I once worked with a girl who, at age 14, was left in a brothel by professionals.

You don’t need to read the rest of the blog if you don’t want as that’s the crux of it.

But if you are thinking no way. How? Why? Then let’s go on.

That incident happened about four weeks before I became involved. So, let’s start with the introduction.
I have worked with children impacted by exploitation for most of my life. I believe I remember them all. This knowledge is often tested as I walk down the street and a young adult shouts “miss,” and my brain has seconds to remember why and how they know me. Sometimes, they hug me. Sometimes, they get very emotional.

I must have worked with thousands of children and young people. Until this moment, though, I have never known how many directly I have worked with. I would say…maybe 800. I don’t even know if that is right, as I have worked directly with groups of young people.

What I can tell you is that five children were so failed by the system that by the time I came to work with them, I could do very little to help them.

I remember each one. I remember why. Each child’s story etched into my mind and the heavy feeling of guilt that I could not do more.

The child left in the brothel is one of the 5.

 I met her when she was 14. Before I met her, the safeguarding lead had told me all about her.
Or she told me all about her behavior. She said that there had been some issues in the past, including neglect from Mum, but the girl was “out of control” and would be excluded.
My job was to establish if they had been exploited and, if so…what next.
As I walked through the school, I noticed it was very noisy and disorganized. For a secondary school, there were a lot of children out of lessons. The school was known for being like this, but now inside, it surprised me. As we made our way to “the behavior unit,” I noted that things became worse. There was a makeshift shelter at the back of the school where all the children with any “behavior issues “(her words, not mine) were educated.
As we turned the corner, it was clear who I was here to see. The lady said, “Oh, there she is,” but she didn’t need to.

She was wearing her school uniform, which is true. She also had on a pair of trainers that I had been eyeing for weeks. She also had on a Parada belt and a Gucci pouch across her—and not the kind you get abroad. She had her hair up with a red bandana tied with two Bunny ears. And she had four or five other young people with her. They were just standing. I recognised the other children—all children of concern.

She happily came with me to a room they had given us.

Unusual.

Usually, there is resistance and some attitude.

Nope, this girl had a big smile on her face. This girl totally believed that no one knew what was happening, so she was quite happy to go into any room and speak. She had most likely been asked the same tik-box questions over and over, so she felt confident.
From this point, we will call the child Anna

“Right Anna,” the lady safeguarding lead said, “this lady is her about your child sexual exploitation, so behave.”

I looked at this woman. She had already left and strutted down the corridor, snarling at the next child in her way. I would deal with her after.

“What’s child portaion?” Anna mumbled the word, getting it wrong ,  while looking at the faded posters on the wall (which were all out of date and pointless)
I shook my head.
“I am sorry Mrs. X said that Anna; she should not have. “
“I wanna know what it is; they keep saying it. And my social worker.”
I nodded. This was not how I did things. But …we move.
I sat down. I didn’t ask Anna to sit with me—there was no need. There was a chair there; if she wanted to sit, she would.
I said…. I am going to explain it in two ways. First, I am going to explain it the way the professionals do so that you understand what they keep talking about.”

And so, I gave her the government definition of child sexual exploitation.
She laughed and said, “That ain’t me; why do they think that is me?”.
I nodded.
“what’s the second way then?” she said, now interested and perching herself on the seat.
I nodded again.
“Ok,”……” let me explain in it a language you may understand better.”
She smiled her big smile and said, “Go on then.”

I paused. I debated. I decided that I didn’t create the mess of understanding exploitation in this child’s head, but I would need to try and fix it.

“Let me tell you a story” is how I started.
I told her about a girl. This girl was popular in and out of school and always had people complimenting her about how she looked. Because she was so pretty, people gave her stuff—free stuff. She also didn’t need to mess about with boys her age. Nope. She had older boys and even men interested in her, not from the local area, either.
She started to go and see these men from the other areas, and they would come and see her and her friends if they wanted.
The men started to give her more stuff and free drugs and drinks. The girl didn’t really like the drags and drink at first but then liked how it made her feel.
And now, sometimes, she felt like she needed the drugs. A lot.
Sometimes, the men would say they were now boyfriend and girlfriend and treat her that way. Other times, she would have to pay for the drugs by giving head or sex. And that was confusing and didn’t feel nice.
Sometimes, she had to carry drugs, the girl.
And the worst part. It was an older girl making sure she did all of this. Someone she looked up to. Someone she was scared off by more scared to not be her friend. This older girl says she is a baby if she doesn’t do the things the men want. And it is men now, not one man. The girl says if Anna was her friend, she would do it. Anna sees what happens to the girls who don’t.
The end

And I waited …as I always did. I had not read a single case note on Anna. I had been told her name and that she was neglected. I knew very little. On purpose. That’s how I like to meet a young person.

So I can really see them. And I could see Anna.

The smile had long gone.
Mouth slightly open.
Eyes wide
And then

A whisper from her mouth

“How do you know that?”

A genuine question on her part.  Heartbreaking one on mine

I nodded again. And we locked eyes. A lot is said with no words. I didn’t speak.
“Who told you? “She said very quietly, gain
I didn’t answer.
Just the eye contact for a moment
“Did it happen to you as well?” she said.
“No,” I said.
“Then how do you know”.
I never answered that question for her. How could I?

During a session, she told me that she had been found in a place where people paid for sex, and the police had left her there. I remember looking up from what I was doing and being like, “What did you just say?”.
She was swinging on the chair, just chattering away. “They left me their init. The police came and found me there because my mum was not around, and one of the men said that they would look after me and left me.”
After she left, I went with the head teacher to look at her file because although this sounded not true…Anna did lie—not to me.

It took us only a short time.

It was recorded that Anna had been found at a house that was regarded as a brothel. She was found there when the police went to the address looking for someone and had become concerned about her age. She disclosed her real name and her real age of 14 but said that her mum had gone away for the weekend and that she was staying there. She was open to social care.
The police spoke to a man on the property who said he was her cousin and he would look after her and ensure that she stayed with him.
When the police asked Anna if that was her cousin, she laughed and said no.
The place left her there and then spoke to social care, maybe on a Monday morning, and mum was advised not to leave her child with anyone other than family.
The child told the social worker that the man they spoke to was actually her boyfriend, and they thought it was funny that the police believed them.

That happened.

I read it, followed up on it, brought it up in the next STRAT, and it was discussed.
And the child told me.

In one meeting it was said by a professional that this was “reality for Anna” and ” she chooses to put herself in danger”. I am still surprised that I didn’t get fired that day, as I made it clear to that professional what I thought of her views. I would have gladly been fired rather than shut my mouth.

It was investigated, but that is another story.

I have no happy ending for this story, I am afraid.

The last I knew about Anna was that she had lied to a man on Snapchat about being 21. She had “dated” him for six months and told him it was her 21st birthday. He threw her a party and bought her an expensive watch. When it went on Instagram, people who knew Anna started commenting and saying she was only 16. She disappeared, and the man made a public post saying he wanted his watch back and such. This was all reported to teh correct people, of course.
This was years ago. I tried so hard to get Anna’s help. Even when I no longer had direct contact with her, I tried.

She is one of the five. Her life was such a mashup by the people who should protect her that when I got there…all I could do was let her know she was not alone.

In our last conversation, she asked me, “Miss, I think you were like me when you were a kid too, that’s how you know …init”

I never did answer that question to her, but the answer would have been no, and that would have been too painful for her to hear or understand.

As for Mrs X…. let’s say she didn’t last very long with the new sheriff in town….