Firefighter tells harrowing story of abuse to help other victims

The 45-year-old firefighter from Snebro Road, Whitehaven, tried for years to ignore the sexual abuse by putting it in a box and burying it in his mind.

But over the years, his initial confusion and numbness turned into a burning rage which always simmered away and at various points boiled over.

"When you go through this [abuse], you've got this box which is tightly shut but it's bleeding out now and again, which is what was happening," he said.

Ade suffered from a low confidence and self worth, thinking he had nothing to offer.

He didn't think he was good enough for the fire service, though he received a merit award when he graduated for showing tenacity and knuckling down when things got tough.

He also found it hard to form relationships, until he met his future wife Tracey who he married in 2005.

Last year, after battling against the trauma left by the abuse for 34 years, Ade decided to go to the police.

On Monday, his abuser Michael Stanborough, 53, of Calder Avenue, Whitehaven, was sent to prison for four years after admitting carrying out historic sex offences against Ade, who was aged between seven and nine at the time.

Waiving his anonymity, Ade has decided to bravely tell his story of abuse and how it has affected his life. He hopes speaking out will encourage other victims to come forward as he believes sexual abuse is a problem that is rife.

He said: "Locally I don't know if you get any male victims that come forward and say it's happened to them. I just think that that's wrong and it's something that has to change.

"The victims shouldn't feel any shame - it should be the perpetrators. That's the reason why I've decided to waive my anonymity in the hope that other people see if I can do this, they can find some strength from it and perhaps get some help.

"Even if they don't feel strong enough to report it to the police, they should get counselling, speak to somebody because it's something that never goes away. You have to address it."

Ade and Stanborough lived a few doors away from each other on Snebro Road - where Ade, his mum and some members of Stanborough's family still live today.

The community was close and the children used to play football and ride bikes together outside.

"You expect people who are older than you to protect the younger ones," said Ade, "His behaviour was predatory."

Just as everyone was going home for their tea, Stanborough lured Ade to his bedroom by asking him to play a game of darts. Once in the room, he showed him pornography and sexually abused him.

Stanborough cleverly manipulated Ade, coaxing him back into his room with football and speedway programmes he knew he was interested in.

"It was all tat," said Ade. "I look back on that stuff now and I haven't got any shame but I had shame of thinking, 'How could I have let myself allow him to do what he did for these things?'. But back then when you're a kid, you win a couple of marbles and you think you've got pieces of gold in your hand."

The abuse happened on half a dozen different occasions.

When it stopped, Ade was numb and confused about what had happened. He said the best way of describing it was he felt like he was in a fog.

"The following six years, it destroyed us. I lost my confidence. That spark had gone in us. I couldn't concentrate in school, I was disruptive," he said.

Ade left school with no qualifications. He did a bricklaying apprentice with Copeland Council but couldn't find employment and ended up on the dole and depressed.

Rugby was a saving grace for him, he has played since he was a teenager for Whitehaven Rugby Union Club and the team work and exercise took his mind off the abuse.

It was through contacts at the club and pushing from his mum that he decided to become a firefighter, a career he loves and has been in for 20 years.

Ade buried himself in work to escape from the past. He joined the Fire Brigade Union and would often work until 2am in the morning.

By 2003, being constantly reminded of his traumatic past by the proximity of his abuser and his family was too much for Ade. He moved to Carlisle Fire Station and commuted there for five years, at which point he thought he was dealing with his past much better.

But a few years later, while he was walking up Botchergate in Carlisle with a firefighter friend, Ade broke down and confided in him. His friend suggested talking to a child protection officer he knew in the police.

In 2010, for the first time Ade told the officer about the abuse.

"I'd told a few people but I'd never really gone beyond that bedroom door," said Ade.

However, opening the box of his memories had consequences.

"That box had been shut. That's the best way of describing it, it's like a box and you put all this rubbish that's happened to you, you put it in and you put the lid on and you try and bury it," he said. "Opening that box, it traumatised us, revisiting it."

Ade said he didn't want to report the abuse as a crime to the police because he wasn't strong enough.

But over the last few years his rage has boiled over and at times, he has snapped.

Walking home one night he saw Stanborough's car parked near his house and ripped off the windscreen wipers and smashed his car up.

On another occasion he heaved bags of rubble a quarter of a mile from his house to Stanborough's where he dumped it.

He also shouted at Stanborough, who worked as a butcher in Whitehaven, when he saw him in the street.

Ade said: "When I see him or his car, it's like someone has flipped the circuit board and I am on fire. I can't describe it but it's like a rage, I well up with rage.

"Anybody who is a victim, if they have the same feelings, they will understand what it is but it's hard to describe to someone who hasn't gone through this kind of trauma.

"The hate that someone has for an abuser, it's like nothing else."

Ade felt like the box he had tried to bury was about to burst open and decided he needed to control it.

Over the last year he has had 50 hours of therapy, which the Fire and Rescue Service has helped pay for.

He said: "I never blamed myself but I felt ashamed of what had happened. By talking to this therapist, it's just lifted it. Everything's just lifted off me.

"The big, big thing is it's like having a bereavement. I couldn't look at pictures of us as a kid."

During his first few sessions of therapy, Ade felt like he was talking about someone else.

"This little boy, it was like this little lad-" Ade suddenly broke off and burst into tears.

After he composed himself, he said: "It was like this little lad had died and he [the therapist] helped us reconnect with him."

One day last year, Ade went to Whitehaven police station and reported the crime. He was put in touch with victim support, who he said have been incredible.

Ade thought the judge might give Stanborough a suspended sentence and was delighted when his honour Judge Anthony Lancaster sent him to prison.

He said: "I can't describe it. It's like almost like this big cloud that's been over us, somebody's just cut the rope off it and it's floated off. Such a massive difference."

The sentencing was also a great relief for his mum, who Ade confided in when he was around 22-years-old.

"This is real closure, for me and my mother," he said. "She deserves it as much as me because it's been very difficult for her. She's got closure on this, I'm getting there."

Ade never told his dad about the abuse, who always put his withdrawn attitude down to him having a chip on his shoulder.

For the last seven years of his dad's life, the two did make peace but Ade said he will never be able to fully repair that relationship that his abuser destroyed.

Ade is desperate to tell his story so that others feel they can talk to their local GP, a counsellor or the police.

Talking about his abuse and opening up that box has changed Ade's life, which is why he is encouraging others to do the same.

He said: "It's talking about it in a controlled environment. It's speaking to a professional therapist who is trained to communicate with you in a way that doesn't trigger you too much.

"It's all very, very sensitive how they deal with you. They make sure that you're not retraumatised too much.

"Obviously you're going to be traumatised because you're opening that box and you're talking about the abuse but good therapists do it in a way that they make sure you're alright."