Long History Of Child Abuse Haunts Island 'Paradise

Marks describes Pitcairn as a "male-dominated society, where men were doing exactly what they pleased." In 2000, police investigating an alleged of rape of a 15-year-old girl uncovered a trail of child abuse dating back at least three generations. Scarcely any of Pitcairn's 47 inhabitants were untainted by the allegations, and barely a girl growing up on the island had escaped abuse. Yet most islanders — including the mothers — had looked the other way.

British journalist Kathy Marks' new book, Lost Paradise, is a non-fiction account of the child abuse sex scandal that rocked a remote British Island.

Located in the South Pacific, Pitcairn Island is home to the descendants of Fletcher Christian and the crew of the Bounty, which fled there in 1789 after seizing their ship from Captain William Bligh (a story made famous in the movie Mutiny On The Bounty).

Marks describes the trials of the abusers as "one of the most unusual trials in British criminal history." The outside lawyers and judges wore long black gowns — a striking contrast to the defendants, who arrived at court in shorts and T-shirts.

In the end, 10 men went through the court system and nine were found guilty or pleaded guilty. But Marks describes the sentenced as "rather ludicrously short"; though several men were sentences to prison terms, and all but one of the defendants have been released from jail.

In December 1999, several Pitcairn girls claimed that they had been sexually assaulted by a visiting New Zealander. By chance, a British policewoman was on the island, and one of the girls confided that she had also been raped by two local men in the past. An investigation into those allegations developed into a major inquiry that saw British detectives crisscross the globe, interviewing dozens of Pitcairn women. Their conclusion was that nearly every girl growing up on the island in the last forty years had been abused, and nearly every man had been an offender.

At the same time, certain Pitcairners — including women on the island — were loudly denying that children had ever been mistreated. They claimed that Pitcairn was a laid-back Polynesian society where girls matured early and were willing sexual partners. Britain, they claimed, was trying to cripple the community and force it to close, thus ridding itself of a costly burden. Who was telling the truth, I wondered: the women describing their experiences of abuse, or those portraying the affair as a British conspiracy?\

The plan was to conduct two sets of trials: the first on Pitcairn, the second in New Zealand. Preparations got under way on the island, where the accused men helped to build their own prison. The locals wanted the press excluded; as a compromise, and to prevent the place from being swamped, Britain decided to accredit just six journalists. News organizations around the world were invited to make a pitch.

On holiday in Japan at the time, I submitted a rather hurried application, pointing out my long-standing interest in the story. I also mentioned that I would be able to file for the Independent's sister paper, the New Zealand Herald. Shortly afterward, I was informed that I had been chosen as a member of the media pool.