- Aug 6, 2012
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These creepy, Eastern Bloc abuses occur in Canada too. As the woman who had a relationship with Mark Kennedy of MET called it "rape by the state".
A two year relationship is nothing. In Canada it goes well beyond this. The details I have shared have upset the Creepy Ones and they've been targetting me even harder since.
Do these creepy, immoral tactics also occur in America?
www.theguardian.com
It’s September 2015 and my mum and my sister have come by train from Scotland to visit me at home on the Kent coast, hoping to catch the last of the autumn heat. They live in the rainiest part of the UK, and I’ve moved to the corner with the most sun.
I close the kitchen door on my twin daughters playing in the living room, shushing the dogs away.
“I need to talk to you about Carlo,” I say.
“Carlo?” my mum splutters. This is not what either of them had expected. It is almost 11 years since Carlo and I split up, leaving me homeless and devastated. It’s not something we talk about any more.
“Has he been in touch with you? Tell him to get to – ”
“No. No, Mum, he hasn’t been in touch.”
“What’s he done?”
“Well. It’s kind of a long story. Have you heard in the news about the women who had relationships with men who turned out to be undercover police officers?”
“Yes,” my sister says. “That guy with the funny eye. He was in Scotland for the G8. What’s his name?”
“Kennedy. Mark Kennedy.”
“He was targeting environmental groups, right?” My sister has always been politically aware. It’s one of the things we have in common.
“Well … Carlo was one of them, too.”
I pause, looking at them both with an unusual seriousness. Our biannual visits are normally jovial affairs. I wish I could have avoided this revelation for longer.
“Sorry, Mum, there’s no easy way to say it. The Carlo you knew was not a real person. He was a fiction.”
“What?!” My mum is ready to explode. “What are you saying, Donna?”
“What I’m saying is that Carlo was not a locksmith. He was an undercover cop, working for special branch. He was sent by the state to spy on my friends.”
“But what had you done? Why you?”
“I hadn’t done anything. And I know it doesn’t make an ounce of sense, but I think I was a cover for him.”
My sister shakes her head. “God almighty.”
“Two years.” My mum taps her long nails on the table in a slow beat. “You lived with him for two bloody years.”
My sister starts to nod her head, piecing the bizarre story together and making the link to my friends at the time, who were trade union and anti-racism activists. I grew up in a working-class family, was traditionally leftwing and a trade union rep at work, but I wasn’t involved in any organised activism beyond the odd protest march.
“Was he spying on Steve? Dan, too?” Dan was a close friend and colleague in the homelessness sector, as well as a trade union and anti-racism activist. Steve is now a senior trade union official.
A two year relationship is nothing. In Canada it goes well beyond this. The details I have shared have upset the Creepy Ones and they've been targetting me even harder since.
Do these creepy, immoral tactics also occur in America?
I was engaged to an undercover police officer - everything in the relationship was a lie
To me, Carlo was the activist who swept me off my feet. Only years later did I discover that nothing he told me had been real – and that he was a spy cop and already married
www.theguardian.com
It’s September 2015 and my mum and my sister have come by train from Scotland to visit me at home on the Kent coast, hoping to catch the last of the autumn heat. They live in the rainiest part of the UK, and I’ve moved to the corner with the most sun.
I close the kitchen door on my twin daughters playing in the living room, shushing the dogs away.
“I need to talk to you about Carlo,” I say.
“Carlo?” my mum splutters. This is not what either of them had expected. It is almost 11 years since Carlo and I split up, leaving me homeless and devastated. It’s not something we talk about any more.
“Has he been in touch with you? Tell him to get to – ”
“No. No, Mum, he hasn’t been in touch.”
“What’s he done?”
“Well. It’s kind of a long story. Have you heard in the news about the women who had relationships with men who turned out to be undercover police officers?”
“Yes,” my sister says. “That guy with the funny eye. He was in Scotland for the G8. What’s his name?”
“Kennedy. Mark Kennedy.”
“He was targeting environmental groups, right?” My sister has always been politically aware. It’s one of the things we have in common.
“Well … Carlo was one of them, too.”
I pause, looking at them both with an unusual seriousness. Our biannual visits are normally jovial affairs. I wish I could have avoided this revelation for longer.
“Sorry, Mum, there’s no easy way to say it. The Carlo you knew was not a real person. He was a fiction.”
“What?!” My mum is ready to explode. “What are you saying, Donna?”
“What I’m saying is that Carlo was not a locksmith. He was an undercover cop, working for special branch. He was sent by the state to spy on my friends.”
“But what had you done? Why you?”
“I hadn’t done anything. And I know it doesn’t make an ounce of sense, but I think I was a cover for him.”
My sister shakes her head. “God almighty.”
“Two years.” My mum taps her long nails on the table in a slow beat. “You lived with him for two bloody years.”
My sister starts to nod her head, piecing the bizarre story together and making the link to my friends at the time, who were trade union and anti-racism activists. I grew up in a working-class family, was traditionally leftwing and a trade union rep at work, but I wasn’t involved in any organised activism beyond the odd protest march.
“Was he spying on Steve? Dan, too?” Dan was a close friend and colleague in the homelessness sector, as well as a trade union and anti-racism activist. Steve is now a senior trade union official.
