Hi, this is a message from Jeremy, the website creator. Casey’s a friend of mine from school and I want to help her in this terrible situation. She’s a young girl in a foreign country with a corrupt justice system, and she’s been convicted just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, look at her face – it’s so clear she’s innocent, gentle, kind. Imagine her stuck in the hell-hole of an American prison. She’s even facing the death penalty! But look at the facts. That child was being abused long before her death – her teacher said she came in with bruises. And this started before Casey ever went to work for the family. It seems pretty clear to me the mum did it. Check out the forums to read more about Abigail Safran’s history of mental health problems and violence.

Rachel

Rachel

I decided to go back to work the next day, after I left Jeremy at the bus stop for the train station. He had offered to stay for as long as I needed, but I needed to be alone. I was in some strange limbo, neither charged nor cleared, but legally, that meant I was innocent. So I should behave normally, I reasoned.

Things were still awkward as we said goodbye. I sensed he wanted to hold on to the hug for longer, but I detached myself. ‘Take care of yourself, OK? Eat a vegetable now and again.’

‘I will,’ he said sadly, and stood waving till I’d moved out of sight. I walked to the dog shelter on my usual route. The lakeside path was damp underfoot, autumn settling in. Still, I could see the bobbing heads of a few hardy wild swimmers out in the water. I didn’t fancy it myself, not being able to feel the bottom beneath my feet, or see what was below me in the gloomy water. These days, I didn’t like surprises any more, but Marilyn was keen on swimming there – she talked about it like a spiritual experience, an immersion. I wished I could take joy in things like that.

As I tramped down the muddy path with Brandy trotting along beside me, my spirits rose a little. The sun was glinting off the lake and the mountains in the distance soared into a fresh blue sky. Soon the tourists would leave, we would withdraw inside and light our fires, huddle down. I had built a life here, however small it was. I wouldn’t let someone take that from me, not without a fight. And this was Britain, not America. Our justice system functioned, didn’t it? They wouldn’t convict me of something I didn’t do.

One of the interns was out in the yard when I got there, filling up water bowls. Callum, that was his name.

‘Hello,’ I said.