by Paul
I also wanted to show my gratitude to the volunteers. We had some spare tins of biscuits lying around, so Melere gave me a lift to the community centre to drop them off. It was the least we could do. Luckily, we used a lesser-known side entrance and managed to avoid being detected by the press.
By the Thursday, our house was still packed with friends and family and the press were camped outside, so our FLOs had decided that it was no longer sensible to share sensitive information about the investigation with us in our own home.
Dave and Hayley quickly realised that our little terraced house was the centre of our family life. It was the only place April had ever lived and we’d made so many happy memories with her there. They appreciated that in the weeks and months ahead, it would be important for us to keep those memories intact, as far as we were able. As officers with over fifty years of service between them, they knew only too well what kinds of awful things the police might have to share with us as the investigation progressed.
Unbeknown to us, they’d been working hard behind the scenes to provide a ‘sanctuary’ for us – a safe house at a secret location where we could speak to officers in private, away from the prying eyes of the press. This would also double as an office for Dave and Hayley. As grateful as we were for the support of our family, friends and neighbours, from early on the police made it clear to us that anything they told us must be treated in the strictest confidence or we risked prejudicing the investigation.
At first, Dave and Hayley had tried to find a room for us at the small police station in Machynlleth. However, as this was the most high profile case the police in our small town had ever dealt with, it had become a hive of activity overnight and as a result was incredibly chaotic – even the rest room would have been too busy to accommodate us. Dave then began ringing round local businesses and eventually found one which had a spare room. Of course the room was completely bare, and Dave thought it looked too clinical, so he’d spent most of Wednesday evening making it look homely – sourcing tables, chairs, some plants and a fridge. He hung photographs he had taken of local landscapes and wildlife on the wall to make it look as welcoming as possible. It’s hard to describe how much of a difference these little things made.
Our first meeting with Andy John at the sanctuary came late on Thursday afternoon, when Dave and Hayley received a phone call from him asking if he could meet us. Bridger was still in custody and forensic teams had been working round the clock, combing his cottage and his car for evidence which might help lead us to April. Dave and Hayley knew there had been an important development, but they didn’t know what it was.
By this point, the press had realised that Dave and Hayley were our FLOs and whenever they were seen coming in or out of the house, rumours of developments in the case started to circulate amongst them. To us, it was important they didn’t find out where the sanctuary was. After updates on the case were delivered, it was crucial we were given time and space to process what we’d been told and it certainly wouldn’t help if we were besieged by photographers at the front door.
Dave and Hayley picked us up at the house and drove us there, where Andy was waiting. It was only a short journey – around five minutes in the car – but Dave kept his eye on the rear-view mirror at all times, in case an eagle-eyed photographer spotted us and tried to follow. Thankfully no one seemed to have noticed us leave the house.
The mood was sombre. It was hard for Coral and me to know what to feel. Given what we’d been told on Tuesday evening, it was obvious that the police were working on the assumption April was dead. If Mark Bridger had killed our daughter, we wanted them to uncover every scrap of evidence they could find so we had the greatest chance possible of putting him behind bars for the rest of his life. But the more evidence they found, the more our already slim hopes of finding April alive would crumble. Coral, in particular, was finding it extremely difficult to accept our daughter was gone. Like any mother would be, she was still full of hope that we were being summoned to the sanctuary because April had been found safe and well.
But, as soon as we stepped into the place, we knew the news wouldn’t be good. Andy had the same grim expression on his face as when we’d first met him on Tuesday. There was little point in formalities and we were both glad when he got straight to the point.
‘The forensic teams have identified spots of April’s blood in Mark Bridger’s house,’ he said, slowly. ‘We’re confident this means that April was in the house.’
I nodded, willing him to continue.
‘We also believe this means she came to significant harm within the property,’ he added.
Neither of us said much. I’m not sure if we even cried. A thousand questions were running through our minds, but we didn’t have the strength to voice them.
I’d expected to be hysterical but instead I felt like something was clawing at my insides and slowly destroying me, bit by bit. What had that bastard done to my little girl?
Andy didn’t stay long. He knew that we’d already built up a strong rapport with Dave and Hayley and it was better if we talked things through with them. They spent the next few hours explaining the implications of this development to us. The forensic team had used the samples of April’s DNA taken from the belongings we’d handed over to establish that the blood did, in fact, belong to her. Even though there was no sign of her body, the investigation was fast becoming a murder inquiry.
‘Is there any way it’s not April’s blood?’ Coral asked.
Dave bowed his head. ‘The results of the DNA profiling show that it is,’ he replied. ‘The chances of these results being wrong are around one in a billion.’
Early the next morning, Bridger was arrested on suspicion of murder. We were told the police had until 5 p.m. that afternoon to formally charge him. We knew this was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear that awful word.
At times like this, it’s easy to slip into denial. While I’d accepted what the police had told us the previous evening, when the tears finally took hold of me in the early hours I began to allow myself to doubt what they’d said. Perhaps April was still being hidden somewhere and the spots of blood in the cottage had appeared because she’d grazed her knee or cut her finger? Plus, there was no sign of her, dead or alive. How could the police know anything for sure?
But, realistically, we knew they were now looking for a body – and all we could do was wait.
We didn’t attend the press conference held by the police that morning. Although she would have done anything to help find April, Coral had found Wednesday’s experience very distressing and there was no real need for us to face the cameras again.
However, the news channels were still playing in the living room as friends and family made endless cups of tea and coffee, desperate to help but not sure what to do or say. Detective Superintendent Bevan, along with another senior officer, Superintendent Ian John, briefed the media on the latest developments, both wearing pink bows.
Perhaps most significantly, they announced that the search was to be scaled down and that the hundreds of volunteers who had turned up to help find April were no longer required. From now on, the search would be carried out solely by professionals.
Superintendent John told reporters: ‘We want to acknowledge and are extremely grateful for the efforts of the community volunteers who have supported the professional searchers in trying to locate April. They have been a vital part of our team throughout this search operation. Quite frankly, their commitment has been an inspiration to us all.
‘The dynamics of the search have now changed and, due to the passage of time and the developments within the investigation, it is no longer appropriate for us to expect untrained members of the public to continue the search.
‘Now, we only require professional searchers to be involved in the ongoing search which continues in and around Machynlleth.’
Afternoon came and went but there was still no sign of Bridger being charged. We were soon told that the police
had been granted special permission by the court in Aberystwyth to hold him for another twenty-four hours of questioning.
It was a very trying time. While Coral and I knew about the damning forensic evidence, we couldn’t share these details with anyone – not even our closest family. Dave and Hayley impressed upon us just how important it was to keep this information to ourselves, as neither the search team nor even many of the officers assigned to the case knew about the development. If it was leaked, it could significantly harm the investigation. In fact, if and when the case came to court, Bridger’s lawyer could argue it had affected his right to a fair trial, particularly if the media printed details of the evidence before it had been put before a jury. As much as it pained us to keep things from the people who had provided such unwavering support to us, we knew we couldn’t breathe a word of what we knew to anyone.
Dave and Hayley explained that in many cases where a child has been murdered, some key evidence has actually been withheld from the parents until the trial because the police have been so concerned that they might, even unwittingly, share some sensitive information with someone who shouldn’t be party to it. In our case, Dave and Hayley told Andy how important it was for us to kept in the loop and how we could be trusted to keep details of the evidence to ourselves. Dave stressed that there was only one condition attached – neither of us could be told anything unless the other was there. If one knew something the other didn’t, not only would this cause confusion, which could potentially harm the investigation, it could also fuel resentment between Coral and me.
That night, reporters on television reminded viewers that if Mark Bridger had not been charged by 5 p.m. the next day, officers would have no choice but to let him walk free. To Coral and me, this was nothing short of unthinkable.
‘They need to speed things up,’ I said to Dave. I was trying to keep my cool, but anger had now started to set in and I was powerless to stop the rage that was mounting against the animal who had taken my precious girl. The idea of him walking away without so much as a slap on the wrists made me feel physically sick. ‘They can’t just let him go!’
After spending hours in the pressure cooker that had become our home, you could have forgiven Dave if he’d lost his temper from time to time, but even on this most testing of days he remained as calm as ever, no matter how anxious he was inside.
‘Paul, that won’t happen,’ he told me firmly. ‘Let me tell you, he’s going nowhere.’
I didn’t know what to believe and I was barely aware of darkness falling. I’m not sure if either Coral or I slept at all, but when we got up the next morning all we could think about was the 5 p.m. deadline and the prospect of the man who appeared to have taken April being released. A long day of agony stretched out ahead of us as we waited to hear his fate.
Fortunately Dave recognised how distressing this was for us and decided that he and Hayley should take us out for the afternoon.
‘Why don’t we go down and have a look at the pink bows?’ he suggested.
The idea of going anywhere or doing anything that wasn’t essential seemed ridiculous, but Coral and I were beginning to feel suffocated in the confines of the house. Everywhere we looked there was some reminder of April and, although we were grateful for all of the support we’d received, the living room and kitchen were constantly packed with people. We barely had room to collect our thoughts.
I felt a lump spring up in my throat when we were driven down the main street in Machynlleth: there wasn’t a window or a fence post which didn’t have something pink on display. As well as bows, people had put out teddy bears and balloons in April’s favourite colour. These were such simple gestures but they gave us an idea of just how many hearts had been broken by our personal tragedy. Machynlleth had been rocked to its core and would never be the same again.
While we were driving, Dave noticed some members of the mountain rescue team who had been out searching in the town and pointed them out to us.
‘I’d love to shake their hands,’ I said.
Dave immediately pulled over. ‘Do you want to shake their hands?’ he asked.
I looked at Coral and we both nodded our heads. ‘Yes,’ we said, in unison. We hadn’t realised this was a possibility but we were desperate to say thanks to the people who’d braved the elements to search for April round the clock.
‘Well, why don’t we?’ Dave said.
Hayley then got out of the car and stopped the searchers in their tracks.
‘Mr and Mrs Jones would like to speak to you,’ she said.
We couldn’t express our gratitude in words, so we simply grabbed hold of their hands and said a simple ‘Thank you.’ All of them had tears in their eyes.
By coincidence, Dave and Hayley met two members of the team the following evening, as they were staying in the same hotel, a few miles outside of Machynlleth. They later told us that there were more tears as they recounted the meeting and Dave joked that the searchers were speaking as if they’d met the Pope. It took us just a few minutes to thank them for their work, but I don’t think we’ll ever truly know how much it meant to them.
The police promised us that we’d be the first to know of any developments. Dave and Hayley knew we’d been glued to our television for the past few days and the last thing they wanted was for us to hear it on the news. We’d initially been told Andy wanted to meet us at noon, so we couldn’t stray far from the town, but the meeting was postponed several times. This didn’t do anything for our nerves. It was important Dave and Hayley had mobile phone reception to allow them to speak to Andy whenever he called, so Dave then drove us up one of the hills on the south side of Machynlleth. He told us to spend a few moments together, while he and Hayley waited in the car.
From early on, it was clear that our relationship was important to Dave. He knew how much we needed each other, but he was also painfully aware of how the murder of a much-loved child can rip even the strongest of marriages apart. I’ve heard varying statistics on the issue, but it’s believed fewer than ten per cent of couples will stay together after experiencing this kind of trauma.
It was only then Coral and I realised we hadn’t had any time alone together since April was taken. Those precious few moments, where we could cry together and console each other, provided a little comfort, albeit small. Although it would be pushing it to say we enjoyed ourselves – with April gone, we felt like we’d never, ever enjoy anything again – the fresh air and serenity of the countryside did give us a sense of relief. While the whole country appeared to be rallying round us, no one in the world felt the loss of April as keenly as we did.
In that moment, I spontaneously removed a pink ribbon from my pocket and tied it to a fence post. In the coming weeks and months, I’d climb this hill many times to do the same thing. It would become a daily pilgrimage and soon I had tied over eighty pink bows to that same post.
A few minutes later, we were interrupted by Dave, who’d got out of the car and was rushing towards us.
‘We need to go,’ he said. ‘Andy is heading to the sanctuary now.’
With no time to waste, we got back into the car and Dave drove us back into the town. Andy had already arrived at the sanctuary by the time we got there.
‘We’ve had the go-ahead from the Crown Prosecution Service,’ he said. ‘Mark Bridger has been charged with murder, abduction and attempting to pervert the course of justice.’
Andy reassured us that the search teams were still focused on finding April. Tears sprang to Coral’s eyes, but my first feeling was one of relief. I was just so glad Bridger was off the streets and that we would get our day in court. Naively I assumed this meant we’d soon find out exactly what he did with April.
But, over the next few hours, reality began to set in. Our friends and family were still gathered in our living room, anxious for news. A breakdown in communication between the Crown Prosecution Service and the police meant the news was released to the media before Dave had a chance to update them and w
e returned home to a very tearful group of people. It was only then I began to process that the charges were confirmation of the unthinkable. April was dead.
It was difficult to imagine feeling any worse than we did. In fact, the agony was only beginning.
5
The Evidence
Two days after Mark Bridger was charged, he appeared in court in Aberystwyth. Neither Coral nor I felt strong enough to attend, so we watched the coverage on television at home with Dave and Hayley. It was only a five-minute hearing, and the television cameras were not allowed in the courtroom, but the scenes outside when Bridger arrived were quite something.
Huge crowds had amassed and they were obviously baying for his blood. None of those gathered got to see him, as he was driven into court in a van behind a police escort, but several had to be restrained by the police. Others stood at the side of the road and hurled insults at the van as it passed. It was a strange feeling – we felt sorry for the police, who had to control the crowds, but it was hard to feel any anger towards the people who’d turned out. Most of them would be parents and grandparents themselves and this was their worst nightmare. Compared to what Bridger had done, this paled into insignificance.
The Monday also marked a week since April had been taken and, emotionally, we were on the edge. In the space of seven days, our lives had become unrecognisable.
The previous morning, there had been a procession in April’s name, followed by a vigil at St Peter’s Church in Machynlleth. Around 700 people had walked through the town, most wearing pink bows. Coral and I had made the last-minute decision to join the walk, although we shied away from going to the church, as we knew we were likely to be spotted by the media there. It was a stressful experience for Dave and Hayley, as we only told them of our plans around fifteen minutes beforehand. Given the intense press interest, significantly more police officers would have been on duty had they known in advance that we wanted to be there. But, ever calm under pressure, Dave managed to get us a last-minute police escort and warned all of our friends to let him know immediately if they saw any reporters or photographers. A huge group of neighbours formed what we like to call the ‘ring of steel’ around us. At one point, Coral was close to collapse and had to be supported by her friend Tracey and me. Together, we carried her through the crowds. It was an overwhelming experience but, as the streets were so packed, the press didn’t see us. At one point, I even walked past a man with a huge camera and he seemed to take no notice of me.