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The mother of all evil

I should hate my brother and sister's killer, but how can I?


Published by: Nicola Fifiel and Laura Hinton
Published on: 6 October 2011

A gentle tug on my arm woke me. There was only one person who sneaked into my room when he couldn't sleep...
‘Harry,' I grumbled, rolling over. ‘It's too early!'
‘I want to feed the ducks,' giggled my three-year-old half-brother excitedly. ‘Ducks, ducks!'
‘Yes, I'm taking you and Elise out later,' I sighed, patting the covers, inviting him to climb on to my bed. ‘But, right now, I'd like a lie-in.'
It was the half-term holiday, and I'd been looking forward to a break from college. But Harry and my half-sister Elise, two, were already fighting for my attention.
Yesterday, they'd spent the day watching me play on my PS3. It'd been hilarious as they'd bopped their heads in time to the computer game's music.
And I'd promised my mum Fiona, 45, I'd take them to the park today to give her a break. She'd seemed stressed lately, and was arguing quite a bit with my step-dad Paul, 48.
‘It'll be like when Dad used to take me and Ollie to that park in Hastings,' I'd told her. ‘We used to love chasing the squirrels.'
‘Bless you,' she'd grinned, popping a kiss on my head.
It was too late now but, if I'd have thought about it, I could have invited my brother Ollie, 15, too. He lived an hour away in Burwash, East Sussex, with my dad Derek, 55, who'd been divorced from Mum for seven years.
I'd stayed with Mum after the break-up.
Still, I saw my brother and Dad every weekend, and it was great living with Mum, Paul and my other brother and sister.
‘They adore you,' Mum would laugh as Elise and Harry would run to greet me after college, before I'd even got my coat off.
‘Can we play cars?' Harry would beg.
‘No, dressing up,' Elise would urge me.
There was no time to call Ollie now though, because Elise had joined Harry in dragging me out of bed. ‘Wake up,' she cheered, her big blue eyes wide with excitement.
‘Okay,' I chuckled.
At the park, they pulled chunks of bread from a stale loaf, and threw them into the lake for the birds. ‘Quack, quack, ducks!' Harry squealed excitedly.
‘Don't let go of my hand,' I warned Elise, feeling her little fingers trying to wriggle free from my grip. I knew what would distract her.
‘How about I take your picture?' I grinned, pulling my camera from my bag. ‘Smile!'
Turning around, she stuck out her tongue.
‘Very pretty,' I laughed.
I loved taking pictures. It was a hobby I shared with Mum. Every birthday, Christmas and anniversary had been captured on film. I was even studying photography at college so that one day I could become a professional.
Back home, I was keen to show Mum my snaps. ‘We had a great time,' I babbled. ‘There they are by the pond, on the swings, chasing the ducks...'
‘Um, yeah, they're good,' she said, distracted.
‘Well, maybe one day you'll let me have a go with your camera,' I teased. She had a top-of-the-range £600 SLR I'd loved to have played with.
‘Mmm, maybe,' she said. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked me in the eye. ‘I need to talk to you about something.'
‘Okay,' I shrugged.
‘Don't think I love you any less, but I think it might be best if you move in with your dad.'
‘Oh, right,' I mumbled, shocked. ‘H-have I done something wrong?'
‘No,' she assured me. ‘It's just me and Paul need time together with the kids. You understand, don't you?'
And I did. As happy as I was living with Mum, it must have been hard for Paul looking after his own children and having me around too. I didn't want to get in the way.
Besides, if Mum and Paul were happy, then Harry and Elise were happy - and they meant the world to me. So, I moved in with Dad and Ollie.
‘I'll come and visit,' I promised my little brother and sister. Yet, over the next few months, I was so busy at college I never found the time. I'd plan to visit, then something would come up.
‘I feel awful,' I told Dad. ‘But you know what it's like, life gets
in the way.'
‘Your mum understands. Doing well at college is what matters if you're going to be a photographer,' he assured me.
It was only when I picked up a voicemail from Mum three months later, I realised just how long it had been.
‘Elise and Harry really miss you,' she said. ‘They'd love you to pop round and take them to the park.'
Must set a date. But first, I had to get my exams out of the way.
In fact, I was studying so hard that one afternoon in class, the teacher called my name three times before I realised she was talking to me.
‘Will, you're wanted at the headmaster's office,' she said.
Scared I was in trouble, I hurried there - and found a police officer waiting for me.
‘Something's happened to your mum,' he explained. ‘We need to pick your brother up from school.'
‘Mum?' I repeated, my mouth suddenly dry. Before I could ask questions, I was whisked away. But at Ollie's school, I spotted him and Dad looking shell-shocked - and his new wife Debbie, 52, was in tears.
This was serious. ‘W-what's happened?' I spluttered.
‘It's your mum,' Dad started to tell me. ‘She's in hospital from a suspected overdose.'
Mum had tried killing herself?! This was unreal. ‘Why? Will she be okay?' I asked.
‘We don't know yet,' he sighed.
Suddenly, a thought occurred. ‘Oh no, what if Harry and Elise were there when it happened!' I gasped, wanting more than anything to give them a hug.
‘Will, I'm sorry,' Dad interrupted my thoughts. ‘The police have found two bodies...'
Not my little brother and sister? What had happened? Until I found out, I refused to believe it, felt calm, convinced it was a mistake.
Then the police filled us in. Unknown to us, Mum and Paul had split days earlier and she'd moved out with the kids. She'd got it into her head he was having an affair, however much he denied it.
But this is what police believed had driven Mum to smother Elise and Harry, out of revenge.
No, no, no, this was way too sick and twisted. My mum? Capable of murdering anyone, let alone two of her kids?
‘There's been a horrible mistake,' I told myself. The police wouldn't let me see Mum in hospital to confirm I was right. But I was so convinced, I went on a college trip to a museum in London the next day.
When I got home though, it became clear this wasn't a cruel nightmare. Reporters camped outside our house, hounding us. Before long, Mum's face was all over the television and newspapers.
My mum was branded a cruel, heartless murderer.
I was torn into so many pieces - anger, hatred and love for Mum. And overwhelming grief and guilt for Harry and Elise. It would've been so easy for me to have seen them. Maybe I'd have noticed something was wrong... Perhaps I could have saved them.
Suddenly, every morning I woke expecting to see Harry at my bedside, wondering why he wasn't here... then it would hit me. It was two months later at their funeral that it finally sunk in that I'd never see them again.
Held at Mortlake Crematorium in Richmond, the music of a single piper played out as a single coffin passed by. Harry and Elise had been laid to rest together in a tiny pink and blue coffin, covered in moons and stars. A pink and blue teddy sat at the foot of it, on a bed of flowers.
My heart broke in two - I missed them so much, and hated Mum for what she'd done. But, bizarrely, I still loved her because... well, she was my mum. I couldn't help how
I felt, but it was hurting me.
Maybe her trial at Lewes Crown Court would help me to grasp why she'd do such a horrific thing. But again, I was torn in two - wanting to hear more to understand, but also unable to face hearing the facts.
So Dad kept me and Ollie updated, though I could hardly bear to hear what he told me.
‘Lads, she smothered Harry and Elise with their bedclothes to take revenge on Paul,' he told us gently. ‘Then she put their bodies in the boot of her Nissan, drove back to the family home and laid in wait for him with two knives. But he never arrived.'
Dad paused, taking a deep breath. ‘So, she took an overdose of Nytol, cut her wrists and walked into Heathfield police station, admitted everything and led them to her car.'
Harry and Elise's bodies were found wrapped in bin liners in two sports holdalls.
It was like she thought they were rubbish.
In court though, Mum claimed she couldn't remember anything, that she'd been severely depressed, and not in her right mind.
I didn't know what to think. Sure, she'd split with Paul,
but that wasn't a reason to kill her own flesh and blood. And I couldn't imagine she was capable of such a thing.
As the trial went on, I wanted answers. So many times I tried writing to her but, whenever I put pen to paper, I couldn't bring myself to ask ‘why?'.
‘Part of me doesn't want to upset her by asking,' I confided in Dad. ‘But part of me is scared of what the answer might be.'
Finally, I plucked up the courage and managed to write a five-page letter. I didn't mention the trial or what she'd done, that was a part of my mum I couldn't acknowledge.
But she was still my mum, so I told her what me and Ollie had been up to, mentioned I'd started using her SLR camera.
It felt like I was talking to the mum I knew, not the evil one in the headlines.
After that she wrote every month. To my darling Will... they always began, then she'd tell me what she was up to, like the photography course she'd started.
At last, I felt ready to face her in court for the first time.
Sitting in the public gallery, I hid at the back.
Seeing her walk in, a lump rose to my throat. She looked a shadow of the woman who'd taken me and Ollie to Disneyland Paris when I was six, and been as excited as us about the rides.
This wasn't my mum, it was a stranger I'd never understand. As realisation hit me, I fled the court.
It was two weeks later, on the day before my 18th birthday, that I got a call from my dad.
‘I've got some important news,' he started. ‘Your mum's been found guilty on both counts of murder.'
My knees buckled as he carried on. ‘She's been given two life sentences and must serve a minimum of 32 years.'
At best, she'd be 74 by the time she was released. As I cried, I wasn't sure who I was mourning more, Harry, Elise or my mum. I'd lost all three of them.
The next day, I received a card from Mum. To my darling Will, happy 18th birthday. Lots of love, Mummy, it read.
There was also a Post-it note attached to it. I'd love to wish you happy birthday on the phone, if you'd like.
But I couldn't face talking to her. Yes, she's my mum and I'll always love her, but she's a killer. She murdered my brother and sister. Ollie feels the same - he refuses to even write to her.
One day I'd like to speak to her, though. But not yet. I'm still mourning for Harry and Elise.
On the anniversary of their death this year, me and Ollie lit fire lanterns in the back garden.
‘Harry would have loved this,' I sighed, watching them flicker above us and imagining him squealing excitedly.
‘Elise too,' Ollie added in a voice thick with tears. ‘Those blue eyes of hers would have been wide with the wonder. I miss them.'
‘At least we've still got each other,' I smiled sadly.
It was then I truly appreciated the family I still have - my brother, Dad and Debbie. They're the ones I'll hold on to most tightly now.
William McCrow, 18, Burwash, East Sussex