I had my brother's baby

Thursday 25th October 2007

Her shameful secret had eaten away at her for years. But Vicky Jaggers, 32, from Tilbury, Essex, knew the truth had to come out eventually...

Everyone knows secrets have a horrible way of coming back to haunt you. Usually, when you least expect it. Certainly, the sordid secret in my past was the last thing on my mind as I hurried into the living room with two steaming mugs of tea.

'Have you seen this?' my husband Kelly said, holding up his paper.
I glanced down and felt my insides churn. There – next to the headline - Man sought over missing dancer – was the cold, callous face of my 35-year-old big brother, David Jaggers.

It wasn't the first time his picture had been in the newspaper. Back in 1989, when I was just 14, that same evil face had leered out from the pages of our local paper. He was just 20 back then, but already showing the world just what he was capable of when he was convicted of strangling his 23-year-old girlfriend, Helen Mitchell, with his bare hands.

Our family had been in complete shock. Mum and Dad, Avril, 35, and Len, 37, were pub landlords. They were popular, respectable. Not the kind of people who had a killer for a kid.
'I can't believe it,' Mum had wept. 'My David's a good boy.'
And I'd bitten my lip. Because I knew a damn sight better.

He'd been sentenced to just six years for killing Helen. Pathetic. And now it appeared, he'd struck again.

'Kirsty,' I gasped, a huge sob welling up in my throat. 'We have to get Kirsty.'
Kirsty was my 18-year-old daughter. Right now, she was visiting Mum.
'David could be on his way there,' I panicked. 'We've got to fetch her back.'
Kelly looked shocked.
'I'm sure David would never hurt Kirsty,' he said. 'She's his niece.'
'You don't understand,' I yelled hysterically. 'He's an evil, evil man.'

I looked at his kind, worried face. Could I really tell him the truth and risk changing everything forever? I took a deep breath.
'When I was 12, David raped me,' I said. 'Kirsty's his daughter. Only no-one knows, not even Mum.'

I expected horror, revulsion. But Kelly just wrapped his arms round me.
'It's OK,' he said.
But I was far from OK. The truth was, the memory of that night in November 1987 had eaten away at me for years.

I was just 12 when it had happened, and living above The Black Horse pub in Sussex where Mum and Dad were landlords. David, who was 18 then, didn't live at the pub. He had his own place but sometimes he'd stay over. And one night, I woke to find him on top of me, his hands creeping up my nightie.

Maybe I should have screamed, begged him to stop. But I was in such shock I just lay there, eyes squeezed shut, as he raped me.
'When did you discover you were pregnant?' Kelly asked.
'Not until I was 6 months gone,' I said. 'I didn't tell Mum or Dad who the father was. It would have destroyed them.'

Instead, I told them it was a lad I'd met on our caravan holiday to Waterbeach, Cambridgshire a few weeks before the attack. Though Mum and Dad supported me, it was torture keeping my terrible secret.
'You were so brave,' Kelly said.
But I hadn't felt brave, just terrified.
'David never mentioned the rape, or my pregnancy for that matter,' I said. 'But he must have known the baby was his.'

Giving birth to Kirsty on July 27th 1988, I'd felt sick with fear. Would my baby look like David, or worse - be deformed? But thankfully Kirsty was healthy and beautiful and didn't look like David at all.

'From that day, I vowed I'd protect her,' I told Kelly. 'So please, go and bring her home.'
'OK,' Kelly nodded. 'But I think you're going to have to tell her who her dad is.'
It was the moment I'd dreaded all my life. But Kelly was right.
Only, I couldn't face doing it myself. I was too ashamed, too terrified how she'd react.
'I'll tell her,' Kelly offered. 'I can tell your Mum too if you like.'
'Thank you,' I said, tears streaming down my face.

As Kelly set off for Mum's, I sank into the settee, my stomach in knots. In a few moments, Kirsty would know the ugly truth. How would she react? Would she blame me, hate me for not telling her? The sound of Kelly's key in the door snapped me back to reality. And the first thing I saw was Kirsty's tear-stained face.

For a second, I just froze. But before I could speak, Mum rushed in.
'I had no idea,' she sobbed. 'I should have protected you.'
I glanced over at Kirsty, still standing in the doorway.
'Oh Mum,' she broke down.
'I'm so sorry,' I said, holding her. 'But I love you. It doesn't matter who your dad is. I'm still your mum.'
'I love you too Mum,' Kirsty wept. 'It's not your fault.'
I sagged with relief.

'What now?' Kelly asked.
After all, David was still on the run.
'We need to go to the police,' I said. 'Before he hurts anyone else.'
Kelly made a phone call to the local police station, telling them everything. To our enormous relief they told us David had already been arrested by armed police.

They arranged for me to give my statement the following day. It took four hours then a female officer explained the police wanted to DNA test both me and Kirsty to prove David was definitely my brother and Kirsty's dad.

Two weeks later, the police called with the DNA results.
'They show Kirsty was fathered by a family member,' the officer said. 'And David has admitted raping you.'
After 18 years it was finally over.

I couldn't bear to see my evil brother again, so I didn't go to Basildon Crown court in April 2005. He had also been charged with offences relating to the missing dancer. After admitting three counts of incest, rape, making threats to kill, false imprisonment, kidnap, using an imitation firearm to resist arrest and dangerous driving, David was jailed for life with the recommendation he serve at least six years — three of which were for the attacks on me.

'It's a disgrace,' I fumed to Kelly. 'Six years is nothing for what he's done.'
I don't think David should ever get out. But even if he does, now I know he can't hurt me any more. I have the love and support of my children and a happy family home.

Kirsty Jaggers, 20, said: When I discovered the truth, I wasn't angry at Mum. I just felt so sorry for her. My biggest worry after finding out the truth was that I would upset Mum and remind her of the attacks.
But I know now that isn't true. I can't believe how strong Mum's been. I'm so proud of her.'

Want to read more cracking yarns from past issues of Pick Me Up? Try:

Whatever happened to... the victim of Britain's worst wife-beater?

Helen died so our triplets could live

See full index of Real Lives!