12 years of hell: ‘He beat me, belittled me and threatened to kill our kids’
Dimple Patel, 41, endured emotional and physical abuse by the father of her three children. Now she’s taking back control
On a night out in 2004, I was introduced to Amit by a mutual friend. Tall, handsome and softly spoken, Amit, then 22, caught my attention. We started dating and my family liked him. But after a year, Amit started criticising them, saying that his own family – who were of a higher social standing in our South Asian community – were superior.
At the same time, he’d confide in me that he’d had an unhappy childhood, making me believe he was vulnerable and needed my love. One day, I’d feel important to him, the next unworthy of him. But I loved Amit and believed we could make each other happy.
In 2007, we moved in together and a year later, we got married.
Amit was a regular drinker, but on our honeymoon in Miami, I noticed he was drinking heavily. Before we boarded our flight home, he bought an expensive bottle of whiskey at duty-free with our wedding gift money. “You don’t even like whiskey,” I said, feeling annoyed as we sat on the plane. Suddenly, anger flashed in Amit’s eyes and his hand slapped hard across my face.
A female cabin-crew member saw what happened and asked if I wanted to move seats. I nodded and spent the rest of the flight alone and speechless. Amit didn’t apologise, but I told myself it was a one-off, even questioning if it was my fault. I didn’t tell anyone what happened as I didn’t want to get our marriage off to a bad start. Only, Amit grew increasingly abusive in different ways. When we bought our first home in east London in 2010, he claimed he had no savings, despite his well-paid job as a merchandiser, so I paid the £35,000 deposit from savings I’d been putting away since I started working at 16.
When our first son was born that year, Amit punched me in the neck during an argument about childcare. A few months later, he slapped me in bed and I called the police, who came to the house and cautioned him. I hoped getting the police involved might shock him into changing, but the violence continued – usually when he’d been drinking. Afterwards, he’d wail with remorse and would promise to stop drinking, but he never did.
Although I was scared,
I was desperate to make our marriage work. In our Hindu Gujarati culture, the expectation was on me to be a “good wife”, and leaving my husband would have been severely frowned upon. My family knew I was unhappy, but weren’t aware of the physical violence. So, I painted on a smile and Amit was good at pretending to be the loving father and husband to the outside world.
After our second child was born in 2013, the abuse escalated. Despite earning far more than me, Amit insisted we split our bills 50/50. He chipped away at my confidence by calling me fat, and even accused me of having an affair. I became withdrawn, cutting myself off from friends and family and hiding bruises when I returned to my job in education from
‘He’d wail with remorse’
maternity leave. Most months, I had no money for myself, while Amit always had cash for going to casinos alone. Sometimes he’d disappear for a weekend, then stagger home, drunk, having lost thousands of pounds, gambling. If I dared question him, he’d slap me and accuse me of having anger issues and scaring the children.
Then, in 2016, after our third son was born,
Amit threatened to kill himself and the kids after a heavy drinking episode.
The children were upstairs sleeping, and I was terrified. “Where’s my passport?”
Amit raged. “I’m leaving you and taking the kids.” But when he couldn’t find it, he phoned the police. “My wife is holding me hostage,” he yelled. When officers arrived, they quickly realised the situation and Amit was escorted to hospital. I felt relieved, hoping he would get the help he needed. But Amit denied his suicidal thoughts to the mental health team and they discharged him. I was in complete despair – I’d thought they were going to section him for his own protection and ours.
I did everything I could to avoid triggering his rages and protect the children, but the older they got, the more their awareness grew. When Amit would yell and shove me, the kids would hide until he calmed down. In November 2019, during an argument about money, Amit pushed me to the kitchen floor, kicking me over and over again.
I managed to get up, run to the living room and call 999. “She’s lying!” Amit yelled before he fled the house. The children were asleep upstairs and I was frightened they’d wake up and see what was happening.
Later on, the police arrested Amit at his parents’ home and charged him with assault and battery. While he wasn’t remanded in custody, his bail conditions meant he had to live with his parents. But I wasn’t taking any chances, and applied for a non-molestation order, which meant he was banned from our house for a year and only allowed online contact with the children. His trial was set for April 2020, and I agreed to read a statement in court from behind a screen.
Then, on 18 January 2020, I was watching a film with the kids when I saw I had a voicemail from Amit’s dad. Listening to it, my blood ran cold. My in-laws had come home from a holiday and found Amit dead. He’d taken his own life. The police came to see me a few weeks later and handed me his suicide note. “I hope you take pleasure in telling the kids why I’m not around now… you never loved me, you lied…” it read. Even after all my help, Amit was blaming me for his unhappiness. It was his attempt to manipulate me from beyond the grave, and I realised this letter was his final act of violence against me.
The boys were shocked and upset by Amit’s death, but they never saw him as a father as he never acted like one. I decided to attend Amit’s funeral with the boys, as it was my way of taking back control and saying goodbye on my terms, not his.
A year on, I’m still coming to terms with what happened. I’ve had counselling and while the children don’t have many happy memories of their dad, they now understand that Amit wasn’t well mentally. I’m hopeful that one day I’ll find a new, much happier and healthier relationship, but for now, I’m content being single, raising my sons. They are proud of me for sharing my story, and we all hope that raising awareness of my experience will hopefully help another family like ours.
Every day I believe in myself more, and recognise that none of what happened was my fault. Amit was an abuser with mental health problems and addictions – I only wish I’d escaped him sooner.
‘The kids would hide’
● For confidential support, call the Freephone 24-hour National Domestic Abuse Helpline on 0808 2000 247 or visit Refuge.org.uk