NAAVoices was not created from certainty, but from lived experience and professional insight. As I migrate earlier work from the original platform, this post has been reviewed and approved for transfer. It remains true to its original context, with only minor clarity edits where needed. Some moments do not require rewriting to remain honest.

This morning felt unusual in that I experienced no panic or anxiety about meeting the Professional Standards officer to sign my statement. The night before, I printed the paperwork relating to the allegation of Misconduct in Public Office (MIPo). It was connected to the officer involved in my first disclosure. I also brought it with me. That Was NOT the officer being investigated for MIPo. (MIPo allegations were formally dropped in 2025, with no criminal proceedings pursued). Despite this, the professional and psychological impact of the process itself remains significant. From everything I have seen, it appears the wrong person has been targeted.

We agreed to meet at a Costa near the station, as I was unsure how being at the police station itself might affect me. Professionally, I would get along well with her. However, it is deeply unfortunate that, having been permanently marked by “victim status”, I now feel the need to be cautious about forming friendships with members of any Multi-Disciplinary Team I work within. The implication that professional respect could later be reframed as grooming is something I can no longer ignore.

I ordered a drink and waited, feeling calm and composed in a way I usually associate only with work. I am not someone who rushes conversations, but I did speak to her about the previous day. I knew she was under no obligation to listen, but I wanted to emphasise how effective the software I had used to document everything had been. Had the police documented properly or carried out their duties competently, I would not be in this position. I believe that if such tools were used more widely, they could prevent others from experiencing similar harm.

We spoke about the cumulative impact this situation has had on me, particularly as I had barely slept after relaying the same information about the coercive control investigation to a fifth set of officers the day before. That interaction had returned me to the psychological state I was left in during December, when the attending officer failed to act.

When she asked whether she could have a copy of my document, I agreed. I did not expect her to do anything with it, nor was that my intention, but I needed to share it. Perhaps it was the extent of the work, including references to the Equality Act, multiple police codes of conduct, and Home Office guidance, that prompted her response. In truth, I hope it is used primarily to demonstrate how the programme works and how it could benefit policing practice. She showed clear empathy, and I can imagine how challenging her role must be.

She brought a statement for me to sign, and unlike a previous statement I was required to provide in relation to the children’s case, my wording had not been altered or reshaped to reflect how someone thought I might speak. We briefly discussed next steps. She explained that if the CPS did proceed, they would likely seek to avoid calling me to give evidence. Given that my statement does not support their version of events, I believe it would not assist their case. At times, the way this has been approached makes it feel as though I am being treated as a minor.

I can only imagine how distressing it would be to hear the sergeant’s interview. While I appreciate that investigation is part of her role, given how this arose and what occurred previously, it feels to me uncomfortably like attention is being diverted from earlier failures. She remained professional throughout and advised that if I heard nothing regarding either the coercive control investigation or the complaint, I could contact her directly.

I left feeling as calm and composed as when I arrived. That lasted around thirty minutes into the drive. Then everything returned. My tolerance for the music playing in the car became overwhelming, and I had to return to the small number of songs I repeat to regulate myself. The symptoms intensified. I had to pull over. The dizziness from the trauma response became too severe, and it no longer felt safe to continue driving.

This had nothing to do with the Professional Standards officer. It was, once again, the reality of how my life has changed, how I have changed as a result of police failure, and everything I have lived through since.

This is PTSD.