I Stood Where Martin Griffiths Did. But I Lived to Speak
A Letter from One Broken Man to Another Who Wasn’t Given the Chance
On 23 September 2013, Martin Griffiths, a sub-postmaster from Ellesmere Port, stepped in front of a bus. The Post Office had falsely accused him of stealing £100,000 due to a system error they refused to admit. Years of stress, shame, and silence led him to that moment. He died in hospital weeks later. The Post Office offered his widow £140,000 and forced her to sign an NDA to bury his truth.
On 29 November 2020, I stood in front of a building under construction, thinking the same thought.
I was accused of crimes I did not commit. I was arrested, humiliated, imprisoned. My wife accused me. The police manipulated the process. The CPS withheld evidence. My barrister failed me. Everyone I trusted turned away.
Like Martin, I was an ordinary man. I worked hard, I loved my family, I built a business. And then, in a moment, it was all stripped from me. I wasn’t a name anymore. I became a label. A threat. A case file.
The difference? I lived. I didn’t jump. But I stood on that mental edge, and it has never fully left me.
Martin’s death was not his fault. It was engineered by a system that punishes truth and protects itself. He was a casualty of British justice, buried in silence by those who feared the truth he carried.
The same system tried to bury me. They used false 999 calls, coached witnesses, manipulated pre-sentence reports, suppressed evidence, and resurrected withdrawn charges to paint me as dangerous. They used probation to twist narratives. They even used statements from people removed from the case to justify further control.
They called this justice. I call it what it is: a premeditated attempt to destroy my life.
Martin didn’t get to speak. But I will speak for him. For all of us.
To Gina Griffiths, I say: your husband was never alone. His silence was forced. His truth still lives.
To the system, I say: you failed him. You failed me. But you will not silence us both.
This is not over.
Marius Anton
