Prosecution Exhibit 1: 'madeleine' - What's in the book?

Friday 11th May 2007 [Just over a week after the alarm was raised and one day before Madeleine's birthday]

As well as this initial meeting we had two further sessions with the lawyers over the course of that weekend to explore how they might be able to assist us. There had already been some speculation in the press, based on those erroneous reports that when Madeleine was taken we were dining ‘hundreds of metres away’, that we could face prosecution for negligence.

After examining the proximity of the Tapas restaurant to apartment 5A, the barrister first of all assured us that our behaviour could not be deemed negligent and was indeed ‘well within the bounds of reasonable parenting’. This had hardly been our biggest concern, but it was reassuring to hear, all the same.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[To highlight the paranormal]

More !!!!!! ?

Saturday, 12 May 2007

Fiona recalls that Gerry and I were completely shut down that day, barely able to talk, and although our friends tried to remain cheerful and behave normally to get us through it, they all felt awkward about being at this lovely villa, in the sunshine, in these circumstances.



Having spent much of the previous four days cooped up, first with the police and then with the lawyers, by the Sunday afternoon Gerry and I felt the need to escape into the open air. We decided to go for a walk along the beach.



I asked Gerry apprehensively if he’d had any really horrible thoughts or visions of Madeleine. He nodded. Haltingly, I told him about the awful pictures that scrolled through my head of her body, her perfect little genitals torn apart. Although I knew I had to share this burden, just raising the subject out loud to someone else, even Gerry, was excruciating. Admitting the existence of these images somehow confirmed them as a real possibility, and with that confirmation came renewed waves of fear.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[Enough of the Lies]

What a busy weekend that was .... why did they need the services of lawyers so soon after Madeleine's alleged disappearance I ponder.

One minute prostrated by grief, the next knee deep in lawyers, the next filmed laughing and carefree.

Friday 18th May 2007

Gerry was going home on Sunday, too – just for a couple of days. We had been in Portugal ourselves for almost three weeks. For the moment, Gerry was on paid compassionate leave. As a locum, I wasn’t entitled to this but the partners at my surgery all agreed they wanted to give me two months’ pay, which was greatly appreciated.

The inaugural meeting of the board of Madeleine’s Fund was due to take place at home and we wanted a meeting, too, with our lawyers, Control Risks and the British police. We decided that Gerry should go back to the UK to deal with these matters. Given the huge media interest, this flying visit had to be planned quite strategically. The authorities in both countries helped out, ensuring that it ran as smoothly as possible.

KATE MCCANN by kate mccann

Saturday 8 September 2007

We were on tenterhooks all day, waiting to hear whether we would be allowed to go home.

Rachael had found a couple of criminal lawyers in London she was sure could help us. Michael Caplan and Angus McBride of Kingsley Napley had worked on several high-profile cases, including the Pinochet extradition proceedings and the Stevens inquiry.

Gerry gave them a call. They discussed Madeleine’s case in detail, what had happened so far and how Kingsley Napley might be able to assist us. Meanwhile, we tried to rein in family and friends from speaking any further to the press. Enough had been said and we were very conscious that we – and Madeleine – were at the mercy of the Portuguese judicial system. Being overly critical at this delicate point could, and probably would, work against us all.

Late that afternoon, we were notified by Liz Dow, the British consul in Lisbon, that Luís Neves and Guilhermino Encarnação had declared us ‘free’ to leave the country whenever we wished.

Thank you, God.

On the advice of the lawyers, we decided to get out as soon as possible. We would go the next day rather than leaving it until Monday. Then it was all hands on deck to pack everything up and clear the villa. Michael volunteered to stay on for a couple of days to organize the cleaning, hand back the keys and arrange for our remaining belongings to be shipped home by a removal company.

The Complete Mystery of Robert Murat .... innocent until proven guilty?

Ms Healy appears to believe guilty until proven innocent, just as she desperately tried to deny the precarious position of her and her husband, the Gerry the Professor.

Are you sitting comfortably - then I'll begin.

Steve Carpenter returned with a man who had offered his assistance. He was, he’d told Steve, bilingual in English and Portuguese and could maybe assist with interpreting. I was grateful for any help we could get. This man was in his thirties, wore glasses and there was something unusual about one of his eyes – a squint, I thought at the time (I have since been told he is blind in one eye). He seemed very personable and was happy to be of service. When one of the GNR officers came over to request more details about Madeleine and any distinguishing features she had, this man stepped in to translate.

I was holding a photograph of Madeleine, which he asked to see. As he studied it, he told me about his daughter back in England who was the same age, and who, he said, looked just like Madeleine. I was a little irked by this. In the circumstances, it seemed rather tactless, even if he was simply trying to empathize. I didn’t think his daughter could possibly be as beautiful as Madeleine – though of course, as her mum, I didn’t think any other little girl could be as beautiful as Madeleine. When he had finished translating, he turned and began to walk briskly away. Realizing I didn’t know his name, I caught up with him and asked.

‘Robert,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Robert,’ I said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gerry told us afterwards that when he’d asked about deploying helicopters and heat-detecting equipment in the search, the police officer interviewing him had replied, ‘This is not the UK.’ There were no helicopters and no infra-red cameras, he was told. Gerry was also insisting that they speak to Jes Wilkins, in case he had seen the man and child reported by Jane. In fact, we found out later, an officer with a translator – Robert Murat, the man who had interpreted for me that morning – visited Jes and his partner, Bridget O’Donnell, in their apartment some time the same afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

We gave another statement to the media outside the apartment that Monday and on this occasion answered a few questions. Then, early in the evening, we heard that Robert Murat, our erstwhile translator, had been taken in by the police for questioning. We had no prior warning of this from the police. The first we knew of it was when we happened to catch the ‘breaking news’ on television, the same as everybody else. We stood there, paralysed, watching live pictures of the police going in and out of Murat’s home, removing computer equipment and boxloads of other stuff. We were terrified that the next thing we were going to see was an officer carrying out a little body bag.

Was it really too much to ask to be spared this harrowing experience? Whether the police were simply being completely thoughtless or whether this was something to do with the judicial secrecy law I cannot say. Sandy and Michael walked up to the Murat family home, Casa Liliana – which was only 100 yards from our Ocean Club apartment – to try to find out what was happening. A Sunday Times journalist filled them in on a few more details. A little later, one of the British FLOs popped up to our apartment to apologize for the lack of warning. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but the damage had already been done.

Murat, the thirty-three-year-old son of a Portuguese father and British mother, was described in the press as a self-employed property developer. He lived at Casa Liliana with his mother. He had been reported to the police by a Sunday Mirror journalist, Lori Campbell, suspicious of what she felt was his odd behaviour – apparently he had been hanging around the media pack, constantly asking questions. Taking what others perceive as an unusual level of interest doesn’t make you a criminal, of course, but it worried several people among the press corps.

We soon found out that Murat had been made an arguido. This formal status meant he would be officially treated as a suspect in the crime. It also confers various rights, such as the right to remain silent and entitlement to legal representation. For this reason it is possible and indeed not unheard of for a person being questioned as a witness, with less protection from the law, to declare himself arguido, for example if he feels that the line the police are taking suggests they suspect him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

We met up with Alan Pike to talk through how we were feeling. Strange, was the short answer: for a brief period I found myself feeling positive, almost excited, that we might be nearer to finding Madeleine. That evaporated when we went round to see Fiona and David. Fiona told us she’d seen Robert Murat outside apartment 5A on the night of Madeleine’s disappearance. Then I began to feel panicky. It had belatedly begun to dawn on me that it probably wouldn’t be good news at all if someone living as close as Robert Murat was involved. As Fiona and David speculated I became more and more anxious. I didn’t want to hear it. Within the space of a couple of hours I went from feeling cautiously optimistic to very, very low. Another long, dark night followed.

It later transpired that on the evening before Murat was taken in for questioning, the police had summoned Jane to a mysterious rendezvous in the car park next to the Millennium area, refusing to say why they wanted to see her and insisting she told no one. Their behaviour seemed so sinister that she was quite scared.

Russell walked her to the car park. On the way they passed Casa Liliana, just as Murat was returning to his villa in his van. He stopped to speak to Russ, whom he must have seen around, eager to tell him what he and his mother were doing to help find Madeleine. Jane, who had never met Murat, was not taking much notice. She was just anxious to get going and for this cloak-and-dagger meeting to be over with. When Russell managed to extricate them, Murat said he needed to be off, too, mentioning that the police wanted to see him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Gerry, Lynda, Paul and I headed down to the church early that evening we noticed satellite trucks pulling up and journalists gathering in Rua 25 de Abril. One or two cameramen spotted us and began to run over but we managed to get into the church before they caught up with us. Thank heaven for small mercies. Very small. We didn’t find out until later the reason for all the activity, and when we did, once again it was from the television and not from the police. This street was home to Sergey Malinka, a young Russian IT expert and business associate of Robert Murat, for whom he had set up a property website. After police found a logged call to his phone from Murat’s shortly before midnight on 3 May, Malinka was taken to the police station to be questioned as a witness and his flat was searched. Ultimately, the PJ were satisfied that he was not implicated in any wrongdoing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two officers talked openly about Robert Murat, who remained an arguido, and drip-fed us snippets of ‘evidence’ linking him to Madeleine’s disappearance. Not enough, apparently, to arrest and charge him. In some ways, I wish now they hadn’t done this. It served only to colour my judgement of Murat. They told us, for example, about a newspaper clipping they’d seized from his house, an article entitled ‘Lock up Your Daughters’, which claimed that Casanova had been a paedophile. It made us shudder. Back then we feared everything and, perhaps understandably, leaped to the worst conclusions without pausing to consider innocent explanations.

Nothing we were told by the police indicated that Murat took Madeleine or was in any way involved in her abduction. We had no context for the disconnected pieces of information Neves and Encarnação did pass on to us, which we assumed were all they were allowed to reveal. In isolation these suggested it was possible Murat was linked in some way to the events of 3 May, and for a long time we didn’t know what to think. Once we fell victim ourselves to the vagaries of the Portuguese police system, we soon discovered how easy it was for two and two to be put together to make five.

When I read through the PJ files in microscopic detail after their release to the public in 2008, I found nothing to implicate Murat. It is clear that the police never had any credible case against him. His arguido status was eventually lifted, no charges were ever brought and any apparent evidence they gathered was no more than circumstantial. Several witnesses, including Fiona, Russ and Rachael, reported seeing Murat near our apartment on the night Madeleine vanished. He has always categorically denied being there, and his mother confirmed that he was at home all evening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

So here we were now, discussing all this with Luís Neves and Guilhermino Encarnação. Somewhat to our surprise, they seemed quite amenable to giving it a go and agreed to smooth Danie’s transfer through the airport (he had certain requirements to ensure the safety of his MOS machine) in a couple of weeks’ time.

Another matter I raised that day was how significant they felt it was that Fiona, Rachael and Russell had all reported seeing Robert Murat outside our apartment on the night Madeleine had been taken. Luís suddenly got quite agitated. ‘No, Kate!’ he snapped. Our friends hadn’t mentioned this in their statements, he said. Slightly thrown by this rather aggressive response, I insisted, a little nervously, that I was sure they had: not in their first statements, but in the ones they had given after Murat was named as an arguido, having recognized him straight away from the television news.

They had merely stated when and where they had seen this man and that he’d been offering his services as an interpreter. That was it: they hadn’t voiced any suspicions that he was involved. I can’t imagine why Neves seemed to want to brush my question aside. Perhaps it was simply because he didn’t have an answer. I’m aware now that the PJ were struggling to move the Murat line of inquiry forward and they were probably feeling quite frustrated. Perhaps I just touched a raw nerve.

At our next meeting, Neves was to change tack and tell us that one of the Ocean Club managers, Sílvia Batista (the lady who had translated for us on 3 May), had also reported seeing Robert Murat outside our apartment that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

The move made sense for us as well. At the villa we had more privacy. We also rented a small flat at the Ocean Club for Justine. She had ended up doing a different job from the one she’d signed up for – media liaison in addition to campaign management – and was having to spend more time in Portugal than either we or she had anticipated. Trish and Sandy came with us, sleeping on a fold-down bed in the bedroom we were using as our office or, when other people came to stay, taking themselves off to Justine’s apartment.

On Thursday 11 July, Fiona, Rachael and Russell were back in Portugal. The PJ wanted to ‘clarify’ their statements, evidently in relation to their sightings of Robert Murat, by holding an acareação, a ‘confrontational interview’, between the witnesses and the arguido.

This legal procedure involves bringing interviewees together effectively to argue the toss about the inconsistencies in their accounts, in front of an arbitrator, with a view to reaching a consensus. Russ, Rachael and Fiona had to sit in a semicircle with Murat and his lawyer, Francisco Pagarete – so close together, Russell recounted later, that his knee was virtually touching Murat’s. They waited for a while because the police said Sílvia Batista would be joining them. For some reason she never did.

I’m sure this interviewing technique must have been incredibly uncomfortable and stressful for everyone. The statements given by Russell, Rachael and Fiona were read out in turn, in Portuguese, by the questioning officer, Paulo Ferreira, and then translated by an interpreter. Guilhermino Encarnação was also present. They were asked to confirm that their respective accounts were correct, which they all did. During the reading of each statement, they told us, Murat leaned forward, staring intensely at the person who had given it. His statement was then read out in Portuguese, which made it difficult for Fiona, Rachael or Russ to dispute it in any detail, and he was asked some questions, again in Portuguese. Many of these he was advised not to answer by Pagarete (as was his right as an arguido), and on one occasion he and his lawyer left the room altogether for a private conversation. The only responses given by Murat comprehensible to our friends were that he hadn’t been outside our apartment on 3 May and that the three of them were lying. When we saw them afterwards they were noticeably incensed by Murat’s manner during the acareação.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[For study and research only]

A right royal stitch-up I venture to suggest.

There's a lot more where this cam from.

THE EUROPEAN TOUR - June 2007

On we pressed with our campaign to spread the word across Europe. We had decided it would further our cause to visit one or two key countries ourselves and appeal personally to their people for help, seeking assistance and advice from politicians and children’s charities. We wanted to reach some of the hundreds of potential witnesses from elsewhere on the continent who had been on holiday in the Algarve around the time of Madeleine’s disappearance. Perhaps even more importantly, it was quite possible that Madeleine was in another country now. Had anyone noticed a little girl who seemed out of place, or somebody behaving suspiciously?

We chose Spain first, as it is so close to Portugal. After the British and Irish, most other visitors to the Algarve are German or Dutch, so we added Berlin and Amsterdam to the itinerary.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[Disclaimer: ]

I hope these fortunate places 'prepared themselves', as equally lucky Rome did.

The Foreign Office helped us by arranging consular assistance in all these countries.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

Magic - and I can't even get a friggin' passport.

Perhaps I should visit the pope but I might have to travel by crowded dinghy.

You'll have to abduct yourself, and anonymously announce your disappearance.

That could be arranged !

crusader wrote:Mark Warner certainly looked after the McCann's very well.

And she did even thank them in her book, not even in the acknowledgements. Even Mitchell, the despicable little shit that he is, didn't even get a look in.  He certainly helped them plenty, even if he was paid handsomely to do so.

wallad wrote:

crusader wrote:Mark Warner certainly looked after the McCann's very well.

And she did even thank them in her book, not even in the acknowledgements. Even Mitchell, the despicable little shit that he is, didn't even get a look in.  He certainly helped them plenty, even if he was paid handsomely to do so.

In both cases, perhaps not a direct thank you in so many words, but there are many acknowledgements of the goodness, support and help offered by Mark Warner and Clarence Mitchell.

Do you have a copy of Kate McCann's book wallad? I can provide the quotes if it helps .

Our first investigators, the Spanish company Método 3, began working for us in October. With private investigations technically illegal in Portugal, we felt the closest we could get would be a firm from somewhere on the Iberian Peninsula, which would have the advantage of familiarity with local systems, culture and geography and the best network of contacts in the region. M3 also had links to the Spanish police, who, in turn, had good connections with the Portuguese police.

We assembled all the source material we could for the investigators, passing on my detailed chronology of events and the research we were compiling, making endless lists of potential witnesses – some of whom we knew the police had interviewed, many more we suspected they had not – and reported sightings of little girls who could have been Madeleine. As a result of the huge publicity the case had been given, the police and press had been overwhelmed by such reports from the outset. Sometimes ‘Madeleine’ has been seen in different countries, thousands of miles apart, on the same day. These tip-offs needed to be sifted and any credible information followed up.

We have no doubt that M3 made significant strides, but unfortunately, in mid-December, one of their senior investigators gave an overly optimistic interview to the media. He implied that the team were close to finding Madeleine and declared that he hoped she would be home by Christmas. Gerry and I did not pay much heed to these bullish assertions. While we believed they’d been made in an attempt to cast the search in a positive light, we knew that such public declarations would not be helpful. Credibility is so important. That glitch apart, M3 worked very hard for us and, just for the record, their fees were very low: most of the money they were paid was for verified expenses. Although we went on to employ new teams, we maintain good relations with M3 today. We had the sense that they genuinely cared about Madeleine’s fate, something that, sadly, we have found we cannot take for granted.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[As a matter of interest]

'Credibility is so important' - from Kate McCann!!

Metodo3 were as bent as a pickled orange - full stop!

I am however perpetually bothered by the Spanish connection, it might be a neighbouring country but that's where any link begins and ends - or should be.

Who are the 'we' Kate McCann refers to? I doubt the McCanns or any of their group of friends had knowledge of private detectives based in Spain so who exactly made the decision to hire Metodo3?

Brian Kennedy per chance?

It seemed an odd choice, I venture to suggest ever so slightly illegal. Okay it could be argued Metodo3 weren't operating in Portugal (but for the fact they were), effectively they were interfering with an active criminal police investigation, technically Metodo3 were acting without authority.

I know of course reports suggested the PJ turned a blind eye to Metodo3's involvement but that has never been officially confirmed.

Reports have said a lot over the years, most of which have proved to be false.

Dealing with Madeleine’s disappearance has been almost all-consuming, leaving us little time or strength to address these further crimes against our family. The appalling loss of our daughter has been too much to bear. Everything else, however huge, has had to take second place. There is only so much pain human beings can stand at once. It doesn’t mean the injustices hurt any less. On the whole Gerry and I have managed to dig deep and remain focused, although the temptation to shout the truth from the rooftops has always been there. There have been many times when I have struggled to keep myself together and to understand how such injustices have been allowed to go unchallenged over and over again. I have had to keep saying to myself:

I know the truth, we know the truth and God knows the truth. And one day, the truth will out.

Yet publishing the truth is fraught with risks for our family. It lays us open to more criticism, for a start. We have discovered that there are those in society who will always criticize. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do or why you are doing it. We don’t know what motivates these people (although I have a few theories). In the early months, I found such censure incredibly upsetting and sometimes overwhelming. Our beloved daughter had been stolen from us, we were suffering terribly and I could not begin to comprehend why anyone would want to add to that pain. As time went on, I was able to shoulder it a little better, either by trying to understand why people did it (unfair as it was) or by simply trying to ignore it. These detractors didn’t care about Madeleine, so why torture myself by even listening to them? We’ve met many wise people along the way who have stressed the importance of not being derailed by those with their own agenda. It has proved to be good advice.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[For purposes only]

On 12 May 2003, at a routine antenatal appointment nine days before my due date, I was found to be already in labour. Like many first-time mothers, I’d had it all planned out – the music I wanted to play, the snacks I’d have to hand, the cooling mist spray for my face – but in the event I was whisked straight into the maternity unit and until Gerry was summoned I didn’t even have the customary pre-packed overnight bag. When it came to it, though, I wasn’t interested in any distractions, just completely focused on the job I had to do. As Gerry offered words of encouragement, I rocked from side to side, biting down on the gas-and-air mouthpiece. It occurred to me that I must look like Stevie Wonder. It’s strange the things that go through your head when you’re in extremis.

There’s no escaping the fact that giving birth is bloody painful, but I was a very calm, quiet ‘labourer’, oblivious to everyone and everything around me. Fortunately, it was uncomplicated and pretty quick, as labours go. I remember finally feeling the head crowning and saying something pathetic to the midwife –‘It’s stingy,’ if memory serves. Stingy? I never was one to make a fuss, I suppose! And then out popped our baby.

After years of longing for this day, here we were: parents. There can surely be no greater moment in anyone’s life. And here she was: not our little boy, but our little girl. I’m not sure quite why this came as such a big surprise to us – after all, there are only two flavours – but because it was a surprise, the moment was extra special. Our daughter was perfect. A beautiful round head, no marks, and not at all squashed. Big, big eyes and a lovely, compact little body. The most wonderful thing I had ever set eyes on. I loved her instantly. Of course, Aidan was out of the frame now. Of the girls’ names we had in mind Madeleine was my favourite, and Madeleine she became. Madeleine Beth McCann. She screamed straight away (something we’d get used to over the next six months). Gerry’s sister Trish called while we were still in the delivery suite. ‘Is that your wean?’ she asked, with a hint of amusement, on hearing the 200-decibel screeching in the background. ‘Jesus!’

I couldn’t take my eyes off Madeleine. I thanked God over and over again for bringing her into our lives. Every time she looked even vaguely in my direction, the tears welled up. I’d never known before that it was possible to love someone so much – and I love Gerry a lot, believe me. My Madeleine.

I didn’t sleep at all during my first night as a mother. I still couldn’t stop looking at my beautiful daughter. Admittedly, the fact that Madeleine was testing the extremities of her vocal range for a large part of it might have been another factor. I remember one of the midwives coming into my room a couple of times and asking if I would like her to take Madeleine away for a while so that I could get some rest. Take her away? That was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t care about sleep. All I cared about was being with Madeleine.

The next evening, my mum and dad, and my old friend Nicky, arrived to meet our daughter. My dad confessed to pushing a hundred on the motorway to make it down from Liverpool before the end of visiting time – but you didn’t hear that from me. He was an old hand at childbirth, having been one of the first-ever fathers at Oxford Street Maternity Hospital, where I was born, allowed to stay with his wife throughout her labour instead of being ejected from the ward to pace the corridor outside. By all accounts, Granny Healy was shocked at this outrageous newfangled idea.

The new grandparents were besotted with Madeleine from the beginning. Having lost her own mother so early, I think my mum missed having her support when I was small and it had always been a sadness to her that I hadn’t known my nana better. So having the chance to take care of her own granddaughter, and to be there for me, meant a great deal to her. As for my dad, he once told me that if he were able to design his own granddaughter and have her knitted for him, Madeleine would be it. ‘I think I might love her even more than I love you,’ he added. I wasn’t too sure whether that was intended as a compliment but, knowing how much he loved me, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Gerry’s parents, and his brother and sisters, came hot on the heels of mine, all of them thrilled to bits.

The dramatic impact that one small person can have on your life never ceases to amaze me. Suddenly, your whole world revolves around this little bundle, and you don’t mind in the slightest. The overwhelming love and protectiveness you feel towards your child makes you incredibly vulnerable – probably as vulnerable as you have ever been since you were a baby yourself. Now, however, you understand that this is a vulnerability that will never leave you.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[For research and study only]

ABOUT THE BOOK

‘The decision to publish this book has been very difficult, and taken with heavy hearts … My reason for writing it is simple: to give an account of the truth …

Writing this memoir has entailed recording some very personal, intimate and emotional aspects of our lives. Sharing these with strangers does not come easily to me, but if I hadn’t done so I would not have felt the book gave as full a picture as it is possible for me to give. As with every action we have taken over the last four years, it ultimately boils down to whether what we are doing could help us to find Madeleine. When the answer to that question is yes, or even possibly, our family can cope with anything …

What follows is an intensely personal account, and I make no apology for that …

Nothing is more important to us than finding our little girl.’

Kate McCann, May 2011

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

As you rightly say ....

Addendum:

‘It is a sad fact that not a single police force anywhere is proactively looking for Madeleine (as is the case for many other missing children). I am sure this book will re-energize the search for our daughter and the public will get behind the Find Madeleine campaign once again.

It is simply not acceptable that the authorities have given up on Madeleine – especially when no comprehensive review of the case has been undertaken. Our daughter, and whoever took her, are out there. We need your help to find them.’

Gerry McCann, May 2011

The McCanns Did Not Physically Search for Madeleine

~~ A lady from an apartment across Rua Dr Gentil Martins, overlooking our little side gate, came over to speak to us. She said that the previous night she had seen a car going up the Rocha Negra – the black, volcanic cliff that dominates the village. There was a track leading to the Rocha Negra but nobody remembered ever having noticed any vehicle that far up in the daytime, let alone at night. This immediately conjured visions of Madeleine being disposed of somewhere on the overhanging cliff. I went to tell one of the police officers who was able to speak a little English. He was quite dismissive. It would have been one of the GNR men checking the area, he said.

~~ I also felt a compulsion to run up to the top of the Rocha Negra. Somehow, inflicting physical pain on myself seemed to be the only possible way of escaping my internal pain. The other truly awful manifestation of what I was feeling was a macabre slideshow of vivid pictures in my brain that taunted me relentlessly. I was crying out that I could see Madeleine lying, cold and mottled, on a big grey stone slab. Looking back, seeing me like this must have been terrible for my friends and relatives, and particularly my parents, but I couldn’t help myself. And all this needed to come out. I dread to think what it might have done to me if it hadn’t.

~~ That first weekend I’d felt a burning desire to run up the Rocha Negra, and Gerry and I would in fact do so many times over the next few months. In places it was just too steep and I had to slow down to walking speed, but if I dared to stop (interpreted by my brain as failure) I would mentally beat myself up. It still felt as if every challenge had to be met on Madeleine’s behalf. I wouldn’t recommend such mind games: they certainly don’t make life any easier. But as Gerry will readily confirm, I can be quite stubborn, though I’d prefer to call it determined.

~~ The meeting ended with a final body blow. Danie Krugel, on whom we had, irrationally, hung so much hope, had produced a report for the PJ based on his findings. His machine had recorded a ‘static signal’ from an area around the beach, close to or on the Rocha Negra cliff. Although this included villas, apartments and other buildings, the implication of the ‘static signal’ was that Madeleine was most likely to be dead and buried there.

~~ Picture Credits: The Rocha Negra, pictured early one morning on my mobile phone from ‘my rocks’ on the beach.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[For study only}


Praia Da Luz Beach Rocha Negra Stock Photo

CLOSING THE CASE

As the summer of 2008 approached, the investigation into Madeleine’s abduction remained classified and Gerry and I remained arguidos. It was like trying to lead our lives in purgatory. At some point – who knew when? – the PJ were going to have to hand their evidence to the prosecutor for examination and he would decide whether to file charges against us, order the PJ to continue the investigation or ‘archive’ the case, which would mean it would stay on file but all active inquiries would cease. In the meantime, fuelled by the customary leaks, speculation in the press about what would happen when rumbled on.

At the end of June, Gerry and I made the difficult decision to take a break. It did not feel right at all to go on holiday without Madeleine, but fourteen unbelievably harrowing and stressful months had passed since she was taken and we were running on empty. We owed it to Sean and Amelie, and we owed it to Madeleine to be physically and mentally fit to go on looking for her. We needed peace and quiet, and to be as far away as we could from the clamour in Europe. So we opted to go and visit Auntie Norah in Vancouver. Clarence told the press firmly that the timing and destination would not be disclosed.

Canada was the perfect choice. We all spent five days of our holiday in a cabin on a remote lake in rural British Columbia. It was an idyllic place, surrounded by forest, tranquil and unspoiled, with nobody there but us – and possibly a few bears and moose. Of course, there were tough moments. The solitude emphasized the yawning gap in our family, but that is with us always, wherever we are. Sean and Amelie absolutely loved their adventure and it was wonderful for Gerry and me to be able to spend so much time together with the children.

Perhaps it was too much to expect our trip to remain completely secret. One night, back in Vancouver, Gerry was woken by a phone call from a DC Johnson of the Leicestershire police, wanting to fax us some information. Gerry told him that we didn’t have access to a fax machine and suggested emailing us at our usual address. DC Johnson said it wasn’t that important, he could drop it off when we were back, and asked when we were leaving.

Gerry told him and we went back to sleep.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[For that moment]

"It was an idyllic place, surrounded by forest, tranquil and unspoiled, with nobody there but us – and possibly a few bears and moose.

"It felt so safe ....

Kate McCann

Was it a reservoir - with a dam

'Of course, there were tough moments'. Your daughter has been 'abducted', possibly raped, and is in some hellish lair in lawless hills.  Your lives should have been destroyed - but 'tough moments' in an 'idyllic place' is the worst you suffered?. You are inhuman.

Poetic licence gone Mills and Boon

FRIDAY 4 MAY

Friday 4 May. Our first day without Madeleine. As soon as it was light Gerry and I resumed our search. We went up and down roads we’d never seen before, having barely left the Ocean Club complex all week. We jumped over walls and raked through undergrowth. We looked in ditches and holes. All was quiet apart from the sound of barking dogs, which added to the eeriness of the atmosphere. I remember opening a big dumpster-type bin and saying to myself, please God, don’t let her be in here. The most striking and horrific thing about all this was that we were completely alone. Nobody else, it seemed, was out looking for Madeleine. Just us, her parents.

We must have been out for at least an hour before returning to David and Fiona’s apartment, where Sean and Amelie were now up and about. The twins, distracted by having Lily and Scarlett to play with, didn’t mention Madeleine, mercifully. Russell, Jane, Matt, Rachael and their children began to arrive. People kept telling me to have some breakfast but I couldn’t eat. I had no appetite and my throat was constricted with anxiety. In any case, how could I think about eating now? There wasn’t time to eat. Someone had Madeleine and we had to find her.

madeleine by KATE MCCANN

[For clarification only]



Evidence for the prosecution

They went for a run and left David Payne to wake up the two remaining McCann children, take them to the toilet, clean them afterwards,  get them out of their pyjamas, wash and dress them, . . .  ? ? ? ?
SERIOUSLY ?