In the early part of this century I gained unauthorised access to government computer systems in the US, in a successful attempt to find evidence of official knowledge of the UFO phenomenon. What followed was a decade-long nightmare. I slipped further and further into depression as the years wore on, having to take Prozac and regularly see a therapist. The emotional wear and tear on my family was one of the worst parts, watching them fight and mostly lose for 10 years.
I was arrested in March 2002 for the crime of unauthorised access, which at that time carried a maximum penalty of six months’ imprisonment. The American and British authorities delayed any criminal proceedings seemingly so that they had time to bring in the US-UK extradition treaty, which seemed almost tailor-made for my case and others like it. This treaty was drawn up (in American spelling …) in 2003, but not ratified by the US until 2006. Despite this some people (including the NatWest Three) were extradited under it prior to ratification.
All the US had to do was accuse someone of something and that was that. This couldn’t happen to a US citizen under the same treaty, since they are afforded the protection of their constitution.
We were told there was no evidence of the alleged damage, and yet we still had to fight against these accusations. When a case like that goes on for years it wears you down more and more on a daily basis. My life was on hold, as I sank ever deeper into depression. Then, one day in 2008, things started to change.
After being interviewed on ITV, quite a few people watching – including a woman who had Asperger’s syndrome, a condition on the autistic spectrum – thought that I was displaying classic signs of the same condition. This view tallied with many mental health professionals who were watching and took the time to communicate their feelings to my solicitors.
People had always commented that I was odd, at school and at work, but no one ever suggested I might have a condition that needed treatment. I was completely averse to being diagnosed for Asperger’s, since I was already extremely low-spirited and really didn’t want psychologists poking around in my mind. Eventually I gave in and was diagnosed by several of the top people in the field, including Simon Baron-Cohen, who all agreed that I had Asperger’s and that this made me vulnerable.
The thought of being in a foreign jail, in a country where you have been accused of attacking electronic assets at a time when terrorism was an ever-present threat, was terrifying. It had seemed there was no way out after multiple judicial reviews, so I bought enough potassium chloride to stop my heart. This chemical is the third one used in the trio of lethal injection chemicals they use in the US.
I was a hopeless zombie, on Prozac and thinking that one way or the other my life would soon be at an end. But then the Human Rights Act aspect was raised. Was it compatible with my human rights as a vulnerable adult to be thrown into a hostile foreign jail with no evidence of my crimes? We hadn’t had any luck with previous home secretaries – until Theresa May.
A lot happened between the Asperger’s diagnosis in 2008 and our final victory in 2012 – more judicial reviews, appeals to the supreme court, presidents and prime ministers discussing my case on television – but it was all going on far away from me. I felt distanced from everything. In 2012, May courageously and compassionately agreed that extradition to the US was incompatible with my human rights, and blocked the extradition on those grounds. Where extradition legislation failed, the Human Rights Act delivered.
Some in the media have spoken out against the act, providing extreme examples of how it can be misused in an attempt to increase negative feelings towards it, but what we have to remember is this – human rights don’t change. Slavery and forced labour will always be wrongs; freedom of thought, belief and religion will always be rights.
May was then my only hope for protection, and today she is in the unique position of being the only hope for the Human Rights Act itself. I owe my life to her and to the act, and it would be a great shame if the ladder by which I was rescued was kicked away so that the next person who needs it finds it gone.
