“In December ’85 I was convicted of murdering my boyfriend, Trevor Armitage, who was 33. I met him six months earlier when I was 16 and a prostitute. He was a client. I was 17 at the time of the offence and now I am 24.”
So began a letter that arrived at my home in North London in September 1992 with an HMP Drake Hall prison stamp. It was from Emma Humphreys, a woman I came to know well. She described in evocative terms how, following a childhood of violence, exploitation and abuse, she had ended up on the streets of Nottingham, where she was picked up by Armitage, who became her pimp and subjected her to regular rapes and beatings. In a moment of fear, she stabbed and…