Deity

by Matt Wesolowski

  RUBY

  Episode 246: Zach Crystal

  Legendary Presenter Ruby Rendall’s exclusive interview with pop megastar Zach Crystal. More >

  1 hr 45 • 9pm 20th Nov 2019 • Available for 28 days

  RR: Wow! Welcome back everyone, live with me, Ruby Rendall and Zach Crystal. Remember, this is live TV, so we must apologise again for the technical mishaps we’ve had, but as they say, the show must go on.

  [Applause]

  RR: And the show must go on for you, Zach Crystal, isn’t that right? What we just saw was a promo for the upcoming Forever tour, and tickets go live next week, is that right?

  ZC: That’s right, Ruby, all the details will be on ZachCrystal.com in the coming days.

  [Cheering]

  RR: Zach, we’re coming to the end of the show. It’s been … I mean it’s just been a blast, but it’s gone by so quickly.

  ZC: I know, I know. It’s been such a pleasure.

  RR: How does it feel doing your longest, most in-depth ever television interview, after all these years? Finally getting to talk to your audience on such a personal, emotional level, after all this time. It must feel liberating.

  ZC: You know … it’s been … Well, I wonder what I was scared of.

  [Laughter]

  RR: Was that it though, Zach? Was it fear that kept you hidden for so long?

  ZC: Always, always fear. I’ve always been so scared of the world, ever since I was a little kid.

  RR: You had your sister to look out for you then, didn’t you, before you went solo? Is that when things got scary, do you think?

  ZC: I think so. Naomi has always been my protector. She still is. She always protected me from … things … at home and when we used to play in those sleazy bars when we were kids. Even though we’re the same age, she’s always been the strong one.

  I’ve been so frightened of what people think of me. That’s why it hurts so much when people make up such horrible things about me. All these accusations. That’s where I’ve been, you know, getting my courage together, finding my courage to speak out.

  RR: What is it you want to say to the world? You have the world in the palm of your hand right now. We expect this to be the largest audience we’ve ever had for anything on the BBC. What does Zach Crystal want to tell the world after forty-five years?

  [Cheering and chanting begins from the audience and from outside.]

  RR: What is that, they’re saying?

  [For the first time, Crystal looks flustered. He mouths along with the chanting for a moment, his lips seeming to form the word ‘Frith’. He shakes his head and continues.]

  ZC: Fri … I guess I just want to say … to say thank you. First and foremost. The fans, the people who believe in me, have made me who I am. It is through you, the people, the fans, that I’ve been allowed to find my true voice. They’re the ones who protect me now. I’m able to come out and do an interview because of the people that have my back.

  There’s been some disgusting, horrible things said against me in the press. There are terrible, ruthless people out there who want things from me. It’s these people that make me want to vanish, to disappear. So for every one of them out there, for every naysayer, I am so glad to see two Zach Crystal fans ready to stand up for the truth.

  RR: What is the truth, Zach? I have to ask. I have to ask you about the things people are saying about you. What would you say to the people who don’t believe you?

  ZC: I would tell them that the first place to look is inside themselves. Sadness, pain – those things fester inside us, those things can hurt us, can make us angry, make us want to lash out. When we do bad things, when we allow bad things to happen, those things leave a shadow behind. They leave pain. People don’t want to hold on to pain, so they lash out, they wield it. Pain is hereditary, hurt breeds hurt. It fills us up and drips down to those below us. I believe I have the capacity to heal that pain. People might think I’m crazy, but it’s true. And if I’m wrong, at least I tried.

  [Cheering and chanting]

  RR: And that’s what you do, isn’t it, Zach? That’s what you’ve always done – tried to help people with their pain.

  ZC: I’ll keep doing it as well. They can say what they like about me – the press can print whatever they want, but I’ll keep going.

  RR: So what does the future hold for Zach Crystal? There’s the next album, the tour…

  ZC: I want to go out there, Ruby, and do more work for those who are less fortunate, those who haven’t been able to have a good life. I want to help those whose parents have been abusive or absent. I want those people to believe they still have a place in this world. I want them to know that if no one else loves them, I do.

  [Cheering]

  ZC: I do, I do! I love you. You don’t have to be scared. You’re not alone.

  RR: That’s admirable, Zach, I—

  ZC: But also, Ruby, I have to say that something terrible is coming. I wish I could say what, but I can’t.

  RR: Are you talking globally? Climate change? War, that sort of thing?

  ZC: I wish I could say, Ruby. I wish I could tell you. Maybe it’s about the world, but most probably, it’s about me.

  [The studio lights flicker on and off, the picture becomes pixelated and the audio is distorted by a hissing sound.]

  ZC: [inaudible]

  RR: [inaudible] … technical issues again. I do apologise, Zach, I don’t know what’s going on.

  ZC: It’s OK…

  RR: You say something terrible? I’m surprised. Your future right now seems so hopeful, the world has opened up and you’ve stepped back into it.

  ZC: I know, Ruby, I know. Sometimes though, you can’t help knowing when great tragedy is afoot.

  RR: And you’re sure of this.

  ZC: It’s as real as me, right here, right now. It’s as real as I am.

  [There is a sudden crashing sound and the studio lights go off.]

  RR: Oh not again. I’m so sorry … I—

  [The picture goes completely blank before cutting back to Zach Crystal in closeup.]

  ZC: It’s as real as me…

  [The picture dissolves into a mess of pixels and the audio’s pitch drops]

  ZC: …right here, right now. It’s as real as I am.

  [The picture cuts to a brief scene from the studio. Zach Crystal, standing, pointing at something in the distance, behind the camera. There is a scream from the audience and cheering from the fans outside. The BBC One logo appears on the screen for a few seconds.]

  Programme information – technical difficulties

  We are currently experiencing some technical problems with our live broadcast.

  We are looking into these and hope to have the issues resolved soon.

  RR: Ooh, I’m sorry, I do apologise, we’re back, we’re back and … listen. Listen, can you hear them?

  [Chanting from the fans outside]

  RR: Amazing, almost … er … well. I suppose we draw to a close on good news, and that’s that those members of our wonderful audience who were having some issues earlier in the show, seem to have made a full recovery. That’s so great to hear, right?

  ZC: Of course. They’re all wonderful. All of them.

  RR: Zach, I don’t want to end this on a downward note. I want to thank you. I want to say thank you from the fans, from everyone who has followed your music and your career. It’s safe to say you’ve been an inspiration to so many. I hope that you continue to inspire others for many years to come.

  ZC: That’s all we have isn’t it, Ruby? Hope. That’s one thing we can hang on to in this journey of life. Always, there is hope.

  RR: This has been me, Ruby Rendall, and this has been Zach Crystal. It’s been an absolute pleasure to speak to Zach and here’s to hope.

  ZC: To hope…

  Episode 6: Being Nobody

  —1988. I was thirteen. I remember because it was my birthday. We were too poor to have presents, really. I’d got some new clothes, a dress that my mum
had got from a charity shop and done some work on. It was beautiful, but even then I remember thinking where on earth will I wear that? Then realising where I would have to wear it and my heart sinking.

  It was sunny as well, a beautiful day. There was one park in Barlheath; probably the only nice thing there, to be honest, and even then it wasn’t that great. There was a summerhouse, which had mostly fallen down and smelled of piss, but there was also a few paths that converged in a little cenotaph right in the middle, with a stone statue of a soldier in a tin hat waving goodbye to his family. I don’t know why but I loved that statue. It never got vandalised and there were always those little balsa-wood crucifixes with poppies sellotaped to them lying all over the base, where the soldier’s boots were. There were roses planted underneath in two neat little boxes.

  It was always peaceful there. Sometimes there’d be a pensioner or two sat on the benches, but usually no one else. Everyone stayed in the kids’ play area over the other side of the park. I used to sit at the soldier statue and read for an hour after school. It was a wonderful place.

  That day, my birthday, I had homework. I had to write a war poem. We’d been doing Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon, and I remember I was just full of inspiration that day. The cenotaph was a little suntrap, and I remember pulling out my exercise book and sitting, the sun on my face, staring at that soldier, trying to conjure up some words. Who was he? Where had he come from? What were his fears, his hopes? Did he believe he was ever going to return? I just sat there, waiting for it to come, the inspiration. I was basking in just being a normal kid in school. That was what brought me peace.

  I must have drifted off, because when I opened my eyes, there was someone sitting next to me. This boy. About my age, maybe a bit older. He had my exercise book in his hands.

  I don’t know what it was about him, but I just got a bad vibe, almost immediately. That sounds nasty, doesn’t it? I couldn’t help it. I was polite though. He told me I’d dropped my book, so I said thank you and pretended I needed to leave. I sat there, packing up my bag. He asked my name, and I didn’t know what to say so I just told him. He told me his and asked if I fancied a walk through the park. I said I had to get home. He asked where I lived.

  Right now, today, there’ll be all sorts of alarm bells going off, but back then I just thought he was being kind. I said that I lived on the Hopesprings and he made this face, like, oh man! He said that it was a dangerous place, that estate, and wasn’t I scared? I told him I’d lived there my whole life and no, I wasn’t scared.

  He was sat really close to me – far too close, really invading my personal space. He was inching closer and closer, and I could smell mints on his breath, and aftershave, like my dad wore, but he was blatantly too young to shave. It was like he’d prepared himself for this. Now, I wonder how many times he’d seen me there, after school, reading books my parents wouldn’t let me read – the Judy Blumes, Sheila the Great, Superfudge and, of course, Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret.

  Honestly, I felt a tiny bit flattered at first, but the … the intensity of him disturbed me; so close to me. I stood up. I was trying to be nice, trying to smile. I was giving him the smile I gave Dad when he was in a rage, when everything was my fault, as usual. I said I had better get going as I had homework to do, and he said he’ll walk me home. To the Hopesprings Estate. I told him it was fine, I didn’t need him to, but he told me he was going to come anyway, so I was safe. The way he said it – he didn’t ask, he told me.

  I felt all tight inside, scared, and I thought I was going to cry. He then said that he knew who I was, that he’d seen me perform. His dad had taken him to The Sow and watched me sing. I didn’t know what on earth to say back. I just mumbled thanks and began to walk, but he followed me. I couldn’t speak, I decided I wouldn’t go home straight away, so we just walked, and he was chatting away. He kept asking if he could carry my bag, and when I said no, he tried to hold my hand.

  I remember him asking me where I was going – we were walking in the opposite direction to the Hopesprings; we were beside the indoor market where you can smell the butcher’s, thick and meaty. I said that I’d just remembered I had to meet someone, and he asked who. I told him my dad was a policeman. I’d heard about someone doing that, in a book maybe; that was what you were supposed to do if you meet a stranger. But strangers were old men in cagoules, asking you if you want to come see their puppies, not a kid, not someone my age.

  It worked, because he balked. He said he had to be somewhere too, actually, and asked for my phone number. I didn’t know what else to do so I gave it to him, but at the last moment I changed the last digit. This was before the days of someone drop-calling you immediately on a mobile. He said he would call and we could hang out sometime. He told me again, that’s what we could do.

  I hung around the market for hours and spent the last of my dinner money on a bus home. I was terrified, looking out of the window all the way, wondering if I’d see him.

  I didn’t go to the park after that. I just went straight home after school. After about a week or so, I forgot all about it.

  Then, one morning, my dad called me into the kitchen. I was terrified. When Dad called you into the kitchen, it meant you’d done something wrong – something ‘against God’, usually.

  I walked downstairs, the walk of shame. It was always me who was in trouble. It was never me who got to listen to records on a Sunday afternoon; it was always me who had to practise harder, to rehearse longer.

  He was sat there, at the table, with a letter in his hand. The envelope was torn open and I could see photocopied handwriting. Dad’s face was unreadable. He handed it to me without saying anything. To this day, I remember what it said.

  Dear fellow resident of the Hopesprings Estate, Barlheath,

  I met someone the other day, beside Barlheath Cenotaph. She was beautiful and talented. We chatted about everything and when we parted she gave me her phone number. Unfortunately that number has either been disconnected or she made a mistake.

  All I know is that she sings with the voice of an angel and lives somewhere on the Hopesprings Estate. Can you help me find my lost love?

  It was the creepiest, weirdest thing I’d ever seen. And when I realised that he lived on the estate too, that made it even worse. He’d acted like he was just some passer-by, when really he’d been this close to me all along. He’d been utterly convincing, and that’s what made me scared of him. There was a phone number. I remember that twisted fear inside me. I told Dad it had nothing to do with me, that he wouldn’t leave me alone, that I didn’t even want to talk to him. But Dad wasn’t angry. Not at all. In fact, he laughed. He told me that this was ‘romantic’, it was ‘sweet’. I know he didn’t approve of me having a boyfriend, that was out of the question. But he told me that this was The Crystal Twins’ first ‘proper fan’. He thought it was brilliant.

  So I called him. I called that number. I spoke to that boy. I don’t even remember our conversation, but I recall that Dad said I should tell him to invite all his friends to our next show.

  It went from there.

  That was how James Cryer ended up in our lives.

  Welcome to Six Stories

  I’m Scott King.

  For the last five weeks, we’ve been sifting through the remains of the enigma that was Zach Crystal – his bizarre life, his suspicious death and the allegations of abuse. This has been, so far, the most trying case I’ve ever covered. Six stories – six people’s views on such a famous person – are not nearly enough for someone like Crystal. There’s a multitude of other voices that we could have aired instead, hundreds more angles I could have taken to present what I have presented so far.

  But here we are.

  It is almost impossible to say you grew up without the music of Zach Crystal playing some part in your life. He was all over the radio, the television, and as the internet became a stalwart of the family home, he was there too. Zach Crystal, for many of you, played a significa
nt part in your lives. If he didn’t, I’m going to guess you know someone for whom he did.

  For many, Zach Crystal was a hero – a philanthropic genius who could do no wrong. His odd appearance and behaviour, his strange beliefs, made him who he was; they made him stand out from the crowd. To this day, I still catch myself humming or singing his songs. Since the allegations of abuse came to light, I have found myself at an impasse – should I still listen to his music, or not? It’s the same for so many people.

  I wish that one of the voices in this series came from one of Crystal’s five high-profile victims: Sammy Williams, Mary Wooton, Gabrielle Martinez, Zofia Kowalski or Jennifer Rossi. For legal reasons, they have chosen to keep their silence, for now. What I have established, however, is that there were many more victims of Zach Crystal than just these five women. I want all their voices to ring true where they matter – in court, where I hope they will receive justice for what was done to them.

  There are those who want to cast Crystal’s victims as money-grabbers, as opportunists looking to make a quick buck from a man who can no longer defend himself. But I don’t doubt their stories. Not anymore. Not since I recorded this last episode.

  I know that when this goes out, there’ll be a horde of detractors. I know that there are many who’ll accuse me of opportunism and character assassination. But ultimately, I hope that the time and money I’ve invested into investigating the myth that is Zach Crystal will go some way to help repair the damage he’s done.

  While driving to the town of Barlheath in the English Midlands, to meet Naomi Crystal, Zach’s sister, I am overcome with just how surreal the entire situation is. Thanks to Skexxixx, who passed her details to me, I was able to get in touch with her. I was surprised at how calm she seemed when I told her who I was and what I was doing. Naomi seemed more annoyed that Skexxixx gave me her details than anything else.

  So now, for our final episode, here we are, back in Naomi and her brother’s home town. The place where it all began.