On Jimmy's LinkedIn profile, you may have been struck by a strange gap: the seven missing years between his graduation and the "start" of his working life. Luckily, I know more than LinkedIn: I know where he was. Well, so I thought, until I talked my way into the archives of a famous high school.
TRIGGER WARNING. If anything comes up for you while listening to this episode, there are plenty of resources at MyOnlyStory.org. Please, please talk to someone. If you're in South Africa, you can always, always phone SADAG on 0800 456 789. You deserve to be heard.
My Only Story is written & narrated by Deon Wiggett and produced by Alison Pope.
2019–2022 ©My Only Story NPC. All Rights Reserved.
On Jimmy's LinkedIn profile, you may have been struck by a strange gap: the seven missing years between his graduation and the "start" of his working life. Luckily, I know more than LinkedIn: I know where he was. Well, so I thought, until I talked my way into the archives of a famous high school.
TRIGGER WARNING. If anything comes up for you while listening to this episode, there are plenty of resources at MyOnlyStory.org. Please, please talk to someone. If you're in South Africa, you can always, always phone SADAG on 0800 456 789. You deserve to be heard.
My Only Story is written & narrated by Deon Wiggett and produced by Alison Pope.
2019–2022 ©My Only Story NPC. All Rights Reserved.
My only story is a serial. This is Episode 2 so please listen to episode 1. This is a trigger warning. This podcast deals with mature themes So parental guidance is empathically advised.
Previously, on My Only Story …
The first time I read Jimmy’s linkedIn page, I was struck by a lie. His working life did not start in the year that he claims. It started 7 years earlier, I need to go back to the 7 missing years. The time between Jimmy’s graduation in the 80’ and the so-called start of his working life in the 90’.Parents across SA are making lists of the things to take to the seaside next month. Jimmy is getting ready too. Parents across SA are making lists of the things to take to the seaside next month. Jimmy is getting ready too.
I’m Deon Wiggett and this is My Only Story, a podcast and a live investigation.
[THEME MUSIC AND OPENING MONTAGE]
MY ONLY STORY – EPISODE 2
“THE GREY GENTLEMAN”
ACT 1
SCENE: Deon sets out for Grey
It is April 2019 and tentatively autumn in Johannesburg. I am sitting in my loft, which has windows on two sides, and mostly all I see are trees and birds. Like I have a desk in a tree house, if tree houses came with windows, four cats and piles of index cards. At my desk, I’m busy puzzling over the 1980s and 90s in Bloemfontein. It’s where I know Jimmy spent his seven missing years. It was one of the first things he told me. That he taught at the famous Grey College in Bloemfontein, and then moved down to Cape Town to do the job he did back then.
To hear him tell it, he got the career break of a lifetime. I remember how inspiring it was, the way he spoke about it. Jimmy can be so inspiring, until one day he isn’t.
Now that I’ve been looking at Jimmy with different eyes, well, now I smell a rat. I’m hearing some dates and some stories that don’t make sense to me. Did Jimmy really leave Grey College to pursue the chance of a lifetime? Or was the new job just a coincidence? What’s the real reason that Jimmy made the 1,000 km journey from Bloemfontein to Cape Town and the Atlantic Ocean? It’s a long way for a bullfrog to go.
My only hope of stopping Jimmy’s decades-long reign is to find other men like me – men who’ve already had the 20 years or so it took me to acknowledge what Jimmy did. If enough of us were to say, ‘Jimmy did what he did to me too’, I mean, surely then there is no way we can’t nail him? If I could just find some evidence, some witnesses, just find myself a couple of brothers – I mean, surely it would be impossible not to believe all of us?
So what really happened when Jimmy left Grey College? If he was fired from there, and it had something to do with a boy, it stands to reason that it would have been a boy in Jimmy’s last year at Grey. If I could get a complete list of everyone who went to Grey College the year that Jimmy left, all I would have to do is find all of them, and then ask them.
The internet is no help for Bloemfontein back then, so I can’t avoid it any longer: it’s time to go to Grey College, talk myself into their archives, and see if I could find a list of pupils from Jimmy’s years there. But will Grey College allow a perfect stranger to just poke around their archives?
A perfect stranger gets in his car.
SCENE DW drives to Bloem
It’s a four-hour drive from Johannesburg to Bloemfontein along national highway 1, and a good ten hours more down to Cape Town, if you don’t speed and stop twice.
But I am only going as far as Bloemfontein, on a mission that is making me nervous. Big, male-dominated places tend to make me nervous anyway, and I’m going to Grey undercover as someone who wasn’t raped by a teacher from there.
So, rather than say, ‘Hi, I’m from Joburg, lead me to your evidence!’, I am concocting a vague lie about making a documentary about school newspapers and other publications around the end of apartheid. Mostly, I’m counting on the fact that I have a little bit of an in.
You see, Grey College’s archrival is the Paul Roos Gymnasium in Stellenbosch, which happens to be where I went.
Which means me and the Grey boys have a brotherly rivalry in common. On paper.
SCENE Fox Sports Australia visits
Now here we are at Grey College. Over the last 160 odd years, This College has produced 45 Springbok players. Some of the world’s best names. The Juper C brothers Ruan Pienaar Francois Steyn just to name a few. Let’s go and find out why this college is one of the world’s greatest springbok nurseries
A Springbok is a man who plays rugby for South Africa.
Tape: FOX at Grey College
That’s Fox Sports Australia when they came to Bloem. Like them, I arrive in a small and somewhat tired city that still manages to be the biggest place between Joburg and Cape Town. And the jewel in Bloemfontein’s crown? A school so fine that parents across the land send their boys there to become likeminded men.
Tape: My granddad was there in ’32.
This is Jean Craven.
Tape: My dad in ’60.
He’s telling me about his generations-long connection with Grey College.
Tape: My brother in ’85 and then me in 1990.
1990 is the year Jean was headboy, or school captain, as they say at Grey.
Tape: And if I had sons, they might have been there too – it’s their choice.
For this programme, I needed a headboy-type to tell me about Grey College back then. And what do you know, I find Jean just down the road in a leafy suburb of northern Joburg. He lives with his wife and two daughters in a huge and modern house and I visit there one Saturday. Jean knows what this story is about, knows what’s going on, and still he’s really happy to talk to me on tape about Grey. As a kind of ‘thank you’ to him, I ask him a question I knew he couldn’t refuse.
Deon: Tape: Would you say Grey College is the best school in the world?
Jean: I would. I think like a true Grey boy would. As one of our principals always said, Grey college is not an institution It’s a way of life. Certainly it differentiates itself in terms of the type of person and boy, it wants to you know mould. I guess if you look at the academic and now more like in sport output
Deon: This is a heavily edited version of Jean’s list of the ways in which Grey is great.
Jean: The etiquette the manner
Deon: of the ways in which Grey is Great.
Jean: one of the best choirs
Deon: These Grey boys are enthusiastic.
Jean: Good band, and also on top of that you know you have a very rich tradition. It is the third oldest school in South Africa 1858. Boys only I guess
Tape: On top of that ... Boys only I guess which makes it bit more special for certain. Certainly a place to be proud of.
TAPE: DEON & SECURITY GUARD AT GREY Thank you very much I am going to the high school main office. ….
SCENE Learns the grounds/talks the way in
[TAPE: DEON ARRIVES AT GREY COLLEGE]
Now, if you are curious about Grey College, the following is completely safe to try at home. Open Google Earth on your phone and search for Grey College – that’s G-R-E-Y College. You’re not looking for the one in England; and not for Grey High School in Port Elizabeth either. You’re looking for the one on Jock Meiring Street, Universitas, Bloemfontein – I’m pronouncing all these in the Afrikaans way, because it’s the only way you’ll learn.
As you tap on the correct Grey College, and Mother Earth spins and spins you into central South Africa, you see a shiny red pin that says Grey College. If you want to enter through Grey’s impressive façade – and I do recommend entering through the façade – on Google Earth you’ll have to rotate the image. You want the swimming pool’s covered pavillion on your right-hand side and the 22 tennis courts at the top left – ten of these courts belong to the girls’ high school across the road.
And now, together we take in the sight of the grand main building, which has been built with the sincere provincial splendour of colonial-era English academia.
There are cars parked in front of the splendour. Together, that’s where we park now, on an autumn morning in Bloem.
I’m nervous and I’ve been sitting in my car for a minute or so, when two men park next to me. As I get out of the car, so do they.
In the following scenes, you’ll hear me speak Afrikaans in the background; do not be
alarmed, it is nothing serious. Speaking Afrikaans is part of my cover, and also actually my first language, even though my Joburg Afrikaans contains a lot of English. Grey College does teach in both English and Afrikaans. But Afrikaans is the language that will open more doors here. I’ll translate anything important; everything else is the sound of hearty politeness.
Because that’s what it’s like when you’re Afrikaans. You’re always surrounded by hearty (ons gaan sommer nou saamstap. Hulle sal dit nie eens agter kom nie.) politeness.
In the parking lot, I say hello to the two other men, and we chat pleasantly as I follow them inside. They are a TV crew, and they’ve come to Grey to shoot a rugby preview. That’s just the kind of place Grey is – camera crews coming and going.
We are welcomed at the door.
Tape: Hello julle hoe gaan dit?
Tape: Goed? Gooeeeeed.
Everyone’s good. We are all shown inside and almost immediately we turn into an
administrative hallway. We are told the school principal is waiting for us.
I have now totally realised that I’m being mistaken for a third member of the TV crew,
probably on account of me holding a microphone. I should speak up, and quickly. Being welcomed by the school principal is a terrible way to start an undercover mission.
‘I’m here to look at your museum,’ I say.
Tape: Ek is hier om hierso om te kyk na julle museum.
I used to be in Paul Roos, yadda yadda. I’m already over-explaining myself.
Tape: O! Ek sal jou gou omvat.
Oh! she says, “I’ll take you around quickly,” so just like that, out I walk again from that splendid grand building, a minute after walking in.
We walk down a pleasant sunny pathway past a big and beautiful tree, on our way to the Grey College Museum. I ask for permission to record here, and I check that I have Marzaan’s name right.
Tape: Marzaan Venter, aangename kennis.
Marzaan is the marketing manager of Grey College, and she’s immensely and sincerely nice. I start telling her about my project around school newspapers as we step into the building next door – the Reunion Building, built in the same style as the main building, but not from the same 19th century materials. The building houses the museum, as well as a coffee shop for visitors called Grey Together. The archives are upstairs, where Marzaan has gone to rustle up a certain Estie, while possibly telling her, in Afrikaans, ‘WTF, but this guy has arrived unannounced demanding to peruse the museum, please Estie, just figure this out?’
Downstairs, I shuffle around displays and glass-topped exhibition cases with sporting
memorabilia from old boys: Olympics Gold medallists; Springbok rugby captains; that sort of thing. I’ll find no answers down here.
[TAPE: MARZAAN VENTER]
TAPE O hier is jy!
Marzaan arrives back with the promised Estie.
TAPE Marzaan ‘I said you’re Deon and you’re from Paul Roos, I don’t know if you’re from a company ...?’
I say I’m a documentary maker. I play the Paul Roos card again – class of ’97. I retell my lie about school media, but now I’m making it longer, and I wish I was better prepared. I say I was the editor of the school newspaper at Paul Roos; then I carry on with my vague yet over-explained reason for wanting to see their archives. I’m a terrible liar, as you can hear.
I’ve heard this tape over and over by now, and it still makes me cringe every time. It serves me right for lying to them.
TAPE: Marzaan leaves me with Estie
But, for all my paranoia, my story isn’t closely scrutinised. As Marzaan leaves me in the safe hands of Estie, she says to pop back if I need more help. I hope you find what you need!
TAPE:Marzaan: ‘Ek hoop jy kry wat jy nodig het!’
Estie leads me upstairs to the archives as I say how beautiful the place is. ‘Thank you,’ she says, ‘it’s just never finished’.
At the top of the staircase, there’s a glass door with a buzzer.
SFX Buzzer
We. Are. In. In my mind, in here I’ll find myself a trove of evidence. This morning, in this high-school museum, I’ll crack the case.
END OF ACT 1
ACT 2
[Tape: PRG v Grey] We are in the city of Roses, Bloemfontein for this. FNB classic Clash between Grey College and Paul Roos Gymnasium. It is two Sprinbok factories, going head-to head.
SCENE Jean: I think most people when they think about GC they think about its sporting achievements, especially rugby, cricket.
Deon: This is head boy Jean again.
Jean: WE have quite a few famous Springboks that have come from GC. So sport certainly does play a large role.
Rugby Tape: and here we have a break from Grey College...Prinsloo ...Kriel and Kriel’s got an open path to,,,,
Jean: Now if you are a good sportsman, I think Grey would have been a nice place to have spent your highschool years.
Rugby tape: one can only call that a driving maul ...done to perfection by Grey college, the platform is set and in front acting like silent assassins
Jean: the cameraderie and so much so that I went back 30 years later to play for old boys this year. Still have a few pains and aches from that game six months ago. To have the ability to pull a grey college rugby jersey over my head again.. I mean who’d have ever thought that at 47 I’d still be playing rugby, It was an extreme privilege.
Back in the archives, Estie shows me where I can find school newspapers, and she hands me some yearbooks – Jimmy’s last years at Grey. As she goes back into her office, I slam down the yearbooks on a glass-topped exhibition case. I feel really weird about all of this – I’ve now lied to both Marzaan and Estie, and I’m about to see Jimmy the way he looked not long before we met. The version of Jimmy that taught at Grey for all those years. My hands tremble as I page through the yearbook looking for a picture of the teaching faculty. There they are. Row after row in black and white. I scan all the faces, scan them twice, then the names in the caption twice too. Jimmy isn’t there.
It could be that the staff picture was taken after he had left. I get the previous year’s edition and search for the staff, then another year, and another year more. No Jimmy in any of them.
That’s when the shoe drops. I have come to Grey because Jimmy said that this is where he was. But he wasn’t. He was never here. His so-called history at Grey College is nothing but a fiction; a poisonous invention from the tongue of my personal bullfrog.
I am standing in a high school’s museum on a weekday, when people like me are supposed to have careers. And for what? Jimmy was never even at Grey. I’ve come all this way to run a fool’s errand.
SCENE: Deon finds a trove
Look, I’m not gonna lie: I was in a bleak space standing in that Grey museum. It translated into some extremely unflattering thoughts about Bloemfontein, and also about all of humanity.
I don’t like it in Bloemfontein. I’ve already spent a night here and now I’m wasting a day here. It’s 11am – if I leave now, I’ll hit Joburg before traffic, safely home by 3pm, no mess, no fuss, plus I’ll have four hours in my car to think about my life choices. I don’t know the first thing about being an investigator, or something. I know about advertising. I should be in advertising, like a normal person; not try to catch my own personal sex offender in a witless, hopeless quest that won’t lead to salvation, but to financial ruin and professional disrepute.
As I was saying: I was in a bleak space.
I am paging through the Grey College school newspaper, which is called Stabilis, which is Latin for ‘stable’ or ‘steadfast’. It is the first edition of the last year I’m bothering with, and not even half my heart is in it. I’ve worked my way through most of the years that I thought Jimmy taught at Grey, and there hasn’t been a whisper of him anywhere.
A story at the bottom of page 4 of Stabilis catches my eye. “New blood for [some activity at Grey],” it reads – you know I can’t be too specific. It starts: “Last year we unfortunately had to bid Mr [Beep] farewell when he left for ...” and then it names a place so obscure I had to search for it on my phone.
Jimmy taught somewhere else after Grey College. He was at Grey, but not for the seven years he said. Here at Grey, I thought I might learn how Jimmy’s seven missing years ended.
Yet somehow here I am standing and I’m almost at the beginning.
I need more yearbooks. I go back into Estie’s office, grab an armful, and walk out with lopsided urgency.
On the glass-topped exhibition case, I fumble for the year in which Stabilis says he left. I find the staff picture and I don’t even need to scan it. From a sea of teachers’ faces, Jimmy’s leaps out at me like a stab in the eye. Jimmy grinning at the camera like a cat who got the cream. Parasite and bullfrog rolled into one.
SCENE: Taking high-school pictures
Jimmy taught at Grey College for two years, and was involved with many activities. I learn this from the pictures in two yearbooks – the two yearbooks in which he appears. The two years that Jimmy taught at Grey.
We’re talking typical high-school yearbook kind of pictures here. When you were at school, maybe you also had that day once a year when everyone’s pictures get taken. Some professional photographer comes to school, sets up his expensive-looking professional cameras, and then proceeds to fill the school day by taking pictures of every configuration in which school children occur. Class pictures. Then sports teams. Societies. Hostels.
Achievements. Novelties. The intercom in the classroom buzzes all day long. ‘Will all under- 15 rugby teams come to the hall immediately for photos, all under-15 rugby players to the hall immediately.’
If you’re a kid, it’s one of those brilliant schooldays that disrupts the eternal monotony of being young. No schoolwork can be done, because half the class are under-15 rugby players and they will need to know what the next lesson is about.
Paging through the yearbook, I’m picturing these scenes from decades ago. Jimmy and 14
boys from this activity have been called over the intercom. They goof around as they wait
for the photographer to make some technical adjustment. Jimmy and the boys are
exchanging little jokes that sometimes only just cross a line. Jimmy has a familiar manner with the boys, so they have a familiar manner with him. He’s not like the other teachers.
Remember this ex-pupil?
‘Breath of fresh air’
You could really talk to Jimmy. You could tell him things and trust him to tell no-one. If you need a grown-up who cares, Jimmy is who you’re gonna call.
On another yearbook picture, Jimmy is standing in a sea of 14 15-year-olds. I can’t tell you today what the deal is with the sea of 14 15-year-olds, but it’s horrible.
I take pictures of everything. If Jimmy’s on a picture, I take a picture. Every configuration in which Jimmy had access to boys from Grey College, all of the boys’ names printed in the caption below each picture. In here, in a long-ago photo, are the answers I’m looking for.
The men I need to find – their boyhood pictures are grinning up at me from Grey’s black- and-white yearbook from 19-something-something.
SCENE: STARTS TRACING MASSES
I am back in Johannesburg, back in my loft, with 199 new pictures from a 24-hour trip. By the end of winter, I’ll know these pictures – know these strange boys’ names and faces – like we went to school together.
I make printouts of the 199 photos – an extravagance in the face of ecological cataclysm, but the only way I’ll keep track – sort of. To my husband’s further disappointment, the 199 printouts mark a tipping point for our loft. In addition to the still-growing heaps of index cards, there are now basically 200 printouts divided into piles in a haphazard way. If Marie Kondo were to materialise in our loft, Riaan would instantly dematerialise of shame.
In the captions of pictures strewn about in piles, all the boys’ names appear, but only to a degree. Their surnames are there, and their first initial. So I see row upon row of – I’m making these up, but basically J Smit, A Smit, D de Klerk, G de Klerk, B Smit, T Smit. I will have to find out their first names, and then track down each of these young boys who are now men who are older than me.
Anyone I can’t find gets an index card. Everyone I can find gets an index card and a sensitive message.
These messages are all variations on the same basic one: I’m a writer in Joburg, I’m
investigating a teacher from your time at Grey, can we maybe have a chat?
I approach everyone with enormous sensitivity. That’s how my therapist taught me to do it.
Other than a bit of survivor’s intuition, I have no way of knowing whether someone has been abused by Jimmy. I can ask vague questions and see if anyone will talk to me, but I can’t make anyone talk or even remember. If I just started blurting out specific questions, I risk re-traumatising someone; make them remember something that they aren’t ready to process yet. Our brains bury these things for a reason.
So I send these non-pushy, non-specific messages and I try to do no harm. While also trying to get people to tell me what they know, and tell me now, please, I don’t have all year, because Jimmy’s summer holiday comes up in December, and he’s going to the beach again.
TAPE: Grey Gentlemen
Jean: The word ‘Gentleman’ is a large aspect that we want to that’s brought across to you from early, from early days This is headboy Jean again. He’s talking about the apex of Grey College behaviour – how to be what they call a Grey Gentleman.
Jean: that’t the way you dress, your blazer, tie, standing up for Adults walking by, Certainly the old boys and the prefects trying to instill this gentlemanship and this way of life, on you.
SCENE: WB TARGETS MATTHEW
I’ve sent messages to dozens of them, but I’m hearing nothing. Maybe a Grey Gentleman doesn’t talk to strangers about matters like this. But then I get a message from a guy not called Matthew.
He wants to talk about Jimmy. There was, quote, “dodge stuff going on”, he writes, and he’s eager to get it off his chest. Within a day, I am talking on the phone to Matthew . He’s a family man, and he’s at work; he’s found an empty conference room and we have half an hour.
He’s telling me about one evening in Bloem when he was 14 years old. Jimmy used a trick to get Matthew alone – it’s the first time I hear about Jimmy’s trick from his school days. It’s a good trick, if you’re Jimmy.
Matthew is telling me that he was alone with Jimmy; and that Jimmy somehow, quite
innocently, convinced him to take off his shorts. Matthew says, ‘I was so naïve then, I ...’ and then he suddenly just stops, mid-sentence. ‘And that’s all that happened; I have to go now,’ he says.
I say ‘Um’, but Matthew says, ‘Send me your other questions, but I have to go now.’ And so he does.
I send him a number of messages, politely spaced out between autumn and spring, but he’s remembered something that doesn’t make sense to him, and he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. I never hear from Matthew again.
END OF ACT 2
ACT 3
SCENE: UNEARTHS WILLOWMORE
Grey College is a closed brotherhood; what happened at Grey, will stay at Grey. But my trip there wasn’t a complete waste of time. Remember that story I found in the school newspaper, Stabilis? This is the one that said “New blood for Some Activity” and then said they had to bid Jimmy goodbye when he left for [Unheard-Of Town].
Now, and I say this with great respect to the denizens of this town, but moving there, from Grey College, like Jimmy did, that would be a disastrous career move for a person with ambition. Jimmy does not lack ambition. He lacks things like empathy, conscience, and grace. He has things like ambition, resourcefulness and bullfroggery. The bullfroggery isn’t currently relevant; I just like pointing it out.
That story in Stabilis, it gave me an answer that just led to more questions. I know now that Jimmy spent just two of his seven missing years at Grey. But why would he have lied about that to me? What happened after Grey College that he was so desperate for me not to know about? And what happened at Grey College that made him beat such a hasty retreat?
Ah Jimmy, you’ve done what you do, haven’t you?
It’s May 2019 and winter is coming. I’ve sent dozens of messages and I’ve heard nothing useful or helpful from anyone at Grey. Nobody wants to tell me anything – if there is even anything to tell.
I’m in my loft, and I have more index cards, because now I’m also making a record of people who went to A Very Small School in the Country. Maybe Jimmy had more luck there than he did at Grey College. Maybe I would have more luck there too.
And boy do I need a lucky break here.
My entire quest – to bring Jimmy to justice to prevent him raping other boys – this whole quest is predicated on the idea that my rape wasn’t exceptional; that he’s been doing it to other boys; that at least some of the rumours and dark stories are true and that sooner or later, someone will say Me Too. It’s hard to admit this, but it’s lonely being just me saying this. Right now, if I warned people against Jimmy, I could be done for defamation – it’s my word against his. Even if I identify Jimmy indirectly,
he could sue me. How’s that? Sued by your own rapist.
If I was a real detective, this is the bit where I’d start drinking too much while knowing the answer is lying right there on the table in front of me, or at least scattered around me in tenuous piles.
So I can warn no one, at this point in the telling. I can’t even name the Very Small School in the Country where Jimmy went after teaching at Grey. I definitely can’t say where he takes his summer holidays, because that may bring me close to giving the whole game away.
SCENE: GETS CALLED BY BEN
For months, Grey College looked to me like Fortress Grey. But now, cracks are appearing. It is early evening in Johannesburg, sunset, and I’m sitting on my stoep, or terrace, even though it’s too cold.
My phone rings at exactly the time that we said. One of the men from Grey College has responded to my message; one of the boys I tracked down from a yearbook picture. This guy has a bunch of questions for me. ‘Who is this man you’re talking about?’ ‘Why are you doing this?’ ‘Who are you working with?’ ‘What’s your interest in the story?’ Not quite confrontational, but sure as hell taking no prisoners.
I answer all his questions, saying as much as I can without slandering Jimmy. I don’t quite go, ‘I think Jimmy raped his way through a bunch of your class mates,’ but I do hint at it, and heavily. On the other end of the line, it’s gone quiet. He is reading between the lines, right?
Right?
Finally, I say, ‘Um, you do know what I’m talking about, right?’
He answers straight away: ‘Of course I know what you’re talking about. What do you want to know? I can tell you everything.” Next time, on My Only Story.
END CREDITS
Song: Ek dink terug vanaand aan my 14e jaar….Ek was maar pas standard 7 jaar. OOho my eerste liefde.
Since episode 1 aired last week. I’ve been overwhelmed with the amount of people who have gotten in touch with me. Since Jimmy is still a clear and present danger, I can’t say too much today but our investigative wheels are turning and our mills are milling and the chickens are coming home to roost. But please, get in touch with your stories and tip offs as this life investigation continues you will get all the news a
This has been Episode 2 of my only story. There is a new episode on November 2019 …..follow ..get in touch
My Only Story is written by me, Deon Wiggett.
The producer is Alison Pope.
The sound engineer is Sean Jeffers
Our original score was composed by Charl-Johan Lingenfelder, and our artwork is by Carla Kreuser.
There is also continuing coverage on the story from News24 who is our publishing Partner. It’s editor in chief Adriaan Basson is our editorial advisor.
The following is hugely important, If anything came up for you while listening to this story, please, please talk to somebody.
At MyOnlyStory.org there are loads of links to people to talk to depending on where you are in the world. If you are in South Africa, you can always, always phone SADAC on 0800456789.
MyOnlyStory is out every Thursday in November on your favourite podcast app and News24.
This has been a production of Fairly Famous.