Jake was so charming and persistent, “Go on, come out for a drink?” he’d coax. One day, I did. After a few drinks we kissed, and soon it morphed into a physical relationship. I was single, why not have some casual fun?
After three months, I surprised myself by developing feelings for Jake. When I confessed this, he then kept me in a sort of limbo – neither rejecting, nor accepting me. I didn’t see at the time that this uncertainty was deliberate.
He’d do things like blank me in the street after spending the night together, or would become overly aggressive during sex. If he didn’t like something I said, he’d physically clamp my mouth shut with his palm to stop me speaking.
He became possessive too, sending texts such as “I can see your bedroom light is on, is someone in there with you?” and “where are you working today? I want to see you there”. There would be 10 to 15 messages daily, too many.
When I told Jake to back off, and that I was ending our friendship (which happened several times over the following six months), he’d react with anger then make me feel sorry for him. He was having a tough time at home having fallen out with his parents, and he’d lost his job. He played on my (now I see ill-judged) maternal instinct, I wanted to help. What a fool.
Looking back at our old messages now, I can see the pattern clearly: inconsistency, control, possessiveness, aggression, then his guilt, pulling me back in by playing on my heart strings. He even implied he was having suicidal thoughts. At the time, however, I couldn’t see I was being manipulated.
“He grabbed a knife from my kitchen”
Everything escalated around the end of August, eight months after first meeting him properly. I knew Jake drank, but didn’t realise he was also using cocaine. One night – drunk and high – after I’d ignored his increasingly combative messages, he tore up the street screaming that he was going to “end me”. Inside my flat, with my youngest daughter, I was frightened by his threats. Someone else called the police that time.
I felt so ashamed I’d allowed this man into my life. But at the same time I didn’t want to escalate the situation by dragging in the law. I told myself Jake was mentally unwell, he needed compassion. I didn’t want to be the one who made things worse for him. Also, I’d willingly entered into a relationship with him after all, which brought horrible feelings of shame and guilt.
As Jake’s harassment intensified, my mental health spiralled as anxiety and hopeless thoughts overwhelmed me. Because he knew how to enter my block using the tradesman’s buzzer, he’d appear at my door uninvited. Twice he pushed his way inside. One time he grabbed a knife from my kitchen, waving it around, insisting he was looking for “the man I was hiding”. Even then, I still didn’t call the police.
I’d stopped sleeping, was drinking more than usual to numb my fears and I felt paralysed with shame. I couldn’t even tell my friends – I was convinced people would think I’d brought it on myself. Women are conditioned to feel responsible for men’s behaviour, and I felt that deeply.
By early October things had escalated. He’d call 30 times a night or lean on my doorbell for hours. He sent dozens of voicemails – 86 of them in 10 days – screaming violent threats:
“I hate you”
“This is your fault”
“You’ve ruined my life”
“I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill your children”
I blocked him everywhere – even on his mother’s phone, which he was using to contact me – and told him clearly and firmly it was over. It had been months since we had slept together at that point.
I was finally pushed to contact the police
One night he threw something at my bedroom window, smashing the glass. My daughter had just walked in the door. The realisation that he could target her finally pushed me to the police – and Jake was arrested, though put on bail.
A police officer eventually told me plainly: I was in a state of what therapists call “cognitive dissonance”. I couldn’t fully accept the danger I was in because I had been conditioned by control, manipulation and my own history.
After two weeks, because he continued to harass me, Jake was re-arrested. The Crown Prosecution Service changed the charge from “harassment with fear of violence” to the more serious “stalking with fear of violence” – but I agreed to reduce this back again on a guilty plea so we didn’t have to go to court.
Jake remained in prison for five weeks while the case was prepared. When he was bailed in early December he was ordered to live and sleep at an address known to the police, observe a curfew between 7pm and 7am and be electronically monitored. I was still terrified.
Eventually, in February 2023, a year after the saga began, Jake was convicted of harassment and threats of violence and given a suspended sentence order of 18 months’ imprisonment, 200 hours of community service and a fine of £187 ($430). A restraining order has been imposed meaning Jake is forbidden to contact me, or my children, or come within 50m of my home.
Dealing with the aftermath
He still lives on my street, but I’ve been here for 12 years, it’s my home and I can’t afford to leave. I’ve had security fitted: a triple bolt on the door, reinforced window film, alarms and a device that triggers a piercing siren if I hit it. Three years on, my anxiety inside the home is better, but I can’t imagine the day when I will stop looking over my shoulder, scanning for his walk, his gait, which I recognise so well it makes me physically shake.
Months after the case ended, I found an old phone I’d once lent him. It was still logged into his accounts. I discovered he’d been talking to several other women – all single mothers, all local – some of whom he had borrowed money from.
From one woman he’d taken £1000. She didn’t feel able to go to the police, which meant he wasn’t put on a higher risk list. I wish she had, but I understand why she didn’t.
I reached out to two women – one wasn’t receptive, while the other, who had clearly been assaulted by Jake through the messages I’d seen, responded and we are still in contact.
I needed therapy to overcome the ordeal and that helped me understand the mechanics of coercive control, the emotional violence that happens long before the physical kind rears its head. I won’t be the last woman this horrific experience happens to. I’m speaking out now so that other women might recognise the signs earlier than I did.
*Name has been changed
As told to Susanna Galton
How to navigate a stalking situation
Georgina Sturmer is a counsellor, lecturer and member of the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy. She shares the following advice for victims
Recognise what’s going on
Stalking doesn’t always follow the pattern that we might expect, or have seen on our screens. Pay attention to the behaviours that you’re experiencing and recognise when any patterns of unwanted – and unwarranted – behaviour leave you frightened, anxious or distressed.
Reporting and record keeping
Stalking is a crime, so you should contact the police if you wish to make a report or seek support. Keep factual notes, a log, of exactly what happens and when. This might include screenshots of messages, or a detailed diary of events. Not only is it useful to have information if you need to prove your case, it also helps on an emotional level. Often victims of stalking question themselves or experience self-doubt.
Consider security
Unfortunately, stalkers potentially want to invade our privacy or enter our home. Do an audit of how you keep yourself safe – when you are at home, when you are out and about, and also when you’re communicating online. Taking steps to improve your security will make you feel safer, which can make the situation feel easier to cope with.
Lean on your support network
It might be tempting to stay quiet, or not want to burden others. But that’s exactly when stalkers thrive – in secrecy, isolation and fear.
Seek professional support
Being stalked impacts confidence and self-esteem, suffering with feelings of anxiety, fear, and sometimes guilt or shame is common. Counselling support with a trained professional can help.
