As a child I had a great life from what I can recall, we lived in a small area where everyone knew everyone. I had close friends and my nana only lived a few doors down with both my uncles. We had a pretty strong relationship as a whole family. In 2010 my mum had a relationship with a soldier and we were moving across the Humber to then start a life in Germany with the army. Here I left my friends and our strong community, we'll get back to this story. 

Just before we left our house was raided, police everywhere and my mother and uncles took away in a police van. Me and my siblings stood in shock looking through the blinds and my nana shouting and screaming for her children. My uncles had got into the wrong crowd that only lived a few doors down from us, they where taking drugs and unfortunately had to much one night. Later the same night my uncles and some lass came to our home asking for somewhere to stay. The next morning was when we were raided, they trashed the house and took my mothers washing powder thinking it was drugs, really? It took me about two years to find out what had happened that night and I was the first child to know, everyone else including my uncle's children only found out in the past two years. My sisters still don't know. My uncles killed an innocent man, a man with a family. Someone's brother, father, husband and uncle. Uncle Lenny got life and uncle Matt got manslaughter. It was horrific when I found out, however because I was a child I only knew because I listened and researched. No one in family thought it was right to tell a child why they went through such an horrific event. Even though my thoughts go out to the mans family I still stick by mine and visit my uncles, before this we were a strong family and always will be. I hope.