Family

We had an ordinary marriage. Then I found out my husband had been viewing images of child abuse

For Emily and her husband, Matthew, everything changed when the police knocked on the door at 6.20am one morning. Could their family survive?

As told to Claire Cohen

Sat 27 Jul 2024 08.00 CEST

‘When he wouldn’t make eye contact, I knew’

Emily, 35
In the 15 years I’ve been with my husband, Matthew, I never imagined opening the front door to the police. As far as I was concerned, we had an ordinary marriage – we met at university, went travelling after graduation and returned home to build our careers. I trained in safeguarding, while he studied to be an engineer. I thought we were so lucky. Ours was a comfortable, middle-class life in an affluent English market town in the south – we enjoyed holidays and had a busy social life, with lots of friends. I’m a bit of an introvert, but my husband’s more popular – the sort who goes out of his way to help other people who might be struggling.

We got married seven years ago and our son was born four years later. I had postnatal anxiety and my husband went above and beyond to support me and help me get therapy. I felt we had a really strong relationship and we never rowed. The only thing that drove me mad was he came to bed so much later than me; he always said, “I’m just a night owl” and I assumed he was working or watching films. We also had a few issues with our sex life, which I put down to my gynaecological pain. Now I know it wasn’t just me.

I’ll never forget “the knock” – that’s what families like mine call the moment police officers turn up and your world collapses. It was 6.20am one Friday in January 2023 when the doorbell rang. Matthew said, “It’s probably just a delivery” but I thought it couldn’t be at that time and went to see. There were three plainclothes police officers standing there. My first thought was that someone had died.

There were three plainclothes police officers standing there. My first thought was that someone had died

One officer said they needed to speak to my husband. I asked to see their badges – I was playing for time, trying to get my head around the fact that the police were at my door, asking for Matthew. I had no idea what it could be about. He’d been stressed at work lately and elements of his job were dangerous. Had he made a mistake?

I called up and he came downstairs in his dressing gown. I was shaking by this point and desperately trying to get him to make eye contact, but he wouldn’t. That’s when I knew he’d done something wrong. He walked into the living room and an officer closed the door.

After a few minutes, a policeman put his head out and said my husband had something to tell me. He was crying and hyperventilating as he said, “They think I’ve been looking at images of children on the internet.”

It was a gut punch. At the same time as being utterly shocked, seeing the pain in his face was heartbreaking. Even worse, because of my work background, I knew that what he was telling me was likely to be true.

Still, I was weirdly calm. I wasn’t crying or shouting, I kept trying to look at Matthew, but he was struggling to make eye contact. So I just replied, “OK.” I was in shock and couldn’t find any words.

The police explained that American investigators had closed a dark website and our IP address had pinged up as having accessed it. I paid the bill, so it was in my name, but one officer said, “It’s almost always the man, that’s why we’re arresting your husband – unless you’re going to confess.” That was terrifying because I thought, “I know I’ve not done this, but I don’t know how to prove it.” Like most couples, we shared devices at times and he’d never seemed to worry about passwords or me picking up his phone. I also knew I was at risk of losing my job, so I was scared of saying the wrong thing.

They started pulling everything out of our cupboards, searching for old devices and asking me for passwords I couldn’t remember. I felt embarrassed about the pile of laundry on our bedroom floor. But mostly I was just wandering about in shock, muttering, “This can’t be real.”

I remember mouthing to Matthew, “Have you?” He kept repeating, “It’ll be OK, it’ll be OK.” That confirmed for me that he had done it, otherwise he’d have just said no. When our son woke up, I took him downstairs and tried to play with him so he wouldn’t see the house being torn apart. Then, in the middle of the chaos my mum turned up, as she was meant to be babysitting that day. She immediately thought it must be a terrible mistake and kept saying, “Your husband’s a lovely man.” That only made it harder, because I knew the police wouldn’t have come without clear evidence.

It was absolutely shocking. He told me he’d been using pornography for years and it had escalated

They confiscated about 20 devices, then they were gone with my husband. The rest of the day is a blur. I’m glad my son was there, as that made me go into practical mode. I rang a helpline I knew about through my work but probably wouldn’t have thought to call had the police not given me a leaflet. That was the most helpful thing they did that day. The person on the line was really kind, but also gave me a much-needed reality check: that the police would probably find illegal images. That was what I needed to hear to start preparing, mentally.

The officers drove my husband back a few hours later. His bail conditions meant no unsupervised access to under-18s and no overnight stays. We went for a walk while my parents looked after our son and that’s when the truth came out. It was absolutely shocking. He told me he’d been using pornography for years and it had escalated. He’d stumbled across the images and was repulsed, but had been drawn back. He said he hadn’t looked at them for four years. He was in huge distress.

The police had advised us not to tell anyone, such is the stigma around these crimes, but we felt we needed our parents’ support. Matthew didn’t feel able to tell his, so I made the call – the worst of my life. They couldn’t believe it – after all, this was their amazing son, the first person in the family to go to university. I also had to ring my boss because I knew I’d need to be referred for investigation, as I work with children.

I was devastated but also very upset for my husband because I could see he was disgusted with himself. I didn’t really feel angry, I’m not sure why. I think I was just bereft at what we had lost as a family. I also felt horror on behalf of the victims. I’ve seen the impact of abuse, so finding out it was going on in my own home was horrendous. On the flipside, because of my work, I knew this behaviour didn’t necessarily come from a primary sexual interest in children, but could reflect a porn addiction. Still, I needed space to understand whether Matthew posed a risk to our son. I felt as if the last 15 years had been a lie.

It was a miserable time: most of our days were spent trying to book him a hotel room for that night, until we found a long-term rental. I had to tell my son’s nursery. I couldn’t eat. Social services visited and I signed myself off work for a month, but Matthew initially didn’t tell his boss (he wasn’t legally obliged to unless they asked) and went back after a few days. This gave me hope: I’d been afraid he’d take his own life after finding a rope in his hotel room. I told him about the harm inflicted on the children of people who do that, which was probably cruel but it did seem to give him a kick – he likes data and facts, so the message got through. It was incredibly hard to deal with, but we tried to have as many honest, raw conversations as possible. I also made plans: ensuring he spent time with our son every day, even though I couldn’t leave them alone for a second and it felt totally draining.

After a couple of months, I decided I wasn’t ready to give up. I told myself the decision to stay could always be changed – if something else happened or it wasn’t working, we could separate. There was nothing to lose.

He was on bail for seven months. The police found seven images on our devices: five category A, the most serious, and two Category B, with an age range between six and 14. It was devastating. It took another two months for him to be charged and his plea hearing and sentencing were a month after that.

I’ve been in court a lot, but it’s different when it’s your own family. Seeing him looking so small and pale was awful, and I remember holding my mother-in-law’s hand and shaking. It really brought home the consequences of his actions and it was awful to hear people describe what he’d done and argue he should go to prison. In the end he got a three-year community order and 100 hours of community service, and was put on the sex offender register for five years. He was fired from his job the same day – that felt like the last shred of our old life had gone.

By now, I’d sold our dream home – a year after we’d bought it, which was heart-wrenching – and moved closer to our parents. I can’t believe how supportive they were. My mum initially called him a few names, but then they sat down and had an honest conversation and now have a really good relationship, which still surprises me.

The move was also to ensure that if the case went public, nobody would know us. Matthew changed his name, which the government is about to ban, but our family has a unique surname and I was terrified we’d be identifiable. I couldn’t face any more humiliation.

At the start of this year, my husband was given the all clear to move in with us. Life looks very different now. He’s found manual work, but we’re struggling: after legal fees and hotel bills, we’re £45,000 out of pocket. At one point, he was using food bank vouchers.

The only other people who know about the conviction are his sibling, my boss and two friends. It feels like living a lie and I struggle to meet up with people I’ve known for years, as I can’t be honest. We have no idea whether we’ll need to explain it to our son in the future.

We’re both secondary victims. I probably have some PTSD – we had to change the doorbell ringtone after the police raid because every time it went off, I couldn’t cope. I’ll have some therapy when I feel ready and we can afford it. My son won’t have the lifestyle we promised him when I got pregnant. I wouldn’t have knowingly had a child in this situation. There’s a lot of guilt.

We have an app that monitors his online activity and a video monitor in my son’s room

The big question is whether I can trust my husband. I still get intrusive thoughts: “Has he ever done anything to our son? Could he have a secret device?” We have an app that monitors his online activity and sends me a weekly report, flagging anything suspicious. We have joint bank accounts and a video monitor in my son’s room. That might sound controlling but it’s less about me keeping tabs than him being accountable for his actions.

I know people might struggle to understand this, but our marriage is stronger than ever. We communicate better and make time to talk about our feelings. Before, Matthew was a saviour-type person, always wanting to help other people and never really telling me how he was feeling. I naively thought he must have greater resilience than me. And of course that’s not true.

We’re not there in terms of physical closeness yet. I didn’t want to touch him sexually for a long time and became paranoid about what he might be attracted to. That’s a work in progress.

What’s really helped is the Lucy Faithfull Foundation putting me in touch with six other women in my situation. This journey is incredibly lonely for a partner because there are so few people you can talk honestly to; you are mostly left to struggle on alone – it felt like a bereavement, except one you can’t tell anyone about.skip past newsletter promotion

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