I’m terrified Worboys will come after me. Please help the fight to keep him locked up
Writing anonymously, a teenage victim describes her ordeal — and makes an impassioned plea
IWAS 19, waiting for my night bus when John Worboys approached me in his cab. He rolled down his window and asked if I wanted a lift.
replied that my bus was due any minute and I didn’t have money for a cab – I was only a student. He agreed to take me for the change I had, telling me it was his final pick-up of the night and that I lived on his way home.
I felt grateful and we were soon chatting. He seemed a bit of an oddball – not threatening in any way but a bit geeky and socially awkward. I never felt for a second that I was in any danger.
He soon told me that he had won some money at a casino that night. He gestured to a bag filled with cash on the seat next to him. He then asked if I would celebrate with him, offering me a glass of champagne.
Had he asked if I’d wanted a drink, I would have politely declined, but instead he asked: ‘Will you celebrate with me?’ This was much harder to refuse. It would have felt rude to say no. So I agreed and he handed me a glass. I was young and didn’t really like the taste of alcohol, but I didn’t want to offend him. While he wasn’t looking, I poured out the contents on to the cab floor. Never for a second did I suspect it was spiked.
Not long after he’d given me the drink, Worboys said he needed to stop to go to the loo. I thought that was a bit strange but again I didn’t feel I could complain. He was gone for a good ten minutes. I now realise he was waiting for the drugs in the champagne to kick in.
When he returned, he got into the back of the cab and asked if I wanted another drink. I told him I didn’t and needed to get home because my mother would be worried.
HE kept telling me I must be ‘good with my alcohol’, and poured me some vodka. I told him I didn’t want it but he kept pushing me. I can imagine I sound painfully naive, and frankly, I now see that I was. But he was incredibly clever. He made me feel indebted to him.
I had always been told minicabs were dangerous but black taxis were safe. I’m sure that’s the only reason Worboys ever became a cabbie. He’d been a stripper and a porn star for 14 years before becoming a taxi driver.
I eventually told him I would down a shot of vodka but that I really did need to get home as it was late. After I drank the vodka, I can hardly remember a thing. I don’t remember if he got back into the front of the cab straightaway or not. I think he did. I hope more than anything that he did.
When I finally arrived home, my mother remembers I fell through the door, barely able to walk, like a rag doll. I crawled into the bathroom and became very sick, my head spinning so much that I told my mother I wanted to die. Six months later, I opened a newspaper and read that a black taxi driver had been arrested, accused of raping women having pretended to win money at a casino, giving his passengers spiked champagne. I froze. All the blood left my cheeks. I knew it was him. I was one of nearly 100 girls that came forward to the police having read that report. It is not an easy thing to go to the police and admit that you may have been drugged and assaulted. And yet still, 100 girls came forward. After the police had taken evidence from all of us, 14 were selected to go to court on the basis we had the strongest cases. We were told they wouldn’t need more girls as the evidence between the 14 of us would be enough to jail him for a long time, probably life. That turned out not to be true.
That is why it is a disgrace that the Crown prosecution Service refuses to reopen those cases.
What message are we sending when women bravely come forward after being attacked and the authorities just discard their evidence?
Throughout the trial, Worboys never once showed any remorse. He described his behaviour as ‘ banter’ and insisted that the women accusing him of rape – who took to the stand in tears, shattered by the experience – had in fact wanted to have sex with him. It has been reported that to this day he accepts no guilt.
Like anyone who has followed this story, I cannot understand how this man can be deemed no longer a threat and safe to roam our streets.
The decision to free him was made a few months ago by three members of the parole Board. We don’t know who they are and we don’t know how and why they came to this decision. In 2016, he was found by the board to be too dangerous for open prison.
What changed in a year? I am genuinely terrified he is going to come after me. He knows where so many of his victims live. Why should we think he won’t?
WHICH comes to why I’m writing this piece. Two of his victims hope to judicially review the parole Board decision. I am not one of those girls but I want to do everything I possibly can to support them. To launch a judicial review they are going to need a considerable amount of money to cover legal costs of up to £100,000.
I strongly believe Worboys poses a real danger to us all. It could so easily be your mother, your wife, your sister, your daughter, your friend. A crowdfunding website has been set up to try to raise the funds needed. If everyone reading this article gave just a pound each, we’d have enough.
I feel I would know if Worboys had raped me that night. I’d have flashbacks or there would have been horrendous tell-tale signs when I woke the next day. But I will never truly know for sure what happened after he drugged me.
Many girls had similar experiences but many were raped and know they were raped. Their lives have been blighted by it. We can’t let that happen again. This article first appeared in The Sunday Times.