Status as at End 2016

To whom it may concern
So many caring friends

Thank you most kindly for your care and interest with this long drawn out humanitarian and legal miscarriage.
I hope my below listed  responses are sufficient to better explain to you, some of the most common queries regarding this unfortunate incident.

Current Status

I was arrested 18thsept 2008 in Kuwait city centre, in broad daylight.. and have been in jail ever since.

I was tried in a court of Kuwaiti law.. and convicted of trafficking in drugs and liquor.

I was initially sentenced to life in jail (or 25 years.) This was reduced by 10 years, to 15years... for good behaviour.

I have completed 8 years and have 7 more to go, until 2024.

This has mercifully been reduced by a further 4 years to a remaining 3 years... also marked by good behaviour...Which is marked on my file as around about 2020.

The exact protocols for my mail and packages are as follow.. 
Including the liaison person(s) for status updates on mail and packages.

We dont encourage sending of  any parcels,  as authorisations are very difficult and all packages dissapear.

c/o Ms Caroline le Quesne
Vice Consul
British Embassy Kuwait
(Detainee Gareth KCP)
P.o.box 2
Safat 13001
Kuwait

Uk Embassy 00965 22594320

Caroline le Quesne
00965 22594358

caroline.lequesne@fco.gov.uk
sahar.mohseni@fco.gov.uk

Ambassador
Matthew.lodge@fco.gov.uk

Until now, we have recieved no responses from any Kuwait gov parties or official courtesy.

Prisoners Abroad in london are supportive and will assist relocation.. money..registration.. accommodation and documentation when I arrive safely  back to London after my release.

They have had a file on me since 2008.

Fairtrials International declined to review my case.. (rebecca shaeffer) but they also have a file on me .
My lawyer was unavailable  when FTI tried to contact him...and Embassy advised against contesting the verdict set in stone.

Amnesty International in S.A. reviewed my case under Dr Thinus Coetzee.. They regarded my case as criminal, and as such, they felt it had no grounds for a human rights appeal. 

The very extensive file,  was consequently referred to Amnesty International in London and ignored. 2014.

Walkfree organisation also ignored all approaches.

BBC London declined to comment or,  as we gather, they were concerned that publication of these gross legal and human rights infractions could jeopardise the sensitive diplomatic relationships between the UK and Kuwait.
This could ultimately insult the Kuwaiti sovereign judiciary.

My present position here is as a common criminal prisoner sentenced to life (25yr).imprisonment  .. for trafficking in hashish...(49 kg),  hidden inside a spare tyre in my cargo load.

2014 Reduced sentence to 15yrs... for being a good model prisoner.

2016 reduced further four years...for academic achievements...and
Cancellation of all fines.

I am a British citizen and have always carried a valid passport.

I was born of British parents in colonial Kenya 1959.
I am South African and have dual nationality with permission from home affairs..

Date of marriage and children.Married Cape town 19 Dec1989
Only child 1998

The actual dates of my employment leading up to my incarceration 2008.
My last employment term was  Sept 2003 to my arrest Sept 17th 2008.

My title as Operations Maintenance Manager included tasking in Iraq for five years as Senior field operations manager for Inchcape Shipping Services,  trading as KMMC in Kuwait...administered from London and Dxb.  

These contracts were in turn, subcontracted to Kellogg Brown and Root.(KBK UK) also headed from Leatherhead HQ in London.

Contracted in turn by U.K. Ministry of Defence.. in support of British troops in Iraq and coalition efforts.

My dear old mother died very prematurely of overexertion because of my lack of attendance.. and undet a cloud of unbearable shame ..Nov16 2014. R.i.p.

My 87 yr old father is weak and needs me badly.. but is fading fast too.

I have repeatedly sent letters to the amir of kuwait who is the only authority permitted to free me, or to  make any  adjustments to my status.

Even my old father has written numerous personal appeals to the Amir ..also all unanswered.

I have a long established case of PTSD and have recieved limited treatment for it here.
I have the medical documentation on my file.

I have been well cared for, and protected by the British Foreign Commonwealth Office (FCO) via British Embassy in Kuwait.

They are only ever a phonecall away.. and respond immediately if ever i have a situation.
They deliver cash to the prison which gets sent to me from various close friends.. via electronic transfer as per fco.gov.uk website.

Parcels are declined now as embassy feel they exceed their limitations by requesting repeated  special authorisations,  when delivering goods to the prison for me.

I have become ever more confident and well convinced of our detailed legal approach and credibility throughout this campaign.

The impact of this campaign will be most effective while i am in jail.

I need therefore ..to continue with as much public exposure as possible before my captors release me surreptitiously.

My stance remains courteous and regretful.. but it has to be assertive confident and absolutely honest.

My new global petition comes out soon and is well underway for christmas.

So .. as much as we are all outraged and incensed by the extent of the complex and sensitive limitations by embassy .. lawyers and business collegues.. we remain most cautious and discrete.. because we need them on our side... perhaps for years to come.

I have resolved to persevere with this campaign because so much effort has been expended over the years, and much has been achieved.

There is no stopping now as it  would be a tragic waste and a great dissapointment to many..

Many strangers have joined with us here and stand strong and vocal.
Every one a treasured friend forever.

One last thing i am most pleased to mention.. is, that I  alone...am so small and weak,  and insignificant in the scheme of things..
but our success  together over these wealthy and powerful political elements, is a victory for truth and justice in this messed up world.

Your passion...your outrage.. your care.. did this.

Many many thanks..

http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/appeal-to-the-authorities-and-the-emir-of-kuwait?utm_medium=email&utm_source=facebook&utm_campaign=thank-you

Queries regarding Diplomatic Intervention

It is my pleasure to clarify some of the undercurrents.
My lawyer 2009.. apparently approached the british naval attache at the embassy.. to get confirmation of my flight bookings night of 17sept 2008.

This would have proved that I did not drive across military border post.. and that all my alibis were truthful.
Apparently...British military stood back and stated categorically that at the time of my arrest,   I was operating alone in kuwait, out of their care as a civilian contractor.
As such, it was a civilian matter and nothing to do with them.
If I had been on a military transport or official escort , as was normally my practice.. it would have been in  their interest to assist.

So it was a justified response by them , because I was on my way home on leave and had left the shelter of the military the night before.

I had to settle for this,  understanding the extreme sensitivity of the high security military relationship that was being threatened.

Embassy warned me about this politely.

What I had caused ,was an appalling shame.. an extreme embarrassment and it was my duty and obligation to keep myself and this debacle as far away from my company..Inchcape and KBR,
the associated British M.O.Defense  primary contractors.. and the british forces ... as possible.

I did that.

Asking Tony Blair or his office for advice or influence ... once, is a knock on the door.
Twice, a second time... they  might open to see whos there....

Thrice they ask your name.

Four times they might look at your letter... and suggest trying the neighbours.

Thats how it works..or doesnt..
Persistence has a better chance....

I am attending a religious school.
It is the most insidious brainwashing mechanism put in place to reorientate the most evil criminals in the country.
I am compelled to participate for obvious reasons.
They love having me in there.

For many of the poor criminals in here,  it is a very good thing...as for the first time in their criminal lives they get sight of social values and some self discipline... no spitting.. no killing...no more raping..and...
the alternative is too sad for me to explain here.

I am one alone here in this jail..
a single, educated, white, english  speaking, still christian, British Citizen.

I tried swimming against the flow initially.. but it was futile.
They scorned my religious fortitude and broke my wooden cross.. lured me to their heathen ways. Threatened me and attacked me twice.
They rubbed my nose into their precious sacred dogma and cajoled me into faux conversion rituals.

I found my safe middle ground and have only become stronger.. more resolute and my support groups have burgeoned.
They commend me and inspire me to keep going.. hoping....
And we are doing it..many of us now...

I have a limited protection amongst some "friends"  in here, who respect my individuality and the consistent good example I have set... they cannot be seen to be too sympathetic or to be following too closely in my infidel ways....but weve survived thus far and it remains always ..
that  I  am alone here..

 And my smile every day hides my constant torment.. an effective facade against my, once failing resolve.

No matter how much I have tried to assimilate.. I could never become quite like any of them.
I couldnt.. i tried..

I joined the mosque and attended all the classes as I applied myself to the language .. culture.. religion and social practices....and ive enjoyed it and I am proud of my  modest achievements there.

After all the years .. I had no choice, but to go with the flow, and martyrdom is not my track.
I made the best of it .. but its been so hard and so humiliating.

I learnt other things.. more and better !
I swam obliquely downstream and found my compromise..
I learnt how to grab a hold on the riverbank.. but i will  still never be one of them.

I am alone here ...and frozen out of their groups because of my continued loyalty to my roots and my heritage.

Embassy seemed to be dissapointed in me because of these Muslim affiliations.. though I cant yet quite isolate their exact  attitudes or sentiments but i will learn more at my next meeting with them.

Even the kuwait church groups scorn my entanglement with the web of islam and the clutches of its spinners.

I am so alone.
In order to get through every day where embassy are compelled by their diplomatic limitations,  and keep their polite distance from this worthy cause. .. I have to make my own path through this cultural and political minefield.
But they will soon be on board with us.

I am compelled to do anything that will afford me the briefest reprieve and even as Embassy fco are so respectfully cautious still..they will soon see the reasons for my apparent  disloyalty or ingratitude.

I am alone here.

Nobody needs a sad sack..
I am  not that..

Im fine..
Better,  stronger ..
And maybe learnt a tutch.?

But please dont be deceived by my faux bravado or stoic smiles.
This torment is such a continued trauma. 
This trumped-up punishment is a gross violation of my human rights.This has been ignored for all the above reasons.

The matter of my exoneration or immediate release has been constantly avoided..because the authorities all see that I am in good health and monitored under maximum security.... but they will never know the sadness.. horror.. trauma that I have so well hidden year after year.

Im not doing that anymore..
Im not going to conceal the  twisting blade they've already driven so deep.

My dear mother died in the clouds of shame and sadness alone without my hand at her side because of this.
My old dad ailing now in his last years, waiting too.. in vain.

Even as i have made these empassioned appeals to embassy and various government agencies on all sides... they have all stayed well aloof and impotent.

Some basic personal items, sent to me from far away at enormous expense and great effort.... dental floss. Underpants.. marmite.. bedsheets and covers.. lay untended .. unaddressed for over a year at embassy... as diplomacy failed. The prison beurocracy seemed to be inflexible.
Six registered packages  addressed to british embassy kuwait , were stolen at kuwait postal depot.
Dissapeared.!

Nothing was said or done..
I fear so much causing any ill to my tentative relationship... even now,  too afraid to phone them.
I am so alone ..

All this should have been suitably resolved diplomatically long ago.
It was sadly such a great trauma and dissapointment .. specially to all those caring friends that sent them...a travesty of compassion.. but I forgive them.

I know that when I do get out  of this jail one day,  to address the offices legally.. and in my detailed  publications. .. that they will scoff saying "why ?".. "for goodness sakes Gareth.. didnt you say something sooner..?" "
You poor fellow..""we had no idea"
"Oh we gave you everything we could Gareth... but ignored your mistrials for political sensitivities.."
"So sorry you didnt point this out eight years ago Gareth.."
"We needed only to phone the Amir... you should have written more clearly Gareth"
"You seemed so happy Gareth"
"Our hands were tied"
"Gareth ..you must understand that Fco may not intervene in a  sovereign criminal judiciary...especially as political tensions are so strained globally."

And we respect that...

Well .. Ive been saying all this for a  long time but have been  continuously rebuffed.
There are thankfully crowds of thousands who have now  witnessed this spectacle.

All it would have taken, was one phonecall..
It could have been settled long back..

Still..and I am ever grateful to them for having come this far under the circumstances and, though years delayed... they will join with us in the success of  this long concealed truth and its justice.

http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/appeal-to-the-authorities-and-the-emir-of-kuwait?utm_medium=email&utm_source=facebook&utm_campaign=thank-you

Military 2 = Survivor Guilt.. Shared Honour

Response by

Gareth Rutherford...Regarding the award of Honorus Crux for gallantry and to a glowing tribute to the thirteen young men that died one day defending our country in June 1980 as recorded by Revered Historian, Mentor and Devoted schoolmaster..

Mr Axel  Brauman.

Gareth writes... 

Thank you Sir for awakening this long dormant memory..by this great tribute to the men who were part of one of the last few concerted military operations executed in the defence of our heritage ...civilization and hometowns..

Most importantly as the echos of yesterdays anniverary of op Sceptic still reverberate on 10th June every year, the memories of our lost brothers, forever young and brave. We will never forget them. 

I have explained previously how I always was embarrassed at being the only HC recipient  that day amongst many braver men.

Everyone taking part in that intense battle did something brave in that enemy territory, and in a fair world there would have been 500 awards..

But it cannot be so.. there has to be something rare and uncommon for this award to be of any significance.

As it happened, I was doing the right thing that day.. in the right place and I was seen doing it.. by the right person.. unknown to myself...enough to be noticed and commended.

Credit to my training and trainers who were most proud of this HC..
it was as much their achievement as it was to Col Dippenaar leading us into battle and Col Tony Savides our Commanding Officer back at base. 

There were silences by my comrades that caused me great distress and reservations 
because every one of them deserved that same award. .. we know that.

After many years of discussion and detailed introspection ..
we realised that my declining the award would have been a pointless snub.. And so I undertook to use it as a lense, to focus back to our fallen,  and the brave soldiers who made up that team..our platoon... our entire battle group.

It is an accolade to be hailed and applauded.. not to me alone .. but to the calibre of the men that fought together that day all those years ago. Every grenade thrown or bullet fired by me those days came from the concerted efforts of every chef and Admin clerk back at base all the way down the line. 

So today.. I no longer scuttle around in pensive glory.. or undeserving shame...
I will wear that award proudly in front of them all, now knowing that I am their representative..
and my voice and pen will continue to hail their great efforts so proudly.

For many years the "survivor guilt" I carried cast doubts on my pride and this great honour.

 As I was honoured, the bravest lay dead as their families grieved. It was so hard. 

Time was generous to me and after many close examinations of the events by the wisest of our historians, I became ever more grateful to find that every one of my fellow veterans present there in that battle, applauded my single actions that day, running the gauntlet alone and tending the wounded and dying under fire.. Actions that were well deserving of this great acknowledgement..

To any one that ever disapproved...I will gladly hand it over to him.

Thank you my brothers for your vital affirmations.. Of this accolade most humbly appreciated and worn with such great honour.

But yes.. most proudly still..
An accolade for 61⚡⚡, and never to forget those who died and their long-suffering families.

God bless them all. 

Dont Read This...too scary!

We went outside into the yard covered by steel grids.
There was no sun.. the sky was an orange glow.. and i shivered.
But i went on out following the few others who appreciated the the opportunity to take a breath of fresh air. Air that has not been rebreathed or tainted so by these tightly closed cell blocks.
As i walked out over the dry powder earth.. the sky opened.
This hot dry desert so long so harsh.
The rain poured down in big heavy drops. Bursting cool on my scalp.. was  so wow !!
I walked on out into the long bleak high walled yard as the damp smell of wet dust rose around me.
I tore off my jacket and wrinkled old tee shirt and stood with my arms out sideways as the rain gushed over the startled bare skin of my shoulders and back.
My face to the sky.. and eyes closed .. drops plopping on my eyelids and face..
I prayed a thank you.. and the others must have thought me a bit crazy.. but i ignored that.. as they came out from the sheltered edges and copied me in my ritual of chilly gratitide and acceptance of the great gift.
I think it was for me..
Just to say.. stay..

Ch (3) What Happened.. Summary

I started working at Inchcape Shipping Services trading as KMMC in Kuwait in September  2003 as an operations maintenance  manager on Military Logistics.

Travel cross border after 2005 became very highly restricted under military escort only.
And then after 2006 only by air.

We naturally cut down our movements to the bare minimum  and I flew to Kuwait to collect personnel and cash about once a month.

The security situation deteriorated early 2006 and a number of my collegues opted out of the scary war ..left the operational area..  and l fell into a more senior position and became the most senior field operations manager over the entire project. 

Port operations at Umm Qassar harbour  separated from my control but l still flew in from time to time by helicopter and dropped off large quantities of cash for the execution of shipping services as they required.

All my flights were on military aircraft.. authorised by British ministry of defence (MOD) and as my activities were all operational .. my travel authorisations were military, vetted by British Military Attache at the Embassy in Kuwait.

I required no passport and carried only a laminated UK. MOD military authorisation registered with the Kuwait Ministry of Interior.

Copies of all these authorisations are on file at  Inchcape  Shipping Services in Kuwait.

As a supplier of labour ..materials and machines to a number of different subcontractors... l sourced all our requirements and spoke with many local suppliers in lraq.

I was a networker and knew everybody..  military and civilian....and everyone knew me in Iraq.

I arrived on a military  hercules Aircraft from Iraq at the Kuwait military airport  on the midnight flight of 17th September 2008.

I went through all the high security checks before leaving  together with staff from the british  embassy.
I carried only cash and documents.

After l had arrived back at my hotel...l drove the company vehicle  to my office where I was to go over all the paperwork and finances for the next few weeks.

En route to my office.. the lraqi contractors phoned me from their location on site in Basrah airport ,  to request me to collect their tools.

I was running late.. it was Thursday and my bosses at the office were expecting me along with a heap of gifts I had managed to get hold of some weeks previously.

So l was a bit annoyed by the request to detour so far out of my way...but l was strictly obliged to do their every bidding and to keep our relations on track for the promise of much future business.

There was no question.. l had no option.. and so l sped out  in my pickup to collect all the goods they had waiting for me to deliver.

l drove straight to the fuelstation location they described... and then loaded the articles..wheelbarrow.. toolbox.. spades and a spare tyre.
I left immediately to the location they directed me to ,  near my hotel.

There was nothing illegal or suspicious and l trusted them all completely.  
I had worked with them for months before,  loading and unloading cement in the batching yard and had eaten lunch with them a couple of times.

When l arrived, the whole CID  drug squad were lying in wait for me there.

They made the whole thing look like it was l that was "the big drug supplier",  who had just driven from lraq in my pickup with a load of beer .. hashish inside a tyre.
The tyre had been filled with packets of hashish and neatly closed using some machine i guess. Nearly 50 kg i was told.
I guessed far too much..

I was arrested that afternoon  of 18th Sept 2008.
My flight home had been booked for  the  following day.
A flight i still long for.

The Cid police took all the cash in my possession.. and threw all my documentation out into the carpark and interrogated me alone for days until finally in the end a police investigator phoned the embassy.

The whole thing had been meticulously planned and it is now  so awfully simple to see it all in hindsight.

There were four other tyres with those druglords that i saw..
I was arrested for doing my job a little too well...
Slammed into jail where ive been ever since for this.
For doing this.
The druglords and their cohorts all free and trading out there, have not stopped laughing at all this...  ever since.

Stalwart Friends and Their Truth

 Gareth,
you know, we just carry on with our normal lives every day, as if everything is okay, we are all so self focused and self centered.
Just accepting everything as logical and automatically working out well.

Until I get into bed tonight and see that you have liked one of my posts sharing a Sunday afternoon braai with friends and family and then the whole thing jerks me to a halt !! I then suddenly realise that there are you, Gareth, not having the luxuries that we so take for granted. Not having a braai, not having family and friends to socialise with. It almost makes me feel guilty....but I know it shouldn't.
But it does.

Tonight I just want to tell you and share with you my feelings and respect for you and the situation you are in.

There are so many of us that think if you, pray for you, are with you in spirit.
You share our joys with us on facebook. But you know what...every day that passes is a day closer to your freedom. That is for sure.
We all know that and believe that.....all of us who are your facebook friends. And you believe it too.....I know it.

Be strong Gareth...
always on our minds and thoughts. Keep it up partner.....and may I have the privilage to personally shake your hand one day...

​

Hi Gareth.. Da.Lr
Thank you very much for this e mail.
And since I know the limitations of your device, the lengthy reply is even more appreciated.
You show a very deep understanding of the dilemmas that confronted all of us. Your description and vivid images are excellent. I am glad that you enjoy my poetry.
It is good to read the comments from a connoisseur like yourself. You should consider putting this on the 61 FB site.
You are a well known person in 61. I believe it will be received very positively.
Unfortunately I will not know since I am not on the 61 Gp.
Personal problems with the admins.
I do not know your religious connotations and also not your future. But should you consider a real soul enriching experience and also a form of non secular recognition, you should consider a course in Metaphysics as the link. When I was on a all-out low 6 years back this course brought some very valuable perspectives to
6, Gareth Rutherford <rutherfordgareth@gma

Hi Dawid..
I wanted to share a facet of my response to your clear and vivid images on recent posts.
I am so enjoying your writings here silent and alone..and i am most anxious to tell you this.Images of our thoughts when confronted by the "pinch zone"   .. do or die. Combat situations.
I am not as well experienced as you by far.. but still remember these same dilemmas that confronted all of us.
Me then just a little lancejack section medic..As you so poignantly describe...The fear of the bullet that hunts for your destruction and pain.
The fear of Death itself is something else.?. it was something less realistic then to us young boys,  i think.?. quick final and there were few options.
Except maybe.. dying alone.. ?Now there is one i saw..and today still  my lasting sadness.
But not here. Later for that.
Another sad tale..But what happens before such combat situations ...is the part that burns itself deeply into those of us who have been so close to it and dodged it.
Seen the side of its face in an instant and ducked away out of its random clutching reach.
The choices we make.. the training we've had.. the weapons and equipment.. our comrades.. all have direct bearing on life or death here. 
So "random" may be used speculatively i think.
The constant expectation of being taken by that speeding spinning metal projectile.The savage numbing thud..and its impact, as its kinetic energy transfer into your flesh.. A pulp of fragments or death.
Breathless and winded and suffocating you glance down to where your webbing once  covered your stomach to see vapour, dust and blood .. and the numbness.
Or perhaps your leg gone completely and shredded battle fatigues soaked in blood.
And the smell of singed hair ..that same dust ..and your fresh blood... and yet even as the whole world is tilted sideways..Still the hope and trust in knowing that your comrades wont leave you.That they will fetch you..? fix you.?. the medics .. doctors and the great hospitals.?
Frightened more.. alone now they have all gone as the afternoon sun settles low. 
Cant feel your legs.. flies in your face..eyes..Only minutes pass and sand in your mouth..lie still.. no pain..And then sounds of voices .. percussive battle.. and then faces close and supporting.
Gentle words and hands deftly bandaging.. no longer alone..now safe.
Reassurance and relief and hope  consoling the terror.. washed away in floods of adrenaline.
All too soon.. embers of hope seep away... lying in the lee of the vehicle as flies feast and swarm.
 A hand in yours ..as waves of pain sweep through your ebbing hope. Futile tourniques.. morphine and ineffective saline drips.
The rescue too late.. the light grows dim and a prayer at last and a brave knowing smile and closing dry hot eyes and so forever in peace.But not alone.. That is what happened and i am sure much the same as what you have heard before.This was a part of smokeshell i witnessed ...and those  young men who waited so long for casevac.. and died under my care... but with their hands in ours.. gently. 
So Dawid.. this is a tiny bit of what your words ignite in all of us i am sure..And i have never stopped listening to others who tell of much the same.. sadness and loss.. gallantry.. futility and it all just keeps on repeating.

Different place.. different time.. same blood.. brave young men.Same in the Bible.. over and over..Far worse.I love your language usage.. i read it aloud alone here and its articulation reads much more by the fabric of words you choose so beautifully.

I never respond enough as i read the appreciation by so many who have chanced apon your most vivid articulations. 
Most accurate and inspired by your experience and i am sure.. the grateful responses by all of us who devoted our lives to the same causes and live to tell of that war and its secrets that we are perhaps still fighting today.

I hope you make some sense of my language .. as i so enjoy yours.. my afrikaans is fairly fluent and i clearly understand all you say.. even catch your spelling slips.. hahaaa.

But i dont have the vocab i would have,  if i spoke every day so its messy and for use in shorter letters.I am stuck in an arab jail far away from home and I delight in the clear pure afrikaans that is my perfect second language and my great pride.
God bless you and family
Regards
Gareth​

You should consider putting this on the 61 FB site. You are a well known person in 61.
Ja weet jy my maat ek onthou jou goed. Hoe kan ek een van my seuns vergeet. Ja ek is Piet. Julle het my Fris Chris genoem. From my battle training sergeant major.. He remembers me and I'm so happy for this. I'm so proud to be one of the best soldiers he trained.

Gareth, I've only recently become aware of the awful injustice that you've had to endure and I wanted to reach out to you and say that I'd like to add whatever I can bring to those who are already supporting you and who are involved in trying to rectify the grievous wrong that you've suffered - rather late than never I guess??.

I spoke with Geoff Olivier in the week and he has given me Tammy's number (obviously it will be easier for me to understand directly from Tammy where / what / how I might be ble to contribute to the overall effort, if at all). One thing - i work closely with Desmond Tutu and have done so for the last decade (see www.tutudesk.org for the work I do).

I couldn't guarantee his involvement as he's a very old man now; however, after speaking with Tammy I'll have better understanding of everything and if it's at all possible / feasable - and something that wouldn't upset any other efforts - then it might be possible to engage him directly: to ask him to evaluate if he would consider lending assistance, and if 'yes', then to understand in what form etc etc.
As I've indicated I can't offer you any guarantees in this regard; however, I do believe that there could possibly be an outside chance that we could get him involved in siome way, shape or form if approached correctly and with a ccomprehensive dossier of the facts - which would vindicate you and clearly outline the terrible injustice that you've been a victim of.

Ch (20) Son returns Ember Takes Flame

At long last.. after eight agonising years of loss and certain disdain.. there happened a little miracle.

Some may not realise the significance of this delightful incident which took place on June 6th 2016..
After being trashed into jail without knowing how or why the fabulous manipulations were set into place just for a simple chap like me.

A devoted husband and father working thousands of miles away from home,  months at a time under terrifying and dangerous conditions.

This all for the benefit of those alone back home,  and a chance of future economic stability.
I missed being with them so badly while i was away so long and found that on my brief leaves back home,  I had become more of a stranger and a disturbance to the daily routines than a member of the group.

It was heartbreaking for me to see,  but there was no immediate alternative and i kept my head down and excelled at my work further .
Saying anything made no difference, and i found one day i had been booked to see a psychiatrist for assessment.

My son and wife waited for me so gallantly,   but my visits became more of a hinderance than a pleasure.
The two of them became very independent as there was  more than sufficient money to make up for my absence.
And .. they were very busy all the time..

Contentedly they spent months alone in a silent house with no dad on the couch. No one to wash the dogs or service the cars.
No braai on a saturday  . No rugby supporter.. or role model to emulate.

Well as you may gave guessed.. my stay away was extended rather  unexpectedly.. with my roughshod arrest and ludicrous conviction by a kangaroo legal system in the arab spring.

Snatched out of the mainstream and thrown into jail and interrogated under extreme duress without anyone knowing where i was.
For nearly a week i was kidnapped and tormented by the manipulators of this crime.. and led to believe a whole sequence of deviated events.
Made to sign bogus statements in arabic under great duress.
Held under the most appalling conditions,  I suffered such humiliation and cruelty as I longed to explain what had happened to me... to my dear wife and child back home.
No such opportunity was afforded and my seat flew empty back home to south africa where my wife and child waited days  long at arrivals for me.

What a shock two weeks later to hear via the grapevine, that i had been arrested in kuwait with hashish in my cargo.
What a lot of mumbo jumbo and not possible by any manner of means..
The shock and humiliation they had to endure was unbearable..

I was muzzled and shut away out of contact with anyone in order that i did not figure out , or determine in any way,  what had happened or what had caused this comedy of errors.
Days.. weeks.. months... suffering.. shame... heartrending distress... i languished in a pit of snakes and vermin criminals.

To cut a boring story more towards the point i originally was so delighted to share with you...

My son at home grew up without me for eight of his most formative years.
He managed well considering the most miserable humiliation he had to endure as the whispers  of my predicament grew to a cresendo.
At school and all round the neighbourhoods..
Bravely my wife and 9yr old son  waited in hope every day,  with rumours that i would soon be pardoned.. released and exonerated.
My court appearances were an absolute fiasco....all in arabic..
witnessed by British FCO embassy representatives. David Curtis.

Nothing was said,  and i was advised to stay quiet. Behave and be patient.. i was sure to be granted a reprieve soon.

  Five years of waiting alone at home.. my dear ones finally gave up all hope for my release.
My wife had taken advice from a junior school teacher councellor that all contact with the child and father must cease.
To adapt to a life with no mention of me at any time.
The child became completely cloistered even as his uncle requested to see him at school.
No contact.
I begged  over and over for a mobile number and his email.
All to a flat and categoric refusal.

And then  one day,  out the blue,  a month before my mother died of a broken heart...by special diplomatic delivery ...a court document for my divorce arrived.

There were numerous demands for fair distribution of my assets which i happily signed over.. and more.

I gave them all i had worked for my whole life.. willingly .
Still the boy remained shut away and was obsessively shaperoned every minute of the day.
I missed him so badly and heard brief reports of his numerous talents...academic and sporting successes.
All credit to my as "widowed",  ex wife.
She managed her "project"... from cradle to matric.. so far A+

But here i sat.. excommunicated and muzzled.. until i managed to get a tiny phone connected to the internet.
I wrote numerous letters to my mother .. my father and a few dear friends who had written to me.

I wrote most importantly to my son expressing my love and requesting a simple response.
None of  those letters ever found him.
My wife read them all, and tore them up.

Dear friends that visited me here hand delivered letters to the doorstep but to no avail.
Even the headmaster imposed an iron curtain on me , never replying to any of my mails and refusing entry of my brother.

Eight years it took as someone somewhere.. i suspect one of his more sensible schoolmates .? Convinced him to reply to me.

Finally he linked with me on facebook... acknowledging that he had no good reason not to reply and that i should have no hard feelings.

Well.. i was so stunned and elated..and I pored over every word,  savouring its nuance and seeing his face writing that.. wondering what was going through his mind ?

I had to weigh up my response carefully and after a long while thinking... I replied briefly of my great relief.. and that we would have plenty of time now .. to catch up.
What a great step forward this has been after all these silent years.

How many of my dear caring friends have known of this but have been too afraid to confront my now ex wife.

Still i love her.. and hold no grudge.
A terrible burden she carried alone
A rage... a reprisal or a reason to judge
My errors.. my heart.. never back home.

My dear son .. my absolute delight
My reason for living
Now blessed with new insight
Ive missed years of giving
Im so tired now .. no more fight
Still i love them both so much...
Dont think ill ever be  right
But  at least theres a flame now burning bright.
My boy now connected...the end is in sight.
Thank you my caring friends for following my plight.
My duty now to return to you all the great things youve done
And to include you all in this story a happy ending and then some
We are going to have a party with no expense spared.
Right through the night till the rising sun.
My tears of joy and my heart once again bared.
All this for you.. Michael.my son.

Military 4 = Death all Alone

A response to an old friend regarding a fear worse than death alone... dying alone..THE PINCH ZONE. 

This happened to me and many others some days in 1980.
Something I wanted to share with others who may have had the same thoughts.
Here I write to Dawid .. an honoured veteran .. esteemed poet and author.
a facet of my response to your clear and vivid images on recent posts.

I am so enjoying your writings here silent and alone..and I am most anxious to tell you this.

Images of our thoughts when confronted by the "pinch zone"   .. do or die. Combat situations.

I am not as well experienced as you by far.. but still remember these same dilemmas that confronted all of us.

Me then just a little lancejack section MEDIC.  and then..  

As you so poignantly describe...The fear of the bullet that hunts for your destruction and pain.

The fear of Death itself is something else.?. it was something less realistic then to us young boys,  I think.?. quick final and there were few options.

Except maybe.. dying alone.. ?

Now there is one I saw..and today is still  my lasting sadness.

But not here. Later for that.
Another sad tale..

But what happens before such combat situations ...is the part that burns itself deeply into those of us who have been so close to it and dodged it.

Seen the side of its face in an instant and ducked away out of its random clutching reach.

The choices we make.. the training we've had.. the weapons and equipment.. our comrades.. all have direct bearing on life or death here. 

So "random" may be used speculatively I think? 

The constant expectation of being taken by that speeding spinning metal projectile.

The savage numbing thud..and its impact, as its kinetic energy transfer into your flesh.. A pulp of fragments or death.
Breathless and winded and suffocating you glance down to where your webbing once  covered your stomach to see vapour, dust and blood .. and the numbness.

Or perhaps your leg gone completely and shredded battle fatigues soaked in blood.

And the smell of singed hair ..that same dust ..and your fresh blood... and yet even as the whole world is tilted sideways..
Still the hope and trust in knowing that your comrades wont leave you.

That they will fetch you..? fix you.?. the medics .. doctors and the great hospitals.?

Frightened more.. alone now they have all gone as the afternoon sun settles low. Cant feel your legs.. flies in your face..eyes..

Only minutes pass and sand in your mouth..lie still.. no pain..And then sounds of voices .. percussive battle.. and then faces close and supporting.

Gentle words and hands deftly bandaging.. no longer alone..now safe.

Reassurance and relief and hope  consoling the terror.. washed away in floods of adrenaline.

All too soon.. embers of hope seep away... lying in the lee of the vehicle as flies feast and swarm. 

A hand in yours ..as waves of pain sweep through your ebbing hope. Futile tourniques.. morphine and ineffective saline drips.

The rescue too late.. the light grows dim and a prayer at last and a brave knowing smile and closing dry hot eyes and so forever in peace. Cold.. 

But not alone.. That is what happened and i am sure much the same as what you have heard before.

This was a part of operation  smokeshell I witnessed ...and those  young men who waited so long for casevac.. and died under my care... but with their hands in ours.. gently. 
So Dawid.. this is a tiny bit of what your words ignite in all of us I am sure..

And I have never stopped listening to others who tell of much the same.. sadness and loss.. gallantry.. futility and it all just keeps on repeating.

Different place.. different time.. same blood.. brave young men.

Same in the Bible.. over and over..Far worse then than now..
We never learn..wont change..

I never respond enough as I read the appreciation by so many who have chanced apon your most vivid articulations.

 Most accurate and inspired by your experience and I am sure.. the grateful responses by all of us who devoted our lives to the same causes and live to tell of that war and its secrets that we are perhaps still fighting today.

Ch (6) Prisoners Abroad 2015

Hello again all at P.A.

I have been a bit selfishly quiet lately as all the rumours of my inminent release came to nothing..

As the hordes of ruling classes scurry to conceal embezzled billions hidden in offshore taxhavens.

 There is a huge panic today as the most blatant stashes have been found to be in London properties. All in the news...
Hushed investigations underway.. time will tell.. 

So all is a bit fraught right now amongst the judiciary and ministerial circles and such trivia of clemency for a lone British inmate takes a very low priority.

Who Casts the First Stone ?

Hello my friends im back again with a missive for the day.

Trapped in a foreign jail so miserably far away.

I am just a simple guy with a little bit more to say.

I am neither sad nor complaining, but have a lot on my tray.

No more thought of whining or tedious dismay..

My many friends now firm behind me every step of the way.

I would love to share the story of many here far worse off than me.

And to let you all know right now,  just how much you have helped me to see.

So many here have fallen foul of a world where wars and greed hold sway.

Where there are millions of impoverished children and migrants, and a world in disarray..

Raped and tortured as the silent world objects with impotence.All ive learnt,  is written down and saved for all to see.

My life, my efforts, my many sins declared, aknowledged. my guilt now mercifully freed.

The years have taken their toll of the fun and taken all their needs.

After Ive seen the bent of truth and law and justice.
Banks and global ethics.. Hippocrisy...national debt and bribery.. human rights.. political correctness.. democracy and its sickness and corruption... all said and done.

Nobody is perfect and blaming is too much fun.

Read through these records please... as critically as you can.. and see that l am only one.

One of many thousands of voiceless men alone .. many far worse-off than me.. 

Today i write this all for them, for who there will be no reprieve... and for you to see.

I myself am tired now, and will be  taking a bit of leave.

My illegal fone is dying and ive said all that I really need.

I have been drained and weakened by this hopeless fight. and have gained much relief by sharing the details of our plight.

But now my efforts are for those with me .. who will never say a thing...

I am impelled to keep going with this, to expose these legal infractions.

So we see how busy the world is with their own injustices and many excessive convictions.

We cannot expect for them to do anything to change thier diabolical sleights.

The mechanisms are all so complex that good sense cannot  see the light.

And the blend of greed and politics, obscure what should be naturally right.

 I am not running away now.. but handing this over to you.

So that even though you may be as voiceless or apathetic as all the others who've seen this through..

At least you now know whats true.What has happened to us here as scapegoats so subdued...

How we have been trampled and still silent.. are forgotten and unseen.

Making the best of today.. i share these thoughts with you and hope that somewhere in your own busy days you may find time to read of the successes.. challenges.. and dreams..

curved balls and adventures facing all of us here on the fallen side as we clamber towards the light.

Knowing that you have bothered to read this far... I am most content.Relieved.. grateful.. blessed and my concience ...free.

Making the best of today.. i share these thoughts with you and hope that some others will share these same ideas..and gain some solace in that we are not alone.

Making the Best of it all...  .. who that so arrogantly condemn us... is without blemish today .?

http://gareth54.blogspot.com/

My best regards to you all

Gareth..

Kuwait Central Prison.

2008 -- 2024

Alledgedly trafficking hashish.

Ch (5) Legal Loose Ends..

Everything ties up now.. Nothing made sense before 2014.

 Noted Irregularities in the handling of my case which were Ignored.

We have noted that  many "Kuwaiti Citizens" with any single item as below described ... are in most cases  aquitted.

The incidence of  drug trafficking occurs fairly frequently here and i have retained a great many newspaper reports about this over the years.

1)  Incriminating cash was alledgedly handed to me by police before my arrest.
This the Cid claimed and I denied.

2)  I was alone and had no accomplices, and was not at ....or near any international border or airport...nor was I witnessed by any person crossing into kuwait.

I was convicted of the much more serious offence of trafficking.
Trafficking involves arrest at a border crossing or airport... but
I was arrested in the city centre in broad daylight.
Not Trafficking !

3) I was not able to witness the said tyre being opened ,  or that it contained anything... or that it was even the same tyre.
There were no fingerprints or dna of mine on any of it or on the contents of the tyre.
The contents of the tyre were 50kg of cannabis resin alledgedly.

4)  I was interrogated alone and under extreme duress for days.
I guessed too much and knew little.

5)  I was interrogated without legal council and photographed against my will my photo published globally before my trial and conviction.

6) I was forced under extreme duress to sign statements and confessions also initially un accompanied by a lawyer and all in arabic.

7) When i was finally permitted to meet  and brief.. with a lawyer.. it was for less than an hour and also under conditions in the jail of extreme anxiety and duress.

8) I was diagnosed by two doctors independently as suffering from chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Doctor Conrad Czech before my arrest in south africa. And then dr Mohammed Yusuf of the State Psychiatric Hospital in Kuwait.
I have these reports.

They were ignored and i was declared mentally fit even as i was most severely afflicted.

9) No traces of any Alcohol or Drugs were detected in my blood or urine.. 

10) My hotel room in Kuwait was torn apart and searched rigorously without and warrant at  2am in the morning.
No drugs or tools were there.

11) My court appearances were witnessed by British Embassy Consular representatives.. David Curtis and Jihan Roshdi.
I was grateful for this care even as they were not able to do anything.
None of us knew what we know now.
It was their advice not to interfere as they were convinced  my case would be thrown out.

There was no testimony other than the arabic lawyer and the first court proceeding took twelve minutes.

12). My appeal court hearing took less than eight minutes and i was not able to brief with the lawyer over this nor to submit any testimony.

13) Company cash with me was all meticulously documented with corresponding reciepts and statements. All disregarded.

14) Basic telephonic communication from the jail 2008/9... at all times was highly restricted and then, only limited to five minute calls.

This verdict was decided long before my arrest and court proceedings were clearly only for appearances.

Ch 19 Time of Terror

Twentieth Feb 2016..there was a riot in the new prison... other side from me.
Some fellow was imprisoned for possessing a spiff.. a weed cigarette.
He was so incensed at the injustice and counter logic at being held  amongst  more drugs and addicts  inside the jail than outside.
So he filmed himself sitting with a group of hopeless criminal addicts all smoking meth inside the cells.

There are certain blocks where there are many who manage to continue with their addictions.
The publication of this video was a huge embarrassment to the prison managers and the wrath of  all hell broke loose.
By instruction from the highest levels in government.. special forces were dispatched to the prison in order to isolate the culprits and then to further ensure that no trace of any narcotic substances remained.

The onslaught was rigorous and the inmates in the implicated block were herded outside by  blackmasked helmeted special force police with shock sticks and truncheons.

This happened as Shireen approached the main front gate of the prison sunday morning 08h30 am.
The inmates herded into the back yard were in such terror as the police screamed and flailed their batons mercilessly.
The screams were heard right through the prison and the tension racked up everywhere.
Everything inside those cells within that block was removed and put on the trash heap .. trash mountain outside.
The inmates were stripped down to underpants and beaten repeatedly until they all lay cowering in silent whimpering rows on their knees with their faces in the dust .

The aircons were stripped.. tv s ripped off the walls and even the light fittings ripped open.
Drains and electrical outlets too.
No place remained un exposed and all the contraband was  removed.
Every blanket and mattress all thrown out.
Three and a half hours they took to evacuate every personal item from that block and the screaming and shouting wemt on right through the day as the wardens and special forces shaved the heads and terrrorised the drug block inmates further in the yard.
They were searched again and then re admitted to their sanitised cells.
.
Poor Shireen had just chanced on the most inopportune moment to come in to visit me all the way from london so specially.
Bravely she persevered assertively and curteously and through the most unbelievable barriers set before her.
I am so honoured to have such a friend.
I was called out of my block by special escort against all the standard procedures.
But.. they fetched me.. through a completely locked down prison.

While all that terrifying prison purge was going on... starting at one end...it was to sweep right through the entire prison.
Every day after that .. another block was systematically evacuated..and purged of all normal privelaged comforts.
The drugs blocks were  attacked with the most vigour and left completely bare.

The more select blocks  like state security and financial sexual crimes were not quite so badly penalised and were allowed to keep most of their bedding.
The block seven.. across the way  from us .. was taken out one wednesday morning.
And we heard every scream and shout and the cracking thuds of the baton impacts.
It was terrifying to hear  even through the closed steel door...and the whole miserable affair went on for another five hours as we , in our block were under lockdown.

We were also moved out of our rooms on the side of the yard where the others were being manhandled and beaten .. so that we could not see what was  being done to them.

Ok.. admittedly.. block seven is a very dirty and low privelaged drugs block so they were subjected to the most stringent  discipline and torment.
My block eight consists of selected students who attend the mosque school daily and we have a great many privelages for the price of attending classes dilligently.

Our block is clean.. well lit and pretty well behaved in general.
There is absolutely no sign of any drug use here.
Still .. our time was coming and we had no idea when that would be.

Day after day we heard of reports of the terror the others had endured at the hands of the masked police.

I buried my fone in the aircon and knew they might find it because of the way other aircon units had  been destroyed in all the other blocks.

There were no places to hide anything and most inmates resorted to hiding their fones and chargers inside their tv s.
Now let me just  tell you one thing is for sure.. these police know every hiding place in these cells now and there are no new tricks.

The weekend went on by and sunday came.... where we thought just possibly ...that we had been let off the hook..
The day dragged on by ...and we waited anxiously for our turn to come .. but it didnt.

Still .. that night,  i dissassembled my tiny phone and hid each component in a separate place leaving my trusty charger deep under my bed behind some boxes.
The next day i was ready... even though there was a chance that we would be passed over.
Eight .. nine.. ten oclock nothing.
I showered.. cleaned my room. Hid my knives .. took my bit of cash in my  jacket.
Turned off my aircon and tv.  Got changed .. went to the loo.. brushed teeth and waited.
Then there was shouting and the steel door latches oitside the main block door drew back loudly.. amd we knew ot was coming.
One little cleaner man came running into my room in sheer terror to escape the storm of  black clad ..masked special fprces rushing into our block.
I stood far back im my shower doorway and waited until  a policeman  loudly and vigorously urged me out jabning me in the back as i grabbed my jacket off the hook near the door on my way out.
Once out in the gloomy passageway we were led into three rows where we were thorougly searched.. and to my relief there were a couple of our normal daily wardens helping out with that.
From there we were shunted roughly into the back yard where we were given the same thrashing and kicking and screaming terror treatment.
Soon we were all lined up on rows on our knees and faces into the ground.
Anyone looking up got a boot in the ass or a baton whipping.
I was a bit intrigued with all tjis terrifyongly violent discipline and was pleased to notice  their caution with me .. or possibly that i had  imagined  it ?
I found a place next to the front corner and sat as still as possible.
But.. i was the only one out of the entire block with a grey jacket on and all the special forces had seen me.
I was separate but next to the trooper standing up front and he said in clear perfect american english .. to me.. to sit still .. do as I was told and you will not get hurt.
The beatings behind kept on as the troopers kept us cowered into the ground and one at a time those with any hair were shorn bald.
The trooper at the front asked me is clear english where i was from and why i was in jail.
I tried avoiding the chat.. but he insisted i talk louder so that everyone could hear.
I said it was a long story and  he said .. well we have plenty of time.
So i gave him a fairly honest rundown carefully admitting my carelessness and culpabilities.
He commented to my credit in that respect which was a good thing.
I also took advantage of the chance to mention that  embassy kept a close eye on me  and aparrently were working on some  arrangement with  kuwait government to exchange or release wanted prisoners.
And lastly that i was sure they would let me go soon.

Then he asked me to follow him and the guy in a wheelchair to the back where i had to get my already bald  head shaved by the filthy diseased clipper machine.
Then i was redirected to a position near the wheelchair inmate once again separate from  the main group on the back corner where i sat with my head between knees drawn up tight..
The air was cool and there was a breeze.
I was just waiting for one of them to kick me or baton me.. i  would not object.. but it would be a part of the adventure which would glow with authenticity.
Gladly.. it didnt happen.. i behaved as well as i could.
And.. i think someone had said something to them about me.

The stony ground was hard and all of our backs were aching.. and over two hours in this prolonged nose in the filthy ground position was hard going.. but the threat of a baton whipping kept us all dead still.
Remember.. these are dangerous criminals that these troopers are handling and given half the chance these criminals would do something stupid like attacking a warden.
So they have to be tough and stick to standard prcedures.. and with us.. they did that.. and actually they were very soft on us.
They even handed out water and juice which incidently had been commandeered from someones cell.

The english trooper asked me  if i was cold  and i said no..
He asked me why i was shivering.. was i scared.. i replied.  "Yes.. a bit"

We sat for another twenty minutes or so as others had their heads shaved and the troopers inside our block continued with their savage destruction of our cells.

I listened as i sat there and heard the pidgeons high up roosting in the roof.. the crashing of the troopers on my cell i was sure.. the sound of a passenger jet high up where drinks were being served and the idle chatter of the wardens amongst themselves behind me.

The small stones dug deeply unto my bum and then we were all told to stand and stretch legs.
My back complained like an old
On chap .. my chef friend ali.. collapsed in a faint and was carried out by four inmates to the hospital for some attention.
Another chap who had managed to get permission to grow his hair because of a scalp disease was whipped mercilessly and shorn bald because he had no doctors letter.
The  block search was completed and i was led out of the yard first. The english trooper said to me to follow him.
As if.. he was looking after me?
I was grateful and followed closely and he said to get in my cell..look down and dont look round.
When i was in there another walked by and said to me to sit on the bare floor.
Bare because all my carpeting pieces and blanket floor covers were thrown on a huge pile outside my door.
It was an indescribable mess.. all the contents of all the cells thrown into the middle of the block.
And one by one all the inmates were searched and let in to the block again where they clawed their way like i did over the piles of bedding and boxes and food and appliances and just so much as they went back to their cells.
It was with great relief because the ordeal was over all of a sudden.
The  main door boomed shut.. and we knew the troopers were gone..
But we had one hell of a mess to clear up..
But..
One thing lay on top priority.
Had my phone been located?
Quickly i went to run my hand into the groove and to my relief.. there it was still.. and its charging cables.
I just left it there and was just so relieved .. everything else just didnt matter.
I sat down in a wrecked relieved heap and gathered my wits as i tried to figure out where to start.
My tv was gone and had to be collected grom a trolley outside.
My cables were all gone too.. but  i just didnt care.. my phone and charger were miraculously all safe and sound.
Itcwas about three pm  and i started washing all my towels clothes and floor blanket.
I did this so that it could dry while i tidied my room.
Took ages .. but it was good to have a spring clean and to reset my kitchen area.
The ordeal is over.. at least for a while.. others were not so lucky as many lost their phones far more expensive than mine.
They will have new ones by next month..

Ch (14) Accolades Posponed

How many days ive missed your face.

Your silence and my solitude

Whatever did they tell you to have held your resolve so implacably

How i longed to regain my place.

My heart with so many gifts long overdue

But its all gone now, it went so fast

What could have been, just never was.

How many years Ive failed this race.

Seeing so many others around me

So proud of their sons, but mine lost

And I, to such misplaced disdain, resigned

Your praises so many, left unsaid.

And so many.. im sure unseen

But your door stays closed

My muted call declined.. denied

My longing, and knowing that

Nothing lasts forever

Excepting  my love
Michael

Hell Hath No Fury....

Letters from Friends

Eddie Bernhardi
Gareth, you know, we just carry on with our normal lives every day, as if everything is okay, we are all so self focused and self centered. Just accepting everything as logical and automatically working out well. Until I get into bed tonight and see that you have liked one of my posts sharing a Sunday afternoon braai with friends and family and then the whole thing jerks me to a halt !! I then suddenly realise that there are you, Gareth, not having the luxuries that we so take for granted. Not having a braai, not having family and friends to socialise with. It almost makes me feel guilty....but I know it shouldn't. But it does. Tonight I just want to tell you and share with you my feelings and respect for you and the situation you are in. There are so many of us that think if you, pray for you, are with you in spirit. You share our joys with us on facebook. But you know what...every day that passes is a day closer to your freedom. That is for sure. We all know that and believe that.....all of us who are your facebook friends. And you believe it too.....I know it. Be strong Gareth...always on our minds and thoughts. Keep it up partner.....and may I have the privilage to personally shake your hand one day...

Thank you so much for your letter, it is perfect...I can print it from here and scan it in with all the rest once we have received them all.  It is so great to be joining as a network of friends and family for Gareth and I thank you so much.

I promise to keep everyone updated as we continue on this journey.  I am hopeful that there really is a great light at the end of this tunnel

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I write to you, in plea with regards to Gareth Timothy Rutherford who is a British citizen, under the care of the British Embassy and is imprisoned in Kuwait and has been there for the past six years.  

We understand Gareth has discussed with you the details of his imprisonment, from his arrest, right through all of these long years, details of which he shares in his blog http://gareth54.blogspot.com/?m=1

We understand you are limited in your influence and we as old friends are very much hoping that a mass appeal in writing would somehow help to secure some additional help.

We make an urgent plea to you, this is a man who is no danger to society, missing out on living the very best days of his life.

Gareth worked as a engineer, both in South Africa and abroad.  He was a respected colleague and friend to everyone, always willing to go the extra mile and give a helping hand wherever he could.  Sadly, this very kind nature, willing to help any friend, was his demise and we are all desperate for him to be able to leave his Kuwait prison on compassionate grounds.

I have known Gareth since I was 12 years old, more dedicated husbands, friends and fathers are hard to find.  Gareth only went abroad to work for much better remuneration, to give his wife a better life and his son a private education.  
He seldom drank and never did drugs, being vehemently opposed and saved many of our teenage friends from falling into regular drug use.  In fact his drug of choice, were at least 2 pots of english tea a day!

Gareth's mother is now extremely ill,  in a government hospital and desperate to see her oldest son.  His father is very elderly, quite fit but getting frail.  
Gareth's wife has divorced him, she lives in Cape Town South Africa and allows no contact with his 16 year old son, in fact he has had no contact with his son since his incarceration 6 years ago.  
This is very sad as Gareth so desperately needed his wife's support over these years.  

Please please consider giving an exceptionally good man some additional assistance, he really yearns to see his mother before she dies and to use his last few productive years wisely, to make up to all his loved ones.

Please any additional information, do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours sincerely
Tania du Plooy

0027823736664 CT

002482792770 Seychelles

Dear Gareth

Know that your time there is coming to an end. God is preparing you for the time when you are out of there. You will see that every moment in Kuwait meant preparation for the day you are together again with family and friends. You just remember you can and must hold your head up high. You are the son of the King of Kings. You are a co-heir with Christ. You are above and not beneath, you have been bought with a price and protected with a blood covenant. Your are the apple of His eye. So enjoy your time there as it is coming to and end in Jesus Name.

Gareth, I have such great memories of you and your brothers and admiration for the respect you guys always showed us girls when growing up. Much like our silent big brothers, so to speak. This is more than can be said for some of those who grew up with us in Kalk Bay. I feel that these connections are never lost. Your parents were such kind and soulful people. I didn't know much about your dad but Your mum kept us entertained at art classes with Peggy North and co. She was such a lovely lady. Treated us like her own.
Shushed us to sleep when we were tired and safely dropped us at home.
Such fond memories of her and Peggy.
I think I remember you driving that Tartan bakkie and ALWAYS smiled or greeted us.
We interacted often with Tammy and Peter through Alison, Sean and Robin.
You are a part of our history and that deserves remembering and honouring. You may not know it, but we quietly felt safe in our community because of people like you and your family.
So it is, again, I who should thank you for the silent reassurance of safety, respect and the smiles.
Lyn marie adams

Instead of protecting me ! Of all that detail .... I told u ; I knew it was going to hurt me .... Now it's in my brain , and in my imagination .....
I drowned with u reading those lines .... Do u hate me ! While I was trying to bring joy to u in every way I knew .... I was going to record the sounds of the early morning symphony when the birds start singing ...
As if it's not enough feeling Jesus's passion of this month ... I used to think one day I was going to have the stigmata .,.. And now u and your writings ... What did I do ... U still do not know how I somehow can feel and see other people's sufferings , and that pulled me down ; and I try to go up .. up like a butterfly flapping my colorful wings to put smiles on every persons face .... Then something like this puts the arrow in my heart and I fall from my height recognizing that I can do nothing because I am just a corpse !

I have cut and pasted this from messages i sent to your facebook page some days ago. Which it seems you may not have received or read.???I have more to discuss when you. Reply to this....Tillers, many thanks for the warm encouragement. I really felt a bit pathetic whining like that when in actual fact I am so privelaged and well looked after here. Bonz will bear this out when he updates you. I was so takenaback and humbled by the rallying support and encouragement that continues to bless me. Im walking on air. We had three good visit sessions in Bosses private offices and I was so specially pleased to see dad looking so fit and relaxed.
Last time things not so familiar were quite bewildering even with the consular staff leading the way. Some big hugs and time enough to get through all that needed saying. This mail connection continues to forge a pathway to so many in every corner of the world.
Susie now with new ipad in daily contact and getting tec savvy.
Well that may take a little while yet.tsk . Miracles around me every day and I am covered by continuous prayers by so many and more I dont even know. It is so visible and active and I go with the flow, its way easier.
More join with me every day and I share with them as much as I can about everything and its so liberating.
Some I gather still feel a bit awkward about the whole debacle, but Ive got over that and readily launch into detailed or shortened exerpts of what happened then and now.
All this info is disseminating fast and I get more sanguine, relaxed and confident as the info, so long confused and suppressed, is finally pieced together and coherently presented.
Yes its too late now to protest but I will have my turn to testify and to confess to my many failings with relish !!.
Debra visits Susie and smss me quite often.
And we're both on fbook.
I am a bit timid at times and rarely initiate contacts. Learnt that Im divorced which was news and a relief.
Still no contact with Mike or L, but not through lack of trying. So many are now aware of this drive, to penetrate L's iron curtain, I must be patient so as not to put the brainwashed kid into any awkward corner with his mom. It will resolve in its own time and I will share that too with all who have shown so much care.
So at great risk of boring you I have gone on a bit longer than I had intended but had to think of a better way to make up for my inconsiderate silence and to thank you for keeping the wheels on with susie, my dad, and all the mess ive caused.
Also greatly bouyed along by your encouragement and kind words. Much love to you and Jennetta,
best
G

Tillers..!!
Many thanks for the news and encouragement. I sometimes have a bad signal in my room so only pick up mail and news when i get up close to the well concealed routers here boosting our fones.
Its been great now susie has an ipad but we both are a bit slow on the uptake of all this new technology.
Im now so much better having such communcation freedom after so many years in the dark.
I even get ebooks from friends.
This device is a bit small but im used to it already. Im in touch with so many every day i hardly ever get out my room. Bonzo and tams visit was nice but now we have daily comms far more relaxed and easy.
Linda has gone her own way which im quite pleased about.
Debra drops me a line every now and again. I can send mail to gerard or warren hoek for bonzo but ive been a bit slack about that. Kim and yianni from fhoek continue to visit me here every 2weeks and bring me bit that i need. There is nothing that i really need but if i can get something nice every now and again.. i dont really need to martyr myself .. i get it.
Marmite.. pbutter.. slippers.. watch and radio. Rechg batteries.
Yianni brings all.. but the managers here all run the extra mile for me and my visitors , and have good relnshp with annie and co from uk emb.
I have been a bit slack about keeping in touch with south afr emb since maria left but i will give them a ring when the election dust settles.
Susie may have forwarded some of my rambling mails which i am pleased she does. I have been watching with great interest the progress of Shani Krebs.. a saffa who was jailed for 18yrs. He wrote a book which has only recently come out.. about his journey and his new life. 
I was initially a bit sceptical but have been following the whole thing on fbook and bookclub reviews.. and huge interest.. encouragement and joy by thousands. Hes also a pretty good artist and produced quite a lot of works while in prison.
He has also made many friends amongst his wardens much like i have here. Anyway.. there is so much interesting stuff on the net.. but whatever happens.. clearly i must definitely keep up with my journals even though mostly i cover everything in my net mails.. sms.. messegers.. and fbk links.
I prefer to send this in chunks because i hate losing any of it and can never rewrite it like the first time. Also this tiny mobile keyboard is so much slower than a pc or laptop and plagued with typos which take even longer to repair. Tam and bonz said that my 100 monthly pounds will reduce to half sometime soon. Nick frank gavin behr and yianni have been chipping in huge amounts and im really a bit spoilt with so much more than i need. 
This phone is a galaxy s5301 costing about 80dollars outside.
But in here i paid equivalent of 280kd or. $955. Heavens about 12 thousand rand.!!!
Anyway.. as things go here.. im reasonably comfortable and well adapted.
Boarding school.. army.. and 5yrs of basra sort of got me pretty well acclimatised to living amongst this lot of creepy crawlies..
My friends room where i sit to get better net performance.
Fridge mwave bigtv.. and more .
We are very spoilt here.
Police just did a quick walk through so there was as always a bit of a scuffle as all the fones get buried.
As it happens.. some of them are so kind and turn a blind eye.. often sitting down for tea and a bit of banter.
My block... this block.. 3 has about  50 inmates in for crimes right across the range.
Murder..rape.. fraud.. bombers.. drugdealers and traffickers all bundled together.
To get into this block.. one has to have a referee quite high up and so the make up is quite clear of bad apples.
We are not subjected to searches as intense or as frequent as the other blocks.
When they come to my room.. they dont touch anything when other rooms look like hiroshima.
Well it wasnt always like that but as time has gone by.. my reputation and privelages have improved.
So i may make it sound so nice but its what you make of it.
I dont have to sit in rush hour traffic.
And im taking it easy one day at a time and soaking up all the friends and their lives and the cascades of support and concern.9pm.. we are locked in our separate cells.
Some 6 .. some 4.. some 2.
And some like me.. alone. 
Its so much better because mostly they all behave like our mine workers or road gangers and have very warped idea of hygiene.
I stay quiet and set what i think is a good example. .. because they watch my every move.
They see all that i do and hate me for my comfortable capability.. but say nothing.
Im mr fixit here.. like everywhere.. and all that i fix i clean.
I often spend more time cleaning a kettle or a cooker than repairing it. 
Same like how your car goes much better after a full valet than just a service alone.I hear that the cape weather has taken a bit of a dip to winter.
Here each day hotter than the next as we approach another season of dust storms.

Every year they seem to get worse. My aircon is in fair condition and i keep it clean and dont mess with it.  Im hoping to buy a small bar fridge for my room soon and will have to get authorisation first.
There are a bunch of third country nationals in the passage outside my room.. all mopping and cleaning with soap water and dettol.
They do it every day because the inmatrs here mess so much.
They spit on the walls and floors and throw papers and cigg butts everywhere and just dont care.  They leave taps running and waste thousands of litrrs a day with their ritual washing.. but still dont shower. They smell and try to cover it eith perfume... but it doesnt work. Not one has ever seen or used a scrubbing brush on himself or the floor.
A whole new desert culture.. and it takes a lot of getting used to.  Well.. to be quite honest.. i tried for years in iraq and again here.. i can bear with it.. but never get used to it. I gave it my best shot.. even crossing my legs till my knees felt like corksrews at meals on the floor diving into trays of chicken and rice using one hand and no implements.

No umplements...Well .. yes... ump !! Umph to all that.
I sit mostly how im most comfortable...and use a spoon now....not my bare hands.
And then i close my door and read and write and email.. and they mostly leave me to my mad western ways.������
Hoping all is well as can be.. thank you again for your positive resolve on attaining some solution for this .
Love to all.
Best
G

Fortune Formula

The Lucky One.

Lucky.. haaa.. 

Here i lie in jail alone.

I watched a film .. one like many ive seen.. but today i cried a lot.

Tears.. actual tears..I stood back from time to time.. aware of my ridiculous tears and was incredulous seeing myself so easily afflicted

And I thought how anyone else seeing me would shake thier heads in sad disdain.

I realised or guessed then,  that the the tears were for my regrets and omissions.. my opportunities forfeited..and my very brave young son who has come all this way never knowing  anything of the truth concerning my absence.

So i watched the US marines in the movie doing thier killing and shooting in Iraq,  and then as some of them were killed in the fray.

I lived into it as i always do.. but i have become hardened to these vivid depictions of young men fighting for thier lives,  like i had done a few times.

The death and blood and fear all the same through the ages. 
How each one of us young soldiers was trained to work together with our battle mates, even if it meant sacrificing onesself.

I did that years ago,  when I had my turn ..even without realising it.. where i ran .. like this movie man .. into the teeth of death itself.. but lived.. as my mates died. 

No reason i could find,  could explain why i was still alive and so many of them were dead. 
My troop commander had chosen to place us where we were on the battle field and so many variables came into play,  defining the path of my feet on that battlefield.

My feet .. that walked out of that firefight alive while so many right next to me fell dead.

The "survivor guilt"  was the same then, as it is described in all the movies... and with no councelling or treatment afterwards...stayed writhing darkly in the depths of my mind.. 
I learnt how to deal with it over the years and replayed it in sections and stored those like  video tapes..stacked in  a dusty cupboard. 

When i replay any of those tapes .. the blank spots reignite and the sounds and smells come flooding back.. 
I no longer avoid it.. i have grown into it and accepted it.

I have come to realise that life and its courses,  for every one of us,  is defined by the thousands of possible variables that are in our every step each day.

Rarely entirely in our control.

So once again i watched the film actor enduring the agonies of loss.. guilt.. and ingrained traumatic damage.... just like i did.

Just like many of us did.Just as many are doing now.Just like i am still doing here every day.. 

Another battlefield.. different challenges.. different adversaries... and just as many different variables of luck.

Luck.. fate.. or divine design.?
That soldier in the movie did the same as me when he went home.. taking the time to visit the bereaved families,  to explain to them all of the brave last days.. hours .. and seconds thier sons had endured.

Few tears for me on all of this.. as i have replayed it in every way and grown resistant to the old raw emotions. 

The sadness remains eternal and part of my bones.
This time though .. today ... the tears ran freely down my face .. and they were not for me or my brave comrades..

Not for my devastated wife left destitute on remnants of my past futile efforts..
Not for my longsuffering mom or the hardships of so many others far worse off than me...imprisonment.. rape.. Torture.. starvation..
unimaginable cruelty.. warcrimes ..all the hatred and greed..

No.. these tears were for my brave young son.
The film i watched today had him there. 
Just like i knew him .. just  like he was with me when i last saw him.

.The likenesses were uncanny and no matter how i tried to get a hold of myself...i was taken by the reality of my love and sorrow for him.
.Choices we make are integral  parts of the formula of our  fortunes.

There are real and imagined influences.. religious.. magical..occult...superstitious.. logical.. calculated ideas and luck..

Co incidence ...fate.. prayer.. statistical probability and hope.

We humans are wired to find reason.. explanations or answers for everything... and when there arent any or when we cant find them....we make them up.
My gosh but we are the masters of spin.!
My gosh .. but i am ashamed of my desperate naievity and lemming like tendency to follow blindly in hope.I do that..
Ive done thatI never stop hoping for more.I want to be on the side of the winning team.

How easy it would be to be content with any of the immaculately groomed dogmas.

Prophesies.. predictions.. promises and flamboyant descriptions of paradise.

How easy it would be to pack all that away like those past lessons into my stack of video cassettes... and then to sit back knowing i was likely to be given a gate pass one day.

I want to keep my best options open and to err on the right side.I dont want to get to the gate for the big match.. and find that i dont have enough money to buy a ticket.. or that i dont have enough credits in my account.

To have come all this way.. endured so much.. learnt so much .. loved so many.. made so many mistakes... atoned and repaid so many.

Only to be turned away by the guy at the gate.No..Im not taking that chance..Im not leaving it too late..Im gonna hedge my bets..I will always keep praying.

Ch (11) Randomness

The Lucky One.Lucky.. haaa..

 Here i lie in jail alone.

I watched a film .. one like many ive seen.. but today i cried a lot.

I stood back from time to time.. aware of my ridiculous tears and was incredulous myself.. and thought how anyone else seeing me would shake thier heads in sad disdain.

I realised then,  that the the tears were for my regrets and omissions.. my opportunities forfeited..and my son.

So i watched the movie of marines doing thier killing and shooting in Iraq ,  and then as some of them were killed in the fray....I lived into it as i always do..
but i have become hardened to these vivid depictions of young men fighting for thier lives like i had done a few times.

How each one of us was supposed to work together with our battle mates even if it meant sacrificing yourself.

I did that once,  even without realising it.. where i ran .. like this movie man .. into the teeth of death itself.. but lived.. as my mates died.

No reason i could find could explain why i was still alive and so many of them were dead. 

My troop commander had chosen to place us where we were on the battle field and so many variables  came into play defining the path of my feet on that battlefield.

My feet .. that walked out of that firefight alive while so many right next to me fell dead.

The survivors guilt was the same then as described in all the movies... and with no councelling or treatment stayed writhing darkly in the depths of my mind..

 I learnt how to deal with it over the years and replayed it in sections and stored those like a dusty rack of old video tapes.. in a dusty cupboard. 

When i play any of those tapes .. the blank spots reignite and the sounds and smells come flooding back..

 I have come to realise that life and its courses for every one of us is defined by the thousands of possible variables that are in our every step every day.

So once again i watched the film actor enduring the agonies of loss.. guilt.. and ingrained traumatic damage.... just like i did. 

Just like i am still doing here every day.. Another battlefield.. different challenges.. different adversaries... and just as many different variables of luck...
or fate..?

He did same as me , and went home to explain to the families of his comrades now dead.. the last days.. hours .. and seconds of each he had seen..had watched die..

No tears for me anymore on this,  as i have replayed it in every way and grown thick calluses to inhibit that which i could not change then or now.

This time ... the tears i smeared miserably into my cheeks were not for me or my brave comrades..my devastated wife left destute on remnants of my past futile efforts.. or  my longsuffering mom or the hardships far worse than mine endured by many.

Torture.. starvation.. unimaginable cruelty.. warcrimes .. hatred..

No.. these tears were for my brave young son.

The film i watched today had him there.
Just like i knew him .. just  like he was with me when i last saw him.

The likenesses were uncanny and no matter how i tried to get a hold of myself.. i was taken by the reality of my own sight.
But today i cried not just for him as i watched that filmshow.
It was for us.. not because of what we had missed out.. but because of what could have been if i had stepped a pace to the left or right.. or death or greater blessing.

Ch (8a) Malicious Intent

Names have been substituted.
They...?

.. in sickness and in health.. good times and bad..until we die?
Or end up in jail ?

For years l have waited in vain for a letter or a card from them ..  but none came.
I wrote frequently and phoned when i could very rarely.

There was no response.

I contacted a number of mutual friends who gave me small bits of news of home and the young boy.

Various very special and concerned friends went to visit my two closest at thier little house  in order to determine what could be the problem.
Why there was no response to my letters.. calls.. or messages.

Every visitor was regarded with malevolent hostility no matter how white were the flags they bore.

News returning to me remained guarded and scant.
As if .. all those that made any approach to the lone mother .. were met with something too sad .. too shameful or too awful for them to relay to me the true extent of the situation.

Everybody we know .. and all who have followed this case and its misfortunes.. and my error.. are aware of the shame and ignominy that those two had to endure all these years because of my situation.

I am ever traumatised.. devastated at thier suffering and great loss.
Everything i owned... i signed over to them and assured them that there would be ranks of friends of mine who would line up to lend a hand ..or  extend with some  compassionate support .

But from them there was no response.. only a venomous spewing of hatred and blame toward me and my family.

Isolated and cloistered.. they became aloof ..and all contact with me was deliberately cut off.
My many carers stood back aghast!

Still we remained patient as we clearly all sympathised with the fact that they were enduring such awful shame and humiliation as they attended thier daily lives at work and school and round the town.
We had to respect thier choice of isolation and privacy.

A great silence descended over the whole episode as they hoped that time would wash away the truth of the past.. my indiscretions and the reams of gossip that followed them everywhere.
But the silence made it all much worse.
Everyone knew... and those that would normally have been disinterested.. picked up on all the hidden details..most of which were incorrect or deliciously skewed.

After years of further anxious waiting and patient care.. i dared to phone never quite knowing what i would say.
I did it.. and it wasnt so bad.. but only because i did not dare breach any of the more pressing issues i really wanted to resolve.
Again i did it and penetrated a little further every time.... but never nearly as much as i so desperately yearned to learn of.
This time i really needed to find out why it was i had no responses from him.
Whether it was really him that was angry and mute.. or whether it was  her stopping any and all forms of my communications.
The details of this conversatiom are briefly covered below..

Of course times are hard and understandably money is short and that was her primary concern and any funds i can summon further i should attempt to divert to her.

Then i told her i was not yet in any position to make any firm commitments.. but that there would be a residual payment coming to her..as soon as i could manage it.

This was vague and non committal .. but my situation is the same.

Then i said that i wanted contact with him now... soon....
This weekend.

I asked for his mobile number and email address.

Both were declined.

I then asked her to allow me to phone him at school and for her to lift the sanctioned contact there.

She declined all of this.

I asked then whether she had given him all the letters i had written.None have been given to him.
I then asked her to give me some "positive press "  with him so that he would be more inclined to contact me himself.

She declined saying he was angry with me... and the professional opinion of the psychiatrist had insisted that there be no contact.

It was here i smelt a rat.. and realised that it was not him and his anger doing this.
It was her....

I responded saying it was clear that it was she ..that was causing this negative non communication.
I told her this  to her face and again she reiterated that it was by order of the professional psychiatrist.

I said that psychiatrist had never met me nor has any idea of my character or the circumstances... and i would love to get hold of her.

I could see where this was all going and declined  more emphatically her further requests for me to pay her money for my son.

She said he has suffered eight years of extreme humiliation and suggested that i had no idea of this.

I said that I suffered every day the utmost shame and embarrassment.

I mentioned that there were now hundreds of  caring and sympathetic people who know of all this... and that every day  my cruel separation from him... is  a great sadness for them as it is clearly an agony for me.

I told her of all the times i had explained to everyone how much l was aware that she and the boy had suffered.. how much she had achieved as a lone mother... and how hard things were for her now.

I mentioned that many people i know...are aware of all this.. and share this sadness with me.

I mentioned then that it would be in the boys interest to contact me because his welfare could benefit from my  future financial situation.. should he decide to make the call.

She replied angrily saying i was using a blackmail tactic.

I said i was not going a single week further without contact and not a cent would be forthcoming unless there is a two way street.

She said she cant force him to contact me.. i said all she needed to do was to give me a bit of "positive press" and he would quickly come to his senses.

She declined saying she cant force him to do anything against  his will and that he was angry with me for fucking up his life and causing him to miss so many opportunities.

.These sounded to me like her own words ? 

By now it was clear to her... that I knew it was her that was doing this... and I said to her,  that every facebook request of mine that he has deleted.. has been like a stab to my heart and his finger in my eye.

I said that there were hundreds of our friends all behind me waiting for him to wake up and make contact with me and that there would not be a vestige of shame to bear.. only care.

She said no one had offered her the slightest bit of help thru the whole ordeal except my mom to a limited degree.
My mom often begged me to get her to visit and to collect cash and gifts.. but she declined.. siting too busy and not keen on begging herself.

I made it clear that there were hundreds of dear caring friends  standing in the wings,  ready to help, but were too horrified at the way she had spurned.. rejected and betrayed me as i lay so helplessly out of contact in a distant jail.

Many who would have pulled together in many different ways .. had this acrimony not been present.

The shame and embarrassment was only magnified by her  disproportionate betrayal and malicious treatment of me.

I asked then.. how much longer she expected me to continue being cut off so entirely.. and that there was no chance of my feeding funding into this angry one way street.

Once again she said this was blackmail.. and I said absolutely not.

I said to her.. i loved her.. i always will.. and that I loved him very much and only want the best for them both and said I was the one most tired of all the begging now.

I said i planned to let my brother buy a rentable property for me and that if all went well .. she would collect the rent from that.

I let her know i would never return to south africa but that i would have airtickets available for them when i regain my balance in the U.K. 

I said my brother Hamish.. was now my closest trusted family and that he will administer the business of finances.

Should  he die.. then the proceeds would cede to my nephews who express more love and care and interest in me than her or my angry son. 

I said i was fully aware that everything I give to her will go to his benefit .

So.. by now she was well on the back foot and threatening to put the phone down but i think good sense may have prevailed.

I said again that I had waited patiently for eight years.. and I   wanted to know how much longer she was going to keep me isolated from him.

I said i am not waiting indefinitely and this malitiod torment had to stop.

I also mentioned that I am publishing all this far and wide as I have been doing.. and that isolating the boy is not going to reduce the shame and embarrasssment which shrouds this whole debacle.

Everyone knows whats happened  and its all the worse for gossip and rumours when nobody says anything or knows the facts.

I mentioned then to her... that nothing i could do will change what happened .. and I have repeated my apologies..sorrow and regrets for my aknowledged indiscretions.
I would continue to do this publicly and will remain open and accountable.

How long am i to remain isolated from him?

How long is he going to remain angry and cut off from my love and associated benefits ?

Give him all my letters now!!

Tell him to mail me.

I said many friends had tried talking to him.. and she mentioned all the previous visitors bearing paltry gifts.

I said I would request more folks to come in and try.. but she said not to bother..the boy is too upset and angry and wont listen.

I said to her.." its all been you.". "Its all up to you"

Now we all know whats going on

We all knew

But now we are sure

We were right