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		SURROUNDED by photos of Madeleine, brave Kate McCann spent months 
		writing her heart-rending book based on diaries kept after her daughter 
		disappeared.  
		Kate 
		said: "My reason for writing is simple - to give an account of the 
		truth. The book was written for Madeleine for when she comes back and 
		also for her brother Sean and sister Amelie, so that as they grow up 
		they can read it too.  
		
		"Along the way there were often tears and I would not be able to carry 
		on. But I was determined to do it. Every penny we raise through its 
		sales will be spent on our search for Madeleine. Nothing is more 
		important than finding our little girl."  
		In 
		this extract, edited and abridged by ANTONELLA LAZZERI and 
		OLIVER HARVEY, Kate tells how in the early days she was tormented by 
		thoughts of Madeleine's possible fate at the hands of a child sex 
		offender:  
		THE 
		truly awful manifestation of what I was feeling was a macabre slideshow 
		of vivid pictures in my brain that taunted me relentlessly.  
		I 
		was crying out that I could see Madeleine lying, cold and mottled, on a 
		big grey stone slab.  
		
		Looking back, seeing me like this must have been terrible for my friends 
		and relatives, and particularly my parents, but I couldn't help myself.
		 
		And 
		all this needed to come out. I dread to think what it might have done to 
		me if it hadn't.  
		
		Later on it was the nights that were the worst. Not only did lying awake 
		in the dark take me straight back to the most awful night of all, but my 
		brain, finally free of the preoccupations of the day, would wander 
		unbidden down black and terrifying avenues.  
		  
		I 
		struggled constantly to think nice thoughts and drift off to sleep, but 
		the demons had me in their grip and would torture me mercilessly with 
		images too frightening and painful to share.  
		
		Dungeons 
		
		Where is my Madeleine? Please, God, do something!  
		An 
		entry in my diary from that time: "Crying in bed again - can't help it . 
		The thought of Madeleine's fear and pain tears me apart. The thought of 
		paedophiles makes me want to rip my skin off."
		 
		
		Shortly after Madeleine went missing I recall Bill Henderson, the 
		British Consul for the Algarve at the time, telling me that there had 
		been several recent cases of men getting into bed with children, but no 
		known abductions.  
		I 
		don't know why this didn't ring a million alarm bells. As it was, it 
		remained locked away in the dungeons of my mind for many months. 
		 
		At 
		the time my brain simply couldn't connect such cases with Madeleine's. 
		These were abuse victims, and as awful as such crimes were, Madeleine's 
		was much worse. Our child had been stolen.  
		
		Saturday May 5 was the day we should have been going home. Gerry and I 
		awoke at 4am, having slept for barely a couple of hours, still feeling 
		wretched and utterly abandoned by the Portuguese Judiciary in Portimao.
		 
		Both 
		verging on hysteria, we were incapable of comforting each other. It was 
		clear we were struggling to keep our heads above water. We rang holiday 
		company Mark Warner's overseas manager and asked if the trauma 
		psychologist Alan Pike could come and see us.  
		Alan 
		is a clinical partner at the Centre for Crisis Psychology, pioneers in 
		psychological trauma aftercare following disasters at home and abroad. 
		He got us talking, encouraging us to think rationally about what we were 
		saying, and we talked a lot, for hours. We faced our biggest fear - that 
		Madeleine had been taken by a paedophile and killed.  
		Alan 
		pointed out that these thoughts could be no more than speculation. We 
		didn't know what had happened.  
		
		"Madeleine might walk through that door at any minute," he said. "You 
		need to be ready for that."  
		
		Having spent much of the previous few days cooped up, first with the 
		police and then with the lawyers, by the Sunday afternoon Gerry and I 
		felt the need to escape into the open air. We decided to go for a walk 
		along the beach. I remember this walk well. It had been a chaotic and 
		confusing ten days, shot through with unremitting cold dread and dark 
		thoughts.
 
		I asked Gerry apprehensively if he'd had any really horrible thoughts or 
		visions of Madeleine. He nodded. Haltingly, I told him about the awful 
		pictures that scrolled through my head of her body torn apart.
 
		
		Although I knew I had to share this burden, just raising the subject out 
		loud to someone else, even Gerry, was excruciating.  
		
		Admitting the existence of these images somehow confirmed them as a real 
		possibility, and with that came renewed waves of fear.  
		
		Everybody has their own mechanisms for self-protection and surrounding 
		yourself only with "nice thoughts" is one. I wished I could do that. The 
		pictures I saw of our Madeleine no sane human being would want in her 
		head, but they were in mine.  
		I 
		simply couldn't rid myself of these evil scenes in the early days and 
		weeks. That walk with Gerry was, however, a small watershed. The mutual 
		acknowledgement of such delicate and deeply upsetting responses drew us 
		even closer.  
		It 
		would be some time before we could get far enough past the terrible 
		scenes seared into our minds to think logically about that night. 
		 
		Once 
		we did begin to function within what felt like an endless bad dream, we 
		started to comb through our memories, searching for something 
		significant.  
		When 
		she was first stolen, paedophiles were all we could think about, and it 
		ate away at us. The idea of a monster like this touching my daughter, 
		stroking her, defiling her perfect little body, just killed me, over and 
		over again. It didn't make any difference that this might not be the 
		explanation for Madeleine's abduction (and, please God, it isn't). The 
		fact that it was a possibility was enough to prevent me from shutting it 
		out.  
		I 
		would lie in bed, hating the person who had done this to us - the person 
		who had taken away our little girl and terrified her.  
		I 
		hated him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to inflict the maximum pain 
		possible on him for heaping all this misery on my family.  
		I 
		was angry and bitter and I wanted it all to go away. I wanted my old 
		life back.
		 
		On 
		Monday July 21 2008 the Portuguese attorney general's office announced 
		that the investigation of Madeleine's disappearance was to be archived, 
		pending further evidence.  
		The 
		case files were to be released. One of the most concerning and upsetting 
		pieces of information to emerge quite early was the record of sexual 
		crimes against children in the Algarve. 
 
 
		This 
		discovery made me feel physically sick. I read of five cases of British 
		children on holiday being sexually abused in their beds while their 
		parents slept in another room.  
		
		Disturbed 
		In 
		three further incidents, children encountered an intruder in their 
		bedrooms, who was presumably disturbed before he had the chance to carry 
		out an assault.  
		I 
		guessed these were the reports that Bill Henderson had told me about. 
		These incidents had occurred within an hour's drive of Praia da Luz over 
		the three years prior to Madeleine's disappearance.  
		The 
		PJ had never mentioned any of them to us. In fact, I gathered from the 
		files, some hadn't even been recorded by the authorities.  
		So 
		they might never have come to light if the parents of these children 
		hadn't been brave enough to come forward to the British police after 
		Madeleine was taken and relive their nightmares.  
		They 
		did so in the belief there could be a link between what had happened to 
		their children and what had happened to her.  
		It 
		broke my heart to read the terrible accounts of these devastated parents 
		and the experiences of their poor children.
		 
		
		Unbelievably (or maybe not, by this time), there was a familiar thread 
		running through them all.  
		The 
		parents had called the police. They hadn't felt that the crime was taken 
		seriously, by the police or by their tour operators. Statements were 
		often not taken. DNA and fingerprint evidence was frequently not sought. 
		In most instances there was no sign of a break-in.  
		I 
		cried for hours after reading a letter of complaint from one mother 
		regarding the sexual abuse of her daughter and the lack of proper 
		attention paid to it.  
		The 
		final line in particular has haunted me ever since:  
		"It 
		is difficult to see with this lack of investigation or interest how a 
		profile of this man can be built up.  
		"It 
		did not appear to us that there was any great incentive or determination 
		to find the offender and bring him to justice.  
		
		"Furthermore, it could all have been so much worse... indeed this man 
		could go on to do much worse to another child if he's not stopped now." 
		Six months later, our beloved Madeleine was grabbed from her bed. Of 
		course, none of these children was abducted and these crimes may be 
		completely unrelated to what happened to Madeleine. We do not know who 
		has taken our daughter and for what purpose.  
		What 
		these cases do demonstrate, however, is that British tourists in holiday 
		accommodation were being targeted.  
		At 
		the very least, the possibility of a link between these incidents and 
		Madeleine's disappearance should have been investigated.  
		It 
		is so hard not to scream from the rooftops about how these crimes appear 
		to have been brushed under the carpet.
		 
		The 
		authorities have known of them for a long time and yet the perpetrators, 
		as far as the families are aware, remain free. Children are involved and 
		they need to be protected.  
		We 
		are extremely grateful, however, to their parents for having the courage 
		and compassion to share their experiences with us to try to help us find 
		our daughter. |