He's very much on the scene because my dd2 adores him, feels safe with him (he's a tall stocky man) and will talk to people when both himself and myself are with her. I don't care about anything that he's done just now. If he is helping my DD just now, that's all that matters to me.
She's been so so brave today. I'm amazed by her. The child protection officer called her smart, resilient and one of the bravest children he had met in his career. She told them everything and anything she couldn't bring herself to say, she wrote down. I'm so unbelievably proud of her. Proud of her for speaking out. Proud of her for being brave when she has been so scared. Proud of her for doing what I couldn't do at her age.
She's coping okay today. I think it's relief that she had told and been believed, supported and knows she doesn't have to see that person again. Ever.
She knows that talking to the police may help prevent this boy from doing this to another girl or stop him from doing it to the little girl dd plays with out there. The police strongly suspect that might be the case. She's my absolute hero.
And I'm heartbroken. Absolutely, completely and utterly. I always consoled myself that what happened to me was awful, but that it would never ever happen to my children. That's gone now. Just gone.
I can't get images about what she said out of my head. How terrified she must have been. How I was probably enjoying my child free weekends whilst this was happening to her. How I wasn't there to protect her. She's my beautiful, clever, gentle, sociable, kind baby. And I've totally failed her. I'm focussing everything I have on talking to her, getting support in place, looking into counselling. Doing whatever I can to make sure that what she carries with her from this will be as small and damage limited as possible.
On the outside I'm doing what mothers do. Being strong. Inside I'm totally broken. Life is exceptionally cruel.