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Dicing with death

My son's biggest mistake was falling for the wrong person...


Published by: Laura Hinton and Kim Willis
Published on: 30 August 2012

Like always, my son Sean, 27, was whistling to himself as he made his way along my garden path. Waving at him through the window, I flicked the kettle on.
A welder by day and a delivery driver for a Chinese restaurant in the evenings, my son worked so hard for his family.
Sean and his girlfriend Donna, 26, had moved to my road just a couple of months before.
I loved it because it meant I saw a lot more of their three kids, Connor, five, Ryan, three, and one-year-old Lily-Mae.
‘Hi Mum!' Sean grinned now, strolling inside. He was on a break between deliveries.
‘Fancy a biscuit?' I asked. ‘I'm on a diet,' he laughed, lifting up his shirt to show me all the weight that he'd lost. ‘I've been going to the gym, too.'
Next thing I knew, he was prancing about to a song on the radio. ‘You're wasting away,' I chuckled, although I was proud of him really. ‘How are things?'
‘I'm good,' he smiled. Then his face grew serious. ‘Harriet's broken up with Ricky,' he sighed. ‘Oh, that's a shame,' I said.
Sean and Ricky, 34, had become best mates through their shared love of bikes, and were always tinkering with them together. Sean often took Connor out with them, too. He'd bought him a little quad bike so he could join in the fun.
Ricky had been going out with Harriet, 21, for four years, so they'd often double date.
‘Yeah, trouble is, Ricky's having none of it. He's been pestering her with calls,' Sean went on.
‘Oh!' I frowned. ‘I hope he's not giving her too much grief.'
‘He's a good person,' Sean insisted, standing up for his pal, like he always did. But it wasn't until a month or so later that I realised Ricky wasn't the only one having problems. Sean and Donna kept having blazing rows.
He would kip on my sofa for a few days, then go back home. For a while, I thought it must just be a bad patch, but it soon became clear they were separating for good.
‘Donna's ended it,' he told me one night. ‘But it's for the best. We've just grown apart.'
‘Oh, love,' I sighed, giving him a cuddle. ‘Stay here as
long as you need to.'
‘Thanks, Mum,' he smiled.
The following night though, something was bothering Sean. His phone kept ringing but he wouldn't answer it. He was pacing the floor, too, as if he wanted to say something.
‘Just tell me what's going on,' I told him. ‘Is it something to do with Donna?'
‘No,' he said. ‘It's much worse. I've started seeing Harriet. I really like her.'
That was the last thing I'd been expecting... ‘Oh no,' I
said, shaking my head. This
spelt trouble.
‘Ricky's just found out,' he admitted. ‘I think he's going
to come after me.'
‘You need to be on your own for a while,' I warned him. ‘Sort your head out, then make a decision about what you want.'
He nodded. ‘I think you're right.' But things only seemed to go from bad to worse.
‘I've heard rumours Ricky wants to knife me,' he said in a worried tone the next night. ‘I'm sure he's just angry, we'll sort this out eventually.'
Still, he wanted to go and stay with Harriet because he was worried about her.
‘Take care of yourself,' I told him, kissing him goodbye.
Just hours later, his boss at the Chinese takeaway gave me a call.
‘Sean was beaten up earlier outside the shop,' she said on the phone. ‘He's left now, but I just wanted to tell you.'
‘Oh, god,' I gasped, knowing who was to blame. Ricky.
I tried ringing Sean but couldn't get hold of him. Panic rising, I couldn't get through to Donna or Harriet either. So I rang my daughter Melissa, 28. She came over straight away.
‘I'll go and see if I can find him,' she said, heading back out.
Sat twiddling my thumbs, I realised I couldn't just sit there. Ricky had threatened my son and beaten him up. Now, Sean had gone missing. I decided to call 999 and report it.
‘You have to find Ricky,' I begged them.
I just had a terrible gut feeling. I tried to sleep, but could only toss and turn.
In the end, I got up at about 2am and ran a bath. I was just getting ready to go back to bed again when there was a knock at the door.
A policewoman was standing on my doorstep. Relief flooded through me.
‘You've found him then,' I said. ‘Thank god.'
‘I'm so sorry,' she said. ‘Sean died half an hour ago. He was murdered.' What?
I saw her lips moving, but couldn't take in the words. My legs almost collapsed beneath me. Unable to control myself, I started screaming.
‘I knew it!' I sobbed. ‘Ricky had something to do with this. I warned you! ‘I can't believe he's dead.'I cried. ‘I have to see him, I have to see my boy.'
‘We'll need you to identify his body,' the officer said. ‘But there will have to be a post-mortem.'
I nodded, my heart breaking. It was as if we were talking about somebody else's son.
Later, I rang Donna. ‘I'm so sorry, love,' I sighed. ‘He's in heaven now.' Then I saw my grandkids' terrified little faces. Taking a deep breath, I sat them all down.
‘Daddy's asleep now,'
I whispered, hushing their tears. ‘We can't wake him up.'
They didn't really understand.
Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing Sean's body a few days later, though.
‘Oh, darling,' I cried, kissing him all over.
As the days passed by, I somehow kept going. I had to make sure that justice was done. Slowly, I learnt more about what had happened.
Apparently, Ricky had turned up on Harriet's doorstep that night.
He'd taken a picture of her with Sean before following them both to the Chinese takeaway where Sean worked. That's when he'd pounced, beating up my son. Afterwards, he'd gone on a drink and drugs binge. Then, he'd returned to Harriet's home a few hours later.
‘We believe he smashed his way into her house through a back window,' an officer told me. ‘Then he stabbed Sean to death.'
He'd killed his pal in a fit of jealous rage - just as he'd threatened to. For the time being, all I could focus on was Sean's funeral. I had to give my lad the best possible send off.
A few days before, Harriet came round. As I opened the door and saw her standing there, my blood ran cold.
It was because of her that this had happened, and I wanted to blame her. But I could see the heartbreak in her eyes, and realised I was being unfair - she was suffering just as much as me.
‘I want to place a card in Sean's coffin,' she whispered.
‘That's fine,' I said quietly, taking it from her. ‘I'll make sure it gets put in.'
On the day itself, I felt so hollow and empty. But when we arrived for the church service, all of Sean's biker friends revved their engines as their own tribute.
They were also wearing jumpers with ‘Hooky' written across them, which was Sean's nickname.
As I watched Sean's coffin pass by before he was cremated, my eyes glistened as I tried to focus on happier times.
I thought back to the holiday in Wales that me, Sean, Donna, and the kids had gone on the summer before.
We'd stayed in two caravans. The weather had been terrible, but it hadn't mattered in the slightest.
‘I love the British weather,' I remembered Sean laughing as he'd stood outside in the pouring rain. ‘Come on, let's go out anyway!'
We'd got soaked. But we'd had a giggle... that was the important thing. It was those memories that I'd cherish forever now, as I had nothing else to hold onto.
I was brought back to reality suddenly by the sound of the vicar speaking. He was talking about Sean's love of biscuits.
‘I've been told he always had his hand in the biscuit barrel,' he joked. I couldn't help but smile. Later, as we walked outside, his favourite song, I'm Sexy And I Know It, played. ‘That was a fitting tribute,' Melissa smiled. ‘Sean would have laughed if he'd known we'd chosen it.'
‘He certainly would,' I agreed.
Soon enough, though, the court case rolled round. We were told Ricky was pleading guilty to assault, but not guilty to murder.
Sat in Bristol Crown Court, listening to the evidence, I couldn't understand how Ricky thought he would get away with what he'd done to my boy.
Apparently, after taking that photo of Sean and Harriet together, he'd gone down the pub and shown it to a number of people.
He'd then mouthed off to everyone that he was going to kill Sean. After downing 14 pints and taking four ecstasy tablets, he'd broken into Harriet's home, grabbed a nine-inch carving knife from her kitchen, and flown into a crazy, jealous rage.
He'd stabbed his friend six times in the back, chest and shoulder. In fact, he'd stabbed Sean's heart and lungs with such force that he'd broken his ribs.
Poor Harriet had also suffered cuts to her hands where she'd tried to pull the knife off him.
Afterwards, Ricky had texted all of Sean's friends, informing them of what he had done. I killed Hooky, he'd written.
Listening to all of that, I felt sick. It was almost like Ricky was proud of it.
As I stared at him across the courtroom, his eyes met mine. I couldn't believe it when he glared back at me. You animal, I thought.
Thankfully, the jury agreed, and found him guilty of murder.
Ricky Enfield, 34, was jailed for life. He will serve a minimum of 17 years.
‘You have caused the most dreadful loss to the friends and family of Sean Hook,' the judge said. ‘You have deprived three young children of their father.'
I let out a gasp of relief. Although I was relieved justice had been served, nothing could bring my Sean back.
His children had lost their Daddy forever, and would never be able to see him or experience anything with him ever again.
Now, all we can do is try to move on while remembering Sean for who he was.
The only mistake he made was falling in love with the wrong person. But is that really something you can control?
Sean was a good son and a devoted father, but Ricky destroyed all of that when he sank that knife into him.
It was a small comfort to receive a letter from Harriet after the trial. Tears trickled down my cheeks when I read how she was sorry for what had happened.
She hadn't wanted anyone to get hurt. But whoever had fallen for Harriet had their days numbered. If Ricky couldn't be with her, then nobody else could either.
Now, six months on, it still doesn't feel real. I sit for hours sometimes watching home videos.
My favourite is the one I have of Sean giving Connor his little quad bike.
Other times, I'll stop what I'm doing and feel convinced that I can still hear Sean whistling, as he comes up the garden path.
So, I just stand there, close my eyes, and pretend he's still alive, putting his hand in the biscuit tin when he thinks I'm not looking.
That's how I'd like to remember him...

Cheryl Waltham, 50, Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire