Oh, no! Please don�t rush to the comments box to send your condolences and cyber-hugs! Let none of you mourn the passing of this truly despicable individual. Here�s the potted history:
My uncle (my mother�s sister�s husband) was a military man � a naval officer of sufficiently high rank that he was used to having people do as he said. A chance clear out by my aunt of a cupboard full of junk revealed a sports holdall completely crammed with pornographic pictures. Of my cousin, Reba. At some point in the late 80s he decided that, as he wasn�t �having his needs met� by his wife, that his middle daughter should step into that role. She had just turned 16 but it was clear that the photos dated back quite a few years.
My aunt, not the most intuitive woman in the world, allowed this monster to continue living under the same roof while she �decided what to do�.
Eventually, faced with mounting evidence � my cousin revealed details of a prolonged and extensive catalogue of sexual abuse � my aunt went to the police and my uncle was arrested. He protested his innocence, incredibly his main line of defence was that as he wasn�t getting sexual favours from his wife then he thought it was less disloyal to demand them of his daughter than to have an affair �outside the home�. He said that Reba had been complicit in this cozy little arrangement and that he hadn�t had full sex with her until after she reached the age of consent (16 in the UK). The youngest daughter, Lia, appears to have escaped his attentions but there will always be a shadow of doubt over the eldest daughter Mari. By this time she was already exhibiting symptoms of mental illness and was diagnosed schizophrenic shortly afterwards. When she was told what her father had done to Reba, she just laughed.
My uncle travelled up to where we live and, unannounced, tried to move in with my grandmother. She was already in her 80s and widowed but she had the presence of mind to tell him that he couldn�t stay with her. She phoned my parents. Luckily he had gone by the time my dad arrived at her house.
Despite the extensive evidence against him, the arrogant bastard was so used to getting his own way that he pleaded Not Guilty, thus forcing his children to take the stand and testify against him. He was bailed and spent his days before his trial staking out my aunt�s house, taking photos and occasionally breaking into the house to remove �his property�. The police had all but stripped the house so there wasn�t much to take but he�d always find some little way to let my aunt and my cousins know that he�d been to visit.
My parents and my sister travelled down to the west country for the trial.
At the eleventh hour (and it really was � Reba was due to take the stand that very morning) he changed his plea to Guilty. He got four years in an open prison. Unbelievably, he used his time in prison to bring a case against my aunt to be allowed visiting rights for my cousins. Reba and Lia went through a long and protracted procedure with numerous social workers before their desire to never have to see their father again was ratified. Mari finished a maths degree at Oxford and just disappeared. I haven�t seen her for 20 years. Nobody knows where she is.
My uncle was dishonourably discharged from the navy and his wealthy parents cut him off entirely.
My father stepped into the role of surrogate � he gave Lia and Reba away when they got married and, when their relationship with their mother was at its most strained, my parents acted as go-betweens to broker, if not a truce, then certainly a cease fire or two.
When my uncle came out of prison, he disappeared to France and that was pretty much the end of him.
Except it wasn�t.
At some point over the last month, alerted by neighbours who hadn�t seen him for a while, the gendarmes broke into where my uncle was living and found him dead. The death certificate cites �neglect� as the cause of death. In accordance with French law, cremation/burial must take place within seven days of death and he was cremated before any of his relatives even found out he was dead. For a few brief days we allowed ourselves the vision of him dying, alone in a hovel, unloved and uncared for and considered justice had finally been done.
The French gendarmes traced Lia and Reba. Reba washed her hands of the whole affair, leaving Lia to assume the unenviable position of executor of her father�s estate. And here the plot thickens. We now know that, after my uncle�s father died, my uncle came back to England incognito and persuaded his mother to rewrite her will, leaving him a substantial inheritance with which he bought a house and ten acres of land in France. I don�t know what he did there. I don�t particularly even want to think about it. Especially as, within two or three days of Lia stepping into the role of executor, she got two phone calls from two different men calling themselves �Mr Smith�, who were just casually wondering what had happened to my uncle�s computer and would Lia consider letting them have access to the house!
I felt sick. Lia phoned Interpol.
Lia has managed to secure herself a French lawyer who is helping with the tangles of red-tape which bind her to the father who, in her words �had been dead to me for years anyway�. The house and land is to be sold and, as next of kin, French law dictates that the children get everything. With Mari untraceable and Reba vehemently determined to distance herself, it seems that Lia will inherit the lot.
Lia was on the phone to my sister. What should she do? She has a husband and two young children, the money would sure come in handy. But its tainted � would she forever look at that bigger house, nicer car, family holiday and see the misery and wrecked lives that her father left in his wake? Or would it be final payback and some kind of blood money � would she feel vindicated?
Any ideas?