I think I’m racing ahead of myself. For your info, we had desperately been trying to find a solicitor even since meeting up with husband’s ex employer and the “forensic accountant” bought in to investigate matters. Mr F.A (forensic Accountant) seemed to be having some kind of beautific dream of catching Mr Big. He told husband at the meeting that this was just the tip of the iceberg and at my car after the meeting he looked at me and said “you’d better get a solicitor”. Easier said than done.
Ok, let’s back track. I think I made a fundamental error of judgement here. I had to drive husband to this meeting that took place. Husband was in no fit state to be trusted to be behind the wheel of a car. I also have to advise that I had worked for the boss of husband’s (now ex) employer. I stayed in the room at the meeting my husband had with his employer and Mr FA and I can’t remember if it was the first or second meeting – to be honest, the whole time period is a bit of a blur. I just know that at some point I was asked by my husband if I would go in a meet my ex-employer, I don’t know why he wanted to see me. I do know he said he hadn’t meant to drag me into the whole debacle. Can’t remember without looking at notes what else was said except that when I got up to leave he said he thought I was going to hug him. So I said “I’ll give you a hug” and did so. And do you know what plays on my mind….. that he may have construed that act as coming from a cocky sort of person who thought they had got away with a dishonesty. In reality is was the actions of a person who didn’t know what the hell was going or on or what was about to go on.
I do remember at this time trying desperately to get legal advise. We found a solicitor who said he would act for us, in hindsight how the heck he thought we were going to pay him I have no idea. He rather inflamed the situation in his first action, which was to write to the ex-employer and suggest a settlement. I think it was a bit too soon after the event and all he got in return was a rather dismissive letter from the London Solicitors. And then the guy that said he would help us and act for us went on holiday! He passed our papers to a colleagues chambers and they then dropped us like hot cakes because they said ALL our money was tainted with stolen funds – yep, that’s what happens – it’s a bit like “one bad apple….” in our case it was one bad pound coin taints the whole bunch. So we were back to square one with no lawyer again.
I see from my “sent” box that around this time I stated emailing any solicitor I could in an attempt to find someone, anyone who could help us. We were trying to fend off “their” very keen, young, thrusting solicitor and I was trying to keep my husband from ending it all or taking some kind of revenge. It was a turbulent time for me, a time I don’t like to dwell too much on. Husband wouldn’t/couldn’t speak to anyone let alone call around solicitors and explain the situation we were in, so it was down to me. I found out that the thing we were trying to get – Legal Aid for a Civil Matter – is more difficult than getting blood out of a stone. Very, very few solicitors do this kind of work. And because as this stage husband had not been arrested, a civil matter it was.
Education point number whatever….. did you know this? Did you know that if someone accuses you of something and does not contact the police/Crown Prosecution Service it is “only” a civil matter. You’ll be left high and dry without legal advice. BE WARNED.
Oh, just off subject here – just to let you know that the wife of the alleged million pound fraudster is off to pick more elderflowers tomorrow for homemade wine. Is this what wives of fraudsters do?
I remember these things by looking back at the emails I sent to my sister. A bit of background here….. my mummy was a very dominant part of our lives and when my sister said she wanted to go an live abroad, my mum uttered those immortal words “over my dead body”. She was fine when she said it, unfortunately matters went downhill from there and she sadly passed away within a matter of months. Very sudden, very unexpected, very horrible when I had to tell her she only had a matter of months to live. But I digress. My sister was able, without incurring the wrath of my mother, to emigrate with her new husband – lovely bloke, you know who you are. I spent a very nice few hours on a mountainside in north Wales with him, watching a bright yellow rescue helicopter – little did we both know the same thing was to rescue his wife to be in a couple of years time….. Anyway, again, I digress, again (this is too much decent 3.99 sainsbury’s red and Zero 7’s fault), where was I. Yes, my sister had been living for a short time in a foreign country and we, husband and I, decided the best idea was to go abroad. Well, that’s what they do in books don’t they. Run off to the foreign legion. The foreign legion was not quite in our physicality league, so we thought it might be a better idea to run off and hide in a foreign location.
I should note that potentially we were able to do this because the judge who confirmed the freezing order did decide that taking our passports because we might be a flight risk was a bit over the top. We were not, and are still not, a flight risk, we just thought (naively) we could emigrate, I suppose we thought matters would be sorted in a few months (oh, my sides just split thinking of our naivety). So we communicated with my sister and planned our departure. This lifted husband’s spirits – the thought that we could plough a new life away from this country, that we surprisingly still love. The only down side of our plans was husband’s children that obviously he would miss like absolute crazy. But given his precarious mental state, this was something we could cling on to.
I sit here, on a Friday night, like everything is normal. Shit day at work – thought I was doing the right thing trying to make sales, but apparently “it’s not worth it”. Like if I only get a sale for the company to the value of £700.00, it’s not worth it. So I went home.
Anyway, that’s work and I’m not discussing it. I’m at home, in my lovely little terrace, cat on the footstool (ok, it’s a politically incorrect poufe) with cat, glass of cheap red (very nice, Sainsbury’s own brand Shiraz at a mere 3.99 I think), and Zero 7 on the You Tube playlist thingy….. chillax as those youngsters do say I believe. Just got out of the bath – bliss, half a Lush bath ball (remember: economise), glass of wine, laptop on the toilet. I almost forgot the bathroom was pink and brown.
Still no news on the sodding legal aid – this could be down to one of two things (a) or should that be (1) the solicitor has WRITTEN to us via the “postal system” – remember that, it comes several days after you post a piece of paper in a startling red box, brought to you by a jolly guy who turns up after you have gone to work and sometimes makes the random decision that it won’t fit in your letter box. or (2) it hasn’t, willn’t, won’t be granted to us, not us, him. Either way we have nought.
I wrote to someone t’other day who is also facing a court case and impending prison sentence (you know who you are if you decide to read this) and it’s good to take strength from someone else in this position, although I must remind myself that it is actually not ME in this position, but husband. But heck, we are so close, it might as well be me.
Whilst in the chillax’d mood, I’ll provide a bit of history again until husband gets out of the bath…….. read on.
Husband could not attend magistrates court due to no legal aid coming through and something along the lines of it would take the magistrate too long to read through everything for husband to understand. Postponed for another, yes another, couple of weeks.
When are we ever going to get this over and done with, or at the very least start our journey to the end?