by Ralph Bulger
‘The sentence that I pass upon you both is that you should be detained during Her Majesty’s pleasure in such a place and under such conditions as the Secretary of State may now direct and that means you will be securely detained for very, very many years until the Home Secretary is satisfied that you have matured and are fully rehabilitated and are no longer a danger.’
I continued to hold Denise close and the judges words brought me some very real comfort, for he too had recognized that they were evil, cunning and wicked. It would be easy for me to say that as James’s dad, but here was a clever, learned and experienced judge who shared the same opinion as me. Denise remained motionless, but I could feel her body shaking as she hung on tight to me for all she was worth.
As Venables continued crying and Thompson appeared to gasp for air, the judge ordered the boys to be taken down from the court, and as they stood to go, Denise’s brother Ray stood up and yelled at them.
‘How do you feel now, you little bastards?’
I couldn’t have put it better myself.
I think the judge must have known that feelings would be running very high, and he had watched as my family acted with dignity and restraint throughout the whole trial. It says a lot that he didn’t react to Rays outburst, which in many instances would have been seriously frowned upon. It was said in the heat of the moment and the judge allowed it to pass without comment.
After they had gone, the judge continued:
‘How it came about that two mentally normal boys aged ten, of average intelligence, committed this terrible crime is very hard to comprehend. It is not for me to pass judgement on their upbringing, but I suspect that exposure to violent video films may in part be an explanation. In fairness to Mrs Thompson and Mr and Mrs Venables, it is very much to their credit that during the police interviews they used every effort to get their sons to tell the truth.
‘The people of Bootle and Walton and all involved in this tragic case will never forget the tragic circumstances of James Bulgers murder. Everyone in court will especially wish Mrs Bulger well in the months ahead and hope that the new baby will bring her peace and happiness. I hope that all involved in this case, whether witness or otherwise, will find peace at Christmas time.’
The judge had spoken from the heart, but nothing was ever going to bring James back. As much as we were excited and overjoyed to be having a new baby, it could never be a replacement for the son we had lost, and nothing could ever erase the horrors in our minds about what had befallen our baby that terrible day.
The police had done a brilliant job, as had the courts, and as for the jury I will never be able to thank them enough. I put my trust in their wisdom and judgement and they did not let us down. They saw with their own eyes what these two boys did to a little child and they delivered the right verdict. The burden on any jury is heavy, but for a trial like this it must have been immense.
The long day was over and I felt drained. Both Denise and I just wanted to leave the court, and Preston, and return to the safety of Kirkby and our home. There were no celebrations that night. We were relieved at the outcome, but we could not find anything to be happy about. If anything, seeing two young boys convicted of such a heinous crime made us feel even worse. James had died so needlessly, and even though the jury had unanimously convicted both boys, we still didn’t know why it had happened. No reasons had ever been put forward in the court and Thompson and Venables themselves had never tried to explain why they carried out this sickening crime. Their only response when asked by police why they killed James was to blame each other, and so neither of them ever took responsibility for their actions, burying our chance of ever finding out why they behaved as they did. That has never changed. Even the judge could not fathom how this terrible crime had come about. He recognized their evil and cunning but not their motives.
When I got home, I retreated into my shell. Denise did the same. It was a pattern that was emerging between us because we had simply run out of words. Denise also needed to rest, as to say the day had taken its toll on her would be an understatement. It had been a gruelling few weeks, and we all wanted it over. Now it was, I couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel more jubilant. Of course I wanted the killers to be convicted for murdering James, but it didn’t bring him back to me. That’s all I had ever wanted: my normal and simple life with my wife and my child. I had never asked for much. I didn’t expect riches or a life of glamour and luxury. I didn’t even expect life to be that easy. I was used to struggling to make ends meet, but I certainly didn’t expect it to be this hard. I had always been content to be at the heart of my family life and that was enough for me.
Now I began to question why such a terrible thing had happened to my son and to our family. I’m not saying that it should have happened to any family, far from it. But you can’t help question why you are singled out to bear such tragedy. Worse still, why was James subjected to such horror, before he even had the chance to grow up? Every time I thought of my own pain, it took me back to what my son must have endured that day, and I realized that I would never know suffering on the scale that he did.
That night, I took a bottle of scotch, slumped into a corner of the bedroom and held one of James’s pillows from his bed. I cradled it as tightly but as gently as I could, wishing with all my might that it was my baby boy. I would have loved to write him a letter, but I am not educated and didn’t have the ability to put my thoughts into words. As ever, I began to talk out loud to him. I felt I owed it to him to let him know what had happened.
‘My beautiful James. I went to court today to see the boys that hurt you. The judge has said they are going to be punished for what they did to you and I am very glad. I’m sorry they hurt you so badly and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you or help you, but we got some justice for you today, son. I hate the boys who did this to you. Now I can see what you had to go through and it breaks my heart, but I know you are in a better place. I know how much you suffered and I know you screamed for your mummy and daddy and we weren’t there. It wasn’t because we didn’t love you. We didn’t know where you were or how to help you.
‘I tried, James, I really did. I tried to find you and I hope you can forgive me for not being there. If I could give my life for yours, I would do it in a second. You were the most precious thing I have ever had. I would give anything to hear you laugh again. I would give anything to see you running around like a maniac and making everyone laugh. Most of all I would give anything to hold you in my arms right now and hear you calling me “your Ralph”. You are my James and I will always be your Ralph, darling boy. I will always be your daddy, who cared so much you will never know. I am holding your pillow close to me right now. I can still smell you. I can still feel you, close to me. I like to think you are still close to me and I hope you feel me close to you.
‘Do you remember when you played on your go-kart and when we used to play football? They were the most wonderful times of my life, James. No one is ever going to hurt you again now, my precious boy. Your mummy loves you and misses you so much. I know she has told you that. When I think of you, I think of nothing but joy and happiness. I am going to hang on to those memories because I am so sad to be without you. I think all the time of you in heaven, running around and being mischievous but loving at the same time. I see your smiling face and it makes me happy, but I am devastated that I will never feel you in my arms again. I want to feel you curl up in bed with me, getting warm and feeling safe, loved and cherished.
‘You would have been an amazing person if you had been given the chance to live. I know you would have grown into the most special human being with so much love and kindness to give. The boys that hurt you didn’t have what you have — a soul and a heart as big as the moon. I wish you could teach the world how to be so lovely. I miss you so much, James.
‘I love you with all my heart. I’m so sorry I didn’t save you. Goodnight, my beautiful boy. Your Ralph.’
When I finished speaking to Jam
es, I just broke down and wept like a child myself. Those boys had ripped a baby apart like a rag doll, and in the process they had torn a family to shreds. Any hint of joy in our lives from here on in would forever be laced with sadness because James will be missing from us always. His killers may have been taken away to a secure unit, but they were still drawing breath, having their needs catered for and being looked after. They would wake up in their beds every morning and start a new day. That is a luxury they stole from my boy. I knew they would never understand what misery and suffering they had caused and I prayed they would be locked up for ever, never to see daylight again.
Stringent gagging orders had replaced the judge’s original ban on the media revealing the boys’ identities. Now the press could print their names, and photographs from the time of their arrest, but from that point on, strict injunctions were placed on revealing anything about their subsequent whereabouts and the release of any further photographs other than those that had already been seen. It was a very tight order and it was made clear to the media that anyone who broke the injunction would be in very serious trouble.
We knew the press attention would be on an unprecedented scale as the conviction of two children, so young, was making headlines around the world. What we didn’t realize then was that the spotlight would never leave this case, and that so much more was to come.
11
The Battles Begin
Shortly after the trial, on 29 November, the judge recommended that the two boys serve a minimum sentence of eight years, which would have meant they would be eligible for release at the age of eighteen. That was the very first kick in the teeth we received from the judicial system. We learned of the sentence from our police liaison officers who came to visit me and Denise, and I suspect they were as gutted as I was, but both Jim and Mandy managed to keep their feelings in check because I don’t think they wanted us to feel any worse than we already did. At least we were forewarned before the news got out, and we were able to bunker down and get out of the way of the inevitable media frenzy that was on its way.
‘Eight fucking years! Is that all my son’s life was worth?’ I screamed in despair.
How could they judge that the life of a tiny baby, who suffered so much pain, be worth so little? It was as if someone was telling us that James’s life meant nothing!
I understood that a minimum tariff didn’t guarantee their release, but even the possibility of them being considered for freedom at that point was horrendous enough. If they only served eight years in juvenile detention, they would still be teenagers when they were released. What kind of a message was that sending out to society? It says that if you go and torture and murder a child you can be free again a few years later. I felt sick to the core and deeply disgusted with a country that I had always held in such high esteem.
After the trial judge set his tariff, the Lord Chief Justice at the time, Lord Taylor of Gosforth, almost immediately increased the minimum tariff to ten years without explanation, but that was still nowhere near enough in my eyes. They would still only be twenty if they were released. Both Denise and I knew we had to do something, so we launched a petition calling for the tariff to be substantially increased. Our campaign was immediately backed by the Sun newspaper and we were grateful that our message was being put out to the public. We threw everything we had at trying to get as many people as possible to sign the appeal, and that included a limited number of press interviews. This is where Denise and I were at our best. When our backs were against the wall, we came out fighting. It was a natural instinct for us both. We may not have been very good at talking to one another, or expressing our emotions in words, but this was one way we could show how we felt about our son in actions.
The campaign to collect signatures was not going to be an overnight job, but at least we had got it started. The Sun had printed a cut-out coupon in the paper for people to sign and send off if they agreed on the need to increase the minimum tariff for Thompson and Venables.
There had been some major changes in our lives in the run-up to the trial. Thousands of cards and letters, gifts and toys from across the UK and around the world had continued to pour into the police station on a daily basis, and a lot of the packages contained money. The general public were so generous and wanted to help in some way by donating cash. This made Denise and me feel very uncomfortable. We didn’t want to appear ungrateful because we knew this was a way of people showing how much they cared, but we didn’t feel it was right to take money because James had been murdered. The response to this crime was huge, as was the media attention, and so the police advised us that it might be a good idea to get ourselves a solicitor who could deal with all this on our behalf. We made some inquiries and decided to ask a locally based solicitor called Sean Sexton for help. He was distantly related to Denise’s side of the family and thankfully he was happy to get involved. He became our legal adviser. This was important for us, because up until that point we had relied on our police family liaison officers for everything. We knew that their involvement with us would come to an end shortly after the trial, as the police’s work on this case would be finished.
One of Sean’s first jobs was to help us deal with all the post that was mounting up. He joined a team of four police officers who had already been tasked to start going through it all, and it took them a lot of man hours to sift through the piles of mail. Sean set up the James Bulger Memorial Appeal to be run by independent trustees, and by the time the trial started, a staggering £161,000 had been collected in donations. Denise and I just didn’t know what to say when Sean broke the news to us. We were adamant that the money would be put to good use, in particular for young people. We really wanted a lasting memorial for James and so we came up with the idea to build the James Bulger Memorial Garden in the grounds of the Sacred Heart RC Primary School. It was the school I had attended, as well as several of James’s cousins, and it would have been the school he would have gone to, if he had survived to start school. A special little place for the children to go and chat with friends if they wanted a bit of peace instead of playing games would be created and would be known as James’s Corner. Both Denise and I loved the idea of this. Physically disabled children at a special school in Kirkby were also to benefit from the fund and a number of great schemes were put forward. It made things far more comfortable for us to know that it was the trustees who decided how the money should be spent and not us as a family. Obviously we had input, but the most important thing was that we did not hold the purse strings, because we wanted everyone who had donated even the smallest amount to know that their cash was being used properly and for the right causes.
Our first instinct had been to instruct Sean to give every last penny away to deserving causes in James’s name. Sean, however, tried to persuade us that we could reach a compromise by using the money for worthy causes as well as providing some security for our own future. He knew that there would be many difficult days ahead for us emotionally, and easing the financial burden was one way of relieving some of the pressures. We also had a new baby on the way we needed to care for. It still didn’t sit well with us, but we trusted in Sean’s advice and we did accept some help from the trust early on to buy a small house in the Quarry Green area of Kirkby. It meant that we could move from our tiny one-bedroom flat to a modest three-bedroom house with its own back garden. With our new baby this would make a huge difference in our lives, and it was hoped that it would also provide us with a fresh start. It was so hard to remain in the flat where James had once lived with us.
The move meant we had a very busy time ahead. Denise was frantically preparing for the baby and couldn’t keep still most days, while I was focusing on packing our belongings into boxes and making sure that Denise was well looked after. It was a relief to have something to occupy my mind and it also felt good to try to look forwards for a change, instead of permanently backwards. It didn’t mean the damage from James’s murder had healed. It just meant we had an alternative focus
and an understanding that, however much it hurt, life still carried on. I knew I was never going to get over James, but I also had to be a good dad to my new baby. It was almost as if I had to break my life up into pieces and deal with one thing at a time. It was the only way I could manage it.
We moved into the new house after the trial and before Denise gave birth. One of the bonuses was that we were able to decorate and furnish a room for the new baby, a luxury we hadn’t enjoyed in our small flat. It took my mind off my grief temporarily and kept me busy. We chose furniture together and I moved things around the house where Denise wanted them to go. I also painted and tinkered about the place, putting up curtains and fixing odd jobs. I smartened the house up for us and tried my best to move forward inch by inch. I enjoyed using my hands to do things and it helped to keep me off the drink, so I was at least functioning normally some of the time.
The imminent arrival of our new baby was certainly a great incentive to keep going. I have already described how Denise was putting all her energies into protecting the life growing inside of her, but as her due date drew closer, it gave me a focus too. I think it is harder for a man to be connected with his baby before it is born, but knowing my child was about to come into the world made me all the more determined to do my best. And so day-to-day life went on, but so, too, did the ache I felt for the loss of James and Kirsty. On the outside, I made every effort to stay strong for my children, even if I was falling apart inside.
On 16 December 1993, Michael James Bulger came into our lives and, for the very first time since our son was murdered, I felt real happiness. As with Kirsty and James, I was with Denise when she gave birth to Michael and it was magical when he appeared in the world for the first time. The relief was written all over Denise’s face when she saw that he was a healthy little boy. She was exhausted and emotional, but her smile said it all. I could see she was fighting back the tears.