'Give us time.' The policewoman had said. I'd been talking about Savile when he was still alive. We knew nothing would could happen when he was still alive and that I was too ill to give them much in the way of details that can be investigated, that the nature of his offenses and the cover up goes much further than groping girls and people turning a blind eye. 'I've got Savile's porn', Ferris had said in that bar. I almost spilled my pint. I guess I should be grateful and amazed that I still respond emotionally to anything and not hate myself for still believing what people say. During it all, I had to cling to anything resembling hope even if I knew it was bullshit because I needed it to get through, the next day, the next minute, the next year. Can't seem to turn it of now even though I have a safe home and an child that is with me and isn't being raped. Where did the belief that deep down most people want to do the right ...