Imagine losing everything in the blink of an eye—your home, your partner, your sense of security—only to be thrust into a legal and financial nightmare that feels like it will never end. This is the harrowing reality Francesca Onody faced when her abusive husband, Malcolm Baker, set their cottage ablaze as police arrived to arrest him on a late summer evening in 2022. She and her children narrowly escaped seconds before the explosion, but the aftermath was just as devastating. Baker perished in the fire, leaving Onody not only widowed but also stripped of her home, possessions, pets, and financial stability. But here’s where it gets even more shocking: shortly before his death, Baker had emptied their joint bank accounts, canceled her mortgage protection and insurance, and left her with nothing. And this is the part most people miss—three years later, she was on the brink of losing the little she had left when her mortgage lender, Halifax, threatened to repossess the land around her destroyed home, where she and her children had been living in a caravan since the fire.
Onody’s story is a stark reminder of the long-lasting legal and financial hurdles domestic abuse survivors face, even after their abusers are gone. When she first reached out to Guardian Money in June last year, her desperation was palpable. ‘It feels like my world has imploded all over again,’ she said. ‘I’ve fought to provide a roof over our heads, and now Halifax wants to take away the very ground we stand on.’
After years of battling Baker’s will—which left her nothing—fighting banks and insurers, and navigating endless red tape, Onody finally saw a glimmer of hope this month. Three-and-a-half years after the explosion, she managed to pay off the £35,000 in mortgage arrears and take possession of the land. Halifax halted the repossession proceedings and waived the interest and fees that had piled up during her legal battles, but only after Guardian Money intervened. And this is where it gets controversial: should financial institutions like Halifax have acted sooner and more compassionately, or were they simply following the letter of the law? Let’s discuss in the comments.
Onody’s ordeal didn’t just end with the fire. In the years following Baker’s death, she faced a barrage of challenges. She had to contest his will under the Inheritance (Provision for Family and Dependants) Act 1975, a process that took 28 months. During this time, she was trapped in legal limbo, unable to discuss the mortgage with Halifax because she wasn’t named in probate. Meanwhile, the Home Office commissioned a domestic homicide review, absurdly questioning whether she was the abuser. The Home Office later apologized, acknowledging Baker’s role as the perpetrator and admitting the investigation had ‘continued the dynamics of abuse’ she endured during their 18-year marriage.
‘My husband’s abuse was designed to outlast his death,’ Onody reflects. ‘The lack of support from organizations has only added years of fear to my life.’ Her nightmare began long before the explosion. Baker, a retired Metropolitan police superintendent, had become mentally unstable and abusive after leaving the force in 2011. His heavy drinking and threats escalated when Onody sought a divorce. ‘He left a dead rabbit in my bed,’ she recalls. ‘We lived in constant fear, never knowing if he’d destroy our home while we slept.’
On the night of the fire, Onody called 999 after a confrontation. Baker barricaded himself upstairs as petrol began dripping through the ceiling. Police evacuated the family just as the house erupted in flames. Baker couldn’t be saved. Afterward, Onody and her children moved into a caravan without heating or running water. Since the property deeds and mortgage were in Baker’s name, she couldn’t sell the land or rebuild. Halifax initially agreed to let her remortgage but later withdrew the offer, demanding she pay off the debt within two months or face repossession. Here’s the burning question: Is it fair for survivors like Onody to be held financially accountable for their abusers’ actions? Share your thoughts below.
Halifax eventually suspended the repossession order and transferred the mortgage into Onody’s name after Guardian Money stepped in. A spokesperson expressed sympathy, citing legal limitations but acknowledging they could have done more. Onody became the legal owner of the land in November and paid off the mortgage this month. She now hopes to sell the land and start anew with her children. ‘It’s been incredibly tough,’ she says, ‘but I’m hopeful for a happy ending.’
Despite new Financial Conduct Authority rules introduced in 2023 to protect vulnerable customers, charities like Surviving Economic Abuse argue that victims like Onody are still falling through the cracks. ‘Economic abusers exploit every tool—insurance, joint mortgages—to maintain control,’ says CEO Sam Smethers. ‘While financial firms have improved, there’s still a long way to go.’
Onody’s story isn’t just heartbreaking—it’s a call to action. How can we better support survivors of economic abuse? What changes do you think are needed? Let’s keep the conversation going.
