by Paul
After several hours, I realised I couldn’t take any more. I had to get out of the house, with all its painful reminders of the Christmases we’d shared with April. I know I should have told Paul where I was going, but I didn’t even know myself.
With the wind howling around me, I clambered into the car and turned the key in the ignition. The thirty-second walk from the house had left me soaked through, but I could barely even feel the rain on my skin. I flicked on the windscreen wipers but it was getting heavier by the minute. I only managed to drive a few miles along one of the back roads near Machynlleth before I had to pull over. Pulling on the handbrake, I collapsed on the steering wheel and started to cry again.
I wasn’t aware of how quickly the road was flooding, or how long I’d been gone. Of course I later felt terrible for the worry I’d caused my family, but when your grief is so intense it’s hard to focus on anything but your own agony.
I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard a knock on the window and I was surprised to see Dave standing outside, drenched. I didn’t know that Paul had been so worried he’d called him and Dave had set out to find me. The road was now badly flooded and he couldn’t get his car through, so he’d hitched a lift with a farmer who’d been passing in a 4×4. It was a mark of how dedicated our FLOs were that they were willing to be on 24-hour call, even at Christmas time.
I opened the door and he climbed into the passenger side without saying anything.
‘He’s had three meals today,’ I wept. ‘He’s warm.’
Dave didn’t have to ask who I was referring to.
‘I know, Coral,’ he said. ‘It’s totally shit.’
Dave phoned home to say I was safe. We chatted for a while and, when the rain had eased off, we drove back to the police station, where we met Paul. He looked relieved and gave me a hug, but I was still numb. It was going to be a difficult few days.
By Christmas Eve, we were both feeling sick with stress, wondering how we’d get through the next day. In need of some thinking time, I took the dogs for a walk around the outskirts of Machynlleth. Walking past the golf course, I was caught off guard when I saw a poster with April’s face on it. Before I knew it, I had sunk to my knees, sobbing. I stayed there for a long time, as Autumn and Storm tried to comfort me.
The next morning, Harley awoke, full of beans at 6.30 a.m. Coral and I couldn’t face the thought of getting up, so we told a little white lie and said it was only 4.30 a.m. so we could have a little extra time in bed. We eventually got up at 7.30 a.m. and trudged downstairs to open our presents.
Harley was delighted with his television and Xbox games. Jazmin was a little quieter, but thanked us for the clothes and make-up we’d bought her. I was on the verge of tears and I could tell Coral wasn’t doing much better. No one mentioned April’s name, but we didn’t need to. She was all we could think about. Then, Jazmin gave us a photo album she’d put together. It had lots of family pictures, including some of April. It was a lovely gift, but I couldn’t look at Coral because I knew I’d burst into tears if I caught her eye.
Coral tried her best to do the traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings. It was delicious, but none of us had much of an appetite. We were relieved when Tracey popped in for a few hours. It was kind of her to think of us, as she has a family of her own and most mums are too busy on Christmas Day to spare any time for anyone else. She really lightened the mood and we even found ourselves laughing a little. But when she left, we all felt flat. We tried to watch some Christmas films, but it just didn’t feel right. While everyone went to bed, I reached for my diary.
‘April, today is a day for young boys and girls,’ I wrote. ‘But, while we go on without you, it doesn’t mean we’ll ever forget. I know I’ll never accept it. I don’t think I’ll ever stop hoping or loving you. I keep going for Mum, Jazz and Harley and I’ll look after your darling dogs, Autumn and Storm.’
The next few days were even worse. On Boxing Day, the house was like a morgue. Coral was very emotional at how quiet it was without April and things only got worse when she noticed a comment on Facebook from someone who claimed to have seen April on the night she disappeared. We called Dave, who made inquiries and quickly established that this person had seen April playing on another evening and wasn’t required as a witness. Still, it seemed irresponsible and insensitive that someone could post information like this on Facebook instead of going to the police.
Then, the day before New Year’s Eve, Coral was tidying up when she suddenly became very distressed and threw two pot plants out of the door, shaking and sobbing violently. It was so unlike her to behave in this way that I was really alarmed and eventually had to phone one of her friends to help calm her down. After a bit of coaxing, we discovered she’d found April’s birth tag from hospital. It was hardly surprising she was so upset. Our daughter had fought so hard to come into this world, only to be taken from it so senselessly. But what worried me most was that I’d never found it so hard to reach Coral before. We’d always been on the same wavelength and, even since April had gone, we tried our hardest not to fall down at the same time so we could pick each other up. But the festive season was testing us like never before and we found ourselves snapping at each other a few times, unable to deal with the pressure. For the first time, I began to understand how much we’d have to work on our relationship as well as keeping strong for the children and dealing with our own grief. Every day seemed like more of a struggle than the last.
To make matters worse, we had our first proper court visit looming over us – the day we’d finally see our daughter’s suspected killer in the flesh for the first time since he’d taken her. This was only a preliminary appearance and unlikely to last any more than a day, but the thought of coming face to face with Bridger was making me very anxious. Coral was still determined she wanted to face him. Considering how vulnerable she’d been of late, I was even more convinced I had to put my misgivings to one side and accompany her.
Before the hearing, the police arranged for us to meet the prosecution barrister, Elwen Evans, at a local hotel. Both Coral and I were nervous, as there were to be several people from the Crown Prosecution Service and the police, too, and we hoped we wouldn’t feel suffocated or swamped with information. To add to this, the meeting was scheduled for 9 January, the 100th day since April had gone missing and we were both feeling very low.
Elwen was a formidable woman and an even more formidable lawyer. One of the most respected and feared QCs in Wales, she struck fear into the hearts of anyone who crossed her in the courtroom. We were immediately glad to have her on our side. She was calm, spoke elegantly, and straight away made us feel at ease in her company.
‘The indications are that Mark Bridger will plead not guilty,’ she told us. ‘He’s very sure of himself, but this is good because he’ll talk quite a lot.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘In doing this, he’ll give us opportunities to take his case apart,’ Elwen explained.
‘I hope he takes the stand because I would like to see you take him apart,’ I said.
‘I would dearly love to,’ she replied.
Elwen also thanked us for not speaking to the press about the court case. She explained that, if we’d chosen to do so, this could allow Bridger’s lawyer to claim he hadn’t been given a fair trial. If someone had been selected to be on the jury after reading an emotional interview with us about April, they may have struggled to be impartial when presented with the evidence.
‘We’re very grateful you’ve maintained a dignified silence,’ she told us.
‘We just don’t want to take anything away from April,’ Coral said. ‘We need to get justice for her.’
Andy was also there and he explained that some new evidence against Mark Bridger had come to light. The police had recovered his computer and had found pornographic images of children. This suggested his crimes may have been premeditated, although they didn’t think April was necessarily the intended victim
. Naturally this made Coral and me sick to our stomachs, but we’d got to the stage where nothing surprised us and were pleased that the case against Bridger seemed as strong as it did.
I felt unusually positive when I picked up my diary that night.
‘April, I feel reassured now I’ve met all these amazing people,’ I wrote. ‘I think we’re in good hands with people who take pride in their jobs and truly want the best for you.
‘I love you, Dad xxx.’
7
Facing the Monster
Bridger’s court appearance posed some questions for Coral and me. The first was what to tell Jazmin and Harley. Coral was very stressed, as one of the local papers had published a piece about the hearing, and she was scared one of them would see it by mistake, or that someone would mention it in passing. We asked Dave and Hayley for their advice but they told us it might be better to wait until we came back from court to speak to our children properly about what had happened. It would be a very emotional conversation and, right now, we needed to save our strength to face the monster who took our baby from us.
The second was, quite obviously, how we would feel when we saw Bridger in the flesh. In my darkest moments, I was certain I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself – that I’d want to climb over the seats, push past the security guards and do to him what he did to my little girl. But, more than anything, I was worried about Coral. I wasn’t sure how she’d react, sitting so close to the man who killed her baby girl, as much as she said she wanted to face him.
At one point the previous week, it had looked like Bridger would not have to appear in court. Instead, he wanted to make his plea via video link. However, the judge, Mr Justice John Griffith-Williams, insisted he appear in person. Coral and I were divided on this. I had no real desire to see Bridger – in fact, I was scared of how I’d react if I did – but she was adamant it was something we had to do.
Our FLOs had arranged for us to stay on the outskirts of Mold the night before the hearing, as they didn’t want us to go to court in the morning after a long car journey. Before they picked us up, I took a long walk with the dogs, as I needed time to think. As usual, I climbed my favourite hill and tied a pink ribbon to the fence as I spoke to April. I couldn’t think of much to say, so I simply told her we loved and missed her.
When I got back to the house, Dave was already there. I got myself washed and changed and said goodbye to Jazmin and Harley before stopping to take one last look in April’s bedroom. It never seemed to get any easier, seeing her teddies spread out on the bed without her.
‘We’re doing this for you, honey,’ I whispered, before closing the door.
Dave drove us to the sanctuary, where we’d arranged to meet Hayley. There was a bit of a panic when she called to say she was having trouble getting over the mountain road that links Machynlleth to nearby Llanidloes. It had been snowing heavily and the driving conditions were poor, with lots of vehicles getting stuck. Thankfully, she managed to get on the road again and arrived shortly afterwards.
My Uncle Trevor and his wife Vicky had agreed to meet us at our hotel and it was nice to relax with them for a few hours and have some beers. We discussed how nervous we were about seeing Bridger. But Uncle Trevor also shares my love of tinkering with motorbikes and we spoke about the bikes he was doing up. The change of subject certainly helped ease my mind and, when they left just before midnight, I felt slightly more relaxed.
Coral went to bed and I got out my diary and started to write. Putting my thoughts down on paper had become almost compulsive.
‘Coral says she’s ready for tomorrow,’ I wrote. ‘I hope she’ll be OK, seeing the man who killed her baby girl. It will be devastating for me, but what it will be like for a mother I can’t imagine. She’s my biggest worry, but I’m also worried for Harley and Jazz at home. I hope they’re OK. The press will be out in force tomorrow. I don’t know how we will handle it.
‘I love you April. Dad xxx.’
It soon became obvious we’d never get a good night’s sleep. I dozed off for a bit but my mind was too busy to rest. After hours of tossing and turning, we admitted defeat at 5.30 a.m. and huddled together on the bed watching television for a few hours before we had to get up. We then showered and put on the pink shirts we’d selected for the day, both pinning pink bows to them. This was our way of feeling like April was with us.
Dave and Hayley picked us up just before 9 a.m. and drove us to the court. They’d warned us that there would be lots of press in attendance and they weren’t wrong. Outside the court steps, there were reporters, photographers and television crews, all waiting for our arrival. We’d already agreed that we would use the main entrance to the court to allow them one photo opportunity before the hearing started. On Dave and Hayley’s advice, we reasoned that once they’d got the picture they needed, they’d be more likely to leave us alone for the rest of the day.
We were led into a small box room, with a little television. There was also tea and coffee. We were told that this would be our private area for the duration of the case, as we weren’t allowed to mix with the witnesses in the larger holding room. It might have been small, but it was nice to know we had our own space.
We had a cup of tea with Dave and Hayley while we waited for Bridger to arrive but, as the minutes ticked by, it became obvious the van carrying him from prison was late. When we were eventually called through to the main courtroom half an hour later, I instinctively grabbed Coral’s hand.
‘Here goes,’ I said.
Coral recalls:
I’d been determined that Paul and I should go to court to see Bridger in the flesh. He had to face us and face what he’d done to us. I wanted him to see the agony in our faces, to look at us in the eye and see how he’d ripped us apart.
In the days leading up to the hearing, I’d had so many lovely messages from friends and strangers alike, wishing us well. There were literally hundreds and I’d never have had time to read them all, but I was grateful to everyone who’d taken the time to write to us or message us on Facebook.
I couldn’t speak publicly about the case, as neither Paul nor I dared do anything that might jeopardise Bridger’s right to a fair trial. It was beyond ridiculous that we were so keen to protect the rights of the man who’d butchered our child but the idea of him being acquitted on a technicality was more than we could stand. We had to get justice for April, if it was the last thing we did.
It felt like the longest half an hour of my life, waiting for the prison van to arrive, but when it did I wasn’t sure how to feel. Walking into the court, I felt my throat tighten at the sight of the crowds of people but I had to stay strong.
I was glad we didn’t have to walk through the packed room with hundreds of eyes boring into us, as we made our way up the aisle. Instead, we were led straight from our little room to the front row, where Dave sat on Paul’s side and Hayley on mine.
Bridger was brought out almost straight away and led into the glass-screened dock, no more than ten feet from us, with guards on either side of him. I grabbed Paul’s hand and my cheeks burned as hatred tore through me. Bridger was no different to what we’d remembered, apart from the fact his hair had grown a little. He looked scruffy in his blue jumper and jeans and he had the beginnings of a beard. How could a man who appeared so insignificant be capable of such evil?
Both Paul and I fixed our eyes on him but he looked down to his right, refusing to meet our gaze. As I stared at him, I imagined my eyes were lasers, slowly burning his skin. I was vaguely aware of the legal argument going on around me but the voices of lawyers drifted into the background.
This man had destroyed our lives for a few sick minutes of pleasure, to fulfil a fantasy so disgusting I couldn’t bear to think of it. I wanted him to know how I felt as I lay in my bed for days on end, crying so hard I was in genuine, physical pain. I wanted him to know how we felt when we opened April’s bedroom door and saw her empty bed; how we felt on Christmas morning, knowing her presents were ly
ing unwrapped in a cupboard. I wanted him to know how we felt thinking of the rest of our lives stretching out in front of us without April – a huge, gaping void that would only get wider as the years went on.
But, as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, I almost laughed. He didn’t care about us. His only concern was for himself and the realisation that his lies that had finally caught up with him.
I think I might have been crying myself – I have a hazy memory of dabbing my eyes with a tissue but I was so caught up in my thoughts that I couldn’t say for sure.
I started to think about what it would be like if I had a nail gun, if someone in the row behind me just happened to pass me one. He was so close to me that if everyone turned their backs for a moment maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to get to him. My eyes still on him, I imagined piercing his skin over and over, nail after nail after nail, hearing his screams as he begged me to stop. But even then he wouldn’t be suffering half as much as we were.
I squeezed Coral’s hand as tightly as I could the whole way through the hearing. When Bridger was brought into the dock, my nerves almost evaporated and a strange sense of calm came over me. He looked pathetic. We had the power now – he couldn’t scare us. The case against him was mounting and we hoped that soon he’d be rotting behind bars for the rest of his life.
In the first part of the hearing, Bridger’s barrister, Brendan Kelly QC, asked Mr Justice Griffith-Williams if the trial could be moved away from mid-Wales. He argued that there was too much ‘ill feeling’ towards Bridger here and that this would affect his right to a fair trial. Thankfully the judge declined this request, telling him that Mold had specifically been selected to make it as easy as possible for Coral and me to attend. He added that he felt there were sufficient safeguards within the jury system to ensure that Bridger would receive as impartial a hearing as possible.