21/05/2026
The rage in my body as I type this is strong. There are a lot of tears sitting right under that rage. They've bubbled, but not surfaced, just yet. Somewhere in the middle of that there is grief, deep deep grief.
It feels thousands of years old. It is.
Truthfully, I don't know if any of this is what I "should" be feeling. Luckily though I know there is no should. I almost don't know what I'm even trying to write here, but, I know it will come.
Rewind to March 2023, some of you might remember that Erin was assaulted. Attacked. Visciously. For nothing. Absolutely nothing. She was simply standing, making a phone call to a friend for a lift and she was beaten by a person who is beyond understanding for me right now. Even the Therapist in me is struggling, probably because the Mum in me is stronger. Louder. With my hand on my heart let me say this simply, the Mum is me is still to this very day fu***ng raging.
Overflowing with rage.
Erin was 17. This person was 28, a Muay Thai boxer apparently, and in his own words that very day, the words that accompanied his going "oot oot" profile photo, an "original gangster". As I type this the taste of vomit in my mouth is actually burning my throat. He makes me sick. The attack haunts me, more often than I like to admit. Wrong time, wrong place, apparently. But don't forget, Erin was lucky. Lucky it wasn't worse, lucky because he had numerous previous convictions for serious violence, including with various weapons, knives, hammers and razor blades even. Razor blades concealed inside him. Armed and ready should the moment arise. And no, I'm not making this up. Where your head went, yup it's true.
Concealed inside him.
Deep breath and back to the point.
Erin being "lucky" she was alive.
How lucky. 17 and attacked only by a lucky kind of violence. F**k luck, f**k violence and f**k him and every single man like him.
Don't dare whisper not all men at me right now, I've never once said all men. I will say this though, too fu***ng many men.
And we all know it.
Tears are now sliding down my cheeks, because I hate being angry and I am so so fu***ng angry. It hurts my soul.
For the last 3 years Erin has needed various interventions because of this attack, and she won't mind me telling you this. Physical, medical, dental and maybe most importantly mental. Bruises and broken teeth will eventually heal (one tooth is still loose due to the trauma), but the mental pain takes much longer. Much longer. It's crippling at times.
I know that from personal experience, from professional experience and I know that from watching and supporting my daughter heal these last 3 years. Heartbreaking.
Why am I bringing this up now?
Well, for the last three years we've not been allowed to say anything due to potential legal implications. But now, I can. You see he's just been convicted. Not for what you might be expecting though. 3 weeks after that attack on Erin, (which btw happened when he was on early release from prison, again for the umpteenth time), he was one of seven people who committed a murder. I won't talk about that here because first of all it's not my story and second of all I don't know enough detail. Erin's assault became part of the prosecutions case though as it showed escalation. And finally, we just found out that he's been sentenced, to life. With a multitude of additional years added for things like carrying a machete, extensive previous convictions and prison sentences. Previous victims included his mother and grandmother. To the person who's life he ended, with all my heart I hope your soul is at peace and I send your family nothing but love.
I hope as you all read this you can understand my rage.
What is the point of this post though? I'm still asking myself. I think it's to vent. To process. To release. To finally be able to use my voice. To stand beside my beautiful girl and say f**k you Dale Russell. F**k you.
We can name him now you see.
His sentence is in black and white.
The next three decades of his life are not his own anymore. Relief. Right?
Maybe, yet, as I type this it hits me, it's not enough. I don't even believe in the prison system. Statistics show it doesn't work. There should be a better way. Prevention I know is better than cure. The professional in me has a whisper of wonder, what happened to create a person like that. How did he become so vicious. So full of rage. I have a need to understand, but right now that's not my focus.
As I type I realise that I will not allow my rage to define me or make me anything like him. Neither will Erin. We will do better. I promise we will. Even though it shouldn't be on us.
I will rage, but I will rise. As we should.
I didn't plan to say this because there's nothing concrete in place yet, but my friend Shahnaz Radjy and I have a hope, a wish, a vision that's starting to form and in time, I honestly I'm dreaming so hard that it becomes something tangible I can share here.
It's time. I can no longer do nothing about this level of violence.
Erin, I am so proud of you.
You deserve a better world.
You deserve better men.
You deserve a Mum who will do all she can to give you those things, I'm just figuring out what that is.
I love you.
To anyone who might be impacted by this post, I've got you. Thank you for having me. For having us.
Just breathe. Cry it out. Let it go.
Mind Yersel' ❤️
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