September25th, 2022  The account that follows is my best recollection of the incident that took place, with much of what was said, paraphrased. I was in complete shock at the time and really confused by what was happening although I am fully confident that the words used here fully express essence and tone. I have access to records of the incident and have checked the disclosed documents for factual consistency though it should be noted that some of those documents are confirmed to have been generated in error and accusations made are robustly disputed by me. I immediately made a formal complaint following this incident and refer to a part of the written response to that complaint in this account.

Exactly three years ago, on this same date of September, at 9am, I was rudely awoken by loud banging at my front door.

I opened the door to a policeman and was immediately alarmed. It wasn’t unusual to see police in and around where I lived at the time. Queen Mary Avenue in South View, Basingstoke was and still is an area high in crime, especially violent crime. I stumbled around in my mind thinking that there had been another incident, assuming that the police were here asking for witnesses.

The policeman, who I later identified as PC Newsted asked me, ‘Do you know why I am here? ‘ Now I was confused. Why was I being asked to guess why there was a policeman banging on my front door. Then I started thinking that a family member had been hurt and my attention leapt immediately to Meg. My daughter was staying at the former family home in Old Basing with her mother. Had something terrible happened to my daughter? The policeman seemed to guess where my mind was at and reassured me that that he wasn’t the bearer of that kind of bad news.

He continued with the guessing game and then something clicked, turning my blood cold. Was this policeman here at the behest of CAMHS? Sally Mungall?

I invited him indoors, led him to the living room and sat him down opposite me at the dining table. And then he explained why he was visiting.

PC Newstead informed me that I had been reported to the police by Sally Mungall. The policeman sitting opposite had been instructed to visit to give me ‘words of advice’. PC Newstead later wrote ‘In regards to Mark’s complaint, he was a suspect of harassment where the victim wished for no further action to be taken but for him to be informed that she does not wish for any further contact from him so I spoke to him at the next opportunity had.’

I am reasonably certain that PC Newstead never made the accusation of harassment at any time during his visit but I am absolutely sure that he said he was offering words of advice before I took things going too far. ‘Before I took things too far? What was he driving at? My mind was desperately playing catch up with what he was insinuating. I was horrified and felt the distress deep in my stomach, weighted and cold like a battleship anchor. I desperately sought to defend myself.

A hefty file relating to my complaints about Sally Mungall, CAMHS, Brambly Drive and both the Sussex Partnership NHS Foundation Trust and Southern Health NHS Foundation Trust was readily at hand.

‘Do you know anything about this?’ I asked as I laid the file on the dining table. I gave him a brief summary of the history of events leading to my recent correspondence with Sally Mungall. I informed PC Newstead of the advice offered by Sally Mungall’s regulator, the Health Care Professions Council, that being to contact their registrant to ask for help in understanding what had gone wrong during art therapy and why she had lied to me and about me to colleagues in the Sussex Partnership NHS Foundation Trust, Southern Health NHS Foundation Trust, the local Crisis team and others. PC Newstead looked perplexed so I went further.

I remember saying, ‘I don’t understand why the police are involved. Why are you here?’

‘I am here to tell you to stop contacting Sally Mungall’, he replied.

‘Why did she need to report me to the police. Why send you around first thing on a Sunday morning, banging on my door?

‘The contact with Sally Mungall is unwanted.' Again, he repeated, 'I’m here to advise you to stop before it gets out of hand.'

I was incredulous.

‘Unwanted? Gets out of hand?’

‘Have you actually read the entirety of the letter that I sent to Sally Mungall?’

I can’t remember what he said but it appeared that he hadn’t.

I continued. ‘ I explicitly wrote at the end of my letter that if my contact made her feel uncomfortable then to let me know and I wouldn’t make any further attempts to contact her.’

'Maybe she feels intimidated or scared?’he replied.

‘Intimidate or scared? Really? Seriously? First. I have never hurt her or threatened to hurt her or even thought of hurting her. Second. She’s a trained professional and has an obligation set out by her regulatory body, the HCPC, to respond to my polite and reasonable questions. And third, she could easily have designated another healthcare professional to act as proxy if she was genuinely fearful of me.’

He just looked at me blankly.

And then I broke down.

The whole scenario seemed unreal. I have never been in trouble with the police at any time throughout the entirety of my life. ‘This is wrong! This is so wrong! You shouldn’t even be here! This is so wrong!’

I drew his attention to the fragility of my mental health, brought on, ironically, in no small part by the actions of Sally Mungall. And here she was, appearing to double down. She knew me well enough to understand that reporting me to the police would exacerbate my distress and my suicidal ideation. In that context her latest actions seemed to bristle with hostility, as though designed with Machiavellian intent . Her actions were certainly cowardly, unprofessional.

PC Newstead was no longer a policeman, no longer an upholder of the law . In my eyes he was now a lacky, a goon, compliant with someone else’s vexatious and cynical misuse of a state power.

I didn’t have any more time for him and told him to leave. I ushered him to the door in complete silence and then he was gone.

I was left to myself, alone and distraught, overwhelmed by terrible shame and a monstrous, strangling fear.