TODAY (4 July 2019) OUTSIDE THE OLD BAILEY Former decorated Leicestershire Constabulary officer Dionne Miller tells how Gordon Brown & Jacqui Smith ordered all police forces not to investigate grooming gangs

It was Jackie Smith's husband who tried to reclaim the rental of a pornographic film on her expenses.
The calibre of our political class has gone from zero to Nero.

kaz wrote:It was Jackie Smith's husband who tried to reclaim the rental of a pornographic film on her expenses.

The calibre of our political class has gone from zero to Nero.

"The calibre of our political class has gone from zero to Nero".

Agreed.

JACQUI SMITH AND THE PRECIOUS TRUST

http://precioustrust.co.uk/what-we-do

Our Mission
 
"Every day the team hear first-hand accounts of girls and young women being exploited for criminal purposes, and forced to become a form of sexual currency. The reality of this hidden abuse is that girls often suffer in silence.
 
Our mission is to fight on their behalf and to enable them to keep safe, rebuild their lives, and enjoy a more positive future.
 
We do this in two ways; campaigning for change and through directly supporting females...!

OUR CHAIRMAN: RT HON JACQUI SMITH

 
Chair
 
Rt Hon Jacqui Smith is Chair of the Precious Trust. She also chairs Sandwell Children’s Trust and University Hospitals Birmingham NHS Trust. She is a Trustee of the Kings Fund and the Jo Cox Foundation. She was MP for Redditch between 1997 and 2010 and served as a Minister in the Education, Health, Industry and Equality portfolios and in the Cabinet as Chief Whip and the UK’s first woman Home Secretary


====== 


This is the woman who gave orders (1) to the nation's 43 police forces to refuse to investigate Muslim grooming gangs abusing, torturing and raping white girls in the nation's cities & (2) to Leicestershire Police,  the Home Office, MI5 and other agencies to cover up what really happened to Madeleine McCann - by suppressing information required by Dr Goncalo Amaral and his PJ team, such as the statements by Dr Arul (Savio) Gaspar and Dr Katharina Gaspar    

Oh, didn't Jacqui Smith and Gordon Brown meet up with missing Madeleine's Father Gerald, then given a "Special Award"?

Remember "Fettesgate",  Gordon, from the Highlands of Scotland,then the D-Notice on "Dunblane" courtesy of QC Mr Michael Forsyth, Labour   MP George Robinson verified the"Alleged Shooter" to be of sound mind on Gun Licence application for Mr Hamilton, which the Police disagreed, but Mr Hamilton gained access to fire Arms, "Special Bullets" in that process?

Mr William Hague,Macur review,Bryn Alyn, Estyn, John Majors Government, where sweet Edwina gave Savile access to Broad Moor Hospital Patients, wasn't Mr Brady Housed their with the "Yorkshire Ripper"?

No Patients were harmed during their detainment at "Broad Moor", nor any complaints made during that period of the Tres Amigo's?

PeterMac wrote:and your point is . . . .   ?

There is no point to any of willowtheW's posts.

I try. 
I really do.

I strongly advise to ignore.

No need cause forum disharmony for something that can so easily be disregarded.

I don't believe there is any mischief intended.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-7234013/Policewoman-revealed-truth-Rochdale-sex-gangs-breaks-silence.html

No Apologies for pasting the article in full.   Everyone should read it, and realise where Britain now is.


The real angel of the north: The abuse of young girls by Rochdale sex gangs is one of the great scandals of our time. In a shattering new book, the policewoman who revealed the truth breaks her silence – and shames the superiors who betrayed her...

• Former police officer Maggie Oliver worked on Rochdale sex abuse investigation
  
• Mother-of-four persuaded girls who were being sexually abused to talk to police 
  
• She resigned from police force after claiming victims had been failed by officers
  

By MAGGIE OLIVER FOR THE DAILY MAIL
PUBLISHED: 22:04 BST, 10 July 2019 | UPDATED: 23:26 BST, 10 July 2019


They were robbed of their childhood by a gang of Asian paedophiles and dismissed as ‘white trash’ by people who should know better.
To me, however, the two sisters at the heart of the Rochdale scandal are like my surrogate children.
Amber and Ruby [not their real names] are both grown-up now, with children of their own, but I know they still don’t feel safe. This week, Amber told me that one of her abusers works in a takeaway close to her home in Rochdale. Her worst fright, though, came last year, when she allowed her daughter to play outside a friend’s house with some other children.
Later, after saying goodbye to her friend, Amber turned and found one of her abusers in front of her, staring at her little girl. Smirking, he walked calmly to his car and drove away.


Oh, he knew who Amber was, all right. He was also fully aware that he’d escaped justice — like so many of his mates, who’d also raped or sexually abused the sisters. They, too, still freely walk the streets of Rochdale. So why weren’t they prosecuted?
As the former police officer who was once at the centre of the Rochdale sex‑gang investigation — and as the whistleblower who exposed its appalling flaws — I believe I know the answer. It’s politics.


Politics appear to drive too many policing decisions. Indeed, my own view is that if you’re promoted to superintendent or above, you can freely let go of your conscience, it seems, and move smoothly up the ladder. But judge for yourselves. This is the story of what happened to Amber and Ruby . . . and to the paedophiles who preyed on them and so many others.
When I graduated from police college in 1997, I was already aged 42 and the mother of four children.
A few years later, I landed my dream job as a family liaison officer with Greater Manchester Police. Then, at the end of 2010, a detective chief superintendent summoned me to his office and asked me to join Operation Span.
It was being set up to investigate the serious sexual abuse of vulnerable white children by men of Asian origin which had been going on for a long time. And he needed me to interview the two sisters at the heart of the investigation.
‘If anyone can gain the trust of this family, we know it’s you, Mags,’ he added. ‘But because of their previous dealings with the police, the family is extremely hostile.’
What he went on to tell me almost defied belief.
Rochdale police had launched an investigation into the town’s sex gangs a couple of years before. Yet, despite powerful evidence against them, not one man had been charged.
This was, at least partly, because their child victims had been written off as ‘unreliable witnesses’ who, according to the Crown Prosecution Service, had made ‘lifestyle choices’ to become ‘prostitutes’.
It got worse.
The police hadn’t interviewed Amber as one of the victims. Instead, they’d arrested her — on suspicion of procuring a child into prostitution.
Her crime? Accompanying a friend who was four months younger to the kebab shop where some of the abusers hung out.
Yet at 15, she was an under-age victim herself, groomed by paedophiles and in no sense a ‘madam’.
Rochdale police never charged Amber. By arresting her, however, they managed to traumatise and alienate her entire family.
Meanwhile, her sister, Ruby, had been raped by a married Asian man at the age of 12, and subsequently had an abortion. Unbeknown to her, the police had taken the foetus, which was currently stored in an ‘exhibits’ freezer.
My stomach lurched. Surely that was illegal?
Yet now, not only was I expected to break the news about the foetus to Ruby, but I was somehow supposed to win over two sisters who’d been badly let down by the police.
That didn’t worry me, though. What did — very much so — was the thought of gaining the trust of vulnerable girls, only for the police to let them down yet again.
I knew only too well that this could happen, and not just because of their previous experience. As a police officer, I’d already taken part in a similar investigation in 2004 — and all the men had escaped scot-free.


‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I told the chief superintendent, standing up abruptly as he looked at me in astonishment.
Five years before, I’d had high hopes when I joined Operation Augusta, which focused on girls sexually abused by Asian gangs in Manchester.
Early on, I’d been astonished to discover that social workers had compiled lists of dozens of these abused children, and repeatedly called in the police — but nothing had been done.
Yet now, the police seemed to have had a change of heart and had become fully committed to bringing the abusers to justice.
The fact that they were predominately of Pakistani origin barely registered: I’ve never been remotely racist.
The evidence was shocking. White girls — as young as 11 and all in care homes — had initially been approached by Pakistanis in their teens and 20s, who then became their ‘boyfriends’.
After coercing them into sex, their abusers would pass them on to older men for sex, using cash incentives or threats of violence, or both.
There were sex parties involving up to 20 Asian men and one white girl, who was expected to have sex with them all in return for a few quid.


One day, I drove with a victim around the area where the men operated. On spotting a man emerging from a black 4 x 4, she suddenly covered her face with her hands. ‘He’s one of ’em who’s been abusing us. I’d recognise him anywhere,’ she said.
Later, back at the station, I did a check on the vehicle. Within minutes, I had a phone call from an officer who specialised in police corruption. Why had I just run that registration check, he asked.
After I’d explained, he told me: ‘Right, well, we have this person under surveillance. He’s a serving [police] officer, so let us deal with him, OK?’
So, it wasn’t just takeaway workers and taxi drivers involved. If this was an organised ring of abusers, its tentacles appeared to have spread even into the police force.
By spring 2004, we had an initial list of almost 207 Asian men who we believed had been abusing at least 26 children. And we knew this was the tip of the iceberg.
Unfortunately, two years into Operation Augusta, I had to take several months off work. My husband Norman was in the final stages of colon cancer, so I dropped everything to care for him.


Still, I left Augusta with an easy conscience, utterly convinced that dozens of the paedophiles we’d identified were about to be charged.
Norman died on July 5, 2005, leaving me shocked and numbed. When I finally returned to work that September, I asked for an update.
‘Oh, yeah, they’ve warned a couple of the younger lads under the Child Abduction Act,’ a colleague told me.
No one had been charged, let alone convicted. I was devastated. All that work, and for what? It just didn’t make sense.
I tried to speak to my bosses about it, but hit a brick wall.
In hindsight, perhaps I should have looked more closely at current events. On July 7, 2005, four home-grown terrorists had exploded bombs in London, killing 52 people and injuring almost 800. The last entry on the Augusta database had been made on July 6 — and the operation had been shut down the following month.
 To the police, I believe, revealing the extent of child grooming of white girls by Muslim men would have been akin to adding petrol to an already inflammatory situation
To the police, I believe, revealing the extent of child grooming of white girls by Muslim men would have been akin to adding petrol to an already inflammatory situation.
By shutting down the operation, the police could avoid accusations of Islamophobia and the threat of riots on the streets.
Nothing else makes sense to me. To my mind, it was more convenient for the government to ignore the plight of a few girls from the so-called ‘underclass’ than to tackle the crimes of their abusers.
So now, five years on, I was being asked to take part in a similar exercise, with no guarantee it wouldn’t end the same way.
But as I got up to leave, the chief superintendent told me to sit back down again.
‘There’ll be no repeat of Operation Augusta,’ he insisted. ‘I give you my word that will not happen this time. I know it’s a massive challenge, but we need these girls as witnesses, Maggie. They’re our best chance of putting these men away.’
He also reassured me that both the police and Crown Prosecution Service had decided that, far from being a procuress, Amber was purely a victim. I accepted the job. My first task, I decided, was to try to befriend the girls’ mother, Lorna [also not her real name].


From the information we already had, I learned that she’d repeatedly told the authorities — police, social services, sexual health, council and education representatives — that her girls were being sexually abused. Nothing had been done, despite the fact that one of her daughters was 12.
It took weeks of phone calls, just chit-chat, to reach the point where Lorna agreed to meet for a cup of tea in a nearby supermarket. That day, I told her about my own children and we connected properly for the first time.
It was obvious to me that Lorna loved her kids — all seven of them. But she was just exhausted, trying to juggle so many balls in the air. In many ways, I admired the fact she was still standing.
Talking to me soon became a form of respite, even if I was a copper. One day, as we walked around a local reservoir, she suddenly confided: ‘Those men, they pulled out a gun and threatened to kill Amber, you know.’
Everything was falling into place. We had DNA proof. We had detailed statements. So why was it that when I delivered the spectacular news to my bosses, I sensed something wasn’t right . . .
It was the first time she’d touched on the abuse of her girls.
She sighed. ‘I kept banging on doors, but no one would listen. Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, they arrested Amber.
‘They put her in a police cell for seven hours. She was 15 and terrified out of her wits. She’d done nothing wrong, Maggie.
‘It left her scarred, up here,’ Lorna said, tapping a finger against her head. ‘She’s scared stiff because she thinks they’re gonna throw her in a cell again and never let her out.’
I assured her that, this time, everything would be different: ‘My bosses have given their word. We’ll support you all right through this process. Trust me.’
At this point, Ruby, now 15, still lived at home. She had anger issues, a Statement of Educational Needs and went to a special school.
Amber, now 18, had eventually broken away from the grooming gang, found a boyfriend and had a child. After the relationship foundered, she was forced to live in a tiny bedsit on the top floor of a hostel for the homeless — hardly the ideal place for a three- month-old baby.
Soon afterwards, Lorna took me to meet Amber. The girl who unlatched the door looked like a frightened child, but at least her baby boy seemed clean and happy.


She was horribly isolated. Simply because she’d been arrested in connection with an alleged sexual offence, social services had banned her from a drop-in centre for young mothers and even from taking a college course.
In my opinion, this was outrageous and cruel. I firmly believe that there’s no such thing as a good victim or a bad victim, particularly when we’re talking about a child who was raped on a daily basis. On top of that, Amber was frightened to leave the bedsit in case she bumped into the men who had abused her. So day after day, she sat alone, nursing her son in a shelter for the homeless.
That day, I rocked her baby to sleep. Afterwards, I started seeing Amber most days, trying to offer support and encouragement. Eventually, she agreed to let me interview her.
She’d had sex with one of her abusers, she said, after he’d got her drunk on Jack Daniel’s. After that, they’d often gone to a place called The Balti House, where she’d been introduced to other men.
At first it was fun: along with other girls, she’d eat, drink and watch videos.
But all too soon Amber was being plied with alcohol until she was drunk — then ordered to have sex with men she knew only by their ‘street names’: Billy, Daddy, Car Zero, Cassie Cars, Tiger, Taz, Tariq, Pino, Saj … the list went on and on.
Over subsequent interviews, Amber named 33 suspects, many of whom picked up young girls in their cars and raped them on the moors, far from view.
She also described the moment a man pulled a gun on her and Ruby because they’d refused to have sex with him: ‘That made him mad, so he told me he’d kill me, shoot me. I was really scared.’
During another interview, she confided: ‘Ruby sees these men as her friends. She doesn’t want to help the police because she doesn’t want her friends to go to prison.’
Yet I knew that Operation Span was particularly keen to place Ruby’s account on the record, because DNA evidence would tie her aborted foetus both to herself and her abuser.
Meanwhile, the case was building strongly. We had evidence of dozens of abusers, and were confident that the network would be smashed.
Ruby refused to cooperate at first, but that April I had a break-through. ‘People have let you down,’ I told her. ‘I’d like to speak to you so that they don’t put other children through what you’ve been through.’ She sighed, and suddenly agreed to talk.
‘There’s a man who picked me up from school,’ she said. ‘I’d have sex with him. He took me to another house, where there were ten men sat in a circle. They passed me around like a ball and took it in turns to have sex with me.’
There was a lot of boasting from the abusers about ‘chilling with white girls’. Indeed, looking back, I believe strongly that we should have brought in a ‘racially aggravated’ element to the investigation. There was no doubt these girls were being targeted for their ethnicity — and the perception that white girls are ‘easy’.
My heart ached for Ruby as she named the men and identified where they’d taken her. At one address, they kept a list of 20 names on the back of the door. Each man would tick a box to say he’d had sex, and then leave cash in a paedophile ‘honesty’ box for use of the premises.


Only one white girl was abused at a time, no doubt because a lone child is more vulnerable and easier to control. There are also no witnesses should she one day decide to cry rape.
At 12, Ruby was drinking neat vodka from a bottle, and often being sick in the cars that took her to other northern towns to have sex with strangers.
And then, of course, she became pregnant. When I told her the police still had her foetus, she looked at me in horror. ‘What! That’s not right. How could they do that? It’s terrible.’
I explained that we needed a sample of her DNA so we could prove who the father was. She whisked the consent form from me: ‘Just show me where to sign.’
After six months, everything was falling into place. We had DNA proof. We had detailed statements. Amber had identified eight abusers in her very first video identity parade and would soon be picking out the rest.
So why was it, then, that when I delivered all this spectacular news to my bosses, I sensed something wasn’t right?
They should have been ecstatic. Instead, it felt like someone had died.
As I pondered over this, a senior officer turned to me. ‘Maggie, let’s be honest about this. What are these kids ever going to contribute to society?’ he said. ‘In my opinion, they should have just been drowned at birth.’
For once in my life, I was rendered utterly speechless. What was going on?
As I’ll be revealing tomorrow, I was soon to find out . . .

The child sex victims betrayed by police afraid of being called racist: In our final extract from her book, ex-police officer MAGGIE OLIVER reveals what happened after she exposed the Rochdale grooming gang

By MAGGIE OLIVER FOR THE DAILY MAIL
PUBLISHED: 21:59 BST, 11 July 2019 | UPDATED: 22:22 BST, 11 July 2019

Yesterday, former police officer Maggie Oliver revealed how she won the trust of young victims of sex abuse gangs in Rochdale, convincing them to go on the record to give evidence. But just when she felt confident arrests would be made, everything seemed to fall apart — leaving her at a loss as to why her bosses didn’t seem to share her hunger for justice. Here, in the last part of our series, she reveals what happened next...
For a few months, I genuinely wondered if I was going mad. As a serving police officer, I was convinced I’d witnessed a gross miscarriage of justice — and yet no one seemed to agree.
At its heart were two vulnerable young sisters, who’d been aged just 12 and 15 when they were caught up in the tentacles of an Asian paedophile gang in Rochdale.

‘Trust us,’ we’d told Ruby and Amber. ‘We’ll do our utmost to bring all of these vile men to trial, so that no other children will have to suffer at their hands.’
But we hadn’t. Instead, we’d pulled back and let most of the abusers off the hook. And that made me boil with fury, particularly as it was me who’d coaxed the sisters over several months to relive their searingly painful experiences in a police interview suite.
But what could I do? I was just a detective constable, and my bosses refused to take my complaints seriously.
I appealed for help to the Police Federation, the Children’s Commissioner and the Independent Police Complaints Commission, but no one would support me. I was completely on my own.
One of my kinder colleagues advised me to just ‘get your bum on the seat, take your wage and go home.’ But I simply couldn’t sit there, quietly waiting for retirement.
Not only had Amber and Ruby suffered an appalling injustice — but most of their abusers were still walking the streets of Rochdale.
Ruby had been 12 when the rapes began. Her sister, Amber, was 15. To begin with, neither wanted to tell me the details of their ordeal; they both despised the police, and saw me as just another officer who was bound to let them down. 
  

8

(Top row left to right) Abdul Rauf, Hamid Safi, Mohammed Sajid and Abdul Aziz; (bottom row left to right) Abdul Qayyum, Adil Khan, Mohammed Amin and Kabeer Hassan. The men were all jailed for their part in the Rochdale abuse

I could hardly blame them. Two years before, Rochdale police had launched an investigation into Asian paedophiles who were abusing children — but wound it up without charging a single man.
Instead, they’d arrested Amber on suspicion of procuring a child for prostitution, though never charged her. It was nonsense — what she’d done was to take along a friend, four months younger, to the takeaway where her abusers often gathered. No one had seemed to understand that Amber herself was the victim of paedophile grooming. So she’d been locked up in a police cell, an experience that left her utterly traumatised.
Roll on a couple of years. In 2010, Greater Manchester police launched Operation Span to take up where Rochdale police left off.
And they quickly realised that without Amber and Ruby’s testimony, many of the paedophile gang would walk free. That’s where I came in.
Over six months, I got to know the two girls and eventually persuaded them to do a series of taped interviews. As a police officer, I’d heard dreadful things, but what the girls told me was in another category altogether.

Lured in by young men, the girls had been passed on to dozens of older Asians — chiefly Pakistani — for sex, and had even been threatened with a gun and a knife.
They’d been encouraged to drink neat spirits until they were drunk, bundled into cars and taken to other northern towns for sex with dozens of strangers. At 12, poor Ruby had become pregnant.
Between them, the sisters provided compelling and highly detailed evidence against 29 men. Already, Amber had identified nine of her abusers in video identity parades — and there were more to come. So I was feeling confident when the police arranged the first meeting between officers from Operation Span and the barrister appointed to prosecute the case.
As the officer dealing with the victims central to the case, I confidently expected to be there. But for some reason, I was excluded.
Later that day, one of the Operation Span officers came out of the meeting and walked over to my desk. ‘I can’t believe it, Maggie,’ she said. ‘They say they’re not going to use Amber any more.’
‘What!’ I looked at her with astonishment.
‘They’re saying she could undermine other witnesses,’ she continued. ‘I honestly can’t believe it.’
Unfortunately, I could. The police already had form on pulling back from prosecuting Asian paedophiles.
By ignoring what Amber had said on tape [the tapes], and all the evidence to back up her allegations, they’d hit on a convenient way to reduce the number of Asian defendants.
  
Why? Because the people at the top perceived the ethnicity of the offenders and the low status of poor white girls as a toxic mix. I’d go further: by putting fewer Muslim defendants in the dock, the police calculated they’d be less likely to incite accusations of Islamophobia.
After six months of work, after pursuing Amber on the direct orders of senior officers, after all the gold-plated assurances we’d given the sisters that they could trust us this time — well, here we were again.
Yet Amber’s evidence made it impossible to pretend that there wasn’t an epidemic of abuse in Rochdale. How could I, as a police officer, live with that knowledge?
Incandescent with rage, and heartbroken that Amber had been tossed aside as though she didn’t matter, I confronted my supervisor. ‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing!’ I shouted. ‘After putting her through hell, reliving the abuse, months of interviews, drive-arounds, identity parades — and now this?

The supervisor looked at me patronisingly. ‘Maggie! Calm down, calm down,’ he said. ‘Remember, this is all just a game.’
I looked at him in total disbelief. ‘A game?’ I gasped. He nodded; the justice system, he insisted, was just a game.
It took every ounce of my self-control not to flatten him right there and then. Instead, with the whole office looking on, I grabbed my bag and coat and walked out.
I knew I was a good officer. The list of commendations in my file attested to that, and I’d even had one for Operation Span. I had to do something — but what? At home, I was so troubled that I couldn’t eat or sleep, and my doctor signed me off work for a few weeks.
During this time, I was expressly forbidden from contacting Amber, Ruby or their distraught mother. After months of almost daily contact, they must have thought my disappearance from their lives was deliberate.

Then, one day in June 2011, Amber called with some critical information. One of our main suspects, who’d once threatened her with a knife, was living in a flat above a taxi company, she said.
This man was on the police national computer — ‘wanted’ for allegedly raping a child at knifepoint — and we considered him extremely dangerous. But so far, we’d been unable to find him
‘Maggie, he’s talking about fleeing the country,’ said Amber, after I picked up the phone. ‘He’s talking about going to Brazil, so you’ll need to catch him quickly.’
I immediately texted the head of Operation Span, who passed the information to a detective sergeant. Job done.
Amber called again 12 days later. ‘Why haven’t they arrested him?’ she asked. ‘He’s still there, living above the taxi rank.’
She sounded scared. ‘Maggie, he’s still [out] there. He could do this to another girl.’
I was flabbergasted, and once again texted my boss. All I could do was hope the man was arrested before he raped another child at knifepoint.
Two days later, a detective sergeant called me to say that a senior officer on Operation Span was demanding that I hand over my work mobile. What! The implication was clearly that I’d done something wrong, though I knew categorically that I hadn’t.
Why did they want it so badly? It felt as though someone was trying to silence me. I dug in my heels and refused to give up the phone.
About a month later, I received an extraordinary text from Lorna, the girls’ mother.
‘The girls are saying they are not doing any more [with the police] till you come back because it’s not the same,’ she said.
‘But [a male officer] said you weren’t doing your job properly. He said you were finished on this job, but Amber told him you are the best and it doesn’t matter how long it takes, she will wait for you.’
This was horrific: a colleague had made critical remarks about me to a witness. There was nothing I could do apart from report it up the chain.
Finally, I had a meeting with my boss, a detective chief inspector, about the girls. ‘None of this makes any sense,’ I said. ‘We worked so hard to bring this family on board — why are they being treated in this way?’
‘Look, Maggie,’ the DCI said, ‘senior officers make the decisions, and as a detective constable, you do as you’re told. Simple as that. You carry out orders — and if you can’t do that, then maybe you’re in the wrong job.’
I couldn’t help thinking back to a recent speech by the Manchester Chief Constable, in which he’d said the police should always ‘do the right thing’ and ‘challenge policies when we think they are wrong’.
That was precisely what I was doing, but it wasn’t getting me anywhere.
It was at this point that I had a light-bulb moment: my loyalty, I realised without a shadow of doubt, belonged to the children. And so I started raising my concerns with everyone I could think of, including the Chief Constable himself. He replied with a bland email.
Maggie Oliver: How YOU can spot and prevent child grooming


In the end, my only recourse was to go through the police’s grievance procedure.
Among the things I pointed out in my complaint was my belief that Manchester police were ‘knowingly failing in their duty to properly investigate horrendous crimes . . . and as a result we are allowing offenders to escape justice and failing to protect the most vulnerable in our society’.
The verdict? ‘No case to answer.’
I was in the depths of despair. How could the police force be turning a blind eye to children who’d been raped on a daily basis? Why was I the only one who seemed to care?
I was forced to conclude that I didn’t believe in my job any more. I was just a pawn in the ‘game’. I’d dared to question my senior officers and they had closed ranks against me.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, there was a horrific development.
The Crown Prosecution Service had belatedly realised that they did need some of Amber’s evidence for the trial, after all. Unfortunately, they had alienated her to the point where they knew she wouldn’t help.
So they did something utterly inhumane. They listed Amber as an offender so that some of what she’d said on tape could be used in court. To cap it all, they didn’t even tell her.
This meant Amber couldn’t have access to legal representation and had no chance of defending herself. I’d never heard of anything like this in my life; nor has any lawyer I’ve spoken to since.
The ironies piled up.
Months before, the CPS itself had officially designated Amber as a victim; and now it was lumping her together with paedophile abusers. Yet everything she’d said on tape had been from the viewpoint of a witness and victim.
In short, the CPS tactic was screwed-up, wicked and bizarre. Yet I couldn’t alert Amber or her family, because to do so might jeopardise the trial.

Just 11 men were tried in the end. Had Amber’s testimony been used in full, the number would probably have exceeded two dozen.
As it was, the case was built around the evidence of Ruby and two other girls. Inexplicably, Ruby was asked only about the paedophile who’d made her pregnant at 12. Not one of her other abusers has ever been charged.
At the trial, in May 2012, eight men originally from Pakistan and one from Afghanistan were given sentences ranging from four to 19 years. Two men were acquitted.
By early 2017, all but two of the abusers had been freed. In addition, four of the offenders were granted millions of pounds of taxpayers’ money to fight deportation back to Pakistan.
At the conclusion of the trial, I wept as I watched Assistant Chief Constable Steve Heywood deliver a speech on the court steps.
‘This has been a fantastic result for British justice,’ he crowed. ‘These victims have been through the most horrendous of crimes, and I just want to commend their bravery.’
There and then, I decided I had to speak up about the abusers who were still at large. I needed to resign from my job and become a whistle-blower.
At least my resignation freed me to see the sisters again. When Amber opened the door, she didn’t mince her words. ‘What the f*** do you want?’ she snapped.
After I’d explained that we’d all been betrayed, and that I’d left my job, she told me that no one from the police had contacted her at all — not even to tell her the result of the trial.
So I had to break it to her that she’d been put on the charge sheet herself, as one of the gang of paedophiles. Amber stared at me in shock.
‘Oh my God — it all makes sense now!’ she said. Then she burst into tears.
Once she’d calmed down, she told me she’d been summoned to the family court a week earlier. Unbelievably, social services were trying to take away her two children.
And they hadn’t told her why. ‘I didn’t know why until now. It all adds up. That’s why I’m being treated as a criminal. Jesus, I can’t believe this . . . ’
Her eldest was two years old, and there had never been any complaints about Amber as a mother. On the contrary: I knew she was loving and responsible.
The previous November, she’d given birth in hospital to her second child. Social services had immediately put a tag on her tiny daughter and forbidden Amber from taking her home.
Fortunately, the ward manager asked to see the paperwork which proved that the baby was at risk. There wasn’t any. But from then on, a social worker turned up at Amber’s house to watch her for hours each day.
‘I told them, Maggie,’ Amber wailed. ‘I said: “I’ve never hurt my baby. I’m a good mum.”’

She was horrified to hear that she was considered a potential child abuser with skewed sexual boundaries.
Words failed me. The CPS had itself declared this defenceless girl a victim — not an abuser. But because they’d put her on the charge sheet, without her knowledge, she risked losing her children. And there was no proof that Amber was a bad parent.
The family court judge gave Social Services a month to come up with some evidence. ‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘We’re going to fight this and I’ll help you.’
I quickly got her a lawyer and wrote a long statement, which was presented to the court. But Social Services had already placed her children on the Child Protection Register for a year, so the case remained open. They never did come up with any evidence, of course. For once, and against all the odds, Amber had won.
Around the same time as I called round to see her, I decided to go public. I chose BBC Radio 4’s flagship current affairs programme, File on Four, to tell the Rochdale story, and asked Amber and Ruby if they wanted to co-operate.
They did: although nervous about going on the radio, they were adamant that they wanted to prevent any other child going through what they’d experienced.
The programme was broadcast in March 2013. There was an immediate furore. Suddenly, lots of people seemed to want to know more about the real story of the Rochdale child abuse scandal.
Asked for a comment, the Chief Constable of Greater Manchester said that I’d become too emotionally involved with the family. He seemed to be saying: ‘Go away, you silly little girl, and let the grown-ups get on with the real work.’ But the genie was out of the bottle.
Next, I worked closely with a scriptwriter on a three-part drama-documentary, called Three Girls, which featured actors playing us all.
It wasn’t perfect: I felt that it pulled its punches, and the actor who portrayed me, Lesley Sharp, played me as cooler and more distant than I really am.
Amber and Ruby, for their part, were upset because they thought the drama played down the amount of abuse they’d suffered.
None of this fundamentally mattered, though.
In May 2017, the Bafta-winning BBC series was watched by nine million people — nearly eight per cent of the population. The story of what happened in Rochdale was now general knowledge.
The authorities could never again claim that what girls such as Amber and Ruby experienced is a ‘lifestyle choice’. And the police were at last forced to take allegations of sexual abuse and grooming by gangs more seriously.
Amber, however, continues to be punished. Not long after Three Girls had been broadcast, I received a panicked phone call from her at 1am.
Someone had identified her and put a photo of her house on Facebook. Given that many of her abusers still live in Rochdale, she was understandably alarmed.
She followed my advice to call the police straight away to tell them she was in danger. But when officers looked her up on their database, they could find no record of her ever having been a paedophile victim.
So they refused point-blank to help her.

This is just soooo shocking.

This is Maggie's twitter account: https://twitter.com/MaggieOliverUK

and her book on Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1789460859/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_awdo_eiEgDbAE15PHX

I hope she stays safe!

Hi jill Havern, thanks for the article from the Daily Mail, "Grooming Gang"? 

Yet they have a different mentality on "Child sexual Abuse", where person's from the upper Echelons of Society pervade from as named by,"Nick", Mr Carl Beech a"Fantasist", who he has named as his Abusers?

Loath Tommy Robinson(SYL) or like what he has tried to keep in the MSM headlines, "Grooming Gangs", the "Establishment" see his movement as a threat to what they have Once again tried to keep Covered Up, hence the necessity to incarcerate him from society?

How come a Former Prime Minister and Home Secretary have clearly shown a "Dereliction of Duty, Misconduct In Public Office" to minors from their own Country, in the actions they took in 2008-Protecting the Abusers?

Yet Mr Lennon is jailed for "endangering a Court Trail",where rightly or wrongly, there was a need to know basis of "Grooming gangs, being Covered Up by the state, UK Government from the electorate?

Yes, there may have been the need to "Tread carefully" on certain patronages of People from a different background, but the "Law is supposed to be, Fair,"Unbalanced", Not persuaded to a different direction, as can clearly be seen by Mrs Oliver's account of what Politicians wanted?

These were "Human Person's" Minors being openly Abused and the Politicians threw them to the "Gangs" predilections, let that Not be lost in translations-"Deserved It", is this How our Political classes see the electorate,treat them with disdain behind very closed doors in Parliament, its called contempt?

Meanwhile, whilst focusing on a bunch of low-life scum who have been running an illegal operation of mass sex abuse (and slavery?), behind the impenetrable walls of The Palace of Westminster, a bunch of high-life scum - the ring-leaders, continue to operate cosseted and unabated.

Or do they only find their victims in institutions provided for the security and safety of vulnerable children?

Or.....

Perhaps in this politically correct madness and cover-ups designed to pour fragrance on the Islamic scourge, is the shameful, utterly shameful case of Ali Dizaei.

The treatment of Mr Ali Dizaei has been something like an "Hokey Cokey Evening"?   You put your right leg in, guilty ma Lord, your Left leg out, Not guilty Ma Lord, you do the Hokey Cokey and swirl around, World of wonderment of how the Justice World copes?

Metropolitan Police Service investigate UK Ambassador Leak, Donald Trump disposal of UK duties?
Nearly Ten yrs after Operation Grange, Zilch, they'll uncover the Leak, just Ask Boris and his cohorts Bannon, save a lot of time and money?

Democracy is Dead in the UK Elections, when the Main Parties offer their "only choices" to the electorate, UK's finest?

where is the disgrace of how former Ministers have behaved over their "Duties to UK electorate", from Grooming gangs, BSE, Mad Cow disease, diseased Blood, they didn't know what they were in charge of, what they were doing, but took the Money Life style anyway, wonderful perks but shit job resume?

Laura Kuensberg hoi poloying it with Theresa May, the "Total Bollocks Up of Brexit", but it wasn't Theresa's fault, it was those sanctimonious 650 MP's who let the Country down?