My James: The Heartrending Story of James Bulger by His Father

by Ralph Bulger

  The picture we had already seen of James running from the shop was captured at 3.42 p.m. and was followed within moments by scenes of Denise frantically searching for him. They were all taken outside the butchers shop on the ground floor of the mall. But just a minute later the images of James hand-in-hand with a young boy as they followed another youngster were taken on the top floor. Just four minutes after James had strayed from Denises side, he was led away from the precinct by two strangers.

  Despite the glimmer of optimism and the major breakthrough with the discovery of the images, the police search was as intense as ever. As the press conference continued at Marsh Lane, elsewhere police divers began trawling through the canal following even more reports from members of the public of a young boy seen on the banks of the water. There would be many more sightings from that point on, although not all of them were confirmed to have been James. The divers carried out a painful, inch-by- inch search, and it was an agonizing wait for them to finish, but when they did it gave us even more hope because they failed to find his body. I was more certain than ever that James was tucked away with these lads somewhere and that it was only a matter of time before he turned up. One police theory was that the two boys who had taken James could be living rough and that all three of them might be hiding in some derelict building somewhere.

  By now more and more information was starting to pour into the incident room that had been set up at Marsh Lane. It was being led by Detective Superintendent Albert Kirby, head of the Merseyside Police Serious Crime Squad. He was a very experienced detective, tall and slim and with a reputation for fairness while accepting no nonsense. He was supported by Detective Chief Inspector Geoff MacDonald, a solid and decent man who was straight- talking, and Detective Inspector Jim Fitzsimmons, who was thorough and compassionate throughout the inquiry. There had been many more possible sightings of James and every last lead was being followed. But James had still not turned up and we were facing our second night without him.

  We had all gone past tiredness now and carried on regardless. I felt dizzy and disorientated at times through stress and lack of sleep, but I had to keep shaking myself to try to get rid of the spinning sensation in my head. Everyone was running on adrenaline, and it is incredible how far the body can be pushed at times like these. It is like a survival instinct that kicks in, only in our case we were fighting for the survival of James.

  It was still very cold, and everyone carried on searching in the same manner as the night before until the early hours of Sunday morning. The earlier hope Denise and I had felt was beginning to diminish again as we failed to find our son. When we all returned home, Denise and I and members of the family talked for hours through the night about what could have happened to James. There was very little we didn’t consider, but each time we tried to come up with a positive outcome. None of us could bring ourselves to speak out loud our darkest fears that James could be dead. Of course it crossed all of our minds, but I think instinctively we all knew it would not be helpful to start talking that way. No body had been found and so there had to remain some hope that he was still alive. Privately, I was terrified that the boys may have been used by a paedophile ring to entice James away without attracting suspicion. But I wouldn’t allow myself to share these thoughts with anyone.

  ‘What if James has fallen into a rubbish skip and can’t get out? What if he is locked in a store room somewhere and no one knows he is there?’ Denise questioned.

  ‘Then he is going to be found eventually,’ I reasoned. ‘We both know James is a little fighter. If he’s locked away somewhere, someone will realize. They have to. A little boy can’t just vanish into thin air. He could still be with these young boys and they could be hiding out somewhere, anywhere. They probably think they are in a heap of shit now and are too scared to bring James back, but they can’t hide for ever.’

  ‘My guess is that he has got lost somewhere, and because it’s been so cold, he’s found somewhere warm to shelter. He has to turn up sometime or other,’ Jimmy chipped in.

  We had to keep each other going with possibilities that carried a happy ending. Some of the theories may have been lame but they were better than believing that James was dead when we really had no idea what had happened to him.

  The story continued to dominate the headlines, which in turn meant that information kept pouring into the incident room, where detectives worked around the clock to collect and assess new sightings and possible leads. I didn’t even bother to try and go to bed that night. We had arrived home late, and after we had all chatted for about an hour, I sat up in a chair and closed my eyes. Even if I had wanted to sleep, my mind was so scrambled it wouldn’t let me. I just wanted the morning to come so we could get back out there once again, and I prayed with all my might that this would be the day that James was coming home.

  On Sunday, 14 February, Valentine’s Day, I returned to Marsh Lane as soon as possible. The senior detectives had called another press conference for the media, although Denise was in no fit state to take part in it. We agreed that I would read out a statement instead. It was a horrible ordeal and the mood was pretty grim. Publicly the police kept stressing that while they knew James had been taken by these two boys, they were keeping an open mind as to what had happened to him. But it was now day three and there was no sign of our baby. With all the will in the world, it was hard not to lose faith, and I think everyone carried a sense of dread that day.

  You could feel an atmosphere around the police and the press, who must have known by now that it was only a matter of time before the inevitable tragic outcome was delivered. Here was a child who had been snatched from a shopping centre and three days later he was still nowhere to be seen. I felt desperate inside but, until I knew otherwise, I had to keep hoping. I am sure I must have been lying to myself, because I probably knew deep down this was not going to end well, but I was never going to give up until I knew otherwise.

  With a heavy heart, I went into the media briefing, which began with a statement from DCI MacDonald.

  He said, ‘It is now forty-four hours since James went missing on Friday. We have continued searching buildings, open land and the canal area in the Strand. I would like to make an appeal for anyone living in the area of Bootle, and perhaps towards Walton, to search their gardens, their back sheds and anything of that nature as the child may have wandered off and found somewhere to sleep.

  ‘We have a sighting of James at around 4.30 p.m. on Friday in the Breeze Hill area of Walton near a reservoir. This is a fully enclosed reservoir and no access can be made into the water area. A lady saw a small boy answering his description with two other boys. She viewed the video pictures of the two boys and is quite confident that they are the two boys she saw, and also, having seen the photographs of James, she is quite satisfied that that is James also. We are anxious to trace any more persons who may have knowledge of who these two boys are or who may have seen them in this particular area. I do have enlarged photographs of the boys.

  ‘We have been getting help from the public and we are anxious that anyone who has information come forward. We request vigilance from everyone to search the area for James’

  It was then my turn to address the press. I could barely hold my head up and face them, I was so fatigued and desolate. It was also one of the most alien situations I have ever confronted — standing in front of the country’s media — but I would have walked over hot coals and stuck needles in my eyes if it meant finding James.

  ‘Me and my wife just want to say to the lads who were seen with James, whoever they are, if they could come forward and get themselves eliminated or bring my son back, so long as he gets back . . . If they could bring him to the nearest police station or somewhere safe, or phone, or something . . . or anyone who can give information, no matter how small it is, just get in contact.’

  DCI MacDonald continued: ‘The witness who saw James with the boys asked about the little boy. They said they were in the area having just found th
e child. Then they took him away and went off into Breeze Hill. She thought they were round about twelve years of age and it was about a mile away from the Strand. They left the reservoir area and went towards Breeze Hill, the main dual carriageway. It is a distinct possibility that they are frightened. We are also looking at the possibility of boys who have run away from home, either absconders or missing from their homes, possibly squatting. Initially the woman thought it was unusual but then said she was confident they all seemed to be together because the little boy seemed happy to go along with them.’

  After the press conference I went to meet up with Jimmy and some of my other relatives to start a new search around the reservoir area. Jimmy remembers very clearly what happened next.

  We met at the car park of The Mons pub nearby and decided to split up and go our separate ways so we could cover as wide an area as possible. Ralph looked absolutely dreadful. He was gaunt, sunken in the face and totally done in. None of us had had any sleep but we just kept plodding on in the hope that something would turn up. It was the same routine: searching housing estates, streets, bins, parkland — absolutely anywhere there was a possibility we would find the baby.

  By now I had a terrible sense of foreboding, a sinkingfeeling in the pit of my stomach that James was never going to be found alive. I think deep down Ralph knew that too, but he had to hang on to the hope of seeing his son again. Too long had passed without any more sightings of James and the situation really was dreadful.

  We carried on searching, hour after hour, and every now and again we would all meet up in the pub car park to regroup and swap any relevant information. At one stage I volunteered to go back to the police station to see if there was any news.

  As soon as I got there I spoke to Geoff MacDonald and I knew it was bad news. Even before he opened his mouth the look in his eyes gave it away. Then he told me they had found a body. It is hard to describe what I felt, but the only thing I remember was this awful pain in the pit of my stomach. My legs seemed as if they were going to give way and I just felt weak from head to toe. I shook my head from side to side and swore out loud, but other than that I said very little. In my mind, all I could think about was Ralph and Denise. I knew they were going to face the most terrible moment of their lives.

  Whether it was shock, sadness or anger that I felt, or all of them rolled into one, I cant say, but my body learned a coping mechanism that day which has stayed with me until now — the ability to lock my own feelings away as if they don’t exist. The most important job I had to do was protect and look after my kid brother whose son had just been found dead. It didn’t matter how I felt. Baby James was dead and I had to be there for Ralph.

  He asked me where Ralph was and I told him he was still out searching. He said I needed to get hold of him as soon as possible and get him back to the station. The strain and distress was obvious on the faces of all the police around me.

  Geoff told me the news we had all been dreading. He said they had found the body of a small boy and there was no doubt it was James. Denise had been told and we needed to get to Ralph as soon as possible. He asked me to break the news to him. It was the right decision as it was better coming from me than anyone else. I drove back to the car park to find Ralph, dreading the moment that I finally arrived there. How was I going to tell him? How do you tell someone that his son is dead?

  When I got there he was already in the car with Denise’s brother Ray Matthews, because a police officer involved in the search for James had told them to return to the station. It was the most awful thing to have to tell your baby brother. His life was about to change for ever. I took a deep breath and walked over to the passenger seat of the car where Ralph was sitting. Denise’s brother Gary was with me, and he asked Ray to jump out of the car for a word and took him to one side.

  ‘I’ve got some news, Ralph,’I said. ‘It’s not good, I’m afraid.’

  Ralph leapt from the car and we walked a few yards across the tarmac before I just threw my arms around him and held him for dear life. My heart was beating so fast as I clung to him, not wanting to say the words.

  ‘Ralph, they have found baby James. They have found him. I am so, so sorry, but he is dead. He’s dead, Ralph.’

  I moved away from hugging Ralph and held his face in my hands. He just nodded at me, unable to speak or move. His face was ashen, as if the blood had drained from him, and then I looked into his eyes. They looked like stone, as if the life had left him in that split second. His body was as limp as a rag doll with the shock. The haunted look on Ralphs face that day will never leave me.

  ‘Where is he, Jim?’ he finally said.

  ‘I don’t know, Ralph. I don’t know.’

  His hands were gripping my jacket by now, but still he couldn’t move. He was totally stunned into silence.

  ‘We need to get back to the station, Ralph. Denise is there and she needs you. She knows that your son is dead. Let’s go back now and sort things out. Come on, let’s go there now. We will find out everything when we get there, and you will need to look after Denise, but I am here for you, Ralph, whenever you need me. I am just so sorry.’

  He nodded again and slowly let go of my jacket. We both just stood therefor a few moments before I held his freezing cold hands in mine and squeezed them hard. I had no words of comfort to bring him in his darkest hour. I put my arm around his shoulder and guided him back to the car before the remaining convoy of vehicles at the carpark headed back to the station.

  The drive back to the police station was in silence. We were all lost in sorrow and disbelief. I don’t even know if it had really sunk in with Ralph yet, but I knew him very well and sensed an explosion of grief was on its way. I felt physically sick. My heart was still pounding as I tried to put myself in Ralph’s shoes. It was like we had been dropped into a horror movie and it was almost impossible to believe this was happening. Everyone’s lives had been turned upside down and I had no idea how Ralph and Denise were ever going to get through this. How could two parents survive something so huge and devastating? None of us knew then that there was far worse to come.

  4

  Who Did This to My Son?

  I can remember Jimmy holding me in the car park as he told me that James was dead. It was as if I was frozen to the spot. I was numb from head to foot; in a strange way it felt like I wasn’t even in my own body. I just didn’t have any words to say. I don’t think I was in disbelief, but maybe my mind and heart weren’t able to process the information that had been delivered to me. It was only as we started to drive towards the police station in silence that my whole body began to tense. The sickening knot that had gnawed away at my stomach since James had disappeared began to magnify into what felt like a huge ball of fire that was engulfing me, body and soul. I thought my body was going to explode like an erupting volcano as my rage took over me. I clenched my fists in silence, my chest tightened and I just wanted to get out of the car and scream.

  When we got to Marsh Lane, I ran towards the door of the police station and got taken through to the back of the nick. The first person I saw was Geoff MacDonald and I just let rip, all my emotions pouring out of my body.

  ‘Where’s my son?’ I screamed. ‘I wanna see my James now. What the fuck have they done to him? I’m gonna kill the bastards’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ralph, but you can’t see him now,’ he replied with great compassion.

  ‘Are you sure it’s him? How do you know it’s my baby? What did those bastards do to him?’

  ‘Were very sure, Ralph, and I’m so very sorry.’

  The next thing I remember I was punching the walls and I was just kicking and screaming the place down before I collapsed on the floor and began wailing like a baby. My brother Phil was trying to calm me down, and when I had pulled myself together I went up to Geoff MacDonald’s office. My rage was still out of control as I smashed my fists onto his desk, demanding some answers.

  ‘Who did this to my son?’ I screamed. ‘Have you got the bast
ards? If you have, just let me at them and I will kill them. What did they do to him?’ I repeated.

  ‘We don’t have the people responsible yet, Ralph, but we will get them. I promise you that.’

  Geoff MacDonald couldn’t have been more kind and gentle if he’d tried. I could see in his face that he really did care and that he was totally distressed by what had happened. He was one of the senior investigating officers who had been to the site where my son’s body had been discovered, but at this stage he didn’t tell me any details about what had happened to James, only that the police were sure it was my son and that he had definitely been murdered. I sensed that he understood how angry I was and, even though I knew I was out of control, I didn’t feel as if he was judging me. I also believed him when he promised me that he would find whoever killed my son.

  I was eaten up with fear that James had been abducted, sexually attacked by perverts and then murdered when they had finished with him. I realized for the first time that the horrors that had filled my head could now be a reality. I knew I had to calm down to go and see Denise, but my basic instinct as a man, and as a dad, was dictating everything. Geoff MacDonald’s manner seemed to calm me for a short while — long enough for my brother Philip to take me off to the toilets and talk me down. He told me that I had to be strong for Denise, and he was right. She needed me and I had to go to her. I would have to deal with everything else later.

  I walked into a toilet cubicle and felt a rush of nausea. My stomach was in agonizing spasms and my limbs turned to jelly. I began retching violently over the toilet but nothing came up. Eventually, when I could stand again, I came out and splashed some water on my face. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror I saw a stranger, a man I no longer recognized. My eyes looked like they were going to pop out of my head, blazing with anger and bloodshot from tears and rage. I looked pale and thin, but most of all I could see shame and disgust. I couldn’t bear to look at the bleary- eyed face before me. I hated myself so much because my son was dead and I felt that it was my fault. I had failed to protect my own flesh and blood, that beautiful little boy who would never have harmed anyone. How could someone have hurt him?