All language subtitles for Alison 2016

"Go to the edge," he said.

"We're afraid," they said.

"Go to the edge," he said.

They went to the edge.

They were pushed.

And they flew.

Once upon a time, in 1994 actually,

in the kingdom of South Africa,

there lived in the
hamlet of Port Elizabeth -

me.

I was a twenty-seven-year-old.

No aspirations, no great career plans.

I don't remember even as a child

having great dreams and
wanting to be anything specific.

I wasn't really good at
much at school either.

I studied secretarial
for a year after school -

just really to have something to
fall back on as my mother said.

I spent four years overseas
before returning home.

I remember my mom being relieved
that I was back home - safe.

18 December 1994.

It was a perfect summer's day, I remember.

One of those summer days

when you've been at the beach all day.

Your skin's still tight
from being in the sun.

Still taste the salt on your skin,

braaivleis, smoke in the air.

Went back to my place,
ordered pizza, played games.

At the end of the evening,
I offered my friend a lift.

Picked up my laundry from her
house, and then came back home.

My parking was now taken,

so I had to park a
little bit further down.

I can remember it as if it was yesterday.

I felt the knife at my throat,

and I just heard the voice:

"Move over or else I'll kill you."

I hadn't locked my car doors.

I bet you I know what you're
thinking, I should have jumped,

but I didn't want to believe the worst,

so I chose to believe the best.

After all, he said he
didn't want to hurt me,

just wants to use my
car for about an hour.

"My name's Clinton," he said.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked me.

And the problem with that

is that it gave me a
false sense of security.

If only I'd known.

And he stopped. Pulled over.

And here the second big,
bad wolf gets into the car

and I remember just looking
in the rear-view mirror

and catching his eyes

and that's when my relief
just turned to sheer fear;

'cause all I saw was dead, cold evil.

And it was in that moment
that it finally dawned on me

that I wouldn't be going home.

They drove past the last street lights,

the last vestige of hope,

and into darkness.

Just the three of us.

And he stopped in an alcove.

He said, "Are you going to fight?"

Do I fight? How do I fight?
I don't know how to fight.

He forced me to have oral sex with him

and then he did the same to me.

Saying things like,
"Does your boyfriend do this to you?"

"Do you like it?
You've got the nicest-tasting fanny."

He gave me a love bite on
my breast and kissed me.

Then he raped me.

My body responded.

And although I now know that
that's a protection mechanism,

it was for me the ultimate betrayal.

"Frans!" Theuns came over.

That's when I realised
his name was not "Clinton",

it was "Frans".

Frans said to Theuns,

"Do you also want to have
sex with the lovely lady?"

Theuns just said, "No,
I want to fuck the bitch."

"You can't talk to her like that,"

the man who's just raped me says.

"She's a lady,
you must speak properly to her."

Before I even knew it,
his hands were at my throat.

And the last thing I remember,

my bowels evacuated.

They stabbed me in the
abdomen and pubic area,

I'm told, in excess of 37 times.

Theuns was the first to cut my throat.

Frans pushed him out the way.

The moon behind him
ironically gave him a halo.

He slashed my throat 17 times.

Their feet started
getting smaller and smaller.

Their voices, fainter.

They drove off,
throwing my clothing out the car.

Although I couldn't feel any pain,

the noise of my breathing
through my severed windpipe -

was horrifying. And that realisation,

that overwhelming feeling of
sadness, when it dawned on me -

that I was injured beyond hope.
That I was dying.

That I wasn't going to live anymore.

Then I literally left my body -

and the noise stopped.

I remember looking down and
already feeling distanced enough

but not far enough
that I couldn't go back.

I knew I had that choice.

And I realised that I wanted to go back.

I wanted a chance to live my life better.

And then, I was back in my
body and the noise was back.

But first things first.

I had to make sure

that they would never do
this again to anyone else.

Frans.

Theuns.

In the hope that they'd be
caught and sent to jail.

And then I wrote:

I

love

mom.

I felt something wet at my legs.

I realised that my intestines
were actually outside my body.

The denim shirt was nearby.

I was able to hold everything in

with my denim shirt with one hand

and then started crawling with the other

over this ash and cut glass.

I was getting weaker.

Now if I'd died here,

my mom would know that
I had survived a bit

and the unanswered questions
that she would always have.

I can't do that to Mom.

I realised though that the
crawling was too awkward.

I wasn't going to make it.

I had to do better.

So I managed to hoist myself up
onto my feet with great effort

and everything went black.

I put my other hand up to my throat

and my entire hand went into the injury.

They'd severed the muscle
on the side of my neck

and I realised that my
head had actually flopped

right back between my shoulder blades.

I took my other hand and
literally pulled my head up

so that I could see.

That's when it happened.

It was as if someone
else had taken my feet

and was moving them for me.

And the next thing I
knew I was at the road.

I just fell down. I mean,
what's the worst that can happen -

that someone's going to drive over me?

A car was coming.

It came closer and I realised

Frans and Theuns could be in that car.

There's nothing I can do.

I fought so hard but the
fight's out of me now.

And then the car sped off.

And then I heard another car coming.

I was a twenty-year-old
veterinary technology student

studying at the Technikon in Pretoria,

and we were on holiday down in
Port Elizabeth with friends.

So you wouldn't expect anything
bad to happen on a holiday.

The first thing we saw when
we climbed out of the car

was a person lying in the
road with no clothes on.

It's something that you'll
never forget in your life.

I took her hand.

She was not able to speak.
I looked into her eyes.

It was bloodshot, very,
very frightened. I just told her,

"Listen, you've got nice eyes."

He was my knight in shining armour.

He was trying so hard to keep me alive.

I mean typical me, I didn't
want to give up for his sake.

Luckily one of our
friends had a cell phone

which was a new technology for that time.

Phoned the emergency services

and they told us they'll
send an ambulance out.

From where we found her up to the hospital

was about fifteen minutes' drive.

We waited.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

Fourty minutes.

Eventually the paramedics arrived.

We drove to the hospital.

I asked them if they can drive faster.

They didn't see the urgency to that.

It's like they've almost decided
she's not going to make it,

so why rush.

After arriving in casualties,

that was the first time I
had to let go of her hand.

My whole ordeal from
abduction to that point

had taken only 90 minutes

and the journey that I
travelled had been 30 km,

but the real journey was only beginning.

The incident that happened that
night in December definitely

had a big, big impact on my life.

That was basically what I
needed to make a decision

what I'm going to do
with the rest of my life.

And that was, that was to become a doctor.

My appreciation of life
has been determined largely

by my background as a scientist,
as a doctor and as a specialist

in intensive care
medicine and anaesthetics.

And I've been exposed to severe trauma,

life-threatening illness.

But I don't think I've
ever experience the horror

of the injuries suffered by Alison.

And the sheer brutality,
the ferociousness and the

mindless destruction of
a human really got to me.

I saw a young lady with the
most horrific wound to her neck.

And I saw that the laceration
was from ear to ear and that

her trachea, windpipe,
had been cleanly cut through and

she was breathing through a gaping hole

just above her collarbones.

When I finished my examination,

the young junior doctor who'd admitted her

"Dr Comyn, that's not all."

And he very gently pulled back
the sheet to show me her abdomen

and I could see that this lady

had been completely disemboweled,

with large loops of her small
bowel lying on top of her tummy.

Close inspection of
that showed that it was

grossly contaminated with beach sand,

with lumps of charcoal

and even lumps of what
looked like lamb chop fat.

And then we looked very
carefully inside her abdomen,

saw the extent of her injuries

and it became evident to us
that it would be unlikely

for this lady to ever have the
privilege of bearing children.

I arranged for

the general surgeon on call,

whose name was Dr Dimitri Angelov.

I took him aside and said,

"Dr Angelov, I believe that
we should call an ENT surgeon

to help us with the severed
trachea and the neck muscles

and then I think that
we'll move onto the abdomen

which you can do."

He pulled himself up to his -

the tallest he could and he,

in a very, almost Germanic
way clicked his heels,

and looking me straight
in the eyes, he said,

"Dr Comyn, in my country I am
trained both as an ENT surgeon

and a general surgeon. I can do this."

Doctors see a lot of things.
Blood. Injuries.

But somehow that injury

made a striking
impression of severe cruelty

which one doesn't see very often.

You know, having an injury
from a motor vehicle accident,

or a fight in a pub or
a club, you name it,

doesn't look as severe as
what we saw that morning.

Here the cruelty was which
struck everybody in fact

in theatre, not only me.

The first impression which she made

is when I saw her through the window

signing the consent
form with a steady hand.

When you look at her signature,
you wouldn't think that such a

severely injured person
can write in such a...

a comprehensible way,
you know, and underneath

she had written the
telephone number of her mother.

I was amazed.

People with such strength are
difficult to find nowadays.

I was most impressed with the
meticulous surgical technique

that Dr Angelov exhibited that night.

I remember him passing the loops
of bowel through his fingers.

Every nook and cranny

he meticulously cleaned
and in some instances

he even took a scrubbing brush

to remove debris that was firmly stuck.

I really don't have a scientific answer.

Yes, we can debate and
talk all the academic stuff.

We must accept that it is a miracle.

I've always thought it a bit of a cop-out

to ascribe things that you
don't understand to miracles.

But these events most certainly has led me

out of my strict scientific appreciation

to believe that things
happen for a purpose

and that's probably a good
definition of a miracle.

I'm going to start with her neck.

Of particular importance
are the blood vessels,

which supply blood to the head and brain.

And with those vessels severed,
Alison would have haemorrhaged;

she would have died within
three or four minutes.

There are also some very important nerves

that come down from the neck to supply

some of the important organs
- none of those were damaged.

And the oesophagus was undamaged,

but of course the trachea was severed,

and this miracle is that
it has healed so perfectly.

You can see the multiple
stab wounds in her chest.

The miracle is that none of these

penetrated to the lung or the heart.

Then I'll go to the abdomen.

This is the major incision
when she was disemboweled.

And it is a miracle
that that didn't result

in peritonitis and severe infection.

There are multiple stab
wounds all around her abdomen,

none of which penetrated through
to damage the internal organs.

I didn't go home that first night -

I stayed in the intensive care

and during the early part of the morning

the nursing staff told me that
there were two police officers

in the waiting room who
wished to speak with me.

I was informed that it was a brutal rape
- terrible case -

and they needed my assistance
to help with the rape case.

I knew Frans du Toit from a previous

arrest where he was
arrested also for rape.

And I met him that Monday
morning in the cells

at the Murder and Robbery unit,

him and Theuns Kruger;
they were both there.

That's how I met them.

After the normal procedures were completed

at the Murder and Robbery offices,

the next step was to go and
introduce myself to the victim,

who was Alison at the hospital

and to inform her that I would be

the investigating officer in her case.

They gave her a folder

and turn the pages over one by one

and when she came to the picture of

Frans she pointed to it

and wrote the name "Frans"
on the piece of paper.

They turned over a few more photographs

and then she pointed to
the picture of Theuns

and wrote his name on the piece of paper

and that satisfied the police.

During the course of that
day and the early afternoon,

the two police constables came back again

and they explained to me

that they have been in contact with the

chief prosecutor who had indicated to them

that the prosecution
case would be far stronger

if Alison would verbalise

the names of the two suspects.

And I was horrified at that.

Because what that meant
was that I would have to

remove the tube from her lungs,

because with the tube through
the vocal chords or voice box,

patients being ventilated with
the tube are unable to speak.

I was very, very apprehensive
that by removing the tube

I would disrupt the trachea suture line

and jeopardise the good work

that we had done the night before.

I went to Alison and I described the

interview with, the second
interview with the police,

asked her, her opinion
and she said, she wrote,

"Take it out."

I removed the tube

"That's wonderful,"

were her first words. And she said:

"My attackers were Frans and Theuns."

Alison was discharged
from the intensive care

to the general surgery ward

and that's the last time I saw Alison.

The office where we worked,
we were all like a little family.

Everybody had fun together.

Every day was a day to
look forward to at work

because there was always
something to laugh about.

I had come to the office in the morning

and one of my colleagues

who is also a very good friend of Alison's
- Kim -

had come into the office and
she just looked very upset,

but she was upset in a way

that we've never seen
her that upset before.

And she sat at her desk

and it's not like Kim to
sit at her desk and cry.

And I turned around and I asked her like,

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

All she said was, "It's Alison."

We were not allowed to
go see her immediately

because of her having to undergo
so many surgeries and so forth.

I think we went a couple of days later

and it was Davida and I who
had decided to go together

because neither one of
us wanted to go alone.

We needed to muster up
the courage to see Alison

because by this time we had all read about

and heard exactly what
had happened to her.

The two of us stood quietly
at the side of her bed

looking at her,

but by this time we
couldn't contain ourselves.

Tears were rolling down
our faces looking at her

and she kind of had a feeling
that somebody was watching her,

so she opened her eyes

and the minute she opened her eyes we had,

we were stunned to see what we saw

because her eyes were
completely bloodshot.

Blood vessels had burst in her eyes,

so all we could see was
just blood in her eyes.

So that was also quite a
distressing sight to see.

And she smiled when she saw us

and she didn't want us to cry
because she felt she was okay.

She didn't want anybody to be sad for her.

I remember that the sheet was just on,

just below her shoulders,

and she pulled out her
hand from under the sheet

and she said to us:

"Look, don't cry guys,
look I didn't even crack a nail."

We saw the state of her
nails and there were dirt

and blood under her nails.

They were all,
they were in a terrible state

and they were cracked.

She had hurt her hands.
She had hurt every part of her body.

I remember I was so worried

that I wasn't going to get to thank

all these people who had reached out to me

and sent all these letters,
cards and flowers

and I decided to try and
thank them collectively

in a letter in the newspaper.

For fear of omitting anyone of
you from my heartfelt thanks,

I have decided to attempt to
thank you all collectively.

Each one who sent flowers, gifts, cards,

wishes, thoughts, prayers and love,

should know how they
brought a smile to my face

and added warmth to my heart.

I have life, beautiful people,
and you have my heart.

I might have survived my attack,

but I still had to survive the court case.

When I first came out of hospital,

I had to go back every single day

for Dr Angelov to treat my injuries,

particularly the one in my abdomen.

He had to scrape it until it bled

every day until some new cells grew.

I still had to have plastic surgery later.

When I think of recovery,
the word that I think of is pain -

all consuming, all day, through the night.

I didn't sleep.

I just remember feeling
that the pain was so big

it would never entirely go away.

I would have some of it

remaining for the rest of my life.

And in fact, to be honest with you,

I still have ongoing medical issues

because of the injuries.

But there was always Melvin, my cop.

Two other ladies were raped
before Alison was raped,

and it happened in a sequence.

The first lady who was raped took a week

before she reported
the case to the police,

after she was threatened

that they would kill her
if she went to the police.

The second lady who
was pregnant at the time

ran downstairs and
straight into a police van

and reported the case.

Then the two of them
decided that the next victim

that they were going to rape and abduct,

they'll have to kill her

because the other two didn't listen

when they threatened them.

I brought Frans out into my office.

After I'd given him
the rights that he had,

he was very surprised
when part of of the warning

was that he's been charged
for attempted murder.

He was so, so surprised because

he asked me "Why attempted murder?"

I said because Alison is alive.

And it's the first time in my career

that I'd ever seen a hardened criminal

or a hardened person like Frans -

he was so surprised

that you could knock
him over with a feather.

"Well then

there's nothing I can hide
from you because she will

obviously tell you
everything that happened."

And he picked up his hand

and he pulled a ring off his finger

and he handed that over
to me and he said to me

"That belongs to Alison."

And when I saw the ring,
I noticed blood on the ring,

which we later established
belongs to Alison.

One of the questions
that I asked Frans was,

I cannot understand how they
go out, how he could go out,

leave his wife and child in the flat

and go and rape an innocent woman.

Although Frans du Toit and Theuns Kruger

indicated that they were
going to plead guilty,

my work did not stop there,

as they could change
their mind at any time,

so I had to see that all the exhibits

and all the samples were taken

and sent to forensic labs for analysis -

documented in a case docket

where I can hand it
over to the prosecutor,

because the prosecutor can
only prosecute what you give him

as an investigating officer.

Recovery was one thing,
the physical recovery,

but then it was the
preparation for the trial.

One of the things I had to do

was see a clinical psychologist.

She had to assess me before the trial

and it just wasn't the right time.

I mean it was only five,
six months after the attack

and I just wasn't ready.

She explained to me at the
time the pendulum of trauma,

that I was supposed to go
through all the emotions,

grief, and sorrow, hatred and anger.

I just wasn't angry.

But I remember I punched the pillow

that she wanted me to in the end

just because I was so angry
with her for not getting me.

The indignation of having to
have your pubic hairs pulled

by different policemen at different times.

Just in someone's office, drop my pants

to have photographs taken of the injuries

and of my pubic area to
show the rate of recovery.

Different policemen, different places.

And Alison, every time
I requested her to come,

she came without any
argument or any question.

She was just prepared to do
whatever we asked her to do

because she knew at that stage

it was for her that we were
doing this and for no one else.

And her tummy where they
stabbed her with a knife

had not healed yet,

and it was an open hole wound

that had to heal from the inside,

it was still there,

and although that was
there she still came for...

for all those examinations
and tests to be taken.

As prosecutors, we deal with victims

that have suffered severe trauma

and it's our duty to
prevent further traumatisation

through the legal processes
to that specific victim.

But it's also a team effort

because we have to work
together with the police

and your investigating
officer is very important.

In Alison's case it was easy
for us because Melvin Humpel was

the investigating officer

and he supported Alison
and us to a huge extent.

Like for instance,
to attend an identification parade.

The laws were that the victim
had to go to the perpetrator

and actually place a hand on
the perpetrator's shoulder,

the suspect's shoulder,

to prove that the suspect
was pointed out by the victim.

I decided that it would be better

to try a new thing and it's never happened

in South Africa before,
so with the prosecution,

we decided to do a one-way
glass identification parade.

And that's the norm today.

Even though it was behind one-way glass,

I was still petrified

to think of being in
the same room with them.

I had to leave work and go
down to the police station.

And then my name was called.

I was taken out and without much warning

was put in the room to do the ID parade.

The room just was too small.

I remember even though
the one-way glass was there

and even though I tried to
concentrate on getting it right,

but at the same time wanting
to get it over with because

every second in that room
with them felt too long.

Ok, this is a one-way glass.

The people on the other
side are wearing numbers.

I want you, if possible,

to inform me of the number
of the person or persons,

if they are here,

who on the 18th of December last year

at about 3 o'clock in the morning

attempted to murder you

and who raped you.

If you see the people or the person

you must please inform me of
the numbers they are wearing.

Do you understand?

OK, you can have a look.

This is a one-way glass.

They look different, but it's number 6

and number 13.

Is that all?

OK, thank you very much.

In every case that
involves victims of crime,

you as a professional are
also touched as a human being.

Now in Alison's case what
made it so difficult for me

was the fact that

usually victims that had
suffered such injuries

would be deceased,

and in a sense it's
easier to deal with the -

those circumstances where
you have a post mortem.

I remember I went home that night

and I actually sat crying in the bath

as I was telling my husband that

I can't believe that she's alive.

On a daily basis I drive past the flats

where they had breakfast with

the bloodied knife afterwards
and that kind of callousness,

every time I drive past
that block of flats,

it's real to me again.

During my career I always
tried to forget about the case

the moment they leave court

because the next one was coming up.

But in Alison's case it
was completely different.

I immediately noticed
the scar on her neck.

And when Alison gave evidence,
at a certain stage she remarked,

"I always thought that my neck

was a strong feature of my appearance

and look at my neck now."

I'll never forget the
faces of those two guys.

Frans was staring at me all the time.

When Frans gave evidence
in the witness box he was

looking me in the eyes as if
he was trying to intimidate me.

Frans du Toit gave evidence

and testified to the effect
that he was a satanist.

That he believed in Satan.
It was, however, very doubtful.

During the investigation
and the incarceration

of Frans du Toit,
he requested to see a pastor

because he wanted the
demons cast out of his body.

So I had to adhere to his request

and I got hold of a pastor that I knew

that does this

and took him to the holding cells where

this exorcism was conducted.

I asked the person if he was
prepared to testify in court,

which he did.

And he mentioned the two demons,
Incubus and Succubus.

Mr Du Toit actually
confused the two demons.

It was proved that it was
just another ploy of him to

get people to believe that
it was satanism that did it.

Before we went to court I said
to Frans and to Theuns, I said:

"You will see that I'm
not going to handcuff you."

"I'm doing that for a reason.

I want you to run. Make my day and run."

I would have, without batting an
eyelid, I would have shot them.

I don't even hunt. I don't like
hunting so I don't like killing

but those two guys I would have shot.

They went to court, never handcuffed ever.

And they didn't run.

Frans's father could not deal
with what his son had done

and two years later he committed suicide.

When I decided on a proper
sentence, I took into account

as far as Alison's case is concerned,

that one of these two guys

had two previous incidents where they...

where he committed rape
and the other one, one.

I made the remark that my
sentence should be typed

and that it should be placed
on the record of these two guys

in prison,

so that the authorities
can see and can understand

that I regarded them
as a threat to society

and that I never wanted them
to be released from prison.

That is something that
I have never done before

and I did not do it thereafter.

The Constitutional Court at that stage

had already found that the death penalty

in South Africa in
terms of the constitution

would be unconstitutional.

But thinking back now as I sit here,

I think I would have seriously

considered the death sentence

and probably would have imposed it,

had it still been a competent sentence.

As we stood there,

you could look down the
steps towards the cells.

Theuns was the last one
to go down the stairs.

The next minute he just hit his
hand against the wood panelling

next to the stairs and shouted,

"So here I go, so fuck you all."

My baby was six weeks old

and that was the very first
night that he slept through.

I think the baby was also glad

that this case was finally over.

The toughest part of the trial

was for me not really reliving it.

I know some people say it is,

but I was almost
emotionally removed from it.

It was like watching
a court room TV drama,

which I really love.

I almost got a surprise sometimes

when I would hear my name mentioned

in the middle of the proceedings

and remind myself that
it was actually about me.

My mom, also, we would sit there

and we'd actually had a notebook.

Here we go.

Sometimes we'de make notes,
just arbitrary notes

like, "Where are we going for lunch?"

"Does he know what he's talking about?"

The tough part really,
for me, was the media attention.

But at least I had a trial.

I can't imagine the
injustice of not having that.

Justice doesn't minimise what happened

but it certainly does help.

Their sentence though
was not a celebration.

They still took something from
me that I can never get back.

And there is never a
healing point, a finality,

"I am healed."

It's what others want for me.

It's what I want for me.

And I guess as time passes
it does get a bit easier.

They seem to have less hold of me.

What happened seems to have less power.

It's like exercise,
I guess, you get used to it,

you get better at it.

But then out of the blue,
for no reason, can be right back there.

This

is the last bit

of the Alison that died that night.

After the court case

my soul never really
got a chance to mourn.

I had to continually steel myself.

The PHYSICAL ATTACK.
The PHYSICAL RECOVERY.

THE COURT CASE.

To be strong for MOM. For DAD.

For SOUTH AFRICA.

For others of violent crime.

The BAD GUYS went to prison.

I survived and everyone
got on with their lives.

But I couldn't go back to
life as it had been before.

I couldn't even stay in
the same place anymore.

I moved back in with my mom.

Fortunately she was a single woman.

I think for her she really needed

and wanted to look after me at that time.

I still had to have my
wounds dressed and cleaned.

I had to have bed baths at first.

And she helped me with all of that.

My friends had lives to get on with

and my mom was able to
set aside hers to help me.

In time my wounds healed

and I decided to have
my first proper bath.

And that was the night

I really looked at myself in the mirror

for the first time.

I've never suffered from depression.

Not really known what it's like,
but I very quickly found out.

I think depression would be
different for most people.

For me, I just remember not caring.

And that was a big deal for me

'cause I was someone
who was so responsible.

And for me to not go to work,
to not care about going to work,

to sometimes not even phone them

and tell them I wasn't coming to work.

I didn't care about how
I looked after myself.

I didn't care if I answered phone calls.

I didn't care if I ate
all day or ate too much.

I remember just blaming Frans and Theuns

entirely for how I was
feeling at the time.

I did have a moment though.

I was all on my own sitting at
home when I remember thinking

that Alison, at the time
when you had to choose

between life and death,

you chose life.

And it was a challenge in a way to myself

that I had to do it again

because by doing what I was doing

at the time and blaming Frans and Theuns,

I was giving them power
over my present life.

I had to once again choose life.

And you won't believe it,
with the depths of depression

came the Rotary Club invitation;
for me to please come

and share my experience with them,

seeing as I've been so
brave in the public eye.

Never mind that doing orals
was my biggest fear at school,

let alone stand in front of people

and live up to their expectations

of me being the heroine.

But of course, me being me,
I didn't want to disappoint

the people who had been so supportive.

So flipping hell,

I pulled myself up by my
bootstraps and I went.

And to my surprise,

I felt better.

I wanted to do it again. So I did.

And I haven't stopped yet.

The talks gave me direction,
a cause, a purpose,

a new business and healing.

I travelled all over the world,
met incredible people

and I loved every minute of it.

In the middle of
difficulty lies opportunity.

Well, I am going to share with
you about what happened to me

but more importantly for me,
I'm also here to share with you

how I overcame this difficulty.

And I'm going to share
with you then about my ABC.

And I read a little saying
that I've always remembered

so that I can repeat it to
these people if anyone ever comes

up to me and says, "You're extraordinary,"

and you might want to remember it as well.

The little saying says:

"There aren't any extraordinary
people in this world.

Just ordinary people.

But some of those ordinary people do
extraordinary things with their lives."

Every step I took I
thought it would be my last.

And it's impossible to
put percentages to it,

but what felt like more than 99%,

so 99.9% did not believe I would make it.

I want to share with you today
my ABC in overcoming obstacles,

and as I share with you,
I don't want you to think that

it can only apply to a huge trauma.

I put them into practice
with a huge trauma

and I found them come
out with flying colours.

And I've used them time and time again

in dealing with my everyday problems.

There was 0.1% that said, "Just try."

0.1% that every time
I fell said, "Get up."

0.1% that said, "Take one more step."

And it was enough.

My ABC stands for Attitude.
A is for Attitude.

B is for Belief,

and C is for Choice.

And the philosophy that
I live my life by is,

that these all fall under is this,

that you cannot always control
what happens in your life -

we all agree on that.

But we can always control what we do

with what happens in our lives.

You don't live this life

and at the end get a chance to do it again

or go back and fix some stuff
that you didn't do so well.

It is life. It is happening.

Every day while you're doing
it it's not coming back again.

This is your chance.

The only other time

that I fell into a depression

was when I had to read in the newspapers

that my two perpetrators
might come up for parole,

despite the fact that the
judge put a special note

on their files that they would never again

see the light of day.

I fought so hard that night to

make sure that they would go to prison

and never have the
chance to do this again.

It's hard.

News of parole

brings up a whole lot of
memories that is best forgotten.

It's hard not just for me but
for my family, my mom, my dad -

who's struggled so much in
the first place with the trauma

and now in his old age has to do it again.

My friends.

Maria, who cares so much for me.

I'm petrified that they might get out.

I mean, I received an email
from a woman in America

whose daughter is
apparently Frans's fiancée

and is having a relationship
with him while he is in prison,

and she asked me to help her.

This is a known sex offender,

who raped several women,

tried to kill me

and yet he has free access to Facebook.

Has a full social life
there on warped sex rooms.

And then when I tried
to do the right thing

and wrote to the authorities,

telling them about it,
but asking them please not to

ever let it come out that it came from me,

I found out that my email was printed

and given to Frans himself.

I mean, where are the authorities for me?

My tale is one that is full of miracles

and I still choose to
believe in them every day.

My favourite one of all is the
birth of my two miracle boys.

I wasn't meant to have children.

My marriage might not have lasted,

but the best thing to come out
of it will always be my boys.

And Tiaan didn't disappoint either.

Because of what happened to me,

he was so determined to become a doctor.

It took him 10 years, but he did qualify.

He was the assisting doctor at
the birth of my second child.

I was amazed that I
fell pregnant so easily.

I wasn't supposed to be
able to have children.

I'd always just accepted that fact.

And the fact that I was
able to fall pregnant

without any intervention

and then carry the babies to full term,

that was always my big
worry with all the scarring,

with the injuries that
had happened to my abdomen,

that things were going
to rip and tear apart

when I was pregnant,

but it didn't.

I had very healthy pregnancies.

I loved being pregnant.

I loved feeling the moving baby inside me

and I remember missing it really,
after they had come out.

I also remember that feeling
of early in the morning

when they were newborn babies,

two o'clock, three o'clock
in the morning, all alone.

I loved it.

I loved knowing that the world
was asleep and I was there

looking after my baby
and that they needed me.

It completed me.

I'm just me, on the beach with my boys,

reminding myself that I have life.

That I'm just Alison, and that is okay.

Coping with this thing that happened to me

in a way has given a
dream to that little girl

who didn't have one.

Coping with the trauma -

some days better than others
- and being a mom.

That is my wealth.

Even though it's not the traditional

fairytale happy ending,

because this is my tale, my way.

And this is not the end.