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Man arrested for having ‘twink’ images on his computer

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A man wrongly accused by the police of creating and storing images of child abuse says police need lessons in gay terminology to prevent ‘ruining more lives’.
Last month, Mike Whitla from Bangor was found not guilty of 15 charges brought against him by the police.
After a forensic investigator completed an in depth search of his computer and discovered he could not be guilty, the prosecution failed to offer any further evidence against him, leaving the judge with no choice but to direct the jury to return a not guilty verdict on each charge.
He has since revealed how he was ‘suspended from his job working with vulnerable children, forced to come out as a gay man and abandoned by almost all of his friends.’
The social worker told The Daily Mirror, “I was able to prove I’d done nothing, but my life is still in tatters and somehow I’ll have to rebuild it.”
After his experience, he says he wants other people to know how he fell ‘foul of the law despite doing nothing wrong.’
Mike was arrested and charged at Bangor PSNI station with making and storing 71 images of children, ranging in seriousness.
However, when Mike was shown the images, he realised they were completely innocent – as they were all of ‘twinks’.
Mike said: “I’d never seen it before but it was a twink, that’s gay slang for a feminine looking man over 18. The officers hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.
“I said he looked about 24 and they laughed. They said the picture was of a 13-year-old boy and that I was going court where the jury would agree he was a child.”
After he was released on bail, Mike decided to seek help from The Rainbow Project, a charity that works to improve the physical, mental & emotional health of LGBT people and their families in Northern Ireland.
“They were amazing and said they would support me all the way,” Mike said.
“While my solicitor got a forensic computer expert to analyse the police evidence, the Rainbow Project set up a presentation for my solicitor and barrister to explain the sort of language used in the gay scene including twink.
“I think if one of the officers who arrested me had been a gay man, I’d never have been put through this nightmare but they live in a different social world to me.”
The forensic computer expert discovered that all of the 71 images found in the police search were in fact ads featuring men aged 18 and over.
Celebs you didn’t know have an LGBT sibling
He also revealed that Mike had neither searched for the images, uploaded, seen them or knowingly stored them. On April 28, the jury delivered not guilty verdicts on each of the 15 sample charges of possessing indecent images.
However, Mike says his life cannot return to normal.
So I was innocent, I was free and I could walk out of court and get on with my life, but I felt ruined.
“I still support rigorous police investigations and I really can’t complain about the PSNI doing their job in the interests of child safety.
“But they need to be educated about gay communities and the language we use. It could have prevented my ruination and saved them an awful lot of time, effort and money taking an innocent man to court.”

Patrick Kelleher

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October 14, 2022

Chantelle Billson

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October 13, 2022

Patrick Kelleher

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October 13, 2022

I Lost My Virginity to a Straight Boy
There’s a way to burst through the shame gay men are made to feel about homosexuality.
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I was 19 when I first had full-on sex with another man. I was at college, living in dorms, and the experience—aside from the usual horrifying awkwardness and somewhat spontaneity of the occasion—was completely and utterly unremarkable aside from one thing: the guy I slept with identified as straight.
The whole thing went down near the end of my freshman year at a party, at which people from the whole dorm floor were drunk and celebrating, carelessly streaming in and out of each other’s rooms, following the various different pop songs until one room took their fancy. I can remember, although I'd had some drinks, sitting alone in my friend’s room on a single bed, the mattress overly springy and with a coarse plastic coating, attempting to stream a song over our dorm’s spotty Internet connection.
It was late (or early, depending on your outlook on the world) when I was joined by the boy who was living in the room next to mine, way back on the other side of the building. He was clearly intoxicated, but it was a party after all and who was I, quite drunk myself, to judge. The minutiae of exactly how things developed from us being together in that room to us having slightly unsuccessful sex in a bathroom in a different corridor have since escaped me. All I know is that one moment we were talking and the next minute, well... we weren’t. I didn’t tell him that I’d never had sex with someone before; instead, saturated with vodka and inflated by nerves, I was swept up in the motions.
Before that night, I had hardly been a nun. When I was a teenager, I was precocious and restless. As the only out young gay kid at my school, I took the advancement of my sexual experiences into my own hands and I did what we all do: I bought a fake ID and hit the gay clubs. Out on the scene I had thrilling and, now looking back, precarious hook ups with guys, going far but never all the way. I know now as LGBTQ people we can define exactly what constitutes sex for ourselves, but when you’re young and your only sex education comes in the shape of illegally downloaded Sean Cody videos, penetration seems like the end all be all.
Still, as I grew into my late-teens, venues started to crack down harder on underage drinking, and it soon became increasingly difficult to go and hook up with guys much older than myself. I felt, in my increasingly anxious and deflated state, that I was being left behind. My first year at college, apart from being grueling mentally, was hardly a sexual smorgasbord of one-night-stands and hook-ups. Instead, I reverted to my teenage years, pining after straight boys who I knew I had no chance in hell with... until that night.
I’d love to say that I felt empowered by fucking my first guy, but the whole experience left a lot to be desired. While I knew it wouldn’t be like a gay college erotica I’d read on Nifty.org (gay canon, really), I rather naively wasn’t expecting the fall out. The boy told his then-girlfriend (who I knew about), saying I had come on to him but that nothing had really happened. Although one thing I can vividly remember was that it was quite literally the other way around, the visceral shock of being somewhat shoved back in the closet and denied the celebratory expungement of my virginity was palpable.
For the next year, we’d hook-up on and off, usually at 3 a.m. after we’d been out partying. We’d meet surreptitiously in dark and make out in the cold British weather on a park bench before venturing back to his place to have sex. And while at the beginning I felt like I had the upper hand in the situation—I was the one who was out and comfortable in my sexuality, right?—after each time we met became more secretive and more dirty, I began to feel secretive, dirty, and most of all shameful . I’m not sure whether I really fell for the guy or not, but I do know that at the end of it he was just using me to get off.
I never learned whether the boy I lost my virginity to was struggling with his sexuality. I think, when I look back now and occasionally find myself tumbling through his Facebook page, that he wasn’t. I believe it was just sex, or at least that’s what I have tell myself now to avoid slipping into a memory induced k-hole. I realize I fell into that old gay adage of placing my feelings on a person who, for whatever reason, was never going to invest them back in me. Worst of all, though, the shame attached to the memories of those first times marred how I would approach sex for years.
It was listening to Years & Years’ new song “Sanctify,” and seeing the band’s out gay singer Olly Alexander talk about how the song was inspired his sexual trysts with straight men, that I realized that these feelings are way more common than people let on. Sure, I know all about gay guys having sex with straight guys, but it felt reassuring to see him describe the “saint and sinner role” he embodied during those experiences, and to hear the uncertainty and melancholy weaved into the song.
More than anything though, was the repeated lyrical mantra of “I won’t be ashamed.” Because as queer people, we’re buried in lifetime’s worth of shame so vivid and searing that oftentimes it’s crippling. Bursting through that shame is our badge of honor, our beautifully united experience. And maybe, like the song says, that does sanctify our sex lives and makes us just a little bit holy.
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