The story of RB207, a Catholic woman who once served in the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI), has come to symbolize the deep personal and professional costs of the 2023 PSNI data breach—a mistake that continues to reverberate through the lives of thousands of officers and their families. Her testimony, delivered via video link to the High Court in Belfast, painted a vivid picture of fear, sacrifice, and the desperate measures taken to protect loved ones when trust in the system falters.
It all began in August 2023, when the PSNI accidentally released a spreadsheet containing the personal details of its entire 9,500-strong workforce. According to BBC News NI, the breach exposed officers, both current and former, to significant risks, especially those already living under the shadow of dissident republican threats. The PSNI quickly admitted liability for the breach, but the damage was done. The fallout has led to thousands seeking compensation, with the potential bill currently estimated at around £120 million.
For RB207, the implications were immediate and terrifying. As she recounted to the court, "I moved and didn't look back." Her journey into policing had never been without risk. She joined the PSNI just after the Real IRA shot dead two soldiers at Massereene Army base in Antrim in 2010, a time when her family was, in her words, "immediately worried." She described how she constructed a cover story, moved away from her family home, stopped playing GAA, and even distanced herself from some childhood friends to reduce the risk of being targeted.
But nothing could have prepared her for the events that followed the data breach. Within days, a shooting incident occurred near her family home, with dissident republicans firing shots at sandbags and targets. She reported the incident, and in the police operation that followed, someone was arrested. It was then that the threats became personal and direct. Her father was approached at his home by an individual who chillingly informed him that both RB207 and her wife were "on the spreadsheet." According to Belfast Telegraph, this was the moment she realized, "They had now put a target on my family’s home."
Matters escalated swiftly. Her and her partner's names, along with her family's address, appeared on a public poster. The police issued her a TM1 threat notice, warning of a credible risk to her safety. "I was just waiting for an attack... I couldn't sleep for more than two hours," she told the court, describing a period of turmoil and reclusiveness. The fear was so intense that she became hypervigilant, constantly checking security cameras at her parents' home, and her mood swung between anger and despair.
It was not just her own safety at stake, but that of her family. The threat notices made it clear: if she did not leave, her parents would be put into exile, and the use of firearms could not be ruled out. This, she said, was the "nail in the coffin." The urgency was palpable. She had already been exploring opportunities abroad and, in May 2023, was offered a position with the Western Australia Police Force, contingent on her obtaining a visa. By October, the offer became official, and with her partner—who had also joined the PSNI—she made the decision to leave Northern Ireland behind.
"When I made the decision to leave, I told my dad to mention it in the community to move the target off their backs. My dad started telling people in the shop I was going to Australia," she explained. Days later, a second TM1 threat notice arrived, reinforcing the need to act quickly. The message was clear: her continued presence in Northern Ireland would endanger her parents, and the threat was not idle.
Her departure was not just a career move, but a life-altering act of protection. "I could not stay and risk my parents being killed," she said, her voice still marked by anger and frustration. "I'm still very angry towards the PSNI. It felt like we were left hung out to dry. My mood is still up and down. I still check the cameras on my parents' home even now. I blame the PSNI entirely for this."
The case of RB207 is just one of six test cases currently being heard by a judge, but it has come to represent the broader struggle faced by thousands of PSNI officers whose personal information was exposed. The compensation claims are mounting, with the financial cost to the PSNI—and by extension, the public—estimated at around £120 million, according to BBC News NI. But for those affected, the true cost is measured in sleepless nights, fractured communities, and families forced to uproot their lives.
The breach has also reignited longstanding tensions in Northern Ireland. For Catholic officers like RB207, joining the PSNI has always carried unique risks. Despite progress since the Good Friday Agreement, dissident republican groups continue to target police officers, especially those from Catholic backgrounds. The breach made it easier for these groups to identify and threaten officers, undermining years of efforts to build trust and diversity within the force.
According to Belfast Telegraph, the High Court in Belfast heard the case in December 2025, more than two years after the breach. The protracted legal process has only added to the sense of frustration among affected officers, many of whom feel that the PSNI failed to protect them when it mattered most. For RB207, the experience has left deep scars. "It felt like we were left hung out to dry," she said, a sentiment echoed by many of her colleagues.
Her story is a stark reminder of the human consequences of institutional failures. While compensation may offer some measure of justice, it cannot undo the fear, the disruption, or the loss of trust. For RB207 and others like her, the decision to leave Northern Ireland was not taken lightly—it was a last resort, driven by a fundamental need to protect those they love.
As the High Court continues to hear evidence and weigh compensation claims, the PSNI faces a long road to restoring confidence among its ranks. The lessons of the 2023 data breach are clear: when the security of those who serve is compromised, the effects ripple far beyond the walls of any institution, touching families, communities, and the very fabric of public trust.
