaurants in the high street. We closed the front of the shop but left the back open as we had a couple of tradesmen finishing some work out of hours so as not to cause any inconvenience. Upon our return they told us that there was a guy looking for Jeremy but they did not let him into the premises or engage in any conversation. We asked for a description and they said he was a very short guy with a thick gold chain around his neck. There were no prizes for guessing that it was Gerard who had come to check out the competition and we did wonder what he was up to. It did cross my mind that with Gerard’s money, mindset and connections he might do Jeremy harm and I was a little worried for his safety, especially as he worked late most evenings.
However, our concerns were put aside as September and October turned out to be good trading months and our businesses were going from strength to strength as Jeremy’s confidence grew. We had forgotten about Gerard and his threats and felt as if nothing could stop us.
On 29 October, Jeremy was sitting at his desk when he received a phone call. The voice was female and she asked, ‘May I speak to Jeremy Clifford?’ He replied, ‘Yes, speaking, can I help you?’ and then the line went dead. Puzzled, but not unduly concerned, Jeremy carried on with his work. We would later find out that the call was from the Hertfordshire Constabulary, made with the intention of establishing Jeremy’s whereabouts in preparation for their invasion into our lives the following morning.
Chapter 4
THE DAYS AFTER
‘Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again,’ sang Simon and Garfunkel. These words seemed to have sprung into my head at 3 a.m. Jeremy was still fast asleep as I crept downstairs to make myself some tea. Preferring the comfort of the dark, I peeked between the curtains to see the dull street lamps illuminating the quiet stillness of the street, my heart heavy with the knowledge that within less than twenty-four hours our old life had disappeared forever.
I sat by the hearth of the gas fire staring at its fake embers while I sipped my tea. My eyes burned with tiredness but my heart and mind were racing, denying me the oblivion of sleep. I had so many questions I needed answered but there was at least one that I knew I did not need to ask Jeremy: ‘Did you do what you are being accused of?’ They say that you don’t know someone entirely but I knew him inside and out and he was the proverbial open book.
To halt the questions-but-no-answers session in my head, I turned on the TV and mindlessly browsed through the many channels which, at that time of the morning, could always be relied upon to broadcast something bizarre to take your mind off things. By 6 a.m., after staring blankly at a film for two hours, I thought I should go back to bed to try to get some sleep. I had already decided that I wasn’t going to work that day.
After leaving the lounge the house felt incredibly cold but as soon as I snuggled under the duvet I heard the boiler click on. Listening to the creaks and groans of the house as the radiators warmed up, I realised it was coming up to 6.40 a.m., almost ‘this time yesterday’. I started to feel anxious, afraid that the police would be coming back, but then in the gloom Jeremy asked if I was awake. I felt for his hand and was relieved that I was no longer alone with my thoughts. I told him I had been awake since 3 a.m. but he had only just surfaced, which was to be the future indication of how we would handle our stress. Me to suffer insomnia and he to completely shut down, an ability I would envy.
Jeremy, obviously unhappy about what had transpired the day before, was not too concerned as, like most upright citizens, he considered that if you are innocent with nothing to hide, the whole matter would come down to a misunderstanding and would go away. However, it was an embarrassing subject matter that could not easily be explained to anyone and was extremely emotive. I asked him what had happened at the police station, what was asked, where the information had come from, but he became agitated and thought I was questioning his innocence. I assured him I had not even considered that, but in order to help him he had to help me. That is where I left the subject; it was too raw for both of us to get to grips with.
Around 9 a.m. I called my manager, John Perry, to tell him that I was unable to come in as I had a sore throat and thought I might have caught a cold from my hairdresser. I felt awful pretending to be sick because I had never done that in my working life, but I knew I could not cope with being at the office today and, besides, Jeremy needed me. I would need all my strength to put on a brave face, but not today, not after so little sleep. John, always a joker, proceeded to tell me about a funny incident I had missed at work the previous day but I could not really concentrate on what he was saying and, judging from the fact that he was laughing, I guessed I had missed the punch line. He seemed a little flustered that I hadn’t joined in and then said, ‘I had better let you go, hope to see you on Monday.’ I thanked him and put down the phone, hoping that I had sounded convincing.
I busied myself making a little breakfast for us both. Jeremy was not going to the shop, there was little point as he was unable to run the business without a PC. In any case, he was also not in the right frame of mind. He just put on the TV and slumped on the sofa, which is where he stayed for most of the day. He did not want to see or hear from anyone and was worried about what the neighbours were thinking, but in our day-to-day lives we ha
d very little to do with them, with the exception of my parents. I left Jeremy for a little while to go and see them but did not want to leave him for long. I told them what little I knew and tried to appear bright and resilient.
Back at the house Jeremy was up and about and said he needed to get a new mobile phone as the police had kept his for forensic examination. He called his provider and they told him they would get him a new phone delivered the next day. I was encouraged by the fact that he was starting to think about putting things right. However, he told me that the police had been to Video Action thinking that he still worked there as they had tried to call him the previous day. DS Crook, one of the officers interviewing him, was perplexed that she had spoken to Jeremy on a number registered at the Video Action address in Golders Green. He explained to her that Gerard had given him a spare phone line, which he was still using, and was diverted by BT to the shop in Borehamwood. This meant that they had met with Gerard, who told them that Jeremy had sold him the Tiny computer which they then confiscated from Gerard’s premises. This was disastrous. Gerard would be revelling in this and use any information to his advantage, although Crook said that he would not have been told anything about the investigation. Obviously the police, prior to getting their search warrants, had not updated their intelligence on Jeremy’s whereabouts as he had not been at Gerard’s premises for about six months now. That inefficiency was about to put us in a whole heap of trouble.
That night we went to bed early, mentally exhausted, the day having drifted by in a blur. Sleep came quickly at first but I was awake at 3 a.m. ready for my rendezvous with Sky and its many channels. 3 a.m. and I were to become good companions in the coming months.
Over the next few days, Jeremy began to reveal what had taken place during his interviews at the police station. The experience of being placed in a cell, he said, was terrifying because he did not understand why he was there – and it was cold. He was questioned by Hopkins and Crook (a laughable name for a police officer!). Jeremy said that the first interview was short, just questions about us as a couple, our jobs and family. The second interview was rather more intense.
What sickened me most were the questions about our sex life, how ‘normal’ were we, what were his preferences or participation in any deviances, did we have children, what children were we in contact with and how old were they. Jeremy mentioned his nieces and they seized upon this to ask how old they were – he told them they were twins aged eighteen. They had seen him as a father figure for many years as they had lost their own when they were five years old. I was glad at that moment that we had no children. They would have been subjected to interrogation and examination plus there would have been the possible interference of social services.
Hopkins had told Jeremy that their intelligence had come from the United States and showed that child pornography had been purchased with his credit card during 1999. The investigation was UK-wide and was called Operation Ore, but within Hertfordshire it was named as Operation Metropolis. The police had a whole pile of bank account and credit card statements dating from 1998 to 2003 as well as all other financial information about both of us, which I found quite shocking. Although Jeremy was the one being investigated, it appeared that my confidential data was up for perusal also on joint accounts and had been passed over by the bank. Our home had been turned inside out and now our private finances were open to scrutiny. So infuriated was he by the type of questions being levelled at him that Jeremy had forcefully said to Crook and Hopkins, ‘I hope you have got your facts right.’ He thought that they went a bit quiet after his comment, which reminded me of the similar reaction I’d got from Patel when I’d told her we had been to America in April 1999.
Nothing made sense at this stage. Everything was hard to piece together and with no computer or internet to research it was frustrating. There were still so many questions but I dared not ask Jeremy; he was already fragile and would become irritable very quickly. I would have to wait until I got back to work to access my PC.
Waking up the next morning to a typical November day of dark, dank and cold, I listened to the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the windows. I felt weary and although I would rather have stayed within the confines of the house, I knew we had to visit the shop and make a plan of action. The worst thing was the knowledge that Gerard would be having a field day using whatever information he had as a stick to beat Jeremy with. I wondered what impact all this would have on the business.
Entering the shop from the rear car park, we unlocked the security shutters and left the front ones closed. It became apparent that we had got into a habit of creeping about at home and now we were doing it here, not wanting to be seen by anyone. Flicking on the lights, we surveyed the scene. Jeremy tentatively walked to his desk first but there was nothing there that would enable him to work. His case that stored floppy discs was empty, wires that were attached to hard drives just hung loose by the desks as all three PCs, the editing hard drive and laptop were all gone. He opened desk drawers, looked in cupboards and filing cabinets to try to establish what had been taken and what we had left to try to start again. Jeremy sat down, looking ashen and broken, and put his head into his hands and let out a big sigh. I felt like having a good cry but did not want to do that in front of him, so I made the excuse that I was going out to get a newspaper.
Fortunately, it was still raining, which enabled me to use the umbrella to hide my tear-stained face as I walked along the high street. Gathering myself and putting on a brave front, I returned to the shop. Jeremy had not moved from his seat and was staring into space. I knew I was going to have to be strong for both of us if we were to survive this and I had to get him into a state of mind to move forward. I said that we would have to put more money into the business, starting with buying two more computers, as well as getting the website and accounts up to date. Jeremy just listened and I said that we ought to go and see his mum and Cliff, just to talk. I felt he needed their support.
At home that evening Jeremy said that he would call a solicitor for advice and representation since we had to find out our rights when it came to getting our property back and when. Then he sorted through invoice files, getting them organised so that he could call in a temporary bookkeeper, hopefully starting on Tuesday. I agreed to meet him at the shop the next evening in order to purchase two computers. I felt heartened that Jeremy was becoming more focused and we had some sort of plan.
Monday 4 November started off bright and sunny but I could not say the same for myself and Jeremy. All the positivity of the day before seemed to have disappeared and the reality of the situation was now kicking in. Nevertheless, while there was breath in our bodies we had to soldier on to seek the resolution of our problems. As we kissed to say goodbye, Jeremy said, ‘You promise you won’t tell anyone, will you?’ I hugged him, smiled and as I opened the front door to leave, I said, ‘Of course I won’t.’
Since January I had been working in facilities management and I was in line for a promotion the following year, after my manager retired. It was a marvellous opportunity for me to progress my career and I resented this monumental interruption.
Arriving at my workplace, walking through the entrance, listening to people recounting the events of their weekends, I yearned for that normality. It’s human nature to moan about lives becoming a routine, stuck in a rut, being a little mundane with certain peaks of excitement, but at that moment I would have traded it in for what I was up against now. My old life was simple and uncomplicated, my new life unknown territory that I had no desire to explore.
I got to my desk and turned on the PC. John asked me if I was feeling better after my sickness and although I replied I was, I felt a complete fraud. I looked up at him and before I could utter any words I just started to cry, which took even me by surprise. John ushered me into a quiet office nearby and knelt down before me holding my hands. ‘What’s the matter?’ he said. ‘Are you and Jeremy OK?’ I gathered from this that he thought we had had some mar
ital problem and I wished it was – that would have been much easier to deal with. I had known John for twelve years and knew I could trust him with a confidence and, despite my promise to Jeremy, I felt it was right to explain what had happened to us and even mention that terrible subject of child pornography.
‘Do you doubt Jeremy?’ he asked after I had finished telling him the whole sorry saga. I was absolutely resolute in my reply that I had no doubts about him whatsoever. Then John added, ‘Well, that’s good enough for me because I know you.’ He then added, ‘Be prepared for the long haul because, in my opinion, the police are out to get you no matter what.’
The morning seemed to go on forever and by lunchtime I felt shattered. As I passed my colleague Ray, whom I’d also worked with for many years, I felt I owed him some explanation for my troubled demeanour. I said, ‘I’m OK, Jeremy’s OK, but I can’t talk to you about anything right now but perhaps one day I might be able to.’ My voice tailed off with a quiver as I started to well up again. He just looked at me sympathetically and said, ‘I hate to see you upset like this,’ and being so considerate, he never pressed me further.
During that afternoon I sat quietly at my desk, pretending to work, but I was anxious to start my research on the internet for information. I could think of nothing else but the predicament I was in and my stomach churned with nerves. Should I dare to type in ‘Operation Ore’? I was worried about any search terms to identify me with child pornography both within my company’s IT department or external spying sources. Google revealed thousands of articles and I desperately read through as many of them as I could before having to get back to my real work.
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