Marie Claire Australia - 01.05.2018

PHOTOGRAPHY BY GETTY IMAGES; COURTESY OF DENISE FERGUS; BY ALAMY.

58 marieclaire.com.au

People often ask at what point I re-

alised James being with two kids wasn’t

going to end well and the answer is

never. Even after the funeral and the

thousands of letters, even during

the court case when those two boys

were standing trial for his murder. Even

then I thought he was coming home.

It was after the trial that my world

truly collapsed and the reality of never

seeing my baby again hit me.

It is important to say here that

I have never found out the exact nature

of all that was done to James in his final

hours and I never will – I know as much

as my heart can take.

We couldn’t view James. As the

funeral approached I did ask if I could

see him one last time, but I was advised

by the police not to. I didn’t get the

chance to touch my little boy, kiss him

goodbye or tell him how much I loved

him. Perhaps it was for the best, as my

imagination had already been working

overtime at the thought of what he

might look like after all that had

happened to him.

I picked his outfit the day before he

was collected from the mortuary and

moved to the undertakers. I decided on

the corduroy suit that he wore on his

last Christmas Day. I decided not to put

shoes on him, I’m not sure why.

I couldn’t face looking at the outfit

so a member of the family got every-

thing ready for the undertaker to

collect. They packed the suit neatly into

a bag along with his favourite teddy, a

toy motorbike and a torch – I remember

thinking that he always took his torch to

bed so that he could see in the dark and

not be scared, so it was really important

he had that with him in his coin.

I am not sure anything prepares

you for the sight of a tiny white box that

holds your lively, funny, cheeky son’s re-

mains – I could have seen it a thousand

times and it wouldn’t have been any less

shocking. Ralph and I cried until I

didn’t think there were any tears left.

As James’ third birthday [neared],

just four short weeks after his body had

been found, [my marriage to James’

father, Ralph] hit rock bottom. Not

only did I have the grief of losing James,

but Ralph just stopped coming home.

We couldn’t communicate; Ralph

was either drunk or out. And none of

this was helped by the fact that when

I was at my lowest ebb, I felt Ralph

blamed me for losing James.

I had lost my son and now I felt like

I was losing my marriage.

And then, just like a gift from God,

at the end of March I discovered I

was pregnant again.

Ye s , it was very soon after James’

death, but, in all honesty, if I hadn’t

been pregnant with Michael in those

early months after James’ funeral, I

wouldn’t be here today. The baby

became my lifeline; I didn’t know how

low it was possible for a human being to

go. Did I try to kill myself? Not quite.

Did I think about killing myself? Abso-

lutely. Very often and in great detail.

W

hen I attended the sen-

tencing of Venables and

Thompson, all I could

focus on was the mo-

ment I would see my son’s killers for the

first time. Suddenly there they were, my

worst nightmare come true – two

podgy, unremarkable children who had

stolen and murdered my baby. I had

built the moment up so much in my

head that nothing was ever going to feel

good enough. Looking at them, it all

seemed so pointless, such a waste for an

inexplicable and evil kick. My stomach

lurched and I felt sick.

It had been decided that eight years

was all my baby’s life was worth – that

wasn’t even a year for every hour his

severed body had lain on the track. It

was nothing and it was a disgrace.

They had snufed out my baby’s life

and they would be free to start theirs

at 18, when they would be eligible for

release. That was the age when people

flew the nest anyway and set out on

their adult paths; it was as if they were

being rapped on the knuckles and sent

to boarding school – I couldn’t accept it.

Michael James Bulger was born on

December 8, 1993. Just months later,

Denise’s marriage to Ralph collapsed.

I was devastated that we hadn’t

made it, but there was also another

reality: Ralph was the only other

person who could comprehend the utter

devastation I felt about our son.

In less than 18 months, my simple

and perfect life as a wife and mother

had imploded. The day that Thompson

and Venables stole my son from my

side, they lit a match underneath every-

thing I had and it all went up in flames.

Never in my wildest dreams had

I imagined a simple shopping trip with

James would end the way it did and, as

a result, I was terrified of everything.

The deep-seated paranoia and wor-

ry never left me, and I can see now that

it did get in the way of us enjoying some

things that other children took for

granted. It also meant that Michael was

never out of my sight – he slept in my

bed and we spent every minute together.

There was no playgroup or nursery, play

dates without me, staying over with his

cousins; I had him with me all the time.

Even now, Michael is in his 20s; if

EMOTIONAL

“There is no

forgiveness in my heart

for my son’s killers”

TIMELINE OF TEARS

February 12, 1993: James

is abducted and murdered.

His body is found two

days later.

February 20, 1993: Jon

Venables and Robert

Thompson are charged.

November 24, 1993: They

receive eight-year sentences,

making them the youngest

convicted murderers in

recent British history.

July 23, 1994: The original

term is increased to 15 years

but this is overturned.

June 24, 2001: Thompson

and Venables are freed and

granted lifetime anonymity.

March 2, 2010: Venables is

imprisoned for downloading

child pornography.

2013: After being granted

another new identity,

Venables is released.

November 2017: Venables

is recalled to prison

for possession of child

pornography. He is reported

to be engaged to a woman

who he met on the outside.