Leaving Jonathan Creswell, a man who was beating and threatening to kill her and who would go on to murder showjumper Katie Simpson (21), was “the hardest thing” Abigail Lyle ever did.
“It was excruciating to leave,” she says, in what may seem a confounding admission, as she reflects on surviving a relationship defined by violence and control.
The Olympic dressage rider and horse-trainer, originally from Bangor, Co Down, was in a relationship with Creswell for just under a year, between 2008 and 2009.
In that time, he came to dominate her – physically and emotionally – completely.
RM Block
She describes herself as “so lucky” in many ways, but particularly because her father, so concerned for her safety, put her in contact with a police domestic violence officer who supported her to extricate herself from Creswell.
Even so, Lyle says: “I remember feeling after I left him: ‘Have I done the wrong thing?’ You are filled with so much fear. So much self-loathing. You feel so alone. You have believed everything they [the abuser] have said to you, everything they have said about you.
“I remember at that point just feeling so lost. The anxiety – constant, absolutely crippling anxiety, because you had this person, who you loved, who has stripped you away completely. And now you are alone.”
In 2010, Creswell, from Greysteel, Co Derry, was jailed for six months for multiple vicious and prolonged assaults on Lyle.
A decade later, he murdered Katie at the house in Gortnessy Meadows in Lettershandoney, near Derry, where she had been living with her sister, Creswell’s then partner.
Speaking to The Irish Times by Zoom from her Cotswolds home, Lyle is “really, really good – probably the best I have ever been”. A successful horse-trainer, last year she represented Ireland in dressage at the Paris Olympics.
“The last few years since Katie’s death have been very tough. I hate to even say that, because it is not my loss. I didn’t know her, but she looked like she was an absolutely wonderful girl. I wish I could have known her.”
Lyle is speaking ahead of a three-part documentary on Katie’s life and death at Creswell’s hands, to be broadcast soon on Sky and Now TV.
Death of a Showjumper tells the complex story of a predatory abuser operating in plain sight of mid-Ulster’s “horsey community”, the botched police investigation, and how two dogged investigators – Det Sgt James Brannigan and journalist Tanya Fowles – brought Creswell’s crime to light.
It is also a compelling study of domestic violence and coercive control.
Katie, from Tynan village near Armagh town and a promising horsewoman with a bubbly, mischievous personality, died in Altnagelvin Hospital in Derry on August 9th, 2020 - six days after she was raped and beaten through the night by Creswell.
Her death was initially attributed to suicide – a narrative initiated by Creswell, who claimed he had found her, still alive, on August 3rd that year.
The ready acceptance of his story, despite multiple bruises all over her body and concerns raised by hospital staff, by the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI), was found in an Ombudsman’s report to have been “flawed”, and the Simpson family to have been “failed”.
Lyle’s testimony at Creswell’s trial in April last year would have been crucial in exposing him as a violent, manipulative and dangerous individual – far from the charismatic, kind and charming “Johnny” he presented to the world.
The trial collapsed abruptly when he was found dead in his home after the first day.
“I would have steamed through those [court] doors like a bull to speak about that man and to tell everybody what he was really like,” says Lyle. “I was so determined. I really, really wanted to face him.”
Losing that opportunity left her and many others feeling “cheated and very angry” that Creswell appeared to have “the last word”, she says.
“But with reflection, he hasn’t. We are all having the last words now with the documentary.”
I am here for you day or night. My phone is open. I completely understand and I feel for you. I am not mad at you. I don’t think worse of you
— Abigail Lyle, on what to say to a loved one in an abusive relationship
Her contribution, along with that of Jill Robinson, who had been in an abusive relationship with Creswell before her, are deeply affecting. “I am especially proud of Jill,” says Lyle. “She is the greatest person in the documentary.”
Robinson remained loyal to Creswell even after they broke up in 2008 and was one of three women who received suspended sentences last year after pleading guilty to offences connected to Katie’s death. She had washed the clothes Creswell was wearing on the morning he claimed to have cut Katie’s body down.
“You don’t understand how they [abusers] get into your head, just sort of take over your life,” says Robinson in the documentary. “I am deeply sorry. It is still very early days of trying to wrap your head around how you can let somebody, you know, have so much control over you and cloud your judgment and let you make rash, stupid decisions that can, in turn, wreck your life.”
Lyle was 23 in October 2008, beginning her career with horses, when she met the talented and accomplished rider, Creswell, at an equestrian event.
“He was just so confident and charming and cocky and cheeky. But also very thoughtful, sweet and kind - just an alluring person,” she says.
Despite “red flags” from the beginning – such as him taking calls from other women in her company and lying to them about being with her, she ignored them.
“I was saying, in my head, ‘Why doesn’t he want to say he’s with me?’” but also questioning her right to be hurt by that. “I just remember thinking, ‘Oh right. Okay’.” He constantly checked her phone and said he didn’t like her personality when she had been with friends or family.
He first assaulted her in February 2009, after a row during which she had left and gone out with friends. He later texted, apologising and asking whether he could collect her.
In the documentary, she graphically describes the assault – and Creswell’s emotional manipulation of her in its aftermath.
“We got in the car and he swerved right, and my phone flew out of my hand ... He said, ‘You won’t be needing that’.
“Out of nowhere he grabbed the back of my head, he hit my head off the window, off the dashboard. I was like, curled up, and he just hit me over my body, over and over and over. The shock of it. I always thought I would defend myself, but this crazy instinct took over. You will do or say anything to calm that person down because you are very aware you cannot win that fight,” she says.
“When he started to say, ‘I’m really sorry I’ll never do that again. Oh my goodness. I really love you. Why did I do that?’… As soon as they say, ‘Sorry’, that pain is gone. Lifted.
“The relief was unbelievable and it was like oxygen. By then I was in it.
“You think it’s because of you. I shouldn’t be doing these things, shouldn’t be saying these things, I should be acting in a different way to stop this side of him coming out. But he got worse.”
Beatings happened regularly, leaving visible bruises. “Pretty much everyone in my life was concerned, was asking what was going on. And there’s only so much you can say, ‘I fell’, or a horse trampled me.”
Her father contacted Nuala Lappin, a specialist PSNI domestic violence officer.
“Bringing her into my life was a massive, massive saving grace,” Lyle says. “We kind of started a communication, just on the phone, for a couple of months before I left [Creswell].
“She said, ‘I know you are not ready to [leave Creswell], but you can and you will’. She was amazing, she was the only person who understood ... Everyone’s reaction [to her relationship with Creswell] was anger. A lot of people were so angry with me. They were like: ‘Why are you going back? Why?’
“Nuala was the only person who truly understood why at that time I couldn’t. Having her advice is probably why I am here today.”
Asked whether the relationship was addictive, she says “completely”.
“It took a lot of years to figure that out. The thing is, you have all these conflicting emotions because you love the person. And they know how to prey on you, how to prey on parts of you. Johnny definitely played on my empathy, made me feel sorry for him.”
Simultaneously, he made her feel like a “bad person” who was “so defiant”, who could not be loved or valued without him. She believed she would be “ostracised” from her community if she left, that her life would be “horrific”.
“What people don’t understand is that at that moment, when you are in so much pain and this person has beat you, called you names and made you feel so small, and awful, when they then turn round and say, ‘I am so sorry. I love you so much. I promise I will never do it again’. It takes all that pain away, very temporarily – but they take it away and it is like a relief. And that keeps you there.”
Lappin saved her, she says. “She was so important to me. I hope she knows that.”
News of Creswell’s arrest for Katie’s murder 11 years later was “devastating”, but not surprising. “I always thought he was capable of something like that,” she says.
When he was found dead, and police said the death was not being treated as suspicious, it showed “he was more scared of us in the end ... He’d lost control and he knew he couldn’t win this one,” she says.
To anyone currently concerned about a loved one in an abusive relationship, she advises: “You want to build that person up. They are probably going to be thinking really badly about themselves. They have been told awful things about themselves by their partner.
“I would advise them to say to their loved one: ‘I think I know what is happening. I am here for you day or night. My phone is open. I completely understand and I feel for you. I am not mad at you. I don’t think worse of you.’”
And to anyone in an abusive relationship, she would say: “You are not alone. There are people in your life, or organisations ... Please reach out. It is the most powerful thing you will ever do. There is an amazing life on the other side.
“And if your abuser is telling you there is not, they are lying.”
Death of a Showjumper airs on Sky and Now soon
To call Women’s Aid in the Republic: 1800 341 900
In Northern Ireland: 0808 802 1414
The cover-up: How Jonathan Creswell tried to get away with murder - Part 1
