British man shares horrible experience after 20 years of Domestic Abuse.

A British man has shared the horrifying domestic abuse he endured from his wife, which was so severe that he resorted to wearing makeup to cover up his injuries.

Sheree, a senior manager at the Ministry of Justice, subjected Richard Spencer to daily beatings and verbal abuse over a period of 20 years. She was ultimately sentenced to four years in prison after pleading guilty to charges of coercive and controlling behaviour as well as three counts of assault causing actual bodily harm in Hull Crown Court.

The abuse included instances of being spat on and hit with various objects including a bottle, mobile phone, and TV remote, as well as being forced to clean up after Sheree defecated on the floor. On one occasion, she struck him so forcefully with a wine bottle that it left a permanent disfigurement on his ear.

Shocking videos captured on a security camera in the children’s playroom show Sheree threatening Richard with a knife, dragging him to the floor, and physically assaulting him with kicks and punches.

She can be heard screaming: “Get the f***ing chicken on! Get to the f***ing shop… You will learn.”

After Sheree’s arrest in June 2021, Humberside police conducted an interview with Richard at his home, located in a tranquil village near York. The investigating officer was so unsettled by the details shared by Richard that she had to excuse herself from the room.

Now, he is speaking out in order to “help as many other people in a similar situation as I can,” so they don’t end up wearing makeup like him.

“I want as many people to read about my thoughts and feelings and think, ‘That sounds like me or that sounds like my partner’ because this was so incremental,” Richard told the Daily Mail.

Richard, 46, has a degree in computing at Leeds Metropolitan University and a position at BT in network design that soon saw him addressing global conferences as an expert in his field. Yet, that didn’t stop him from suffering extreme abuse.

He disclosed he was made to feel worthless at home. As difficult as he finds talking about it now, he is determined to speak out to “help as many other people in a similar situation as I can,” he says.

Looking back to the start of their relationship, it is a miracle Richard can recall any fondness at all.

He recalls: “For the first couple of years it was 95 per cent nice times and 5 per cent not nice times. It evolved. By the time she was punching me so I was having to wear make-up to hide the bruises, the abuse had become the norm.

“I felt I deserved to be punished. I lost my independence and willpower and just accepted that was how my life was going to be. In the end, she controlled everything from which room I could sleep in to which toilet I could use. I was no longer me.”

When Richard met Sheree at a nightclub in 2000, he was a confident, fun-loving 23-year-old who went to the gym, loved music and travel, had a wide circle of friends and liked nothing more than to spend time with his family.

His mum had died when he was nine, but he was close to his dad, younger sister and extended family, including a stepmother he now calls “Mum”.

Sheree, then 22 and hugely attractive, was “this fun, effervescent, really confident person who everyone liked. She’d do really kind things, buy thoughtful gifts,” Richard says.

He remembers an early romantic break in Venice before the violence began.

“I remember going to a Vivaldi concert in a church or cathedral and a meal at a nice restaurant afterwards. Walking back to the hotel by the canals was quite atmospheric — unlike memories of most of the other cities we went to, which are tainted by evenings when she’d become abusive,” he tells the Dailymail correspondent, Rebecca Hardy.

Sheree, who was from Sunderland, didn’t have “the best childhood,” Richard says. “She’d moved around a lot and witnessed abuse herself.

“She would go into detail about when her mum and dad got drunk. I wanted to help her. She was the first person I’d fallen in love with.”


The violence began a few months into their relationship when she was staying at his flat in Ipswich. The arguments would start ‘always when she’d be drinking,” he says.

“They could be about anything — normally something I’d done or not done. In the early stages it was pushing me, breaking things and slapping me. The next day she’d be extremely apologetic and say she wouldn’t let it happen again.

She’d write little notes saying she loved me. I’d apologise too because, although I wouldn’t have been the one shouting, I’d feel I played a role in the argument.

“Sheree would explain her behaviour by saying, ‘If you hadn’t done that, then I wouldn’t have done this.’ You’d think, ‘OK, I can see why she’s saying that.'”

Why he didn’t end their relationship when they were merely dating is something he still can’t explain.

“I’ve got quite a lot of blank periods in my mind,” he says. “I felt like I was in love with her probably for years and I thought she was with me, but looking back now I don’t think I’d call it love any more.”

He even excused her having an affair with a friend of his in January 2007 because, he says, “it was my fault for working long hours and neglecting her. I had an internet business I worked on in the evening because I wanted us to be financially secure.

“She said I had also been disloyal by putting my family before her because I’d gone alone to a party at my auntie’s, that she didn’t want to go to, on the night the affair began. She said I deserved it — how could I have thought she was right?”

Following her affair, Richard’s relationship with his family, whom Sheree insisted “judged” her, became increasingly distant. He saw friends less and less.

He says: “I have found lots of emails from Sheree telling me how much she loves me and that I am her soulmate. So I think the period after the affair and deciding to make a go of things must have been a nice, calm time leading up to our marriage.”

Richard says now he still believed he loved Sheree on their wedding day in December 2009.

So much so, he agreed to slip away to Thailand, on the pretext of a holiday, to marry her at a luxury, beachfront hotel in the Phi Phi Islands without a single friend or family member present

He recalls: “It wasn’t the best of days. Sheree got drunk and angry with the people who came to do her hair and told them to get out.  

“I made an excuse in my mind that she was being like that because of the pressure of the day. I even said to her, ‘Everyone has butterflies’. 

“Believe it or not, I felt marriage was a natural progression. When we came back, I wanted to think of it as a fresh start.  

“But we never really got back on track.” 


The violence escalated, particularly when, year after year, they tried unsuccessfully to start a family. 

She’d say to me, ‘When I have a baby, I’ll be happy. I won’t mind you working all those hours.’ We actually had a phrase for it ‘baby dance’ and sometimes I had to ‘dance’ twice a day.

“If I wasn’t physically able, she’d say things like, ‘All you’ve got to do is perform. You’re not a man.’

“As she got more desperate she got really angry. She’d talk about my size to insult me. I resorted then to getting Viagra-type drugs online. There weren’t any pleasurable feelings.”

After three fruitless years, they decided upon IVF. When the third cycle failed in February 2014, Sheree’s violent explosions increased.

So much so that in April Richard was admitted to A&E requiring stitches after Sheree smashed a wine glass on his head.

“It would go on over a period of hours. She’d attack me and then sit back down. I’d try to placate her, then she’d get back up and start hitting and punching me again. Eventually she’d go to sleep on the playroom floor because she’d been drinking.

“When she got angry, one of the ways she used to hurt me was smashing my laptop on the floor. Once she picked one up and put it straight in the washing-up water. I probably got through five or six laptops, so I used to hide them.

“That was about the time when she began to threaten me about our daughter. She said she was going to smash her face in the mirror and cut it, then call the police and say I’d done it so I wouldn’t be able to see her.

“So I started gathering the recordings from the camera in the playroom and take photographs of my injuries because I thought I needed to protect myself.

Still in my mind, I wanted us to be together. I really loved the family unit. We had one embryo left. Sheree didn’t want our daughter to be an only child. I rationalised in my mind, ‘If we have another baby we’ll get through this.’ It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

Their middle daughter was conceived during the first cycle of IVF. Within four months of her birth, Sheree was pregnant again with a child they’d conceived naturally.

“Sheree had always wanted three children and, once she was born, that’s when, what I now know they call, ‘the discard phase’ began,” says Richard.

“She wanted the house, wanted the kids and wanted me to pay maintenance. She’d whisper in my ear, ‘You’ll never win. Watch this.’

“She’d open the bedroom window and shout, ‘Richard stop it. You’re hurting me. Don’t hit me.’ Then, she’d shut the window and say, ‘I told you you’ll never beat me. I’m much cleverer than you’.”

The violence and drinking escalated. For days on end, Sheree would lie on the sofa drinking as much as three bottles of wine a day. At 3am, she would slap Richard awake and make him drive to the garage to get more.

“At night, when I was alone in bed, either in pain after being beaten with a bottle or completely demoralised, I’d imagine a switch on the wall and that it could end all the pain and the feeling of hopelessness.

“I’d visualise getting out of bed, pressing the switch and the darkness turning into pure light. Nothing else would exist — just the bright warm light and I would be absorbed into it.

“I felt guilty I’d become estranged from my family and thought it might be easier for them if I wasn’t here.

“Then I thought about the sadness they would feel if I was gone and how it would affect my children, so I knew I’d never get out of bed and press that switch no matter how bad things got


The violence continued until Tony, an old dear friend of Richard’s who worked as a military policeman, intervened one night and alerted the authorities. 

Tony, who Richard hadn’t seen for several years, had gone to the family’s home following a drunken phone call from Sheree who’d called to say that she was being abused.  

When he arrived, Richard finally confessed the truth, sharing with Tony his disturbing video footage and images of his injuries. 

Rechard recalls: “Tony said, ‘I’ve got to do what I think is best for you as a friend and for the kids. Even if you hate me now, I hope in the future you’ll think it’s for the right reason.’ I said, ‘You do what you have to do.'” 

Sheree was on the sofa and in a state of semi-undress when officers arrived at the house later that night to arrest her. Their eldest daughter, woken by the noise, wandered downstairs and saw the police. 

“I took her to the spare room and sat with her while Sheree got some clothes. My daughter was stood at the window and could see her mum being put in the police van,” Richard says in tears as he thinks of his children’s suffering. 

“When the police came back that night to take a statement, I made excuses for Sheree. They were so empathetic. All the fears I’d had about not being believed disappeared, but I’d spent half iof my lifetime trying to rationalize her behaviour. It was natural for me to defend her — even to the police.” 

The following day, two officers and a social worker arrived to inform Richard that Sheree was being charged. 

The scales finally dropped from Richard’s eyes when he was told of her reaction to a video the police showed her when she threatened Richard with a knife. 

“They told me they’d played her a video, first without sound, of her telling me she was going to burst my car tyres because I’d looked at her in a certain way. She’d gone outside, cut the tyre and came back holding the knife which she held against my neck. 

“She watched it and said, ‘OK, so what’s happened is I’ve got a knife because I’ve been telling him I want a divorce and that he may as well kill me if he won’t give me one. I’m trying to hand him the knife because I can’t take it any more.” 

They then played the video with the sound and asked her, “Have you got anything to say?” She just shrugged and said, “There’s not much I can say, is there?” 

“I thought when she saw the video she wouldn’t believe she was capable of that and would get very upset. But the police said she never showed any emotion. I knew then her whole life was a tapestry of lies,” says Richard. 

In total, Richard handed police 36 videos, nine audio recordings and 43 photographs of the abuse. Sheree was charged and issued with a restraining order. 

“I felt like an elephant had got off my neck,” says Richard. “I could breathe. I rang my dad. He came straight over with my youngest sister and stepmum.

“They were crying and hugging me. They’d only seen my oldest two daughters a couple of times and never met my youngest, so it was partly a reunion and partly traumatic.”

His family have been nothing but supportive since.

“I don’t know if they feel they should have known. We haven’t talked about it. We might one day but how was anyone to know? It hurts me that this has affected so many people.”

Richard accepts it will take many years, if ever, for his mental scars to heal. For now, he wants only to give his lovely daughters the calmest, most stable two years he can before their mother is released from prison.

“I’ve been struggling because everyone has been so kind it’s overwhelming,” he admits.

“There was no kindness with Sheree. I can still hear the girls crying and want to show them life shouldn’t be like that. They’re flourishing in a safe, secure home. It’s what they deserve.”

Source : Daily Mail

Photo credit : Murray Sanders

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