ON page
after page the names unfold with numbing
regularity in one of the most disturbing social
documents of our time: a list of those suspected
of paying to see computer images of children
engaged in sex.
They are mostly ordinary names at ordinary
addresses. Mr X at 74 such-and-such Avenue, Mr Y
at 46 so-and-so Drive (they are nearly all men).
They live in average homes in suburban roads
from Chichester to Aberdeen, from Tiverton to
Newcastle upon Tyne.
Outwardly they
probably lead respectable lives but behind their
front doors, in the solitude of the rooms where
they keep their computers, they pay to become
voyeurs in a cyber-world of depravity.
This is the list, compiled by investigators
at the US Postal Inspection Service, of British
people who have paid to access websites
displaying graphic images of child abuse and
bestiality. There are more than 7,200 of them,
but the document runs to 1,000 pages because the
entries log details of different user names and
the frequency of their visits.
Then, as you scan down the list, names begin
to jump out: senior business executives, a
television producer, a historian at a top
university. A few names are clearly false — used
merely for cover — but in most cases, including
that of Pete Townshend, the guitarist with the
Who who has admitted accessing a child
pornography site for research purposes, the
names, credit card details and addresses do
match. Fictitious “user names” can be used, but
paying requires a genuine credit card, which has
led police to their true owners.
A famous newspaper columnist is named, along
with a song writer for a legendary pop band and
a member of another chart-topping 1980s cult pop
group. A well known City PR man and a management
guru appear, along with an official with the
Church of England.
Personnel at military bases are also
represented: people logged on to the paedophile
sites from Mildenhall, Suffolk, Buchan, near
Peterhead, Scotland, Strike Command in High
Wycombe, Waddington in Lincolnshire and Leeming
in North Yorkshire.
For weeks rumours have circulated that the
names of two Labour ministers appear on the
list; but, other than obviously false names,
none does.
The suspects come from all areas and all
sorts of professions — the law, publishing, the
civil service and teaching, including two staff
members at Millfield, the private school in
Somerset, who were recently arrested (after
which the school made it clear that the police
inquiry had nothing to do with pupils). A large
number of entries appear to be merchant bankers,
City lawyers, high- flying accountants and
company executives.
A geographical analysis of names with
addresses suggests that two-thirds are based in
London and the southeast. The stockbroker town
of Guildford, with a population of 130,000, has
10 people thought to have accessed child porn
websites. Reading has 30 suspects, Southampton
15, Milton Keynes 14 and Brighton and Hove 12.
The area around Cambridge, with a population of
just over 100,000, has 20 people appearing on
the list, with several in the small town of St
Neots.
All the suspects are said to have used their
credit cards to pay a £21 monthly fee to
Landslide Productions, the Texas firm that
provided them with links to 300 pay-per-view
child pornography websites.
With titles such as Cyber Lolita and Child
Rape, the sites were so explicit that they
shocked even the most seasoned detectives. An
eight-year-old girl and her six-year-old
brother, both from Manchester, are among the few
youngsters so far identified. A Scotland Yard
officer said they had been abused by their
stepfather and photographed in sex acts.
The US inquiry began three years ago and
investigators face a mountainous task in
corroborating the details. Forces across Britain
have spent seven months working through the
names of those in their area. So far more than
1,200 have been arrested. Hundreds more will be
questioned in the next few weeks, their homes
and offices searched and their computers seized.
Some users accessed the sites only once. But
many on the list cannot argue that they did not
know what they would be viewing: the records
show that some accessed the internet service at
least 50 times.
The investigation into the “master list” of
7,272 British suspects, drawn from an estimated
75,000 international subscribers, is known as
Operation Ore. Detectives privately admit that
in its early stages it was mismanaged and that a
shortage of resources led to a huge logjam at
police forensic science laboratories, where
seized computers are examined.
“It was a shambles,” said one senior Scotland
Yard detective. The National Criminal
Intelligence Service initially focused on
suspects who had most frequently accessed the
site. Only later did senior officers realise
that they needed to concentrate first on those
who posed the greatest threat to children.