I’d like to tell you a story. It’s a true story. It’s long, sorry.
There was a woman, born in the early 1950s. She had a fairly traumatic childhood, but she survived mostly intact. She left school at 15, in the mid 60s, and got a job straight away in a local new-fangled supermarket.
In the early 70s, still a teenager, she got pregnant. Her fella didn’t stand by her, so she became a single parent. Her mother was ashamed and kicked her out. She also lost her job. But she survived, had a little girl and lived in a mother and baby home. Eventually they were rehoused by the council and her little girl started school. While her daughter was at school, she got a part-time job. It didn’t last long, but she soon found another. Over the years, she worked in various part time roles. None of them were a career, but they paid the bills (or at least some of them).
And this was the pattern of her life. She had another child, but was still single. She never had much luck with men. But still she kept working. Eventually her daughter moved out.
One day she met someone. They fell in love and got married. He stuck by her when she got cancer early in their relationship, and she survived. With her daughter married, and her son doing well in school, she went to work full time. She rose to assistant manager and was doing well for herself.
Unfortunately, her health deteriorated, but she wanted to keep working, so took a job at a lower position. She worked there for years. By this time both her children were adults, and she had many grandchildren.
She switched to part time hours when her health problems started to get more severe. A lifelong smoker, she had COPD, asthma, osteo-arthritis and anxiety and depression. But she still worked. One day she went to her doctor as her nipple was hurting. Within a month she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. It was January 2010, she was in her late 50s.
In February she had a mastectomy, and also had her lymph nodes removed. She was of course, signed off sick from work. In April, she started chemotherapy. This had a devastating effect on her.
One night in June she collapsed. She was taken into intensive care and nearly died. But she didn’t, and a while later came home.
While she was ill, her sick pay had run out, so a couple of weeks after her release from hospital, she made a claim for ESA. It was rejected. In August, they sent another form, telling her to submit it if she wanted to be reassessed. So, still very ill, she completed the (over 50 pages) form and sent it off. This time her claim was accepted, and she was granted ESA.
Only, she had made a mistake on the second claim. She didn’t know this at the time. The question she answered wrong said “Have you worked since you made the claim?” She ticked the box for no. She also ticked the box for no in the second column, for her husband.
She had told the DWP the details of her husband’s job on the first claim form, and provided his details such as his national insurance number on the second form. But she answered no in his column.
Fast forward 2.5 years. In December 2012, she was invited for an interview at the DWP offices to investigate an overpayment of ESA.
Her health at this point was very poor. She couldn’t walk more than 20 yards or so without having to rest, but she still attended. She was cautioned, and questioned very aggressively. She didn’t really understand what was going on, and couldn’t remember much about filling out the forms, but admitted when pointed out to her that she had made a mistake and agreed that she should have ticked the box for yes, when answering the work question for her husband. She explained that she thought the question was about her, as she was only claiming for herself as her husband wasn’t sick. She added that she thought they already had her husband’s work details as she’d put them on the first form.
The DWP was continuing to pay her ESA. She agreed that she had been overpaid, and came to an arrangement to pay it back, in installments, by way of deductions from her payments.
But that wasn’t the end. The DWP, in their wisdom, decided to prosecute. She was charged with dishonesty, in that she had deliberately chosen to withhold details of her husband’s work when filling out the form.
She sought legal advice. She was advised to fight it all the way. And though this took a toll on health even more, she did. Today, at crown court, a jury of 12 men and women confirmed what any sane person already knew, that she was not guilty.
I am so bloody angry at the DWP. Firstly, that they turned down her claim for ESA (contribution based) even though she’s worked in one form or another most of her life. That they send out forms of ridiculous complexity to people who are at their most vulnerable. That they made a proud and modest woman, a pensioner of 62, feel ashamed, like a common criminal, forced to justify why she needed support from the state she had supported all her life when she was most desperate.
But today she stands, an innocent woman. A survivor. Reputation intact. I love you mum.
Council House Scum 