Greenbelt Festival Safeguarding Fails
Trigger warnings: sexual assault, mental illness, much other badness.
This account is from contemporaneous notes – written on Saturday night at Greenbelt, or on Sunday and Monday after I had been made to leave. I am a trained & experienced Legal Observer.
Note on Greenbelt Festival: it is the ‘liberal’, ‘inclusive’, fluffy end of Christian festivals. They invite famous atheists like Robin Ince, people who are involved in social activism, as well as Christian speakers. I’ve been every year since 2005, volunteered in the children’s disability team for a few years, and used to think that Heaven would be a lot like Greenbelt but with better toilets.
At Greenbelt
I arrived at Greenbelt on the Friday afternoon. I received a text from Rachel Cavill just as I arrived on site, telling me that Bryn Monnery was there. I hadn’t expected that, and was very frightened. I sent a reply saying ‘I’ve got a knife’, hoping that Rachel would tell Bryn to stay away from me. I regretted this very much as soon as I’d sent it. I could not think of a way to keep myself and other people safe from Bryn. I did have with me a kitchen knife as part of my cooking kit, so I could chop veg for curry. I camped as planned with friends from Student Christian Movement, far away from where Rachel (with Bryn) usually camps in Helicopter Field, and as soon as I could I found Rachel and apologised to her for the text.
I know that because I sent that text, some people will blame me for everything that happened. I often do. The text didn’t say I was going to attack Bryn, it wasn’t a threat, I just wanted him to leave me alone. As a Quaker I don’t think that fighting Bryn back if he attacked me again was the right thing to plan for, and anyway Bryn is easily twice my weight, practices several combat sports, and can out-sprint me, so if he had attacked me again I don’t think the knife would have helped much. But all this is making excuses, and I shouldn’t have done it. Maybe you can tell me what else I should have done?
I was scared not only for my own safety, but for other people being around Bryn. I did not know what to do, as trying to tell people (at Hinde Street) had proved so counter-productive. There was no reason for Bryn not to attack me again. Hinde Street had very clearly told him that everything he did was absolutely OK, there would be no consequences, and nobody would believe anything I said. This was the first time I’d knowingly been within hundreds of miles of Bryn since the original attack, he’d come to a place where at night there would only be a fabric tent skin between him and me, and I’d told everyone where I was camping so Bryn would know too. I don’t know for certain whether Bryn planned to attack me again, but he had been given absolutely no reason not to.
I also wrote warnings about Bryn on posters on the back of toilet doors, like ‘Beware of Bryn Monnery, he assaulted me’. Someone said I wrote on the doors, but that is not true, I only wrote on the posters which it is against the rules to put up anyway, so it would not cause any extra trouble for Greenbelt.
Later on Friday evening, I was at Mainstage watching Martyn Joseph, and saw Rachel. I apologised for the knife text, we hugged, and we spent the rest of the evening together with our mutual friend S, until the rain persuaded us back to tents.
I was very frightened that night. I was too scared to sleep, frightened that everyone who walked past my tent was Bryn coming to hurt me. The stress and sleeplessness made my voices kick off, and they were telling me that I had to use the knife to hurt myself (I used to self-harm, but haven’t since 2005). I wrapped the knife thickly in green duct tape, using most of a roll, so that it wasn’t sharp and couldn’t be used to hurt anyone – would have taken maybe half an hour to get all the tape off, so it really wasn’t any use as a weapon any more. Hearing voices isn’t unusual for when I get stressed, and I have ways to cope with it – it’s just like the way some people get migraines from stress. Hearing voices doesn’t mean I’m ‘out of control’ or ‘in crisis’, it is something that happens most days, and usually no-one notices unless I tell them about it.
In the morning, I was still very stressed, but decided to try to carry on as usual, going to see some music and a talk. Somewhere around noon, I saw Rachel and Bryn eating lunch sat on a bench near G-source. I only saw the back of their heads, they did not see me. I froze, fell over, and started hyperventilating and shaking with fear. Eventually I managed to stand up, ran back to my tent, and tried to calm down, but the campsite was too noisy.
I tried to work out how to keep myself safe. I was so scared it was hard to think, and there were a lot of voices. I thought that the best thing would be to talk to the people at Greenbelt counselling, as it would be quiet and safe there, they would know about the Greenbelt Safeguarding procedures & might be able to think of something to keep me safe from Bryn, and I would take them the knife to get rid of it, so the voices couldn’t tell me to hurt myself with it any more. I knew that the knife wasn’t any use to keep me safe, I’m a Quaker and just thinking about using it to protect myself from Bryn was a really really horrible idea, not to mention that Bryn is about twice my size, ex-Army, and would easily win a fight. I thought that if anyone can think of a non-violent way to keep me safe and resolve a nightmare situation, it would be Greenbelt.
I went to the counselling service and told them that, and tried to hand over the knife. The counselling woman leaned back and looked frightened when I started talking about voices. This worried me, I am used to being able to talk about them openly. She told me that there was a psychiatrist in the first aid centre who she wanted me to talk to. I said I didn’t think I needed a psychiatrist, but agreed to, because psychiatrists tend to be used to people who hear voices and not panic about it.
A man from the first aid centre came and walked me over there. At the first aid centre, I was told to sit on a bed in a busy room with lots of people coming in and out all the time and getting things out of a cupboard. Lots of different people asked me lots of different questions. I was getting more and more confused by the busyness and the questions, and it was hard to hear with the voices talking to me too, so I just said ‘I don’t know’ a lot. I have dyspraxia, tactile defensiveness and sensory hypersensitivity, so I am easily overwhelmed by noisy busy environments, and it’s also well known that people struggling with voices need low stimulation environments. I tried to tell the first aid centre people this but they didn’t seem to listen.
A woman with short blonde hair who said she was a police officer (but didn’t show any ID when I asked her to) and a ‘Greenbelt site manager’ said she was going to search me. I didn’t like that, I am scared of the police because of previous bad experiences with being kettled on protests. She and an Asian man (psych nurse?) backed me into a corner of the busy room, and made me turn my pockets out and empty my bag onto the bed. I now know the woman to be Inspector Jo Beecroft of West Yorkshire police, but at the time she didn’t even tell me her name. Jo Beecroft kept asking me lots of intrusive personal questions about the voices, and I didn’t understand why. I now know that Jo Beecroft confused ‘things the voices are saying’ with ‘things I am ‘threatening’ / planning to do’, which is just stupid because anyone who knows anything about voices knows it doesn’t work like that. Voices tell me to self-harm every day, but I haven’t since 2005. Voices often tell you to do the opposite of what you want to do, and going to see a counsellor to talk about being distressed is the opposite of planning to act on them. I’ll discuss risk and voices in a later post, but it’s an utter tabloid myth that hearing voices makes someone dangerous. Anyone who doesn’t know this has no business anywhere near a risk assessment.
After some time, Sophie arrived, I was allowed out of the busy room into a less busy place, and I chatted to Sophie and a woman (A&E nurse?) about shoes & felt a lot calmer.
The blonde police woman Jo Beecroft came back, and said I needed to go to hospital. I said I didn’t want to, she said if I didn’t then she would put me on a Section 136 and take me there. This is appallingly bad practice, you should NEVER use a section coercively – if someone needs to be sectioned you should section them properly because then they have corresponding extra rights and protections, not threaten. I said that I didn’t mind being assessed, I’d go straight to a hospital ward to be assessed there if I had to, but I really didn’t want to go through A&E because I know from previous experience that A&E is very bad at mental illness, and it is a busy, noisy, stressful environment. Jo Beecroft told me that I had to get in the Greenbelt ‘ambulance’ or be on a 136, so I got in the ‘ambulance’. The police woman also took my wristband off me, but she didn’t say why, or what that meant.
Sophie and I sat down with the Inspector Jo Beecroft before we left for A&E, and explained about Bryn, and I said that this was the first time I had told the police that Bryn had assaulted me. Jo Beecroft didn’t even take notes.
When I arrived at A&E, the Greenbelt people left me in a noisy busy corridor. They didn’t stay around to support me. I told a nurse and then a doctor that I did not consent to being assessed, because I didn’t consent to being there in the first place, didn’t feel that assessment was warranted, and didn’t want to go through the rigamarole of being assessed again by lots of people with no MH training as usually happens in A&E, especially after having already been through lots of questions and prodding at Greenbelt. The doctor seemed OK with this. Then I left, and walked back to the festival site.
In the festival car park, I met Sophie, her boyfriend A, and Rachel Cavill, who Sophie seemed to have phoned. I had a big argument with Rachel. I can’t remember the last time before that I shouted at someone. We argued about Rachel saying she didn’t know who to believe, but always acting as though what Bryn said was true and never acting as though she believed me. The last thing I said to Rachel was ‘why don’t you tell Bryn to fuck off yourself, since he clearly doesn’t understand it coming from me’. I am very sure that I didn’t threaten to hurt Bryn, Rachel, or anyone else.
By now it was about 8pm Saturday. I was very tired and stressed, so I walked back onto site through an open and unattended gate, and straight back to my tent, where I started writing down what had happened. After a while Sophie and A came to my tent, we chatted a bit, I took a prescribed sleeping tablet (zopiclone) to help me calm down, ate a cereal bar, and went to sleep, because this is what my Crisis Plan, agreed with my mental health team, says I should do when I’m very stressed. Sophie and A left my tent some time between half eight and nine pm. I woke up when Mainstage started playing, was too drowsy to leave my tent, so I just listened to the music, exchanged a few text messages with a friend, and finished writing down what had happened to me that day. I didn’t leave my tent, except once briefly to a nearby Portaloo, after half past eight Saturday night. Several people from SCM were around the area and could confirm that. It would be trivially easy to prove that I did not ‘wave a knife in Bryn Monnery’s face’ at 9pm as I was accused of having done.
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