For four decades, Richard Scatchard moved through the world as a predator whose methods never changed, yet whose freedom was periodically restored by a system that measured risk in diminishing increments. When he was released from four life sentences in 2013, the conditions placed upon him were only as strong as the honesty of a man who had never once demonstrated it. Kelly Faiers died in 2023 not because the system lacked rules, but because it lacked the means to see through a practiced deceiver — and the question her death leaves behind is whether any framework of supervision can contain a p
Serial predator should never have been freed, victim says after partner's death
Kelly Faiers was unlawfully killed after being coerced into taking excessive sleeping tablets; Krystyna and other victims suffered prolonged sexual abuse, trauma, homelessness, and loss of employment and social connections.
He would always be a danger to women, the judge said. Then they let him go.
Mark
Why does this case matter now, in 2026? Scatchard died years ago.
Mimi
Because the systems that freed him are still in place. The Parole Board released a man the courts had explicitly called a permanent danger. That's not ancient history—that's how we're still making decisions about who gets out.
Luke
But the coroner said it's hard to see what more could have been done. He was on licence, he had conditions. He just broke them.
Mimi
He broke them because no one was watching closely enough. A second phone, a false name, a hidden relationship—these weren't invisible. The probation officer didn't know about the second phone because they weren't checking hard enough.
Mark
What does Krystyna want to happen now?
Mimi
She wants people to know that shame silences victims. She stayed quiet for years because she was ashamed. If she'd spoken sooner, maybe someone would have listened differently.
Luke
That's a fair point, but it's also not her responsibility to have prevented this. The system had him in hand. The system failed.
Mark
Is there anything concrete changing?
Mimi
Seven hundred million pounds in new probation funding. More face-to-face supervision for high-risk offenders. But money doesn't fix judgment. Someone still has to decide whether a man is safe to release.
Luke
And we don't know if that decision-making has actually changed, or if it's just more of the same with more staff.
Mark
What about the broader issue—the drugging and filming?
Mimi
That's the larger story. The National Crime Agency found an international network of men doing this. Hundreds of videos on pornography sites. It's not just Scatchard; it's a pattern the internet has made easier to hide.
O Pulso
- A man sentenced to four life terms and described by his own judge as a permanent danger to women was nonetheless released after thirteen years, carrying no remorse and every instinct intact.
- He immediately and systematically breached every condition of his licence — hiding a second phone, concealing his identity, and keeping his new relationship entirely invisible to the authorities meant to monitor him.
- Kelly Faiers died without ever knowing his real name, and her family only discovered who he truly was by searching the internet after her death, compounding grief with a devastating sense of institutional abandonment.
- Victim Krystyna, now 70, has broken decades of silence to warn others, even as she describes losing her job, home, and social world to the shame that followed years of drug-facilitated abuse.
- The Probation Service and police have acknowledged the tragedy while noting they could not supervise a relationship they did not know existed — a gap that £700 million in new funding and calls to criminalise 'chemical control' are now attempting to address.
For four decades, Richard Scatchard moved through the world as a predator whose methods never changed, yet whose freedom was periodically restored by a system that measured risk in diminishing increments. When he was released from four life sentences in 2013, the conditions placed upon him were only as strong as the honesty of a man who had never once demonstrated it. Kelly Faiers died in 2023 not because the system lacked rules, but because it lacked the means to see through a practiced deceiver — and the question her death leaves behind is whether any framework of supervision can contain a person the courts themselves once declared permanently dangerous.
Richard Scatchard's history of predation began in 1986, when he drugged a woman, attempted to kidnap her, and was found with a body bag in his car. Released, he offended again, and in 2000 was convicted of drugging and filming multiple women without their knowledge. Warrington Crown Court handed him four life sentences. The judge declared he would always pose a danger to women. Thirteen years later, the Parole Board disagreed sufficiently to release him on licence, with ten conditions — including declaring all relationships to his probation officer.
Krystyna, now 70, was one of his victims from that earlier period. She has spoken publicly for the first time about how what began as ordinary friendship — walking his dog, sharing meals — became years of abuse. He drugged her wine. She would wake without clothes, too frightened to open her eyes. The case eventually destroyed her professional life, her home, and her friendships. A professional later told her that murder had been on his agenda. She reported him only when his stalking became impossible to endure, and she wants others who doubt themselves after abuse to know: their instincts are right.
After his 2013 release, Scatchard moved to Minehead in 2020 and met Kelly Faiers on a dating app two years later. He told her his name was Richard Dunlop. He hid a second mobile phone from authorities. He never declared the relationship. When Kelly died in 2023, an inquest found she had been unlawfully killed — coerced into taking an overdose of sleeping tablets mixed with alcohol. Her family learned his real name only afterward, through an internet search.
Kelly's son said he believed Scatchard was always going to do this to someone. Her daughter said the criminal justice system treated her mother as just another name on a list. The former detective who worked Krystyna's original case expressed open bewilderment that anyone believed he might change. The Domestic Abuse Commissioner said the case shows how drug-facilitated abuse has remained hidden in plain sight for years.
Scatchard fled after Kelly's death and was found dead in a caravan park six months later. The coroner noted it was hard to see what police or probation could have done differently, since they had no knowledge of Kelly's existence. The Ministry of Justice has since announced £700 million in additional probation funding, and experts are calling for chemical coercion to be recognised as a distinct crime. The system, it seems, was built to supervise honesty — and Scatchard had none to offer.
Richard Scatchard was released from prison in 2013 after serving time for drugging and sexually assaulting multiple women. Thirteen years later, he killed Kelly Faiers by coercing her into taking an overdose of sleeping tablets mixed with alcohol. The question now being asked by victims, former police detectives, and officials is whether her death was preventable—whether a man the courts had once deemed a permanent danger to women should ever have walked free.
Scatchard's pattern of predation stretched across four decades. In 1986, he drugged and attempted to kidnap a woman he knew, running her car over with his own vehicle. Police found a body bag inside. He was imprisoned, released, and in 2000 was convicted again after drugging and filming multiple women without their knowledge or consent. Warrington Crown Court sentenced him to four life sentences. The judge's own words, according to court records, were that he would always pose a danger to women. Yet in 2013, the Parole Board determined his risk of reoffending had diminished sufficiently to warrant release on licence with ten conditions: he was to declare all relationships to his probation officer and maintain no contact with previous victims.
Krystyna, now 70, has chosen to speak publicly for the first time about what Scatchard did to her. She met him in 1997 through what seemed like ordinary friendship—she walked his dog, joined him for meals. Then he began inviting her to his home and offering her wine he had secretly drugged. She recalls waking with no clothes on, terrified to open her eyes because she believed he might kill her. The abuse continued for years before she finally told police, driven to report him only when his stalking and harassment became impossible to ignore. She described to officers how she had to pull over while driving home to be sick, how her car swerved across the motorway. A professional later told her that murder was on his agenda. The case destroyed her life. She lost her job, her home, her friends—casualties of the shame and social stigma that followed her assault.
When Scatchard was released in 2013, he carried with him a history of deception and a complete absence of remorse. In 2020, he moved to Minehead in Somerset. Two years later, he met Kelly Faiers on a dating app. He breached his licence conditions immediately and systematically. He did not declare the relationship to his probation officer. He used a second mobile phone to hide his dating activity. He told Kelly his name was Richard Dunlop, concealing his true identity and his criminal past. Police were permitted to search his phone but had no knowledge of the second device. When Kelly died in 2023, an inquest concluded she had been unlawfully killed—coerced into consuming too many sleeping tablets after drinking. It was only then that her family learned his real name and discovered, through internet searches, who he truly was.
Kelly's son Mike Faiers said plainly: "I feel he was always going to do it to someone, unfortunately it had to be my mum." Her daughter Jazz added that to the criminal justice system, her mother was simply another name on a list of victims. The family says they have been unable to grieve properly, and that the Probation Service failed them entirely. Scatchard fled after Kelly's death and was found dead in a caravan park six months later.
A former detective who worked Krystyna's case in 2000, identified only as Marcia, expressed bewilderment at the decision to release him. "We have a serial rapist who has never changed their method of operation and always behaved in the way they've behaved," she said. "Why someone thought all of a sudden he would change for no reason is beyond me." Dame Nicole Jacobs, the Domestic Abuse Commissioner for England and Wales, said the case demonstrates how drug-facilitated sexual abuse has remained "hidden in plain sight for many years" and raises serious questions about whether systems for monitoring dangerous abusers are adequate.
The Ministry of Justice has since announced £700 million in additional probation and community funding, with a focus on increased face-to-face supervision for offenders deemed highest risk. The Parole Board acknowledged that serious further offences represent a tiny proportion of cases but stated that "one case is one too many." Yet the coroner at Kelly's inquest noted it was difficult to see what police and probation officers could have done differently, given they were unaware of her existence. Krystyna, in speaking out, hopes her story might reach others who doubt themselves after abuse. "If you have feelings like I had and you doubt yourself—don't," she said. "Look after yourself otherwise it could be fatal."
Citações Notáveis
I knew what he was doing was really bad. I didn't dare open my eyes because I thought if I did, he might kill me.— Krystyna, victim of Scatchard's drugging and sexual assault
We have a serial rapist who has never changed their method of operation. Why someone thought all of a sudden he would change for no reason is beyond me.— Marcia, former detective who worked Krystyna's case
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