Mel had organized a full medical examination dated Monday, 12 September 1988. Dr. Richard Legende found “two or three marks about six inches long across both his buttocks.” He described the injuries as being consistent with “two or three successive blows with a hard item such as a studded belt.”
Bobby had been distressed throughout the examination and refused to answer any questions. Dr. Legende noted what appeared to be old scar tissue around the anus. “Whether the injury was caused accidentally or by deliberate penetration is not clear,” he wrote. In a later report he hardened his resolve and described the scarring as being “consistent with abuse.”
Bridget Morgan was interviewed. Hostile at first, she accused social services of being busybodies. When told of Bobby’s injuries and behavior, she began to qualify her answers. Eventually, she began making excuses for her husband.
“He’s a good man, but he can’t help himself. He gets angry and loses his rag.”
“Does he ever hit you?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Bobby?”
“He gets the worst of it.”
“When he beats Bobby, what does he use?”
“A dog collar… He’ll kill me if he knows I’m here… You don’t know what he’s like…”
When asked about any inappropriate sexual behavior, Bridget categorically denied her husband could have done such a thing. Her protests became more strident as the interview went on. She became tearful and asked to see Bobby.
All allegations of sexual abuse have to be reported to the police. After being told this, Bridget Morgan grew even more anxious. Clearly distressed, she admitted to having concerns about her husband’s relationship with Bobby. She wouldn’t or couldn’t elaborate.
Bobby and his mother were taken to Marsh Lane police station to be formally interviewed. A strategy meeting was held at the station. Those present were Mel Cossimo, her immediate boss Lucas Dutton, Detective Sergeant Helena Bronte and Bridget Morgan. Having spent a few minutes alone with Bobby, Mrs. Morgan accepted the need for an investigation.
Leafing through her police statement, I try to pick out the crux of her allegations. Two years earlier she claimed to have seen Bobby sitting on her husband’s lap, not wearing any underwear. Her husband had had only a towel around his waist and he appeared to be pushing Bobby’s hand between his legs.
During the previous year she had often found that Bobby had no underwear on when he undressed to have a bath. When asked why, he’d said, “Daddy doesn’t like me wearing underpants.”
The mother also claimed that her husband would only take a bath when Bobby was awake and would leave the bathroom door open. He would often invite Bobby to join him, but the boy made excuses.
Although not a strong statement, in the hands of a good prosecutor it could be damning enough. The next statement I expect to find is Bobby’s. It isn’t here. I turn several pages and find that no mention is made of a formal statement, which could explain why Lenny Morgan was never charged. Instead there is a videotape and a sheaf of handwritten notes.
A child’s evidence is crucial. Unless he or she admits to being molested the chances of success are slim. The abuser would have to admit the crime or the medical evidence would have to be incontrovertible.
Mel has a videotape recorder and TV in her office. I slide the tape out of the cardboard sleeve. The label has Bobby’s full name, as well as the date and place of the interview. As the first images flash onto the screen, the time is stamped in the bottom left-hand corner.
A child protection evaluation is very different from a normal patient consultation because of the time constraints. It can often take weeks to establish the sort of trust that allows a child to slowly reveal his or her inner world. Evaluations have to be done quickly and the questions are therefore more direct.
The child-friendly interview room has toys on the floor and brightly colored walls. Drawing paper and crayons have been left on the table. A small boy sits nervously on a plastic chair, looking at the blank piece of paper. He is wearing a school uniform with baggy shorts and scuffed shoes. He glances at the camera and I see his face clearly. He has changed a lot in fourteen years, but I still recognize him. He sits impassively, as if resigned to his fate.
There is something else. Something more. The details return like surrendered soldiers. I have seen this boy before. Rupert Erskine asked me to review a case. A young boy who wasn’t responding to any of his questions. A new approach was needed. Perhaps a new face.
The video is still running. I hear my voice. “Do you prefer to be called Robert, Rob or Bobby?”
“Bobby.”
“Do you know why you’re here, Bobby?”
He doesn’t answer.
“I have to ask you a few questions. Is that OK?”
“I want to go home.”
“Not just yet. Tell me, Bobby, you understand the difference between the truth and a lie, don’t you?”
He nods. “If I said that I had a carrot instead of a nose, what would that be?”
“A lie.”
“That’s right.”
The tape continues. I ask nonspecific questions about school and home. Bobby talks about his favorite TV shows and toys. He relaxes and begins doodling on a sheet of paper as he talks.
If he had three magic wishes what would they be? After two false starts and shuffling his choices, he came up with owning a chocolate factory, going camping and building a machine that would make everybody happy. Who would he most like to be? Sonic the Hedgehog because “he runs really fast and saves his friends.”
Watching the video I can recognize some of the mannerisms and body language of the adult Bobby. He rarely smiled or laughed. He maintained eye contact only briefly.
I ask him about his father. At first Bobby is animated and open. He wants to go home and see him. “We’re making an invention. It’s going to stop shopping bags from spilling in the trunk of the car.”
Bobby draws a picture of himself and I get him to name the different body parts. He mumbles when he talks about his “private parts.”
“Do you like it when you have a bath with your dad?”
“Yes.”
“What do you like about it?”
“He tickles me.”
“Where does he tickle you?”
“All over.”
“Does he ever touch you in a way that you don’t like?”
Bobby’s brow furrows. “No.”
“Does he ever touch your private parts?”
“No.”
“What about when he washes you?”
“I suppose.” He mumbles something else that I can’t make out.
“What about your mum? Does she ever touch your private parts?”
He shakes his head and asks to go home. He screws up the piece of paper and refuses to answer any more questions. He isn’t upset or scared. It is another example of the “distancing” that is common in sexually abused children who try to make themselves smaller and less of a target.
The interview ends, the outcome clearly inconclusive. Body language and mannerisms weren’t enough to formulate an opinion.
Turning back to the files, I piece together the history of what happened next. Mel recommended that Bobby be placed on the Child Protection Register— a list of all children in the area who were considered to be at risk. She applied for an interim custody order— getting a magistrate out of bed at 2:00 a.m.
Police arrested Lenny Morgan. His house was searched, along with his bus depot locker and a neighboring garage he rented as a workshop. He maintained his innocence throughout. He described himself as a loving father who had never done anything wrong or been in trouble with the police. He claimed to have no knowledge of Bobby’s injuries, but admitted to “giving him a whack” when he dismantled and broke a perfectly good alarm clock.