'I was 13 when two men tried to abduct me'

Irish Examiner journalist Shauna Bowers.
I was 13 when two men tried to abduct me.
It was around 7.30pm on a weekend in October and I was walking home after a trip to the local shopping centre with two girls with whom I really wanted to be friends. That was my biggest concern at the time.
The bus stop I was getting off at was no more than two minutes away from my home. I was wearing a red T-shirt with black guitars on it, a beige cardigan with dark brown buttons, and blue jeans. It’s funny the things we remember at times like that.
It wasn’t too dark. There were street lamps the whole way.
As I alighted the bus and started towards the road leading up to my house, a silver car pulled up to me, with two men sitting in the front.
They rolled down the window and shouted compliments at me, if you could call them that.
"Hello love," they said. "You look gorgeous," they added. I nodded and smiled, because I thought it was safer to do that than to respond.
To walk up the road to my house, I had to pass by the car. As I moved to do so, the man in the passenger seat reached out and grabbed my arm tightly, pulled me towards the vehicle, and attempted the hoist me in through the window.
"Get in the car!" he shouted — a command I replayed in my head for weeks afterwards, the words haunting my sleep.
To this day, I’m still not quite sure how I managed to break free of his grasp. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was holding me, his disadvantaged position sitting in the car while I stood, or maybe just adrenaline providing me with strength I don’t normally possess.
But I got away. And I ran home. Before I burst into tears at the sight of my parents.
Those words have stuck with me ever since.
In what world is petrifying a teenage girl fun? Why did the garda say that, as if I should be relieved? They weren’t really after you, she intimated. It was just a spontaneous Saturday-night plan. Like going to the cinema or a restaurant.
That’s the problem though, isn’t it? We don’t tend to treat these incidents with the severity they deserve. Because my story could have ended differently.
I, for one, am glad I didn’t have to find out.
My story is but one of millions. When the news of Sarah Everard’s death broke last March, shared stories of their own personal experiences of terror at the hands of men.
readers
They reported feeling anxiety when walking alone both during the day and at night, holding keys tightly in their hands, sharing their location with friends and texting them when they’re home and safe, and constantly scanning their surroundings to make sure nothing is amiss.
“I am tired of being scared,” one reader said at the time.
“These stories only highlight what is already there,” another said of male violence against women, “Hidden and unspoken but threat constantly there.”
Recent figures show that almost 690 domestic abuse incidents have been reported to gardaí every week, on average, this year. That's almost 100 domestic abuse calls per day.
And that doesn't cover the many, many more incidents of abuse or violence towards women that go unreported.
Now, as Wayne Couzens, the former police officer who kidnapped, raped and murdered Sarah Everard, is sentenced to a whole life term in prison, I can’t help but feel disenchanted with the whole system.

I am glad he will face justice. But his sentencing does not improve the issue of male violence against women; it doesn't change the fact that Sarah is now dead and her family will never see her again.
In their victim impact statement, Sarah's family said Couzens had stolen their 33-year-old daughter's future.
“Sarah is gone and I am broken-hearted. She was my precious little girl, our youngest child. The feeling of loss is so great it is visceral,” her mother Susan Everard said.
“And with the sorrow come waves of panic at not being able to see her again. I can never talk to her, never hold her again, and never more be a part of her life.”
We need to change things sooner. We should educate children in primary schools on what is and is not acceptable when it comes to the treatment of their peers. Clear, concise language must be used in an age-appropriate way, without shying away from the hard truths.
There are classes like Social Personal and Health Education (SPHE), but I believe all teachers, too, need to be educated on what exactly should be taught on the course, rather than just mindlessly pacing through the curriculum outlined in a textbook.
There needs to be a societal change, too. Sarah’s death is a case of police brutality, with Couzens using his position as a police officer to falsely arrest her under the pretence of breaching Covid rules.
This issue of violence within law enforcement is a situation that black people and people of colour have raised for years, but which has largely been ignored.
In fact, several international studies over the years have found that the rates of domestic violence among members of law enforcement are considerably higher than those in the general population.
If that doesn't illustrate a need for reform, then I'm not sure what else would.
We cannot keep acting horrified and ashamed every time another life is taken at the hands of needless and brutal violence.
We need to take the smaller, seemingly "insignificant" incidents seriously.
We cannot allow men to pontificate that their actions were only in the name of fun.
If we don’t change these things, there will, undoubtedly, be more stories like Sarahs in the future. We've lost enough lives already, let's not allow any more deaths to occur.