The case still went to trial. I was surrounded for months by grey walls and meetings with adults looking concerned. I thought that my incarceration alone would drive me over the edge. I wanted out. I wanted to find May. But any trace of her would have long gone.
An eccentrically-bearded celebrity solicitor took my case. The only survivor of the “Alston Street m******e”, standing in the dock I was a tragic figure in an ill-fitting suit, every bit the victim rather than the criminal. Society had failed me, was it any wonder that I had lost my way? I had seen too much as child, been forced to live in squalor, to sell myself on the streets, death was almost too good for the preying perverts taking advantage of the lost – the higher their place in society, the more treasonous their betrayal of
