The phone call that revealed my husband of 10 years wasn’t just angry and controlling… but also a predatory paedophile – and he’d been using me and our two children as cover

Hearing my phone ring, I glanced at the screen and saw my husband’s name. I sighed nervously; let this be a pleasant conversation for once, I prayed.

Kipp and I had been struggling for months – years even.

He was frequently critical of me and prone to fits of anger but I’d given him one last chance, hoping he would change his behaviour and there was a way to salvage our ten-year marriage. Instead, the words he said next blew my world to pieces. His voice sounded strained, a tone I hadn’t heard before. ‘I’ve just been interviewed by the police,’ he said. ‘But it’s all a misunderstanding and has been blown out of proportion.’

‘What has?’ I asked, my voice trembling. There had been a girl, he said. A 13-year-old at the community group where Kipp, then 45, was a volunteer. He’d been called in for questioning by the police, who said he’d sent her ‘inappropriate messages’. Now, he was calling me from the station.

‘But I’ve done nothing wrong,’ he insisted. ‘I’m totally innocent, honestly.’

Of course I believed him; what other option was there? How could I imagine my husband – the father of my two young children – could do something like that? It had to be a mistake.

Three days later, however, all illusions of his innocence were shattered.

Not only did I read a nine-page transcript of the vile messages he was sending this poor child – who he’d started texting when she was 11 – but in the weeks that followed six more young victims came forward with allegations of both inappropriate messages and sexual abuse. My husband was not just a liar, he was a predatory paedophile who’d been hiding in plain sight. And he’d been using me and our children, aged six and three, as cover.

I felt physically sick at what he’d done, as well as being consumed with guilt. How could I have shared a home and a life with this man for 16 years and not know? Did that make me somehow culpable? Could I have done something to stop it? Was my whole relationship a lie?

In March 1999, when we first met, Kipp had been the most exciting and charming man I’d ever seen.

I was a 19-year-old student nurse and he was 28, with his own home and a good job in banking. I was bowled over when he walked over one evening when I was at the community group he volunteered at – the same role he held until his perversions were revealed more than a decade later – and asked me out.

Kipp was the kind of man everybody stopped and listened to. People admired and trusted him and he had a way of making you feel important. I couldn’t believe my luck.

He was affectionate and loving, taking me on surprise holidays and showering me with gifts and compliments. My parents and friends thought he was wonderful as did I.

After dating for 18 months, we moved in together. At first, everything was great. Kipp was fantastic, attentive and affectionate.

A year later, however, something began to change. There were sudden angry outbursts and my charming, loving boyfriend seemed to have developed a nasty, jealous streak.

One night, a furious row erupted after he read a friendly message on my phone from an old friend and accused me of cheating on him.

I couldn’t believe he’d doubt my loyalty over something so innocent but was left feeling guilty for making Kipp question me.

I put it down to a misunderstanding but not long afterwards, following a night out with friends, he came home drunk at 4am, slammed on the bedroom lights and demanded to know who I’d had over. The reason for his suspicion? The loo roll was hanging differently.

Laughable, I know, under any other circumstance. But there I was, pleading my innocence into the small hours, reassuring him of how much I loved him and that I would never cheat on him.

As time went on, Kipp’s paranoia and insecurity turned into increasingly controlling behaviour.

If I folded his socks wrongly or bought a different type of margarine, he would criticise me.

He told me everything I did was wrong – from the way I put on the toothpaste lid, to saying the sex we had wasn’t frequent or good enough, even though we were sleeping together several times a week. Bit by bit my confidence faded.

Years later, I would come to recognise this as classic controlling behaviour: an abuser’s modus operandi to wear his victim down, leaving them weak and dependent.

But in between these episodes, he would return to being his usual loving self. It left me clinging to the good times and questioning whether the bad ones were really as serious as they’d felt in the moment. It meant that when Kipp proposed on my 25th birthday, I said ‘yes’, telling myself the good outweighed the bad. I also thought that, once we were married, he would change.

We wed in November 2005 and had our daughter three years later, followed by our son in 2012.

As the years passed, however, Kipp became more controlling and distant, spending more time with his friends or at the community group.

When he was home, he was good with the children but he constantly made me feel inadequate. Sometimes he’d put me down in front of our friends, ‘joking’ how getting married and having children had ruined his life.

They didn’t find it at all funny and actually told me to leave him – and in May 2015, I tried, telling Kipp we should go our separate ways.

His reaction stunned me: he began sobbing and threatening to kill himself. He promised he would change.

Foolishly, I gave him another chance. Yet two months later came his call from the police station.

He was released while police investigations continued and three days later we were called to a meeting at the community group, so Kipp could stand down as a committee member due to the girl’s complaint.

I went there assuming it would clear this misunderstanding up and he’d be exonerated. Though Kipp hadn’t been able to deny sending the girl messages, he’d told me everything he’d said was ‘in jest’ or ‘taken out of context’. I believed him.

Instead, the evidence was laid out before the committee for all to see: nine pages of transcribed messages between this 13-year-old girl and my husband, which her parents had found on her phone. The document confirmed he had first initiated the texts when she was 11, with the content becoming sexual over time. Her parents had taken them straight to the police, before sending them on to the group’s committee.

There was no ambiguity. No room for doubt. My blindfold was off and I saw him for what he was. I almost vomited in disgust. Kipp had been messaging her late at night, saying things like ‘I’d love to be off work today with a little hottie like you’, and had asked to massage her.

In the girl’s replies, I could sense her discomfort. She was obviously trying to shut the conversation down and get him to leave her alone.

‘I’ve got to go to school now,’ she said in one message. The words made the reality of her age impossible to ignore. Jumping to my feet, I raced outside, with Kipp following. As I climbed into the car, the shock and disgust exploded out of me.

‘You sound like a paedophile,’ I screamed. ‘Do not come home.’

With nowhere to go, Kipp went to stay with his mother.

Back at our house, I sat in stunned silence, desperately trying to make sense of what I had read.

Kipp kept sending me long messages pleading his innocence. Eventually, unable to bear any more, I blocked his number.

Then I faced the heartbreaking task of telling our children why their father had gone. ‘Daddy has done something bad,’ I gently explained. ‘He won’t be able to live with us any more.’ They were so upset and confused. But how could I explain something to them that I could barely comprehend myself?

I couldn’t bring myself to confide in anyone because I felt so ashamed of what he’d done but word spread.

A week later, a sinister anonymous caller phoned: ‘I know what Kipp has done,’ he said. ‘I’m going to kill him.’ Terrified that someone might target our home, I fled with the children to my parents’ house.

My parents were incredibly supportive but the nightmare was only beginning.

In the weeks that followed, I learned through other members of the group that six more victims came forward with allegations involving not only inappropriate messages but, in some cases, sexual abuse.

Months later, my husband Kipp Walford was charged with more than 20 offences, including three counts of rape, indecent acts with a child under 16 and sexual penetration of a child under 16.

The seven girls were aged between 11 and 17, and the accusations spanned seven years. One allegation was that Kipp had raped a 16-year-old in our home while I was away. The thought of it happening in the place where I had raised my children, believing we were a normal family, was almost impossible to process.

Of course, the most awful thought crossed my mind: had he targeted our own children?

I reminded myself that my daughter was much younger than all of his other victims but I feared for her – and her friends – if he got a lenient sentence.

Thinking about how frightened and alone those brave girls who reported Kipp must have felt broke my heart. Despite my shock, I didn’t doubt them for a single second. I trawled through my memories, searching for something – anything – I might have missed that revealed what he’d been doing.

Had I been so blinded by the man I thought I loved that I had ignored what was happening in front of me? I blamed myself, even though I was sure there had been no signs.

The thought of having shared a bed with Kipp turned my stomach. I began to wonder whether the only reason he had married me was to maintain the appearance of being a devoted husband and father.

It was also sickening to know that our relationship had begun, after meeting through the group, in similar circumstances to how he’d targeted those young girls.

Then, I hadn’t thought anything of the fact that, at 19, I was still a teenager while he was almost 30. But now I felt manipulated, like he’d groomed me too. I also felt humiliated, stupid even, that I hadn’t realised that the charismatic, friendly behaviour that I’d found so compelling then was all an act. It was only years later I accepted that, like those girls, I was in no way to blame.

Unbelievably, despite facing sexual abuse charges, Kipp applied for unsupervised visits with our children – which obviously I fought with everything I had. I endured three years of endless court hearings before I was finally awarded sole custody.

Kipp’s trial began in November 2017. Then 48, he’d already pleaded not guilty to all the charges, meaning his victims had to testify and relive their horrible ordeal. Most victims gave their evidence via video link from the prosecutor’s office. But one wanted to take the stand.

I attended court for the closing arguments, verdict and sentencing. My heart went out to the young girls as I imagined what they had endured. What chance did they stand against Kipp, who was 6ft 3in and well-built?

Staring at the man I had once loved, I searched his face for some sign of regret. Instead, he looked more angry than remorseful and would not meet my eye.

In March 2018, Kipp was convicted of 21 offences, including indecent acts with a child under 16 and the rape charges, and sentenced to 14 years, with a non-parole period of 11 years.

Some of the girls read their victim impact statements at the pre-sentencing hearing, which was attended by Kipp’s family, who had supported him throughout the trial. I always found it terribly intimidating walking into the courtroom and seeing them there, so I can only imagine how hard it was for Kipp’s victims and I commend their immense bravery.

In June 2019, my children and I moved to a new town to make a fresh start. Yet physically moving away did not free me from the guilt I was carrying. It took a great deal of counselling before I stopped blaming myself.

My therapist repeatedly told me that I was a victim, too. At first, I struggled to accept that. What I had suffered could never compare with what those girls had been through. But gradually, I came to understand that Kipp had deceived and controlled me for years. The life and marriage I thought I had were not real.

Four years after moving away, I became a volunteer with a domestic violence charity and began to advocate for other victims. I also decided to write a fictionalised book based on what happened, which proved very cathartic. Called Now I See You, it serves as a warning to other women not to fall into a similar trap.

I’m studying for a degree in Criminology and Criminal Justice. I wanted to understand more about coercive control and I hope to work in policy to help bring about changes that improve outcomes for victims. I spend my spare time advocating to put an end to domestic abuse and speaking about coercive control.

I think about the girls Kipp abused every single day and pray that they have found some peace.

My children are now 17 and 14 and thriving. They know their father did something horrendous and is in prison but have chosen not to learn the full details.

The court mandated that Kipp could have no contact with them until they became adults. When that time comes, it will be up to them to decide whether or not they want to see him.

Today, aged 47, I’m with a loving new partner. He has helped me understand what a healthy relationship is supposed to feel like. Through him, I have slowly learned to trust again.

People might wonder how I could have spent so many years with Kipp without recognising the monster within him.

But men like Kipp do not show everyone who they really are. No one knew the evil he was capable of until it was too late.

Now the world does know, all I can do is pray he is never allowed to hurt anyone again – and that by my sharing my story, other women who find themselves in a similar situation feel they can finally break free.

Some details have been changed to protect victims’ identities. Find Lauren’s book at laurentrevan.com

As told to DONNA SMILEY