See it, say it, not sorted. I was let down when I reported my train sexual assault

A Saturday night incident on London’s Elizabeth Line

See it say it not sorted – Two weeks ago, on a chilly Saturday evening, Esme Rice was heading home from a dinner with friends in Farringdon, riding the Elizabeth Line through central London. The journey was expected to be routine, but it took an unexpected turn when two men boarded the crowded carriage. “One of them reached out to me,” Esme recalls, “but I kept my composure and waited for my stop.” As the train approached Stratford station, the encounter escalated. One man brushed against her back, while the other blocked her path as she tried to disembark. “I hurried past him and he grabbed me,” she says, describing the sequence of events that left her shaken.

The phrase that was meant to help, but failed to act

Everything unfolded in a matter of seconds, leaving Esme momentarily dazed. She stood on the platform, overwhelmed by a mix of fear and disbelief, as the men vanished into the crowd. “They were grinning, like it was all a joke,” she adds, highlighting the dismissive attitude she perceived. In that moment, the BTP’s familiar slogan—“See it. Say it. Sorted”—resonated with her, echoing the advice she’d heard countless times on trains and at stations. But for Esme, the slogan’s promise seemed unfulfilled.

Esme immediately dialed 61016, the non-emergency line for the British Transport Police (BTP). The BTP claims they are responsible for addressing a wide range of incidents, from minor antisocial acts to major crimes like terrorism, across over 10,000 miles of track and 3,000 stations. She received an automated reply confirming her report had been received and that someone would call her “shortly.” Despite this, the 13-hour wait for a response felt agonizing. “I expected a quicker reply,” she says, reflecting on the gap between the slogan and the reality.

After the delay, Esme decided to share her experience on social media. She recorded a video with her phone, detailing the assault and her frustration with the lack of action, and included a screenshot of the BTP’s message. The clips were posted on her Instagram and TikTok accounts, sparking immediate attention. Within hours, the videos had garnered thousands of views, with hundreds of comments from women who recognized their own experiences in Esme’s story.

A delayed response sparks public awareness

It wasn’t long before the BTP responded. A day after Esme’s post, a comment from their official social media account appeared alongside hers. “We’re sorry you were subjected to this awful behaviour on the railway. We treat all reports of sexual assault extremely seriously,” the message read, followed by a statement that an investigation had been launched. Assistant Chief Constable Ian Drummond-Smith later called Esme to acknowledge the 13-hour delay as “far too long.” “He said I should have been contacted the same evening I reported the incident,” she says, emphasizing the BTP’s admission of shortcomings.

Esme’s case has since prompted an internal review of the BTP’s support processes. She was informed that an investigation is now underway to determine why she wasn’t offered additional assistance that night. While this marks a step forward, Esme remains critical of the system’s responsiveness. “Based on my experience, it feels like the BTP isn’t able to act quickly enough to protect people or deter unwanted behavior,” she explains, suggesting that the slogan’s intent has yet to match its impact.

Context for the BTP’s “See it. Say it. Sorted” campaign

The phrase “See it. Say it. Sorted” has been a staple of the BTP’s public safety messaging for over a decade. It’s broadcast through station announcements and displayed on posters across the rail network, aiming to empower passengers to report incidents promptly. Recent campaigns have expanded the slogan’s scope, explicitly listing actions like touching, staring, upskirting, and pressing as forms of sexual harassment. These efforts are intended to raise awareness and signal that the BTP is committed to taking action.

However, Esme’s story raises questions about the effectiveness of these campaigns. She wasn’t the only one who felt the system failed to respond in time. Two years earlier, she had experienced a similar incident on a Jubilee Line train at 6pm one day in March. “A man was standing close to me, touching himself,” she says, recalling that moment. She moved away, but the incident lingered as a reminder of how quickly harassment can escalate.

Esme’s frustration stems from a pattern of delayed responses. “This wasn’t the first time I felt like I received a poor response after reporting to the BTP,” she says, underscoring the systemic issue. While the BTP assures that all crimes are taken seriously, the gap between the public’s expectation and the actual response time has left many passengers feeling unheard. The “See it. Say it. Sorted” mantra, meant to instill confidence, now seems to carry an undertone of regret for those who’ve endured similar experiences.

A badge of solidarity and a call for change

At Stratford station, Esme wore a badge that read “Shame must change sides,” a reference to Gisèle Pelicot, a French woman who became a symbol of resilience after surviving a sexual assault. The badge, which she chose to wear in solidarity with other victims, highlights the growing movement to challenge societal attitudes toward harassment. For Esme, it represents not just personal courage but a demand for accountability from institutions that claim to protect passengers.

Her experience underscores the importance of swift action in addressing sexual violence. While the BTP’s delay may be an isolated incident, it reflects a broader challenge in ensuring that reports are prioritized and responded to promptly. Esme’s story has also sparked conversations about the role of public awareness campaigns in fostering trust and encouraging victims to come forward. “I felt like my voice was amplified once I spoke publicly,” she says, noting that the BTP’s reaction became more urgent after the social media posts.

For now, Esme remains hopeful that the internal investigation will lead to tangible improvements. “I want to see a system that doesn’t just say it’s sorted, but actually does something,” she adds. Her journey—from the initial assault to the delayed response and eventual acknowledgment—serves as a reminder that while slogans can inspire, they must be backed by consistent action to truly make a difference. As the BTP continues its efforts to combat sexual harassment, Esme’s story offers a critical perspective on the path ahead.