FORMER Tory MP Harvey Proctor’s life was wrecked by Operation Midland, the
disastrous Met Police inquiry into an alleged VIP paedophile ring.
The 69-year-old was accused of the murder and rape of young boys in the
Seventies and Eighties as part of the force’s investigation, which collapsed
this week.
The claims of a star witness known as “Nick” was the only evidence against
him. Yet over 12 months his life was picked apart and he lost his job, home
and his reputation.
Last
night Mr Proctor accused the Met of acting as Nick’s “PR agents”
after they complained to the press regulator about a journalist who
contacted Nick amid his crumbling credibility.
Here, in in his own words,
Mr Proctor describes the police raid of March 4 last year that began his
nightmare.
“THERE was an insistent knock on the front door at 8am. It was the knock of
someone about to enter, come what may.
It was a knock that was to catapult me back into the media spotlight, a
spotlight I had shied away from for many years, not because I had anything
to hide but to protect myself and my privacy.
Little did I know that everything I had strived for, everything I valued,
everything that gave my life stability and vitality, was about to
disintegrate.
By March 2015 the Belvoir estate in Leicestershire had been my home for more
than 13 years. I lived in a farmhouse in the castle grounds with my partner
Terry Woods, and I had a responsible job as the Duke of Rutland’s private
secretary. It was a wonderful life, one which I planned and expected to
enjoy unto death.
The man who knocked insistently introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Matt
Flynn, who then announced he was from the Metropolitan Police murder squad
and, under Operation Midland, he had a warrant to search my house.
Over the next few minutes at least 15 more officers entered, maybe more, many
in pale-blue forensic overalls.
I had seen this scenario on TV drama serials. I had seen men like this on
television when Sir Cliff Richard’s house had been raided in the presence of
BBC cameras. I mean, I had in fact seen the very same police officers in
those uniforms — it was the same search team, apparently.
It was, and was intended to be, an intimidation tactic. The early moments are
still blurred, but they said something about photographing rooms. In any
event, cameras began to flash.
I asked what I was supposed to have done. Why was there a search? Answers were
not forthcoming.
It was, Flynn said (as did the warrant), to do with historical child sexual
abuse.
Seemingly endless items and personal possessions were bagged, tagged,
photographed and piled up for removal. The police’s choice of things to take
appeared arbitrary. Why take two metal shoe horns given to me as Christmas
presents by the Duke and Duchess of Rutland a few years ago?
Many of the items taken were not even mine.
The attitude of many in the police search team was bordering on rude. They
finally left at 11pm, after we had endured 15 hours of their presence.
How could I be in such a situation? I had done nothing wrong.
It had been my concern I would face a barrage from the media in the morning.
When I woke the next day, everything I feared had come to pass.
Reports relating to the previous day’s raid and allegations of child murder
appeared to be co-ordinated. I felt aggrieved and frightened. In my deepest
and darkest thoughts I admit I had a certain amount of self-pity at the
time. But I also knew that this wasn’t fair. “This is just not right,” I
thought, “I must see it through, whatever the cost.” I did not realise just
how high a price I was to pay.
A few days later I was told by a castle solicitor and another official that,
because of pressure by the police and social services, I was to be suspended
from my position. My role at the castle would be reconsidered.
I felt numb, betrayed and isolated, that my loyalty was of no value. The
authorities had sabotaged my professional duties.
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Great pressure was being applied to the castle administration that I should
not work there at all in the future as “children visited the venue”. Again,
I was not asked to submit any opinions.
In the end, after sustained pressure from the authorities, I was given a
choice: Resign or be sacked.
I had no wish to place my employers in a difficult situation, they were my
friends. I decided to resign — at a cost of the job I loved and my home.
Meanwhile, although I had made it clear I wanted to be interviewed at the
earliest opportunity, the Met cancelled two interviews with me.
While I was waiting, I learnt that Leicestershire Police had not been
inactive. They had sought to interview the teenage sons of my friends.
Absolutely nothing came of their enquiries.
Finally, I got a date for my police interview and on June 16 went to the Sakhi
Solicitors offices in Leicester.
My solicitors, Raza Sakhi and Nabeel Gatrad, had not forwarded the disclosure
document provided that same day by the Met. I am sure they thought that its
contents would be too distressing for me to read alone.
It was only three pages, but its contents were far worse than anything I could
have imagined.
It said I was to be interviewed in relation to three allegations of murder and
several allegations of historical sexual abuse of children, based on
evidence given by a victim identified under the pseudonym “Nick”. I sat
silent when I finished the document. At least now I knew what I was supposed
to have done. It was a horrific catalogue of unimaginable, grotesque crime.
My mind went numb.
The allegations contained not one scintilla of truth. But how could I start to
defend myself against the claims of someone whose name I was not allowed to
know?
The date of the alleged crimes ranged from three months to six years. How was
I supposed to defend myself by way of, say, alibi evidence over such long
periods?
On Thursday, June 18, over three months after my home was raided, my interview
with the Met arrived. They questioned me in great detail about the
allegations, which I repeatedly told them were completely untrue.
I asked them to comment on the remarks made by the head of Operation Midland,
Det Supt Kenny McDonald, who appeared on BBC television on December 18,
2014, and described Nick’s evidence as “credible and true”. They refused,
insisting I was the one to answer questions.
Their demeanour became ruder and more aggressive the longer the interview
continued. When it eventually ended, I was physically exhausted from the
mental energy I had expended over six hours.
On August 24 I was again interviewed by the Met, on the same voluntary basis
as the previous interview.
The police told my solicitors they would receive a disclosure document ahead
of this interview, but by the morning of my appointment it had still not
been forthcoming.
It appeared to be gamesmanship on their part. We did not receive it until
11.20am — 20 minutes after the time the interview was due to start.
The interview lasted two hours. Again, it seemed the police were forgetting it
was a voluntary interview and were seeking to validate and corroborate
Nick’s allegations, believing I was guilty. They appeared to be seeking to
defend Nick in some way to defend themselves.
The impact on me of all of this was profound. I wrestled every day with an
acute feeling of sadness.
My reputation, carefully nurtured over 28 years following the events of 1987,
when I was convicted of homosexual activity with rent boys then aged 17 and
19, has been left in tatters.
My life has been “devastated” in a manner where, through age, I have no time
left to effectively restore it.
I have lost my home and my job. I have lost my future — but I have lost my
present too.
© Harvey Proctor 2016. Extracted from Credible And True, by K Harvey
Proctor, published by Biteback on March 29, priced £20.