exposed expo by his trail of filthy texts
What my daughter told me made me vomit
As I watched my teenage daughter brush her long, red hair and carefully apply a layer of mascara, it suddenly hit me.
Chantelle, 16, was growing up so quickly.
She’d just left school, landed a good job in a care home. I was so proud of her. Her teenage years were panning out very differently to mine.
I’d discovered that I was pregnant at 14. My mum Alison, 54, and dad Douglas, 57, had been supportive.
And, growing up in a small seaside town, the community was close. Everyone knew each other and I always had a babysitter on hand.
Especially Dad’s best mate Andrew Hughes, 47.
Andrew had been firm friends with Dad for years, and I’d grown up with him.
Now, Chantelle loved hanging out at the farm where Andrew worked, feeding the lambs, camping out.
I’d since had three more children, twin girls, 12, and a boy, 10.
A single mum, I had a close bond with all of my kids, especially Chantelle.
So when, in May 2017, her behaviour started to change, I noticed straightaway.
‘Not feeling well?’ I asked her as she sloped downstairs one morning.
With no make-up on, her hair scraped back and dressed in an old tracksuit, I barely recognised her.
She always wore nice tops and skirts, make-up flawless.
‘I’m fine,’ she shrugged, heading straight out for work.
But she started hiding away in her room, seemed depressed.
She didn’t even want to see my parents.
Dad had been having health troubles recently, arthritis and a problem with his heart. ‘You should make the effort to see Grandad,’ I told Chantelle. ‘I don’t feel like it,’ she sighed. What had happened to my caring, bubbly girl? The months went on and Chantelle grew more and more withdrawn. She refused to go out alone, even to the shops. And then in April 2018, she quit her job. ‘I just can’t do it any more,’ she groaned. Every time I tried to find out what was wrong, she just clammed up. Scared of pushing her away, I kept an eye on her but didn’t pry. Then, a few weeks later, I got a call from my best mate Melissa, 40. ‘Chantelle came round last night for a Chinese,’ she said. ‘Oh, really?’ I said, glad that she was being sociable. But then... ‘You need to speak with her,’ Melissa replied.
Her voice sounded strained. My heart thumped.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, worried.
‘I can’t be the one to tell you,’ Melissa insisted.
I drove straight to Mum’s, where Chantelle was having lunch.
I found her at the dining table in tears. Mum’s face was drawn and anxious.
‘Andrew’s been saying dirty things to me!’ Chantelle blurted out.
I listened as Chantelle explained that Andrew had asked her to cuddle him on the sofa one night.
Then he sent her texts, saying he wished she was lying next to him.
He told her she was sexy, moaned about his sex life.
When Chantelle blocked him, he started pestering her on Snapchat.
And he begged her to send him nude photos.
What had happened to my caring, bubbly girl?
I love your new tattoo, you should show me what it’s like when you have no clothes on
and no bra on, he wrote to her.
Andrew had always been like a father to me, a second grandad to Chantelle. He’d always supported us. With his filthy, perverted thoughts laid bare, I felt sick.
Running to the bathroom, I threw up.
How could he?
‘Is it my fault, Mum?’ sobbed Chantelle.
‘None of this is your fault,’ I replied, wrapping my arms gently around her.
Chantelle told me she’d begged him to stop his dirty messages.
‘He told me it was my fault for wearing short skirts,’ she said.
So this was why my girl had stopped taking pride in her appearance, or going out alone. I was absolutely seething. Andrew wasn’t a friend of the family after all. He was our worst enemy, a dirty old man preying on my child.
Later that day, I sat Dad down, and told him everything about his so-called mate.
As I spoke, Dad’s face turned red with rage. ‘I trusted him,’ he spat. We both wanted to confront Andrew Hughes. In the end, I sent him a text. Don’t you ever go near my daughter again, you sick pervert, I wrote. I’m sorry, he replied. But sorry would never be enough.
We reported Andrew to the police and officers came to our house. They took a statement from Chantelle and looked at the messages.
Andrew was arrested.
Meanwhile, our family was left reeling.
It was such a huge betrayal.
I felt guilty for letting Chantelle spend so much time with Andrew – but how was I to know?
‘You can’t trust anyone,’ I told Mum and Dad sadly.
In September 2018, Andrew Hughes, 49, appeared at Kilmarnock Sheriff Court charged with sending obscene messages contrary to the Communications Act 2003.
He denied the charges, claiming that he loved Chantelle like a daughter.
That he was only being nice.
Nice?!
The jury saw through his lies and found him guilty.
But, just when I thought justice had been served...
Hughes received just 250 hours of unpaid work and a community payback order.
He walked from court that day a free man.
Despicable.
When I told Chantelle what had happened, she broke down, absolutely gutted.
‘He’s ruined my life,’ she sobbed to me, devastated.
After Hughes’ sentencing, Chantelle refused to leave the house, afraid that she’d bump into him.
He only lived 10 minutes down the road from us.
It felt as if we were the ones who were being punished.
Now, 10 months on, Chantelle, 18, still suffers from terrible anxiety and won’t go anywhere without us.
My poor daughter struggles to trust people – as do we all, after what Hughes did.
That wicked man stole my girl’s innocence.
And yet here he is – still as free as a bird.
We should be so lucky…
He was a dirty old man, preying on my child