As a survivor of rape, whose perpetrator was sentenced to seven years imprisonment, just over five years of which will actually be served behind bars, I remember vividly sitting across from the barrister in the victim support unit of the Central Criminal Court, meticulously calculating a term of imprisonment that would also ensure he would be a registered sex offender ‘for life’. This was a major factor for me, knowing well how short the sentences for rape are in this country. 

“No matter if he gets X amount of years, at least he’ll be a registered sex offender for life,” I justified to the barrister as I held my breath walking into the courtroom. “No matter how much the sentence won’t fit the crime committed, at least the sex offenders register will supplement the injustice I’m about to receive, and he'll pay by being on that list.” 

Little did I know then that the register as it stands today means very little for either perpetrators or for the wider public. No one aside from the Gardaí and a few named State bodies has access to a national database of an estimated 1,939 ex-prisoners and convicted sex offenders, and knows who these convicts are. 

The public is unaware of the predators roaming freely around them unless, of course, the victim takes it into their own hands.

In Ireland, the media are prohibited from naming a person convicted of a sexual crime unless the victim waives their own anonymity. In recent years, we’ve seen an increase in survivors of sexual violence standing on the steps of the CCJ and waiving their anonymity so their perpetrator can be named. The burden of this publicity falls on the victim in our supposedly victim-centred system. 

For me, and many others, waiving our anonymity is an empowering yet difficult decision that can help with transferring the shame back to the abuser and taking back your control. By waiving my anonymity, I felt I was able to carry out a huge portion of the justice I didn’t receive from the very system from which I sought it. 

Five years and three months imprisonment for a “cold, predatory and premeditated rape” simply doesn’t match the crime. No wonder victims name and shame their abusers themselves. I decided then and there to carry out the rest of my justice myself on the steps of the CCJ. But I shouldn’t have had to.

A secret register

One month ago minister O'Callaghan suggested a public register, similar to that of the public tax defaulter list here in Ireland – which makes the papers and all broadcast outlets regularly – and which could allow people to make informed decisions around their own safety and that of their children, potentially preventing life-altering assaults. 

Such a public register would certainly have offloaded the burden on victims to publicly name their abuser. However, on Monday it emerged that no part of the register, even relating to those who commit the most serious crimes, will be publicly available. 

Instead, it will remain a secret register, and in some instances could be shared with other, carefully selected, members of the public in an attempt to help them protect themselves and their children, similar to that of ‘Sarah’s Law’ in the UK.

From a victim’s perspective, the news on Monday felt like a knife through my chest and another let-down. But I sat with it, and have come to accept that unfortunately for victims like myself, logically it makes better sense not to have a public register. 

What we would perhaps end up with is vigilante-style violence and disorder, not to mention offenders may go off the grid, making it even harder for Gardaí to keep tabs on them.

Of course, initially a real sense of injustice and fury overcame me, something I and many victims are all too familiar with. Why do victims have to bare their soul, sacrifice their own anonymity, only for the person who caused all this to blend back seamlessly into society? 

Feelings of injustice

Naturally, it feels unjust. But then I’m reminded of how unjust the system feels for victims from the second you enter it. These feelings of injustice and the judicial system basically go hand-in-hand.

Those who have no experience of the courts are always shocked to learn that we’re just witnesses to the crime committed against us. My case, for example, was titled ‘State of Ireland vs Shane Noonan’, despite it feeling very much like ‘Ciara Mangan (on her own) vs Shane Noonan’. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll continue to say it until proven otherwise: Ireland has a judicial system that consistently bends over backwards for perpetrators and does very little to support those who navigate it in pursuit of its core duty: justice.

As it shall remain, the burden of waiving your anonymity to reveal the identity of the perpetrator will continue to lie with the victims of these crimes. If placing offenders on a public register is not a viable option, how about a true commitment to reforming our justice system as opposed to just great intentions. 

How about creating greater deterrents for these crimes and looking at other ways of relieving the burden on victims to make up for a justice system that lets us down time and time again.

Higher sentences that truly reflect the crime committed would be a good and pretty obvious place to start. It’s not a good enough excuse that there’s not enough prison space. With the way things are going, I hope they’re building a new one, and fast. 

Prevention is always better than cure, yet prevention is where Ireland persistently fails in its efforts to combat DSGBV. Yet the way it works in this country is that stories of horror have to hit the headlines before there’s any sort of response. Even then, it only makes it as far as a vocal response.

We hear it time and time again in mitigation, “no previous convictions”. Isn’t this conviction enough? Where’s the prevention and deterrent in that and why is that something to be commended for? Rape once, sure, but rape twice and then you’re really in trouble. 

Why do victims have to sit there and watch countless character references be handed up on behalf of a rapist? Sounds more like tolerance than zero-tolerance to me. 

What does that say about our efforts to dismantle the misogynistic breeding ground and victim-blaming in our society, when our own judicial system tolerates and excuses the behaviour of convicted sex offenders simply because they were supposedly of previously good character? Do you know how belittling that is for victims and their families, let alone the message it sends out? That’s not prevention. 

Why do our courts think it’s normal and acceptable to pull apart a person’s deepest, darkest, most vulnerable thoughts from a counselling session that saved their life, only to be thrown back and used against them in a court of law? How does that instill confidence in a system that is supposed to be there to protect us and encourage more victims to come forward?

Victims and the judicial system aren’t even reading the same book, never mind on the same page, and I think it’s pathetic and shameful that my greatest wish is for a judicial system that works with victims, not against them. Tinkering with the sex offenders register is a distraction from the fact that the entire judicial system is not fit for purpose.