Sour the trace of memories: The Rape Suite ,

And the clear bias against the Police force, who entered the night, the flat, the motherfucking dragon that was the story – a story sadly so true  - up until now. Dragons of course being extremely destructive, monstrous, sickening to touch and smell, fiery and dangerous – like our….  like our night, like life was then to become.. somehow the metaphor has to work…

^^^^^^^^for pete’s sake:

The police were keen to stress that my girlfriend was perhaps dressed a little provocatively.. that any guy might have been led to believe his ‘attention’ and ‘intentions’ were welcome. can you imagine my response… i was completely distraught, as was my heroine who by now had been clinically examined and told that although there was evidence of a struggle, and of sexuasl activity.. there was no proof that rape was exactly  the correct term.

Of course, rather than be stabbed to death and brutally crashed down on, my love was completely still, and completely compliant with the brute.

Now..

As it  continues to develop, we are to learn with tremendous gratitude and  pleasure that at a certain point a particular detective takes charge of the case -Import numerous similar sexual assaults\attacks/rapes have now occurred in the same area of Fitzrovia/ Holborn /Camden   in a 14 month period – and 2 years after the night of terror for my sweetheart, an American college professor is arrested for multiple sexual assaults including rape, and …

previously doubtful ‘friends’ with theories that conclude  that my commitment in the relationship were waning and she did it to keep my attention and love….are given short shrift as they are told of the true horror – that she was dragged into Bedford Square at knifepoint and raped. The police had tried to explain how the height of the railings made it impossible to drag another person over whilst holding a knife to them..

this was one of many weird and frightening police ideas that basically aimed to reveal my girlfriend as a terrible liar and a nutcase.

In the end they offered her £5000 compensation  for there was seemingly no arrest in sight. When she refused the money, giving it to a charity, the police seemed to change their attitude.. it was then that the aforementioned detective got involved and wallop!  an American academic was nicked under a media blackoput, a media clampdown on this completely anti-American horror story.

Strange, but understandable in a way, unlike the propaganda campaign launched in the Robyn Whitehead coverage… now who would like a little insight into that? I think perhaps even her devoted and inconsolable sister[s], her gentle and heartbroken mother and her extremely angry and misinformed father would be surprised buy the lengths gone to make it look like i was responsible in any way for the death of one of my best friends in the whole world…

A girl who I was never lovers with during a friendship that saw us share a bed for many years… a girl who once told me that I was the biggest inspiration to her in the thousands of videos, photos, collages, poems, letters, paintings, songs, dances, dressmaking, and adventures that she was at the creative centre of during the years that I allowed her to live and work rent free in my house, paid for a dark room, paid her a weekly wage  - a girl who didnt have tuppence in the bank despite media reports that she was a ‘society it-girl andfully privileged member of the elite Goldsmith jet set’ .

In the making of her films, including the documentary that footage from which is being used to keep me at the mercy of the courts… I gave her free run of my life and concerts so that she may  film freely. Indeed.. in the very dvd evidence they are using to charge me with possession you can observe Robyn asking me for a pipe – we have a lengthy argument as i refuse to give her any drugs…

despite this the media have been allowed to angle it so that she was being led astray by the ‘manipulative drug-control power trips’ of the ‘sick Doherty’.

Robyn was using drugs when she was 12 years old. she was a heavily involved recreational user and abuser of substances. I did not lead her astray at all. I loved her. I left her the day before she died pissed off that i wouldnt give her any drugs. Print that you twisted bastards. Print that she asked me for years to inject her, to score for her, to sleep with her on acid, to get into blackmagic sex rituals…. never, never , never (once i banged her up, four years ago, when i found her doing it to herself with a blunt needle and dirty spoon and i made sure she did it safely as she was doing it anyway. That was four years ago. After that i refused to allow her to use crack or heroin or drink to excess which was her main danger.)

Or perhaps, Mrs Blanco, so vocal in her condemnation of me in relation to her son’s death.. perhaps she’d be interested to know exactly what occurred that night?

Perhaps it is a good time to do away with the perverse and degrading silence that truth has been forced into –  that serves only to let the people with an angle  get their manic voices heard.

I have said nothing about any of this up until now. Even the words attributed to me are incorrect. I’ll tell you how I feel:

Sick to my heart with sadness for the parents and family of both Mark and Robyn, for different reasons, although in both cases the relatives have suffered due to the unprincipled media’s insistence that foul play and the ‘evil junky Pete Doherty’ are to blamne for two tragic deaths.

Mrs Blanco. Your son was well-liked and well-loved and many respected him, for his wit and his talent and his intelligence. I met him on two occasions. The night that he died he was intensely agitated and extremely hyper-active and intoxicated. He was ejected from Paul’s flat because of his aggressive and loud attempts to belittle me and assert his view that i was a hyped up popstar and he was a talented actor about to star in a play called ‘accidental death of an anarchist’. Paul was dismayed that his friend was showing me this side of his character when in reality we could have been friends and exchanged ideas, combined creative energy and generally used the sometime ‘crackden’ as a thriving studio of literary and artistic output that it occasionally was.

WHEN HE LEFT THE FLAT HE Was alone and when he fell or jumped he was alone. THAT is what happened. he either fell or was making an extreme point about the nature of life imitating art .

I need to think . I need to explain. I need you to know that these families are torturing themselves in the quest for sinister plots and answers that are not there.

Robyn’s father texted me that i am a ‘coward and a runt’ and that i am to blame. She talked constantly of her father Peter Whitehead. She worshipped him, his writing, his filmmaking, his character, his life, his constant fight for justice and truth and beauty and aye, love in a capitalist sewer, in the rigged and puny cultural and political scenes of western society. She would be broken hearted if she knew that i was not even invited to the funeral.. she was my best friend you deranged old silly. There is no cover up.  We are broken me Alan and Wolfe. the media has been despicable and you are falling into their hands.

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