How a stalker nearly destroyed marriage our
When a neighbour started harassing Gail, she felt her husband didn’t protect her. He says he wasn’t emotionally equipped to cope. Here they both candidly reveal...
MOVING from the bustle of the city to a remote cottage in a forest is the sort of escape many dream of after raising three children and a lifetime of work.
My husband, Hugh, and I spent holidays in the Scottish Highlands and fell in love with the views and fresh air. When we bought a quiet, secluded cottage in 2008 we planned to work out the remainder of our careers there before slipping into peaceful retirement. Our youngest son, Ross, then 16, moved with us along with our three dogs and, for a while, life was idyllic as we marvelled at deer, pine martens and all the glorious birds that arrived at our feeder.
Little did I realise this was to mark the beginning of a horror story that not only nearly ended our marriage after three decades, but has changed me beyond recognition.
Over a six-year period I was subjected to a campaign of terror by my neighbour.
Earlier this year Ernst Robberts was found guilty in Tain Sheriff Court of engaging in a course of conduct that caused me fear or alarm on repeated occasions between 2010 and 2016 and fined £2,000 (€2,300), an amount that I believe will not cause him much pain. My fear is that he will find new ways to carry on as before.
Stalking has no strict legal definition (in Ireland it falls under the Non-Fatal Offences Against the Person Act) — a reason why it is frequently so difficult to prove — but can occur when an offender causes harassment, alarm or distress on multiple occasions. There is much ambiguity surrounding the offence and often little recompense for the mental anguish it inflicts.
At worst, I felt like a chicken cooped in a pen with a fox circling. Being stalked has been mental torture, and I am convinced it contributed to me having a stroke three years ago. People have no idea of the psychological impact it can have. For a long time, I felt let down by the lack of police action. I felt they didn’t take me seriously and believed this to be a neighbourly dispute.
When the BBC presenter Emily Maitlis recently spoke out so bravely about being stalked for 27 years by Edward Vines, a man she met at university, it touched a nerve. She told how it had affected her marriage, terrified her children and destroyed her life.
I can testify to all three, although the impact it had on my relationship with my husband has been the most devastating.
What nobody talks about — and why I wanted to detail our experience — is how it changes how you see each other.
For a long time, I questioned what Hugh was doing to help. He’s a quiet, gentle soul and after a year or so he retreated within himself, unwilling to confront what was happening.
I grew resentful. It was as if he thought ignoring the situation would make it disappear. I’ve never felt so alone. The strong, independent man I’d met and fallen in love with in my 20s had disappeared. I was looking for a protector but often it felt like I was having to fight the battle all on my own.
THE first time I met Robberts, a 50-year-old businessman and estate manager, when I went to introduce myself four months after moving in to our cottage, he seemed charming.
Yet it wasn’t long before he began coming over to complain about things such as our dogs supposedly defecating on his land or cars parked in the wrong place. We’d apologise and move the cars, but it was never enough.
As the months slid by visits to our front door became more frequent, sometimes up to three times a day.
Although he was never aggressive his behaviour felt unusual and unreasonable. My husband asked him to stop. He did, but instead he started to drive to our house when I was on my own and sit in his pick-up truck, sometimes for up to an hour, staring in at my patio door.
This started towards the end of 2010 but escalated and, in 2011, he began loitering outside the house, staring in. It was always when Hugh was out at work — he’s a postman — or at the gym and I was by myself. Sometimes he’d turn up within five minutes of Hugh leaving.
I’d draw the curtains and phone one of my sons — Tim, now 36, Paul, 34, and Ross, 26 — and told myself it would soon stop. I alerted the police early in 2011 but they took no action because they said I needed evidence.
I started planting trees and installing fencing, barricading myself in.
In 2013 CCTV cameras appeared on Robberts’ land at the corner of the track leading to our home. He was monitoring our movements. I’d spot him taking photographs of me when I was walking the dogs or he would have a hand-held video camera trained on the house.
By now his bizarre behaviour was consuming my thoughts and I felt sick each time I saw his vehicle.
Mysterious footprints appeared in the garden overnight and I thought things inside the house were being moved. I’m a social worker, so no pushover. But I’d violently shake and hide beneath blankets in the back of the car when we went out so Robberts wouldn’t know whether I was home or not. I had nightmares, which I’d wake up from screaming, believing he was chasing me.
A GP referred me to a psychologist for suspected post-traumatic stress disorder, who told me I was a resilient person and this was a normal reaction for someone living in constant fear.
Hugh and I began to argue about small things and drift apart. About midway through the six-year campaign, one evening we discussed divorce. It was a turning point and frightened us both. We knew we still loved each other.
Slowly, it dawned on me Hugh was showing his support in quieter ways: paying the bills, feeding the animals and striving to maintain life around us.
Things culminated in October 2015 when I had a stroke, which I believe was a physical reaction to the stress of being stalked for years.
I walked into the house one evening and told Hugh I had chest pains. He looked ashen and told me the right side of my face had drooped. We called an ambulance and I was taken to hospital.
Even as we passed Robberts’ house the paramedics said my blood pressure rocketed. I was discharged after 24 hours and after a month was much better, although I didn’t return to work for four months.
I’ve always been a strong, optimistic person but my family witnessed me disintegrate before their eyes. I used to be ambitious but I’ve had to sign off work on-and-off for stress.
I’m 57 now, and even after the conviction, I prefer to be at home with the curtains closed. Only when we’re away on holiday do flashes of the old, carefree Gail return.
Last year, with help from Robberts’ sister, who testified against him, our case was heard in court. I couldn’t face the day of the verdict.
Hugh was there, though. I’ve always known him to be a stoic man, but when the verdict was read out I heard he broke down in tears.
Hearing Sheriff Janys Scott’s comments in court about the ‘enormous distress’ Robberts caused us felt like official validation of what had been going on. This month, though, we learnt Robberts has lodged an appeal.
Many think we should have moved, but this was our dream home.
Hugh, now 66, and I still have a way to go to get back to where we once were, but we’re stronger in other ways. We care for and appreciate each another more. We know we will weather this.
I still look over my shoulder when I go out and the fact that he lurks so close to us, just down a narrow track, is a constant worry.
One day soon, I hope I will be able to finally put this behind us. HUGH SAYS: THE impact that stalking has from within, on a husband and wife, is very rarely discussed. Yet it pushed my wife Gail and I to the brink of desperation, denial and divorce. It is often difficult
for a man to discuss his feelings, even more so when something so shocking is happening to someone you love and who you feel powerless to help.
It’s an emotional paralysis, something I wasn’t equipped to deal with.
When Ernst Robberts started coming to our house to complain about our dogs, I thought it was because he fancied my wife. It was always when Gail was home that he would visit and I couldn’t see any other reason why he’d keep it up.
There are public footpaths around us, and lodges nearby, so other people’s dogs roam around and we kept our dogs mainly inside. It seemed strange to be picking on us.
Initially, I even saw the funny side of his behaviour as I couldn’t see Gail ever being attracted to him. I didn’t tell her about my suspicions but asked Robberts to stop visiting our house as it was upsetting her and our son, Ross.
As things progressed, Robberts’ behaviour became increasingly erratic and I know I became a hindrance to Gail. I didn’t want to talk about what was going on. For a long while I was sick to the teeth of hearing his name and every time she brought him up I tried to shut down the conversation.
During one holiday I even banned his name from being mentioned. It made me feel angry and inadequate. Here was a man intentionally waging a campaign of frightening my wife, yet there was nothing I could do about it.
Gail reported what was going on to the police but they took no further action. I think they thought it was just a dispute between two neighbours.
I started to dread coming home. I knew as soon as I walked through the door I’d be confronted with something else Robberts had done.
Gail stopped opening up to me. It wasn’t as if I was confiding in anyone else either; it wasn’t something, as a man, I wanted to broadcast. It would have been easier if he targeted me. I could have dealt with that.
Gail and I met in 1984 at a local disco. She was 24 and I thought she had the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. After seven years of dating, we married in 1991. I still catch myself looking at wedding photos in disbelief that she chose me. Before moving to Scotland, Gail was fiercely independent. We’d laugh constantly, watch films and go to concerts. We poured our savings into the cottage and hoped it would be somewhere future grandchildren would like to visit. After a year or so of being stalked, Gail’s whole demeanour shifted from happy-go-lucky to being constantly on edge. She’d always been career-minded — joining the Samaritans for ten years to work in women’s aid, then completing a degree and becoming a social worker — but it all became less of a priority. The fact that things always happened when I wasn’t there meant I didn’t really know what was going on. Arguments followed and telling Gail I wanted out of our marriage was one of the lowest moments of my life. We spoke at length, and in the end reasoned that we still loved each other and why should we let someone else drive a wedge between us. From then on, things became easier. It was like a valve had opened and a channel of communication had been restored. Another turning point came when I returned early from work and saw his pickup truck parked outside our home, just where Gail said it often was. When he saw me he shot past me like a bat out of hell. It was the only time I saw him there. I walked into the house and Gail broke down, sobbing: ‘I told you.’ Talking about this period in our lives isn’t easy. The reason we’ve decided to speak out is to help others. The statistics surrounding stalking are shocking. Victims don’t tend to report to the police until the 100th incident and, according to recent figures from only a handful of recorded stalking cases reach conviction. Likewise, stalking doesn’t have a strict legal definition and can be hard to prove. It takes many guises. Looking back now, in the wake of Robberts’ conviction, the whole episode feels like a bad dream. Hopefully we can move on with our lives — Gail and I plan to go away together to spend time rebuilding our relationship. But to the husband or partner of someone being stalked, I would say don’t give up on your other half and, whatever you do, talk about what’s happening. Don’t keep anything back.
IF YOU or someone you know is being stalked, call the confidential Crime Victims Helpline on Freephone 116006 or visit crimevictimshelpline.ie