Henriques cited the attempted abduction of Diane Power’s child before James, and other evidence that, at 12:30pm, three hours before they took James, a mother of two children saw Thompson and Venables and overheard Thompson say, ‘We will take one of these.’ She thought they were going to shoplift, but Venables confirmed in his interview that they were referring to taking a child out onto the road, where the buses and taxis pulled in and out, and pushing the child into the oncoming traffic to make it look like an accident.
***
While all this was going on, I was at home with my mum and sisters, where we all edged around each other – terrified of a real conversation. I know now that Mum was desperate to ask questions but didn’t dare, so silence remained our friend. We had no idea what was going on inside that courtroom and, although I was grateful for it, having to rely on a second-hand account was still hard. When Ralph came home after that first day and said he couldn’t go back, I think that’s when I really allowed my mind to engage with all the possibilities. He had been so determined to go every single day – what on earth was being said in that courtroom that meant he couldn’t go back? To be honest, I didn’t ask. I don’t remember much about that first evening but I know that Ralph changed out of his suit and went straight to the pub, leaving poor Ray to fill me in as best he could.
Ray says now, ‘My job was difficult. I had to almost protect you from yourself – from your inquisitive nature. I definitely had to filter what the police were telling me. They were giving it to me in a hard way and my job was to take that information and dilute it so that you could process it, and then live with it. Every conversation started with “it’s possible this has happened” or “there’s a suspicion this has happened”. Relaying that back to a grieving mother who doesn’t even know the half of it was such a responsibility, sometimes I felt like I was sinking. There was also the way that James was found. Knowing that you didn’t know that, it felt like I spent my whole time trying to find ways to relay the most terrible information to my broken baby sister. Just that one extra word could have tipped everything over the edge and the sense of responsibility was huge. Sometimes I am surprised I’m still alive myself really if I am honest: the funeral followed by the trial and having to sit and hear all that pure evil, it nearly finished me off, so God only knows how you are still standing. You are like a statue – so strong, amazing really.’
I will always be grateful to Ray for shouldering that burden. All my brothers and sisters rallied round me brilliantly, but it was different for him as he was on the front line finding out things that I still don’t know. My other brothers and sisters were able to provide a safe cocoon, as they also didn’t know the details; ignorance really was bliss for them.
***
Having the first day out of the way didn’t really bring any great relief, just the knowledge that it would have to be endured all over again the next day, where more awfulness would come to light. Worse than that for Ray, more air would have to be shared with the two boys who had caused all this pain and yet seemed utterly incapable of internalising what they’d done. They were sitting almost within touching distance of the family they had decimated and appeared oblivious to the consequences of their evil.
Day two focused on Richard Henriques reading out portions of police interview transcripts belonging to Thompson and Venables. I am not sure if that’s the first time that each of them heard what the other had to say about the day in question, but they both soon realised that each of them was blaming the other for everything. I am sure that listening to the slow shift in their stories as they each tried to save their own skins is fascinating for psychologists writing papers on child killers and psychopaths – to my family it just reinforced how sly these two ten year olds were and how there was no doubt they had the mental capacity to understand what they had done. The level of manipulation and deceitfulness was beyond comprehension – they went from complete denial that they had even been at The Strand shopping centre to simply trying to pass the buck, all the time forgetting that this was my child’s life they were playing with.
They were talking about the baby I had grown and loved more than life itself, the child I had nurtured but taken my eyes off for a split second. They had snuffed out everything he was and all that he could have become, and they had no care – as if they were arguing over who had stolen a bag of sweets. I found it particularly hard that we were all supposed to genuinely question if two ten year olds might not know good from bad – James was two years old and he knew right from wrong. It seemed inconceivable to me that we should even be questioning it in two boys so much older.
The interview transcription went on and on. What became clear to everyone was that they both definitely had a clear understanding of DNA and the implications of having James’ blood on them. This was backed up by a police officer involved in their interviews, who said: ‘Venables and Thompson admitted being in The Strand and that they saw James. They described the clothes he was wearing in great detail, proving that they were in his company for a long, long time. The breakthrough was when Venables asked if you could get fingerprints from skin. It was obviously playing on his mind after he had given his fingerprints on arrival at the station. Thompson later confessed that he and Venables had taken James from the shopping centre. It was obvious he was telling the truth as his feet twitched violently whenever he had to say anything about James – it was the most obvious giveaway and the only time I truly believed anything he was saying.’
The court was then told that Venables admitted to his own mother that he had killed my baby, but only once the tape was off. He later repeated this admission to the police at the same time as implicating Thompson. Ray describes it as being surreal – listening to childish ‘he said, she said’ and knowing it was about the life and death of my son. I believe that jurors were then shown very graphic photographs, inducing tears in some, and then witnesses were called – there were 37 in total. That meant there were 37 strangers who had seen my baby after I last had – seen him on the way to his death while I was still searching frantically, hoping he was inside the shopping centre. The last person saw him just minutes before he lay dying on a railway track, possibly at the same time I was running from shop to shop shouting his name.
Obviously the witnesses were a key part of the prosecution case. Albert Kirby and his team had organised identity parades for the nearly 40 witnesses who had seen Thompson and Venables dragging James along that day. Thompson had agreed to do his, but Venables requested to postpone his twice as he was too upset.
It was hard to know that my baby had encountered nearly 37 people on the journey to his death, all those individuals who could have intervened and saved his life. Do I blame them? Of course not. They weren’t the ones who had woken up that morning with evil on their minds. They didn’t end my baby’s life, and I know many of them suffered hugely as a result of what happened to James – I wouldn’t wish that level of guilt on anyone. I will never forget my own initial relief the first time I saw those boys leading my son away, convinced that two children could never do anything bad to him, so why should they have thought any differently?
The witnesses’ testimony was combined with the CCTV footage, and was the only time that Ray had to leave the courtroom. He says that for him that was the moment James started to be murdered and he just couldn’t sit there and watch it knowing there was nothing to be done, ‘What you wanted to do was reach into that video, grab hold of James and get him to safety. But you knew it was too late.’
I know that some members of the press echoed Ray’s sentiments, with one journalist remarking, ‘I think what made it so perfect for the front page was that we were almost getting to see a murder unfold before our very eyes. As soon as those pictures were released, it was like watching it happening in the moment, because those images of him being led away came after we already knew the outcome. When the police saw footage of James being led over the dual carriageway, it was then that they realised he hadn’t be
en taken by the two boys, dumped and then picked up by an older man. It was those tiny boys who couldn’t get over a wall, they were the ones who had taken him and killed him. I think even the police didn’t have a clue how to understand that and we were watching it all happen live. As soon as I saw the video footage I knew this was going to be huge – for the first time we had seen a murder on TV. That is definitely part of what makes those stills so hard to look at.’
Further on into the trial the court heard from the psychiatrists assigned to the case. Thompson, on the advice of his lawyers, didn’t see the Home Office forensic psychiatrist, but shortly before the trial he was interviewed by Dr Eileen Vizard, a child psychiatrist who has worked for over 35 years with children and families when serious abuse and violence has occurred. Her clinical interests include forensic child and adolescent psychiatry, including expert witness work in both family and criminal courts. Her evidence was called by the prosecution and she was asked whether, in February of that year, Thompson would have known the difference between right and wrong and, specifically, whether it was wrong to abduct and injure a child. She said that she did not know categorically but that, ‘If the issue is based on the balance of probabilities, I think I can answer with certainty.’ Of course in criminal cases evidence isn’t based on the balance of probabilities, it is reasonable doubt. But Dr Susan Bailey, the Home Office forensic psychiatrist who saw Venables on several occasions, had no doubt that he knew the difference between right and wrong.
The evidence read out was mostly devastating, no matter which side it came from, but I have been told that some of the most poignant words of the week were mine. My statement, made just after James went missing on the Friday night, was read out by the barrister, and one newspaper reporter said, ‘Those words were enough to crack the flintiest of hearts.’
I remember very clearly being asked to describe James, to help the police and volunteers frantically searching for him, and I’d said: ‘James’ hair is ready for cutting, his eyes are really blue, but in his right eye he has a brown streak. He also has a full set of baby teeth.’ I think I added that he loved anything to do with trains – something that turned out to be horrendously ironic – and described his outfit in great detail. Those words were said when I still had so much hope that this nightmare would end; they were the words of a mother who believed, against the odds, that her child was still alive and would come home. As another person in court that day later said, ‘It was the use of the present tense that finished me off.’
As witness after witness took the stand there were only two people who remained unmoved by what they were seeing and hearing.
Those who took to the stand included the Home Office pathologist who described how James died and other experts who went through the evidence to explain exactly how the forensics put Thompson and Venables squarely at the scene. There were also testimonies from other various child psychologists who tried to climb into the minds of these two child killers and then, finally, the evidence given by the police who had fought so hard for our son. This also involved airing more of the lengthy interview recordings – the hours of painstaking questioning carried out by the force. I remain so grateful that I didn’t have to listen to their childish voices denying all they had done to my son. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for those officers to survive hours of questioning children about the most heinous crime and then going home to their own. To know the true depths that people can sink to is a terrifying thing and means you can easily exist in a permanent state of fear – I know that more than most.
***
Meanwhile, life outside the courtroom took on a familiar pattern – Ray came home every night, accompanied by either Mandy or Jim, and between them they would debrief me and Ralph as much as possible on what had happened that day. I would wait for them by the window, then let them come in and get their shoes and jackets off. I’d put the kettle on and deliberately wait, careful not to ask them anything straight off; they all walked in looking pale and exhausted, as if they had aged in that courtroom and on the journey home. They would tell me all that I could stand, then Ralph would go to the pub and I’d go to bed. Sometimes Ralph and I discussed what we had been told, but most of the time all we could manage was a quick hug or a look. Often there was simply a silent acknowledgement that this was hell on earth; not living, just survival really, ticking off one day at a time.
The press presence was more intense than ever. There was no way I could even go out for a pint of milk, so I didn’t leave the house at all unless I had a hospital appointment. I can count on one hand the number of times I went out in six months. As Ray says, ‘You became a proper recluse, terrified to go out in public, terrified of life really.’
I actually had an antenatal check-up scheduled for the first week of the trial and Ralph came with me. It was a rare united moment and we couldn’t help but sneak a smile at each other when the consultant told us that the baby was doing brilliantly. Despite everything, it seemed that this baby was a fighter and determined to be part of our family come what may. During that trial, as I felt my baby kick defiantly, it certainly seemed as if our unborn child was stronger than all of us put together.
Chapter 14
Guilty
Wednesday, 24th November 1993, was the day that 12 complete strangers decided if my son would get the justice he deserved. The morning of the verdict felt as flat as any other – every day since the one James went missing had felt as pointless as the next. Obviously my biggest fear was that they’d walk free; it was a terror so deep that I could feel it eating away at my insides. A not guilty verdict would truly render every single hour of pain worthless. It was so awful that I couldn’t even entertain the idea, but at the same time I was aware that a guilty verdict wouldn’t give me what I really wanted – James was dead and nothing would change that.
If I am really honest, my hatred for those boys was deep and I was dreading confronting them, I had no idea how I would feel and what would happen. Ray had warned me not to expect any kind of suitable reaction from Thompson, Venables or their families – if their behaviour throughout the trial was anything to go by it would be the opposite.
I certainly had no idea how much contact Ray had had to endure with the families of Thompson and Venables. Early on in the trial it had all got far too close for comfort. Ray told me, ‘Late morning on the second day of the court hearing I decided to do the coffee run – anything to pass the time while we were waiting for the court to reconvene. I was getting impatient. So I asked Jim Green and the rest of the police team if they wanted a drink and in the end I had a request for 12 teas and coffees! I went off to place my order and was leaning over the counter when I felt somebody brush past me, knocking me sideways.
‘At first I just thought the person had accidentally barged into me and I turned around to see one of the boys’ mothers staring straight at me. I knew immediately she had done it on purpose and I just had to take a deep breath and say quietly to myself, This is wrong. Their camps were sticking together and stood lined up against the opposite wall looking at me, pointing me out as your brother.
‘I kept telling myself I was there for James and I didn’t want to let anyone down by losing my temper. Sean was fantastic and kept reminding us to maintain our dignity. I was proud of how we all handled it looking back; we did baby James proud.’
The world had gone mad: their children were on trial for killing my baby and their mothers didn’t even seem sorry. These feelings only got worse as the trial went on and my family saw their behaviour in court; I was repeatedly warned that I would find it hard.
Ray says now, ‘People often ask me what it was like seeing those two children sat there – on raised, padded stools because they were so small – in a big adult dock, accused of murdering my nephew. But I didn’t see them as children. I couldn’t see them as anything. I didn’t expect to feel anything really but what I did think I’d see was something etched on their faces to tell me that they understood what
they had done, some kind of shame or guilt, but there was nothing there to say, “I have done something terrible and I am being punished for it”. There didn’t even seem to be any kind of worry at their surroundings, just nothing, and I couldn’t get my head around that. They just looked out at the crowds with no care for who anyone was and the devastation they had caused or the little baby they had needlessly murdered.’
I think everyone expected them to at least find the court intimidating and oppressive – courtrooms are scary places and this one was very grand. It was really old-fashioned, like the ones you see on TV with lots of woodcarving, dark oak panels and lights. It was no place for children, especially when you added into the mix the 30-odd journalists who’d been allocated seats in order to cover the trial. That was enough pressure without also knowing that the judge had allowed the case to be transmitted to a room in a nearby office block where the rest of the media could listen live.
Perhaps Thompson and Venables felt more relaxed than expected because they’d been shown around the court before the trial in order to familiarise them with the room. It seemed that there were lots of measures in place to make things as easy as possible for them. For me it felt an over concern for their feelings that I have never understood or have really been able to deal with – my baby’s comfort was of no concern to them as they dragged him to his death and away from his mummy, so it followed that theirs would be of no interest to me. No one would have known about this visit had a national newspaper not obtained the story and splashed it across their front page just before the trial began. Naturally there was outrage in Liverpool and it added weight to the argument put forward by Venables and Thompson’s legal counsel that they would never receive a fair trial due to the excessive media coverage. To me it just felt like another blow to James.
I Let Him Go: The heartbreaking book from the mother of James Bulger Page 12