Child Abuse

The evil of child abuse is staggering

Peter Paton

Evil monster has wrecked Tam’s life EXCLUSIVE By Craig Robertson HE WOULD come in when everyone else was sleeping and carry me to his bedroom. “Most of the time he was in charge on his own. There was no-one to hear your screams.” Tam Wilson was just six when care worker David Murphy began sexually abusing him in a Fife children’s home. He was 45 before he told anyone what happened. Today, aged 52, he tells his whole shocking story for the first time. His nightmare has lasted almost a lifetime. He was taken into care when he was 10 months old and he remains a victim to this day.

Tam and (behind) when he was four and a resident of St Margaret’s.

“I was taken from Cameron Hospital in Fife where I was being treated for impetigo. They said my mother had deserted the family home and I was kept in Greenbank Children’s Home in Leven until I was three.
“I then went home for a few months to my mum and dad, but when I was four a social worker threw me into the back of a car and I was taken to St Margaret’s Children’s Home in Elie.
“No-one had any choice in the matter. Both my parents were classed as unsuitable and not capable of looking after me.”
The first mention of St Margaret’s makes Tam Wilson look away. The very name has scarred him. It was there that he fell into the clutches of a monster named David Murphy, the assistant house father.
“I don’t have any real memories of the first time it happened,” says Tam. “Probably because I have blocked it from my mind.
Belted
“But I do remember going to school the next day with a sore bottom. I couldn’t sit still and was belted by the headmaster for fidgeting.
“From when I was six until I was 12, I was abused by Murphy every week or two weeks. I didn’t tell anyone. You just didn’t. None of the laddies talked about things like that. Anyway, I thought I was the only one. It was only years later that I found out how many boys he was abusing.
“Ninety per cent of the time he was on his own, especially at night. He’d wait until everyone was sleeping and come into the dormitory and say ‘Come on Tommy, it’s time for you to go to the toilet’. 
“Then he’d take me to his room and rape me. When he took me down there I knew what he would do to me. He’d force himself on me. He’d hurt me.
“Most of the abuse happened in his bedroom, but there were also incidents at Silverknowes caravan park in Edinburgh and at Kirkcaldy swimming pool.”
Tam kept the abuse secret out of fear and guilt. Like many victims, he convinced himself it was his own fault.
“I thought it was because I was different from everyone else. Everything that happened to me I thought was because I was bad. I blamed myself.
“I was 10 or 11 before I started objecting. I tried to hide from him. I hoped he’d pick on someone else, but he kept coming for me.”
Not surprisingly, that catalogue of abuse took a heavy toll on Tam. He was in and out of approved schools, borstal and finally prison.
Trouble 
“I did petty housebreaking, stealing scrap metal. Never anything serious, but I was in trouble all the time. I was in a spiral I just couldn’t get out of.”
Tam has had alcohol problems most of his adult life. He has two failed marriages and admits his third has buckled at times under the pressure of his past.
At times his entire life has buckled.
“I tried to kill myself twice. I tried to hang myself when I was in borstal and when I was 
in Saughton Prison I attempted suicide by swallowing razor blades.”
Tam Wilson looks older than his 52 years. 
A lifetime of bottling up that terrible secret — keeping it from himself as much as from those around him — has broken him.
He has lived in the north of England for the past 20 years, eventually getting out of Scotland after a prison psychologist told him to get away and start again.
He married Heather in 1992 and, with her support, his life is back on track. He hasn’t been involved in crime for 10 years and hasn’t touched a drop of booze in three. But, seven years ago, his past caught up with him and every painful memory flooded back.
“In July 1999 I read an article in the paper about St Margaret’s and how police wanted boys from the home to come forward. I knew right away what they wanted to know.
“When I read it I burst into tears. Heather asked me what was wrong and I told her everything. It just burst out of me.
“I’d never told anyone. Not my mother or father, not the courts whenever I was charged.”
Did he wish he’d told someone sooner? “Not really, no. I’d never have been believed.”
In the back of Tam’s mind was always the evil voice of David Murphy. 
“When I was at St Margaret’s, I stole two-and-sixpence out of the headmaster’s desk. Murphy found out, called the local bobby and said he’d send me to an approved school.
“I said I’d tell the bobby what he did to me but Murphy just laughed. ‘No-one will ever believe you,’ he said. ‘You are just a born liar’.
“He told me if I said nothing to the police and apologised then he wouldn’t have me sent to the approved school. I said nothing.”
However, aged 45, Tam was at last ready to talk. He went to the police and told them everything Murphy had done. 
A legion of other men did the same. In 1991 David Murphy eventually stood trial on 60 charges of abuse, including 16 charges of sodomy against boys aged six to 14.
He was by then a frail old man of 70 and appealed for leniency on account of his age. Lord Hardie dismissed his plea and sentenced him to 15 years. Murphy died in prison two years later.
“I was satisfied when he was sent to prison,” says Tam. “I was satisfied when I heard he had died.
Cried
“Oh, I cried when I was told he was dead. But I didn’t cry for him, I cried for me. I was happy.”
For the past six years, Tam has been involved in legal action against Fife Council, suing them for failing to fulfil their duty of care. It turns out there were complaints against Murphy soon after he began working at St Margaret’s in 1960, but no action was taken. In 1973, he was suspended and investigated by police and social workers after fresh allegations surfaced. The case against him collapsed when the children involved refused to give evidence to the procurator fiscal.
Incredibly, however, in 1975 Murphy was appointed senior house parent at Linwood Hall in Leven where he stayed until his resignation in 1989, again violently abusing boys in his care.
“Fife Council offered £15,000 compensation to everyone abused in the homes and said that would be the end of the matter,” says Tam. “Almost all the boys took the money, but three of us didn’t. I knew that wasn’t right.”
A year later Fife Council upped their offer to £50,000 and then 18 months ago raised it to £75,000. Each time Tam turned it down.
Unforgivable
“It has been very, very difficult. It has been almost like going through it all again, facing things I had shut away. Fife Council fought this all the way and some of the tactics they used were unforgivable.
“When I was up before the sheriff courts for stealing, they would take five minutes to go through my previous convictions. When this case went to court, they took two and a half days to go over my record.
“One of their psychologists said that when Murphy kissed and cuddled me it could have been seen as comforting for a child deprived of a mother’s love. That is sick. 
“That man put his tongue in my mouth and ear. Comforting?
“In all, I was in the witness box for three days and they made me feel like dirt the way they questioned me.”
On Wednesday, Tam finally won a record £150,000 in compensation from Fife Council. 
He refused another offer from them that was tied to him maintaining his silence and not talking to the media.
“I wanted to speak out so that this didn’t happen to anyone else,” he says. “I want people to know what happened and how it should have been stopped.”
Douglas Sinclair, chief executive of Fife Council, made this statement on behalf of the authority.
“We have offered compensation to victims abused by Mr Murphy whilst he was employed by the local authority. 
“He committed appalling acts of abuse which no amount of compensation will ever make up for. I hope that this settlement will contribute in some small way towards Mr Wilson’s ability to come to terms with what happened to him whilst in the care of staff at St Margaret’s.”
It is 40 years since Tam Wilson last walked out of the doors of St Margaret’s but in his darkest moments he is still there. He remains a victim.
“I think about it 24 hours a day. It is never out of my mind.”