Sarah’s Story

I answered the phone to my dad around 8 one Friday morning. It was the end of my son’s first full week at school, and I was in the middle of getting him, and his 18-month-old brother, ready for the short walk to the local village school. 

I was not, in any way, prepared for Dad to tell me that his house had been raided by the Police the night before. The Police had found two shot guns and live ammunition that my brother had left there without him knowing. The Police also raided my brother’s room, where he was housed by the local authority in a property shared by other people with complex mental health needs. They found what the press called a ‘cache’ of guns and live ammunition.  

That phone call from my dad was the first I knew about my brother’s guns. He was out of work and had a long history of mental illness. I am referring to him as my brother at this stage in the story, because although he was gender-fluid, that’s how he was treated as male by the legal system. But his gender dysphoria, and the lack of acceptance he experienced, and his mental health problems made him vulnerable. The idea that he could, somehow, get hold of guns (some of them semi-automatic) and live bullets, was terrifying. 

That morning, in shock, I forced myself to go to a coffee morning where all the new Reception mums were meeting each other. Looking back, I don’t know how I managed to do it, but I am glad I did because some of the Mums I met there became my closest friends. 

I was, of course, constantly checking my phone. When my brother did, eventually call me from the Police station, it was lunchtime, and I was collecting my son from school. I remember physically not being able to stand up and sitting on the concrete path next to my toddler’s buggy, while I told him I loved him and whatever he had done, I would always love him. I had no idea what else to say. 

He didn’t get bail and was initially held in a category A wing while he waited for his trial. 

Some of the weapons didn’t result in convictions, for various reasons, but he was eventually convicted for having eight illegal firearms, two counts of live ammunition and aggravated burglary and received a sentence of 8 years and 5 months. 

I have, at times, felt overwhelmed by the grief of having someone suddenly taken away and remanded without bail. That sense of loss, sometimes not even knowing which prison he was in, and certainly not being able to contact him whenever I wanted, has been so painful. I have very often said ‘but I haven’t done anything wrong!’. I think so many family members can relate to that feeling of being swept up in the emotional fallout of the crimes of someone they love and somehow punished alongside them.