A brave but emotional mother stood in front of the ranks of police and press on Wednesday and told them how she was repeatedly sexually abused as a child. Chris Webber spoke to her

FOR more than three decades Di Ellis kept her silence about the repeated, horrific sexual abuse she suffered from the age of 11 to nearly 14. Now she stands proudly on a stage at Cleveland Police HQ, waiving her anonymity, telling her story in the hope it would encourage other victims to come forward.

Still, words did fail her on that stage. And, when they did she turned, as is common to many victims, to poetry.

"This is where I was at, before I got help," she explains, starting to read her own poem: "I'm so sad. I wish I could cry...I wish for cancer and dementia too...because you killed me."

Di, a 51-year-old grandmother, is speaking in front of Barry Coppinger, the man elected to run Cleveland Police, the ranks of the press and dozens of the great and good of many abuse support charities and agencies from across the region.

All of them have just seen her tell her story in a new video, commissioned by Barry Coppinger to be shown across Cleveland in an attempt to persuade victims of sexual abuse to come forward, if not to police then to a charity or agency. It has been released to coincide with National Sexual Violence and Abuse Week and is an attempt to highlight the crime which some estimate affects one in 20 of the population.

After her speech, mum-of-three Di, by now dry-eyed, smiling, even somehow managing a joke or two, agrees to talk to four journalists. We're ushered into a quieter room and, slowly, details of what happened to her during her childhood in the quiet, market town of Stokesley begin to emerge. Di was abused by a wealthy, well-known businessman named Leonard Wilson, now aged 71, of Tamebridge, Stokesley who was sentenced to 15 years at Teesside Crown Court in 2014.

"After every act he would go, 'shhh...mum's the word,'" says Di. And she did stay quiet, enduring silent, lonely suffering for decades. The personal cost was enormous as she would somehow feel 'dirty' and 'worthless'.

"I would react to things as an adult like an 11-and-a-half-year-old girl and not an adult," she explains.

"I would drink a great deal and I was silly in drink. People would ask why but I couldn't tell them. I know I was affecting other people, parents, my partners, children. Life was pretty abysmal."

It was in drink one Remembrance Sunday that the truth finally came tumbling out along with floods of tears to an ex-policeman friend and his wife. It was a breakthrough moment that changed Di's life for good and forever. But there were still hard moments ahead. Court to endure, family to be told, tough counselling sessions. A relative of the abuser once shouted at her in the street, calling her a liar.

Naturally, her friends told her to go to the police and Di's experience with a "young police officer, younger than my children" was good. "He was really fantastic," she says. But she stresses, with some chutzpah given we're in a police station, that for many victims going to the police straight away may be too much. If so, there are several first rate agencies and charities that offer support.

Di, these days living in Guisborough, lost confidence in her first counsellor but finally found the support she deserved at specialist victim support agency Arch North East.

She also had the full support of her family.

"I would say things when I had too much to drink when they were adults so I think they knew something," she says.

"They were still really hurt when I gathered everyone together and told them. But they also said, 'oh, that's why' (I had behaved oddly). They had a sense of relief. They were completely and utterly supportive. It was hard for them in so many ways."

What of the man who abused her? Di makes no grand statement of revenge but says, simply: "I would just say, 'take responsibility, show some remorse, say you are sorry.'"

One of the most powerful messages Di has, and her ultimate victory over her abuser, is her current happiness. "I'm in a really good place. I am happy. I want to say to any other human being who has gone through this that are not alone and to go and speak to somebody."

Once again she turns to her poetry to get her message across to the thousands of anonymous, blameless victims yet to come forward - take action. She says: "Let the beautiful bird inside you begin to sing."

The support line for Arch North East is 01642 822331