My name is Fenn.
Everything you are about to read can be settled. Three years on, nobody who could settle it will.
I was raped and sexually abused as a child and on into my teens. It went on for years, in more than one place, and it happened hundreds of times.
Freemasons from the lodge collected me from school and drove me across the country. They drugged me for the journey, and I was raped on the way.
In the school holidays I was left at my grandparents' house for weeks at a time. Men came to the house. It happened every day I was there.
I was a child when my mother took me abroad. I was raped there for ten days, and I overdosed.
There was nowhere it did not reach. I was never safe.
It has shaped every day since. Every decision, every relationship, every conversation I have ever had. I am not even gay. I have not lived my life. I have lived around the thing that was done to me.
Three years ago I understood what had been done to me, and I went to my family with it. Not one of them denied it. Every one of them stopped speaking to me. Every one of them has blocked me. I have no way of contacting a single member of my family now, down to cousins. What is supposed to happen is that a family comes, and puts its arms around you, and finds out what was done to you. That is what a family is for. Nobody came.
Two questions come out of this, and neither has ever been answered.
The man who raised me was not my father. My father is my uncle. I spent forty years trying to earn the love of a man who knew I was not his son.
And I believe I fathered a child, as a teenager, inside my own family. Neither of us was ever told. She grew up believing something else entirely, and so did I.
Both could be settled by a cheek swab in the post. I have asked the people who could settle them. I put it to my stepmother, Allison, directly. She read it and never answered, and then she blocked me. For three years I have put it to the police, in reports, in complaints, in writing. Nobody has refused because it is difficult. They have refused because it is easy. If I am wrong, any one of them could end this tomorrow. Three years on, not one of them has.
I reported all of it. What five English police forces then did with those reports is set out in Case File One, in their own words. It is their record, not mine.
This site is where the rest of it goes. Everything I have, bit by bit, as I am able to put it up, including my own account, which is still to come. I carried this alone for a very long time and I am not doing that any more.
If you knew me, or knew my family, or know anything about any of this, I want to hear from you. You can write anonymously and in confidence, and it commits you to nothing.
If you are a journalist, or a lawyer, and you can see what this is, please get in touch.
And some of you reading this know more than you have ever said out loud. You can come to me now, while that is still your decision to make. It will not be yours for much longer.
This is just the beginning.
Fenn Hugo Jester
formerly Benjamin Thomas Jacks