Whatever Happened To... Britain's first ASBO mum?
Lisa Lovatt, first mum to get an ASBO
Monday 13th August 2007
When I'd first moved into Appleton Close in 1995, the neighbours were really friendly.
'Morning, love,' Edward, 58, and Dorothy, 57, would call from next door as I took my kids Naomi, 14, Macaulay, 12, and Chanelia, 8, to school. We'd been given a lovely three-bedroom council house in Newhall, Derbyshire. All in all, I thought we'd be happy there.
But then, in February 2002, things started to go wrong. Being a single mum was hard so while the kids went to their dad's at the weekends, I let my hair down. One night some friends, Michelle, 29 and Karen, 28, came round. After a few vodkas we started singing to my Abba CD.
'Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine,' I screeched.
It was harmless fun.
Until a lady from Derbyshire County Council knocked on the door the next day.
'We've had complaints from your neighbours about noise,' she said.
A few weeks later, the police turned up after the neighbours complained about the noise again.
'Keep your nose out,' I yelled over the garden at Edward and Dorothy.
I was sure it was them who had complained, as their house was the only one that joined on to mine.
After that, I made nasty phone calls, dumped rubbish in their garden and played my music at all hours whenever the kids were out. One day a bonfire in my garden got out of control and burnt down their fence. Thinking about it now, I cringe.
By December 2003 the police had been round 89 times. They'd always been unable to prove my vile behaviour. But this time it was different.
'You're under arrest for arson, deception, damaging your council house and two charges of harassment,' the officer said.
In February 2004, I appeared at Derby Magistrates Court. As the list of things I'd done was read out, I hung my head in shame. At the time I hadn't even thought about what I was doing. But now, hearing them all read out together, I sounded like a monster.
I pleaded guilty to all charges, was handed a two-year community rehabilitation order and a three-year restraining order. Worse still, I was given an ASBO banning me from Appleton Close for three years. Talk about a wake-up call. ASBOs were for teenage hoodies, not a 28-year-old mum of three.
There was only one thing for it. A fresh start.
'We're moving,' I said to the kids.
'Yes!' Macaulay said, excitedly.
My antics meant they'd been having a hard time at school so they were all relieved. My sister, Natalie, 22, lived in Grimsby, so it seemed as good a place as any to go to.
The following week we were in our new council house. For a week, everything went well. Then, one morning I popped into the newsagents. On the front page of the Grimsby Evening Telegraph was my picture, and the headline Tenant From Hell. I couldn't walk down the street without people whispering. But I only had myself to blame.
I was at rock bottom when two months later, in April 2005, I was at Grimsby train station and I spotted a gorgeous bloke. He introduced himself as Aaron and we started chatting. He asked to swap numbers and we arranged a date. But I was terrified. Had he seen the papers? There was only one way to find out.
The following night when he came round, I blurted it out.
'I'm Britain's first ASBO mum,' I blurted out.
Aaron put his arm around me.
'Nobody's perfect. I can see you're not a nasty person.'
It was such a relief.
A month later, I introduced him to Naomi, Macaulay and Chanelia and they got on brilliantly. Six weeks later, in July 2004, Aaron moved in. It felt good to be a normal family.
But just when I was getting used to being a regular mum. I slipped back into my old ways. After a row with the headteacher at the kids' school, the anger started bubbling up inside me again and I snapped. I appeared at Grimsby Magistrates Court in September 2004. I was given another ASBO and banned from behaving in a way that causes harass, alarm or distress to anyone in England and Wales.
I was utterly ashamed. I knew I had to try harder if I really wanted that fresh start. And it happened in December 2004 when I fell pregnant. But in May 2005, when I was only eight weeks' pregnant, I started bleeding. Aaron took me to St Hugh's Hospital where the doctors discovered that I had a blood clot on my placenta.
'Will the baby be OK?' I panicked.
'We can't say for sure,' the doctor replied.
I was discharged and for the next few months I stayed in bed, praying the baby would be OK.
Then, in July 2005, I started bleeding again. I'd gone into labour three months early and was whisked into surgery for an emergency Caesarean. I lay there, terrified, while Aaron held my hand.
'Tell me what you can see,' I said.
'It's a boy,' he said. 'He's so small.'
We decided to call him Keilan. Doctors warned he could have any number of problems, but all that mattered was that he was alive. After six weeks I was allowed to hold him for the first time.
After three months, Keilan weighed 6lb, and was finally allowed home. I threw myself back into being a mum. There was no loud music, no temper tantrums and definitely no abusing my neighbours.
Now, two years on, I've stuck to my promise. Keilan's a healthy 2-year-old, Aaron and I are more in love than ever, the kids are happy and I get on well with our neighbours. Even today, I'm so deeply ashamed for what I put my old neighbours through.
Every week Pick Me Up revisits people who made the headlines in the past. Check out our other fascinating follow ups
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