Stonepound House

Reading through some of the desperately sad accounts of time spent ‘in care’,
one word screams out loud and clear….SHAME.
Shame that as young innocent vulnerable children
we were subjected to a regime similar to adult prison life.
Shame that we were physically sexually and emotionally abused
by the very people who should have looked after us.
Shame that we can never forget
or come to terms with what was done to us decades ago.

In the dead of night, at 13, I was taken to Stonepound House by the police.
As the car turned off the main road
and travelled seemingly in slow motion,
my heart started to thud alarmingly.
As though the little girl inside me instinctively knew
things would never be the same again.

Standing between the police officers and with no chance of escaping,
as I gazed up at the huge house covered in a blanket of darkness,
a feeling of foreboding came over me.
My spine chilled to the bone.
I felt myself trembling uncontrollably.
As I heard the rattle of keys and locks turning in the large oak door
I truly believed I had been brought to a prison.

And so the police left me there,
at the mercy of this paedophile child abuser dictator,
and as she led me to the bathroom my tears were in vain.
She proceeded to ‘search’ me for drugs but she didn’t search:
she violated and abused my young body.
As I screamed out in pain she covered my mouth with her stinking hand
and warned me in no uncertain terms
what would happen if I made a sound.
I was defeated…I fought no more.

In 1972 this country knew about child abuse.
In 1966 the nation was shocked to the core by the Moors murders
and how anyone could be so evil, especially a woman.
In 1970 the case of Genie, the feral child
who spent the first thirteen years of her life locked in her bedroom
and suffered massive physical and emotional cruelty.

Meanwhile in remand homes, industrial schools and other institutions,
the same thing was happening
but no one breathed a word of it.
It was our fate, our punishment.
We kept the secret and we kept it for so many years
they were almost home and dry … but not quite.

It only took one complaint, one book, one account,
and now the floodgates are open, never to be closed again.
We should not think of the ages these paedophiles are today,
only remember the evil they did in their day
and make them accountable …

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6 thoughts on “Stonepound House”

  1. Age should not be an issue when bringing this evilness to justice.. I hope you get the justice you deserve although it will never repair the damage to your innocent childhood.. I wish you all the luck in the world.. Best wishes xx

  2. Hi Rachel, I was also in that Hell Hole called stonepound and i have experienced prison and no way was it as bad as stonepound, I believe many of us have tryed to put it behind us as it was the pits and was more like a nightmare that you dont want to remember, All i was suppose to have done was skip school , that was so not true, and when i said you have me mixed up with someone else, i was told ” well it wont do you any harm” The nightmare begun.

  3. I was in Stonepound House in the 70’s, then was moved to Middle sex Lodge and then on to Duncroft. A very unhappy time for me. 3 bad places in a row. I want to find out more, but files have been sealed. What can I do?

  4. i was told by my father that he had an internal prison visit to see me just after birth in 1965 . my mother was in there for poisining my paedophile grandfather with rat poison . who wants to take the case of a direct result of our so called system . i have been looking for this place for 35 years . are there any pics of the stonepound

  5. I was there in the ups supposedly for my own safety from an abusive father. The abuse carried on whilst I was there, my stomach churns just thinking about it.


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