Just a warning before we begin this episode, it does contain strong language, Alice. I might not have heard some of these words before. I think I've heard you use all of them. Hi, Matt. Hi, Alice. Shh, keep your voice down. Why? Who is that guy? What, him through there? Yeah, who's that? That's our producer, Joe. Is it? Yeah, he's been here ages. What's the matter? Well, he looks like him, but is it him? Yes, it's him. I don't know, I just feel a bit shifty. Well, you're the only one behaving shifty. Yeah, I don't... Now I don't trust you.
January the 18th, 2011, Nottingham. Amy glances over her shoulder. It's the middle of the afternoon and she's walking down Clumber Street. Groups of teenagers hover outside McDonald's. I used to work in that McDonald's. No, you didn't. I did, yeah. I think I managed about three shifts. I did my first shift, the most exhausting day's work I've ever done. And then the second shift where I was like, I think I'm going to leave. Then my third shift where I was like, I'm leaving at the end of this. But how weird that I'm British Scandal. I used to work there and here we are.
The high street is heaving. Passing the Lion Hotel, she catches sight of her reflection in the window. Her hair is dishevelled, her expression anxious. She's sure she's being followed. She rounds a corner and dips into a busy coffee shop, orders a latte and sits at the back facing the door. Lately, she's been on edge, convinced she's being watched. Reporters have been asking her friends the name of Mark's beautiful red-headed girlfriend. She feels hunted. A loud bang makes her jump.
The barista is tapping out coffee grounds. Amy sips her drink and exhales. She watches the staff arranging cups, foaming milk, tells herself not to be paranoid. That noise always makes me jump. Surely these baristas, if they are as trained as we're told they are on the adverts, could do it quietly. It's a racket in there. These artisans, surely there's a new process.
You and Mark came here on your third date. A man sitting nearby is looking at her intently. She didn't see him arrive. Excuse me? He pulls his chair closer. Mark told you about climbing in Pakistan. He places a small notebook on the table. She realises he's right. She did go on a date here with Mark. She's gripped by panic.
My friend will be here any minute. He hates journalists. If I were you, I'd get out of here. The man is calm, almost paternal. I've spoken to Mark, and there are still things you don't know about him. Amy stands up. She turns to leave, but he puts out a hand. I don't mean to scare you. I just think Mark's girlfriends should know. Girlfriends? Oh no. Lisa's chest tightens. Mark may have been a liar, but...
I don't believe you. He was with me the whole time. But as soon as the words leave her mouth, she hears how hollow they sound. He had a wife. The man chuckles. He leafs through his book, starts to read a list of names. Jade, who are you? Why are you telling me this? Quite a few notches on his bedpost. That barge made a perfect bachelor pad, it seems. She needs to pour hot coffee over this guy now.
Amy turns again to leave. Look, I just want to get your end of the story. Mark was with one of these women for two years. Two years? So these are relationships. These aren't contacts. These are serious relationships. How many more women was he in relationships with? And they're just eco-protesters. You know, it's just appalling. Amy is already at the door. She has no intention of talking to any journalist. But she can't shake what she's heard.
If what he's saying is true, she isn't the only woman to have been deceived by Mark. She flushes with anger. She thought she'd uncovered all Mark's terrible secrets. But it suddenly dawns on Amy that perhaps she's just scratched the surface. My dad works in B2B marketing. He came by my school for career day and said he was a big ROAS man. Then he told everyone how much he loved calculating his return on ad spend.
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As an Audible member, you choose one title a month to keep from their entire catalogue. New members can try Audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. That's audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. From Wondery, I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. And this is British Scandal. ♪
So Matthew, last time. Yes, everything hit the fan for Mark Kennedy or Mark Stone, whatever his name is, and he got finally fanned out for the appalling things that he was doing. Yes, exactly. His girlfriend Amy found his fake passport and he came up with loads of wild stories as an excuse. Including a
A fake story that he'd been a drug runner in Pakistan, which seems like a very odd cover story if you're trying to convince someone that you're not dodgy. Yeah, or to shut the story down. You're like, yep, no more questions. So then she started digging into his backstory and she found out she'd been living with an undercover police officer for years. I cannot imagine how she felt. You'd be angry, betrayed. There'd be so many emotions. And surely in the back of your mind, you'd start to fear...
that you weren't the only one this had happened to. Right, well, there might be a clue for that coming up in the title. This is episode three, The Other Women. January the 20th, 2011, Ohio, USA. Mark Kennedy opens a bottle of beer and paces around his flat. It's 1pm. He's been staring at the phone for an hour.
Around him are piles of unwashed clothes, a sink full of dirty dishes. Spent beer bottles line the wall. What's really weird, I stayed in that flat in Ohio around the turn of the millennium. Airbnb can really throw you a doozy. Mark has been in the US for two months. He couldn't keep crashing on the sofa at his brother's, so he's now renting a small apartment downtown. He takes a swig of lager, checks the clock. It's almost 6pm in Ireland. Edel will be making dinner.
Mark feels like he's being attacked from all sides since Amy exposed him. Every day he gets abusive emails from activists still reeling from the news. Now the Mets are running a smear campaign against him, saying he used his houseboat to bed a string of women, that he defied orders, acted alone. He's not spoken with his family since the news broke. In the eyes of the public, he's state corruption personified, or worse, a sexual predator.
He needs to tell his kids it's all lies, but he'll have to go through Edel. He picks up the phone, dials his home number. He's about to hang up when he hears her voice. Hello? Please don't hang up. I need to say something. The line is quiet, but he can hear her breathing. The things the papers are saying about me aren't true. I did what I needed to do to keep my job. I want a divorce.
Mark feels a jolt of adrenaline. He can't be surprised. How did he think this was going to go? I think we can still work this out, you know. There's not enough couples therapy in the world, is there? Look, I was undercover how many times? Oh, this again? It was a job. I didn't even enjoy it. A handful of other relationships for my work, Edel. God. It's actually quite stressful for me, Edel. Ball and chain. Much. Edel is a devout Catholic. Divorce is no small matter.
He moves the phone away from his mouth, takes a swig. Have the kids seen the news? Have the kids? A news truck camped outside the house for a week, Mark. What do you think? Everybody knows. They're talking about nothing but your sordid escapades. We're being humiliated. The kids don't want to go to school because of what the other kids are saying. Mark doesn't know what to say. Edel continues. I knew a long time ago this marriage was over. I'm not stupid. But the children deserve better. Did you ever think about them? No.
Mark feels indignant. After all he's sacrificed for his family. The long hours. The missed birthdays. His perspective is warped. He missed their birthdays. It's them that missed out as a result of that, not him. So self-righteous. Of course I thought about them. I did this for them. For all of us. Put Jack on. I want to speak to my son. He doesn't want to speak to you. He barely leaves his room. Put him on, Edel. Edel lowers the receiver.
Eventually, Jack comes to the phone. His voice is unsure. Hello? Hi, mate. How are you? Jack doesn't answer. A prickly heat rushes over Mark. I'm going to come and see you so soon. I know you've heard some things about me and my job, but just don't believe it. There's a pause. Then Jack's voice is full of rage. I never want to see you ever again. The line goes dead. Mark turns and shatters the bottle against the wall.
He stands in the empty room, breathing heavily. He scrolls through his phone and finds an email from a Channel 4 producer requesting an interview. It's a chance for him to tell his side of the story on television. Jack might actually see that. If Edel refuses to listen to him, he's going to have to find someone who will. Later the same day, Nottingham. Amy slowly blinks her eyes open. She sits up in her chair. She's in a community centre, attending a talk about climate breakdown.
For the last 20 minutes, she hasn't been listening to a word. Lately, she's been unable to concentrate. Her mind feels foggy and she's drained of energy. After the talk, Amy's friends want to go for a drink. But the thought of socializing in public puts her on edge. I think I'm going to head home. I'm really not feeling it tonight. Although her friends have been rallying around her, Amy often feels cut off and alone. The enormity of Mark's deception and the depth of her pain is something few can understand.
Mark's departure plunged her into a state of shock. Suddenly, everything she thought she knew was thrown into doubt, including her own identity. And on top of that, she hates that she misses him. That's...
Probably the cruelest part is she's livid with him. She's been misled in the most appalling way. But obviously she was in love with this guy or this version of this bloke. And of course, in all this, you'd still be grieving for the relationship that's gone. Yeah, it's like the strangest kind of bereavement almost. You can't get your head around it. Outside, Amy's breath appears as a silver cloud. From across the car park, she notices a woman staring at her. Amy feels a creeping anxiety.
Amy, I hope you don't mind me bothering you. I'm Helen Steele. Don't feel like you need to talk to me, but I think it's important you know who I am. I'll give you my phone number. When you're ready, we can talk.
Helen hands her a piece of paper. You're not a reporter, are you? Because I don't consent to an interview. Helen smiles. No, I'm not a reporter, but I'd like to talk to you because, well, something similar happened to me. Now Amy is listening. What are you talking about? What do you mean? Helen takes a step forward, fixes Amy in her gaze. My boyfriend was a police spy too. Wow.
Amy feels stunned. She's been looking for someone like Helen ever since she found out Mark was no lone wolf. Helen continues, I understand what you're going through. What I need to know is, was there anyone else Mark targeted? Amy prickles with embarrassment. She feels naive to have been taken in. Helen is calm but insistent. I'm in touch with others who were deceived by undercovers. We need to come together and share what we've been through.
It's the only way we're going to get any answers. You're not alone, Amy. But we can't wait for something to happen. We need to unite now. The thought of opening up to a stranger sets alarm bells ringing. But Helen's eyes radiate compassion. I've been told there was another woman Mark was sleeping with. I need you to find out for sure who she is. Will you speak to her? Something inside Amy snaps awake. She makes her decision. I'll do whatever I can to help you.
So it must be a horrible conversation to have, but at least now that people are coming together, they can actually do something about it. And there's some perverse comfort in the fact that you aren't completely on your own. January the 27th, 2011. Barcelona, Spain. Amy's footsteps echo around the narrow lane. She's following directions on a map, threading her way through back streets. Children dart around her, chasing footballs, calling to each other.
Above, bedsheets billow from wrought iron balconies and the smell of roasting garlic floats in the air. Sounds so nice. I mean, the garlic bit does. The kids running round. Come on, I'm trying to find an address here. Got to be some grit in the oyster. Eventually the streets give way to a wide strip of yellow sand in front of a sparkling blue ocean. Tall palms are dotted across an empty plaza. A slim blonde woman with a wide smile greets her as she approaches.
You don't get views like this in Nottingham. Someone's never been down by the Trent. Jade laughs. Moving here was a really good decision. I do miss my friends, though. The women walk along the promenade, weaving around buskers and dog walkers. Amy makes small talk, asks about life in Spain. Finally, she summons the courage. I suppose we can't avoid saying his name any longer. We need to talk about Mark.
Jade stops walking. She looks pained. After what he did, Mark is dead to me. Amy stares out to sea. On the horizon, small boats struggle in the choppy water. I know how painful this must be, but I need to know what went on between you. He can't get away with what he's done. Jade is quiet. Now she looks to the horizon. When she turns back, there are tears in her eyes. I don't ever want to think of him again. What he did is disgusting.
Amy knows what Jade is feeling. She's one of the few that can really understand. She softens her voice. There's a group of women who are all victims of undercover police. We're trying to find out why this happened, but we need to know what he did.
It must be so hard because you really wouldn't want to go back to it. You'd just want to move on and not talk about it. But equally, he does need to be held to account for what he's done. It's so re-traumatising. It's asking these women to be the bravest people in this story when they're the most damaged by it, which is something that we encounter time and time again in British Scandal. And in life.
Jade grips the railing. She begins to shake. With anger in her voice, Jade describes meeting Mark for the first time in Nottingham. I was 23. I was so young. We lived together for two fucking years. He became part of my family. He came to my gran's 90th birthday. I was so young.
thought I was in love with him. That's the sort of thing that would drive me mad as well. The fact that he met relatives. It's bad enough that he manipulated you and everything but the fact that they would have met him and thought he was real. That level of deception is so despicable. To embed yourself so fully in someone's life.
Amy puts her arms around Jade and struggles to contain her own emotions. The similarities in their experiences cause a knot to form in her stomach. Jade could be describing her own relationship with Mark. The gifts, the attention, the relationships he formed with her family. His entire personality suddenly feels like a ruse. Tears are rolling down Jade's face. The shame of what he did is too much. An image comes to Amy's mind of Mark
That's what's so mad is you were feeling real emotions looking at a real person but what they were doing was fake.
But you and I are real, and we have each other. We've got nothing to feel ashamed of. Jade sniffs back her tears. She squeezes Amy's arm. I needed to hear someone say that. I'll do what you think is right. They turn around and head back the way they came. Dark clouds are forming on the horizon. Amy vows to do everything she can to justify Jade's trust. Together, they're going to bring Mark Kennedy to justice.
January 31st, 2011, central London. Amy stares out of the taxi window as the hotel comes into view. Rain is coming down in sheets. Umbrellas protect passers-by as they file along the street. People dart into waiting cars.
She pays the driver and dashes to the entrance. Amy has travelled down from Nottingham for a meeting organised by Helen Steele. She feels nervous about meeting others like herself and Jade. But the idea of sharing her grief with people who truly understand what she's been going through is comforting. She passes through the plush glass-fronted lobby into a series of narrow corridors. As she walks, her anxiety mounts.
Not for the first time, she recalls lines from Mark's Mail on Sunday interview, the way he described their life together as an operation. You know what? Enough to have had like an argument with someone or any sort of disagreement or even a conversation that didn't go the way he liked. Elements of it will nag at you for days. Imagine having gone through all this and then reading an interview he's given in the Mail on Sunday where he's talking about his relationship with you. Those quotes...
I don't think I'd ever be able to get them out of my mind. Every detail of that that wasn't true would drive me mad. Yeah, they're indelible. I mean, when you said that, I could think of exact phrases from exact arguments I've had, for sure. Of course. It's so painful that you never forget. Getting answers from the Met still feels like an insurmountable task. Amy enters a room to see six expectant faces look up. For a second, she panics.
She's a long way from home. She feels exposed. But then Helen jumps to her feet and rushes over. I'm so happy to see you. Come and meet the others. Helen makes an introduction. As some of you know, it took 18 years before I learned the truth about my ex-boyfriend. The man I knew as John Barker, who suddenly vanished from my life, was really John Dines, a married policeman.
Amy takes a seat. She recognises two of the women from her early years in activism. One was married to a man who turned out to be a police officer called Jim Sutton. The other was with a guy who pretended to be a joiner and lived with her for five years. One by one, the six women share their stories, which span a 30-year period. To Amy, each is as shocking and heartbreaking as her own. But she realises with horror there's a pattern to the behaviour.
That feeling of meeting the perfect partner with shared interests, values and outlook. The frequent absences blamed on work commitments. The use of a van, which was offered to ferry activists around. And access to ready money. With growing unease, Amy hears that each of the men had a heart-wrenching backstory of family abandonment. That none of them had any real-life friends. And that eventually, every one of them suffered a mental breakdown and disappeared into thin air.
It's sickening enough anyway, but what's really dark about this is you've not just been manipulated by an individual, you've been manipulated by a clear plan and all of them follow the same playbook. You've been manipulated by a manual. Even down to the minutiae, they've designed characters that will fit in perfectly to these activist groups. They all have vans so they're indispensable. They've sort of created the perfect algorithm for someone that can just slip in to these movements.
When it's finally her turn to speak, she shuffles in her seat, unsure where to start. Helen stands. "Just share what you feel comfortable with. There's no pressure." As Amy reveals her story, she feels a rush of emotions. One moment she's in tears, the next she's laughing at the absurdity of it all. But the sense of release is overwhelming. The more she shares, the more she feels empowered. She knows that everyone there understands exactly what she's describing.
For the first time, she feels able to open up about the most intimate aspects of her relationship and the humiliation, the anger and the pain that followed. After an hour of talking, Amy feels exhausted but also revived. The shame has vanished and in its place is a burning desire for justice. Mark Kennedy was not an anomaly. He was part of an orchestrated campaign of abuse waged by the police.
And every woman in the room is a victim of that system. Together, they can unite to not only go after the men who wronged them, they can also fight the institution that sent them. It's time to take on the Met. Hey, I'm Ryan Reynolds. At Mint Mobile, we like to do the opposite of what Big Wireless does. They charge you a lot, we charge you a little. So naturally, when they announced they'd be raising their prices due to inflation, we decided to deflate our prices due to not hating you.
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February 2, 2012, London.
Mark Kennedy is standing beneath a streetlight staring down the lens of a video camera. He looks like a journalist preparing an eyewitness report, but he's about to go live on Channel 4, facing one of the UK's toughest interviewers, Jon Snow. Earlier in the day, a report into undercover policing was presented in Parliament by Home Secretary Theresa May. More than a year after he was exposed, he's back in the spotlight. Mark knows the report is the government's attempt to distance itself from his operation.
They're making him a scapegoat. The Met's narrative is that he acted alone. Now he's going to set the record straight, but he needs to come out swinging. The camera operator raises a hand. A red light appears. Mark tries to steady his mind. Mark Kennedy, why did you decide not to give your side of the story to this report?
Snow's question momentarily throws him. Hello there, John. Firstly, I think what I'd like to say... He brings his mind back to his talking points. It was a very difficult time. I was suffering from depression. I was self-harming. I felt at that time I couldn't contribute in a way that would have been objective. There's no flicker of emotion from Snow. No follow-up question. No single authorising officer appears to have been aware of the complete intelligence picture in regards to you.
Mark knew this was coming. The rogue officer defence. He's prepped for it. I had a 24-hour cover officer who kept a logbook of every phone call, text message and movement I made. That was fed back through the command structure and I was tasked accordingly. Mark had expected more back and forth. Snow seems to be running through a list of prepared questions. Mark feels his frustration growing.
He knows his words look weak against the authority of a government report. They say you became resistant to management and defied instructions. He expected the Met to take this line, but the words still sting. He recalls the long hours spent on the job, of never being able to let his guard down, of having to report everything he saw and did.
Mark thinks of the praise that was heaped on him over the years, the commendations and pats on the back, just enough to keep him motivated but always desperate for more. Obviously what he's done is immoral and inexcusable, but this was the job he was asked to do. You would feel sore if you were him, that you've done what your boss has wanted, that this was a manual that other people were doing, that actually when it gets exposed, they change their version of events. Yeah, you can see that he's still caught on this idea that he did a good job.
His temper frays. When things were good, everyone was happy, but now that I've been exposed, I'm being made a scapegoat. Next, John questions Mark's account that he fell in love while undercover. Did you go native? There's a pause. Mark recalls crouching in the bushes outside the power station. The thrill of the action. The sense of camaraderie with his friends. The times he wished it was his real life.
He thinks of the long nights he spent with Amy by the fireside, planning their future, the climbing holidays they took in the mountains, his 40th birthday party. John, I was in a band called the 69ers and I was dedicated to that band. Every note I played. You've probably heard of it. We even drew a cartoon. Would you like to see it? He wonders if Amy might be watching. No, I didn't go native. I was providing intelligence reports right up to the very end.
I can't decide whether he's saying that because in this context where he's got to bring the Met into it and say that he wasn't rogue, whether that's the best answer in that scenario, or whether, in his heart, he genuinely thinks he didn't go native. Also, I guess this is an even more fundamental question. If he's been living a double life for so long, does he really know himself who he is? Yeah, I think you've hit the nail on the head there. I don't know that we will ever know.
The red light goes out and the operator lowers the camera. Mark stands alone in the dark. He can't remember anything he just said. Mark doubts his four-minute interview has done anything to help his cause. But he's got more to say. And he won't stop saying it until he's cleared his name. April 10, 2011. Camden, London. Amy and Helen wind their way along a busy high street.
Amy sees a group of tourists pose for a photo in front of a colourful tattoo shop. A fibreglass dragon snakes through its upper windows. She recalls the afternoon spent watching Mark get a tattoo in Berlin. She bought it for him as a birthday present. The design was a tear in his flesh, revealing a robot skeleton beneath. She shudders at the thought.
Don't we all? Doesn't feel like a very romantic present. I've got you a present. I've designed it myself. It's a tear in your flesh revealing a robot skeleton. So you look like a cyborg? Happy birthday, baby. Could I just have a love heart with your name in it? That seems to be the classic. Well, we've got a surprise for you. Bring in the tattooist. I would pass out even before the needle hit my flesh. Just flicking through the laminated book, I would lose consciousness.
Helen has invited Amy to a meeting with Gareth Pearce of the law firm Bernberg & Pearce. They're going to see whether they have a case to sue them at. Helen is optimistic. This firm has a long track record of representing activists in civil liberties cases. They take a seat in a small office lined with files. In front of them, Gareth Pearce leans back in her chair.
The women have compiled a dossier of their experiences with undercover officers, and they've made new revelations. For starters, Amy and Jade have discovered more women who slept with Mark. Gareth silently scans the document. Her eyes, almost obscured by a thick fringe, widen as she reads. She looks up.
And you're sure the undercover identities came from dead children's birth certificates? This is gruesome. It's mad, isn't it? Even the smaller parts of what they did are horrific. Even the fine detail is appalling. Helen nods. In the National Archives, I found the death certificate of the boy John was pretending to be.
Gareth stares at the women. Amy can see she's processing what she's just heard. There are so many similarities in the way these men operated. They were trained to seduce and use us to look more believable.
There are rumours that there's some kind of training manual they all used. Gareth stands up and goes to the window. I want a specialist to conduct a psychological assessment of you all. What you've been through is devastating. I'm reading accounts here of flashbacks, anxiety attacks, difficulty trusting people. These are all signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. It's extremely serious.
Gareth puts down the document. Gaining consent to sexual intercourse through deceit is a violation of your human rights. It's the ultimate violation. You've allowed someone to have a physically intimate relationship with you and they were pretending to be someone else. There's a soft rap on the door. A kind-looking woman with short hair enters carrying a stack of folders.
This is Harriet Wisterich, one of our top solicitors. I want her to present your case to the High Court. Harriet puts down her load and leans against the desk. This is one of the most egregious cases of abuse by the state I have ever come across. We're going to sue the Met for multiple human rights violations. And we're going to win.
February 5th, 2013. Two years later, the Houses of Parliament. Amy looks up at the imposing stone arches rising above her. Oil paintings adorn the walls and gilded frames. Former Prime Ministers look down on her as she walks across the marble-floored corridor. She's come to the House of Commons to appear before a Home Affairs Committee into undercover policing.
It's a sign she and the other women are finally being taken seriously. It's progress. But their legal case against the Met isn't going so smoothly. As she passes through the central lobby, her solicitor Harriet updates her. Now the Met's lawyers are arguing for it to be held in secret. Is there anything we can do? We can appeal. And if that fails, bring a common law case for assault.
Amy and Harriet have arrived early. Harriet goes to find a toilet, leaving Amy alone. She looks through her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a figure lurking behind a marble pillar. She gasps. It's Mark. Has he followed her here? He approaches and holds his hands out as if in supplication. Amy's heart thuds. She freezes, unable to move. He looks older, but he's changed in other ways too.
He doesn't look like Mark Stone anymore. There's a formality to his demeanour. An odd emptiness behind his eyes sends chills through her. Don't you fucking come near me. Amy, please. I just want to talk. Why are you here? I'm giving evidence, same as you. They're stitching me up, saying I went rogue. You are not the victim in this. You belong in jail. Amy, I love you. Please. This doesn't have to be the end of us. She doesn't know whether to scream or laugh.
She scans the area, willing her friends to arrive. This isn't a film, Mark. You don't get to win the day. You're a complete fantasist. There is no me and you. There never was. Suddenly, Amy realises she's talking to a stranger. The man she loved, shed a life and a bed with for seven years, melts away.
The part of her mind that held his memory clears. She looks at the forlorn figure in front of her and feels only contempt. The man from the Met, a tool of the state. From across the lobby, she hears her name. Helen is calling her over. Amy turns her back on Mark. She walks towards the light of the entrance to join her friends, ready to stand up and tell her truth.
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That's the problem with those climbing walls. You might fall off a wall. Not a good time to speak, mate.
have big news the Met is making a formal apology they're finally accepting responsibility this is unprecedented they're talking about financial settlements this is incredible Amy is stunned is this really happening later Amy opens her laptop there's an email from Gareth Pearce with a link to a video it's the assistant commissioner for the Met Police Martin Hewitt he reads a prepared statement I
Hot tears of relief fall from Amy's eyes. The culmination of years of anger, frustration and pain spill out. She's been waiting for this day for years and she's determined to savour the victory. But alongside it are feelings she still can't shut out.
I know that what happened to her is something that will affect her forever. But so many people, often in the stories that we feature on British Scandal, don't get that moment of people in power unreservedly acknowledging that they did wrong. And hopefully making a change for the future, which must be what she's thinking as well. She never wants this to happen to anybody else. There are days when Mark's absence feels like a bereavement. Amy wonders how you can mourn something that never really existed.
These days, she tries to focus her anger on the system that created him. For years, her life was orchestrated by strangers. Teams of people monitoring her, reading her every text and email. How many of Mark's decisions were actually as handlers? When Mark couldn't come to the hospital with her, was it because he had a day off? One of the most painful discoveries was learning Mark was paid overtime when he spent the night with her.
Was that his decision or someone else's? Was the information she provided really that valuable? Oh, that is really dark. It's so gross. Kind of life-defining. I don't know how you would ever trust anyone ever again. I thought that he was basically getting a bonus. Yeah. Amy returns to Gareth's email. It says a condition of the apology and compensation is that the Met are drawing a line under the case. It will mean they don't have to provide any more answers. Mm-hmm.
That's not ideal. She wonders how many other files the Met wants to keep locked away. Their statement is really just an admission that there's more to hide. Even after all this time, what's clear to Amy is the Met isn't focused on the truth. It's only concerned in protecting its own interests. But Amy isn't going to stop. She knows she has more fighting to do, and she vows to keep on going until her and her comrades get justice.
Tell me that in 2019 he's still not infiltrating these groups.
Extinction Rebellion has parked a pink boat in the middle of Oxford Circus. Traffic is at a standstill. Mark is impressed by such an audacious stunt. The activists he was embedded with could only have dreamed of something on this scale. Thousands of people have taken to the streets demanding world leaders take action on climate change. It's billed as a week of global coordinated climate strikes. Kids have skipped school to be here. Which is fine once in a while, but, you know, make sure you're at school.
It's the best way to do well in your life. The most Matt Ford rule ever. If in doubt, go to school. Yeah. The actor Emma Thompson made a speech from aboard the boat. Okay, I mean, if you're going to get to see Emma Thompson live, that's different.
He's at the event to gather intel, take photos, even make contacts. He now works for a bespoke intelligence and strategy agency called Densys. Run by former military personnel, they spy for wealthy clients. Densys isn't the name of a company that sounds like it's making a positive impact on the world. These are the sort of people that would have bid for the contract to make Robocop.
You know when a company name sounds like it's straight out of a comic book film and they're always the baddie? It's got that kind of vibe.
His training and experience with environmental activism made him the perfect candidate. He pulls out his phone. Once, filming at a protest would have made you stand out, eyed with suspicion. But now everyone is holding a phone in their hands. As he passes, a guy in a pink cap looks down the lens. Power to the people! Mark stops. He smiles. The kid is about the same age as his son. How did you hear about this? It's all over socials. Everyone knows about it.
Lately, most of Mark's intelligence gathering is done online, combing through social media. Mark's discovered it's much easier to pretend to be someone else on the internet. Mark hears a commotion behind him. Through the whistles and drums, he doesn't catch what's being shouted at first, but then he hears it louder and closer. He turns to see a young girl moving through the crowd towards him. Behind her, others follow. She comes up close, gets in his face. You're the cop that abused those women. Shame on you.
People begin to boo. Mark tries to stay calm. You've got the wrong guy. I think you must be mistaken. The girls are attracting attention. People move closer. Cameras are raised. Mark shields his face. Do not talk to this man. He's a cop. Mark starts to walk away, but the kid in the pink hat is looking at him.
He's reading something from his phone. You're Mark Kennedy. Now Mark is surrounded. He looks for a way out, scans the area for police. Honestly, that's not me. I'm not who you think. But he can see pictures of himself on the screens being waved in front of him. The boy's face has turned scarlet. You sabotaged the movement. You set it back years. Mark pushes through a line of teenage girls. They scream as they're knocked off their feet.
Behind, he can hear the protesters chanting. Shame on you! Shame on you! Shame on you! Mark walks quickly down Bond Street. He's shaking. The familiar sting of shame. He remembers his dad's words when he joined the police. You'll never be rich, but you'll be proud of what you've done. He joined the force to make a difference, to achieve something bigger than himself. But maybe the kids were right.
Maybe he's part of the problem. Mark thinks about his own children, their future and the future of the planet. What did he ever achieve? He's lost his family, the woman he loved, and if he's honest, his work hasn't made the world a better place. A sudden chill whips down the street. He puts his hands in his pockets and hangs his head low against the wind. He's going to call his son. If there's one thing he can do right, it's try to be a dad again.
September 30th, 2021, two and a half years later, London. Amy steps off the escalator and walks into the sunshine. It's a warm day in London and people are buzzing around the entrance to Tottenham Court Road tube station. She's arrived early to meet Jade. Nearby, a busker sings Get Up, Stand Up by Bob Marley. Amy nods her head to the rhythm.
She remembers the first conversation they had about Marc in Barcelona, how nervous she felt, how far they still had to go on their journey. She spots Jade coming towards her, wearing a huge grin, a patterned scarf around her neck. They hug each other and laugh. "I'm so proud of you, congratulations!" "I'm still in shock, I've had journalists calling me all afternoon."
Earlier in the day, a court made a landmark ruling when it found Jade's human rights were breached by the Met. She was awarded £230,000. I mean, that feels, in legal terms, like a lot of money, the sort of sums we're used to hearing on the telly. But it's still really not enough. I mean, you almost feel, obviously no sum would be enough, but you feel like it should be like £10 million. For a life devastated, Amy spent years dealing with the psychological effects of Mark Kennedy's deceit.
But these days, her life feels like her own. And today, she feels like the universe has realigned itself with justice. Jade continues. The tribunal said the whole operation was unlawful. There was no justification for what we went through. They head east along New Oxford Street. Over the years, Amy and the others have kept the story alive through a steady stream of interviews, books, and even a podcast. Anything to draw attention to the court case, keep the spotlight on The Met.
You know that podcast we did? A listener sent a message saying it inspired them to join the police, to change the culture from the inside. I got into activism to change the world. I never thought it would extend to the police. They laugh. As they turn a corner, the Royal Courts of Justice appears. The building reminds Amy of the Houses of Parliament. She remembers the last time she saw Mark, how desperate he looked. She doesn't think about the name Mark Kennedy much these days. She doesn't think about the name of the
These days, she thinks more about the people who authorized him, the people who sent him in, the people who paid him, the people who watched him. She also thinks about the courageous women who exposed this whole network of abuse. Helen Steele, Kate Wilson, Belinda, Rosa, Naomi, Ruth and Allison. She vows that the people who did this will never forget their names for as long as they live.
This is the third episode in our series, Spy Cops.
A quick note about this episode. The character of Amy is fictionalised. Her story contains details from the experiences of many of the women affected by undercover police. You can read about them in the book Deep Deception, the story of the spy cops network, by the women who uncovered the shocking truth. If you'd like to know more about this story, you can read Undercover by Paul Lewis and Rob Evans. You can also listen to the Bed of Lies podcast from Karama Gugan and The Telegraph.
I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. Jack McKay wrote this episode. Additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford. Our sound design is by Richard Ward. Script editing by James Magniac. Our associate producer is Francesca Gilardi Quadriocorsio. Our senior producer is Joe Sykes. Our executive producers are Jenny Beckman, Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.
Welcome to the Offensive Line. You guys, on this podcast, we're going to make some picks, talk some s**t, and hopefully make you some money in the process. I'm your host, Annie Yeager.
So here's how this show's going to work, okay? We're going to run through the weekly slate of NFL and college football matchups, breaking them down into very serious categories like No offense. No offense, Travis Kelsey, but you've got to step up your game if Pat Mahomes is saying the Chiefs need to have more fun this year. We're also handing out a series of awards and making picks for the top storylines surrounding the world of football. Awards like the He May Have a Point Award for the wide receiver that's most justifiably bitter.
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