Pre-Trial Therapy: Holding Space for A Survivors Voice
(In the following blog you may notice that I use the word survivor rather than victim. This is intentional. While “victim” is a legal term used in court settings, it can feel disempowering for those who have experienced sexual violence. I use survivor to honour the strength, resilience, and dignity of the people I work with. It’s a word that affirms their agency—not their suffering. It’s my small act of resistance against a system and society that too often reinforces powerlessness.)
Recently, I completed CPD (continuing professional development) training in pre-trial therapy—an area increasingly critical for therapists working with survivors of sexual violence (SV), domestic abuse (DV), and stalking. As I absorbed the content, Stacey Dooley’s BBC iPlayer documentary Stacey Dooley: Rape on Trial aired—and it hit hard. The synchronicity was undeniable. Watching survivors share their stories so publicly, so vulnerably, while I was unpacking the legal and ethical tightrope we walk as counsellors, was nothing short of mind-blowing.
The training I attended was informative—but emotionally, it was confronting. Part of me absorbed the fear some survivors of sexual violence experience whilst going through the criminal justice process; the fear of saying something that might negatively compromise a case, or the fear of stepping into grey areas. Survivors are being silenced—by trauma, by stigma, by outdated systems that ask them to relive their pain just to be believed. Composing this blog and making the decision to offer pre-trial therapy as part of my counselling service had me second-guessing myself. Would it be too much? Too personal? Too political?
But then I thought of the women in Stacey’s documentary who waived their right to anonymity—fully aware that doing so could risk how credible they would appear in court. That act was bold. That act was brave. Therefore, I have tried to steady my understandable fear of "getting it wrong", and have decided to write on this subject and go ahead in offering pre-trial therapy to clients within my counselling practice regardless; jumping from the metaphorical fence I was standing on, deciding which side I belong on when it comes to my views of the criminal justice system and survivors of sexual violence. I refuse to shut the door on them, as they have often experienced this reaction with others in their life post-disclosure.
I refuse to let my fear silence me, like it has done to so many survivors.
If they can step into the spotlight, I can step off the fence—speak and support those going through the criminal justice process in the aftermath of experiencing sexual violence.
Because what’s happening within our criminal justice system is unjust. Survivors are being tried and forced into proving their credibility—not the accused. Our criminal justice system is supposed to protect the vulnerable, yet too often, as Stacey’s documentary recently highlighted, it re-traumatises them. We are working within a framework that still bears the stains of its past—one that only criminalised rape within marriage in 1991, and only decriminalised homosexuality in 1967 in England and Wales. Is it any wonder that male survivors of rape—particularly gay men—and women who experience sexual violence within a relationship are discouraged from reporting their experiences to the police when the system was never built to include them in the first place?
Some of the statistics covered in the training I attended and in Stacey’s documentary were stark:
90% of rape survivors knew their perpetrator
Only 1.6% of rape cases recorded by police in England and Wales result in a charge or summons
CPS often fail to prosecute what they consider 'weak' cases, despite the devastating impact this has on survivors
A 30% increase in rape cases going to court was recently reported—but considering the backlog and attrition rate, this is only a small step in the right direction
Mental health typically deteriorates after reporting—a time when support is needed most, yet survivors are often told therapy could compromise their credibility
Let that sink in.
We’re telling survivors to give evidence first. They're expected to visit court ahead of time to "prepare"—as if that somehow softens the blow of having their trauma cross-examined. But the process doesn’t feel like justice. It feels like punishment and re-traumatisation. It’s not the accused proving their innocence—it’s the survivor proving someone else’s guilt. That seems backwards to me.
Add to that the relentless delays, postponed hearings, cases dropped at the last minute. It erodes survivors’ faith in the system. It compounds trauma. It reinforces the feelings of helplessness that often follow sexual violence.
And then there’s the fight for credibility. Survivors are picked apart—“Did you scream? Did you fight? Why didn’t you run?” As if freezing isn’t a valid trauma response. As if freezing or fawning are not recognised mechanisms for survival. Were you only raped if you fought back?
This erasure of the human nervous system, of the complexities of trauma, is not just ignorance—it’s harm. More care needs to be taken in understanding and working with survivors who have presented with these responses to the sexual violence they survived because, whilst not every survivor of sexual violence will experience these trauma responses, there is a higher association and likelihood of this occurring with this kind of traumatic event.
And here’s where this becomes personal.
Years ago, I was attacked in a cab on my way home from a night out in central London. I was drunk. I was scantily dressed. And so I went home, slept, and never reported it to the police.
Why?
Because I had already internalised the messages that our society—our outdated justice system—feeds us: that credibility is everything. That if I didn’t present as the “perfect survivor”, if I had been drinking, if my skirt was too short, then I wouldn’t be believed. I absorbed those messages so deeply that I didn’t even give myself the chance to seek justice. I silenced myself before anyone else could.
That experience is one of the driving forces behind my passion for this work. I didn’t get the justice I deserved—but every time I sit with a survivor and support them on their journey toward their justice, a small part of me heals. A small part of me finds its voice again. This is not just professional for me. It’s personal.
The justice system asks for evidence "beyond reasonable doubt"—but what it often means is: better to acquit someone guilty than risk convicting someone innocent. I get that. I truly do. I fundamentally believe everyone deserves a fair trial. But so does the survivor. What about their right to safety? Their right to be believed? Their right to not just survive, but heal?
Pre-trial therapy isn’t about coaching. It isn’t about steering testimony. It’s about stabilisation, safety, and support. It’s about providing a trauma-informed space without compromising legal integrity. The new CPS guidance on pre-trial therapy now affirms that therapy can continue pre-trial. We just need to stay informed, use clear boundaries, and keep survivors at the heart of what we do. Therefore, I have parked my fear of the legal system and will offer pre-trial therapy to those clients of mine who need it to support them during this challenging process, as I believe the criminal justice and mental health services should be able to provide a comprehensive and seamless support service to survivors throughout this re-traumatising process.
I was surprised that pre-trial therapy was not mentioned in the Stacey Dooley documentary, as I strongly believe we should be promoting—not merely not dissuading—vulnerable witnesses to seek counselling.
If you are a survivor looking for support, please know that you are not alone. Here are some trusted resources:
London Survivors Gateway – A first point of contact for survivors of rape and sexual abuse in London, connecting you with emotional support, advocacy, and counselling.
Rape Crisis England & Wales – Provides a directory of local centres, a national helpline, and ISVA (Independent Sexual Violence Advocate) services.
National Rape Crisis Helpline – 24/7 phone and online chat for anyone affected by sexual violence - 0808 500 2222
Galop – Specialised support for LGBTQ+ survivors of sexual abuse and violence.
Safeline – National charity providing support to male and female survivors, with helplines, counselling, and ISVA services.
So if you’re a fellow counsellor: do not let fear silence you. And if you’re a survivor reading this—prepare for the worst, hope for the best. But know this:
