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When sorry's never enough

My little girl should have been safe with her mummy


Published by: Laura Hinton
Published on: 20 September 2012

We seemed to have another Delia Smith in the making! My four-year-old daughter Chloe loved playing with her toy kitchen.
She was so ridiculously tidy, everything in the kitchen had to be in order. I wasn't allowed to touch a thing!
‘Are you hungry, Daddy?' she asked, pushing a strand of curly, ginger hair away from her eyes.
‘Yes, princess,' I laughed, as she handed me a fake pizza slice.
‘Talking of food, do you fancy coming to Tesco?' I asked. ‘Then later I thought we could watch some Peppa Pig...'
Her eyes lit up at the mention of her favourite cartoon. ‘Let's go now,' she grinned, pulling me up out of my seat.
Soon enough, the two of us were strolling through the supermarket. I let her walk ahead with her own basket while I pushed the trolley.
I smiled as I watched her marching along. She was growing up so fast.
‘Oi! What are you sneaking
in there?' I chuckled, spotting some sweets in her basket.
‘Nothing,' she giggled, nudging them under some carrots. I wasn't sure how she did it, but an hour later, I'd managed to spend £20 on sweets!
Chloe had me wrapped around her little finger, the cheeky little thing. I loved spoiling her though. I only got to see her every other weekend because me and her mum Dawn, 35, had split up a couple of years before.
It worked out pretty well, though. We were on good terms. I had a new girlfriend now, Michaela, 42, and was very happy. But before I knew it, the weekend was over.
‘See you soon, princess,' I smiled, giving Chloe a
kiss goodbye.
‘Bye, Daddy,' she grinned, before running off into her mummy's arms. I gave Dawn a friendly wave like always and closed the door.
A couple of weeks later though, I was struggling to get hold of Dawn. She hadn't been answering her phone or replying to any of my texts. It looked like I wouldn't be seeing Chloe this weekend after all...
‘I don't understand,' I worried to Michaela. ‘I've popped over a few times, but nobody answered.'
‘She's probably just busy,' Michaela said. ‘You know she works long hours.'
True. Dawn was a nurse and she'd been seeing a new guy for a while now too, a bloke called Martin. Perhaps they'd been staying with him.
A couple of days on, though, my phone rang in the middle of the night.
‘It's the police,' Michaela said, answering it. ‘They're coming over.'
‘What for?!' I panicked.
‘I don't know,' she frowned. ‘What've you done?!'
‘Nothing!' I spluttered.
I started wracking my brain. Had I been caught speeding? Not paid something I should've?
Just moments later, the police were knocking on my door. Once inside, they asked if I wanted to sit down.
‘No, just tell me what's going on,' I pushed, my head spinning.
‘I'm afraid we've got some terrible news,' one said. ‘Chloe's been murdered.'
I almost choked in shock.
‘She was stabbed to death,' the officer continued. ‘We believe it was your ex-wife who did it.'
Hands shaking, I collapsed onto the nearest chair. I could only listen as they explained how a neighbour had broken into the house. She'd been worried as she couldn't get hold of Dawn.
The poor woman had then discovered them both upstairs.
Chloe was dead from multiple stab wounds. Dawn had been beside her. She'd slit her wrists and downed a bottle of bleach.
‘Is she dead, too?' I asked, my voice shaking.
‘No,' the officer said. ‘She's on a life support machine.'
I felt numb, dazed. I couldn't believe what they were telling me. It felt like yesterday that my bubbly little daughter had been running around Tesco with her shopping basket.
‘She can't be dead,' I sobbed.
‘Oh god, I'm so sorry,' Michaela wept, wrapping her arms around me.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, but the next thing we knew, the sun was coming up.
‘We need you to identify Chloe's body,' an officer said, gently. Nodding, I let him drive me to the hospital where I was led into a room with a glass screen. That's when I saw her.
A sheet covered her body, but I could see her pale face.
I began to faint but the policeman held me up as I took in the final heartbreaking image of my daughter.
‘It's her,' I mumbled, tears streaming down my cheeks.
‘Oh my god, it's her.' All too soon, we were front page news. Dawn was branded a killer by the press. That's when it really started to sink in.
‘Why would she do this?' I kept quizzing Michaela.
My life felt so empty.
‘She must have had a breakdown,' Michaela sobbed, desperately searching for an answer. ‘The police will tell us as soon as they find out more.'
Truth was, I felt guilty. I'd known Dawn was avoiding me, and that something hadn't been right. I couldn't help but blame myself.
It just didn't make sense. Dawn had loved Chloe more than anything else in the world... she was her world. She'd once been so desperate for a baby.
‘It's been two years,' she'd sobbed to me back then. ‘I don't understand why I can't conceive.'
‘It'll happen,' I hushed, wiping away her tears.
She'd been to the doctors so many times and gone for loads of tests. But they told her it would just take time.
Then, one day, that little blue line had appeared on the pregnancy test.
I'd never seen her so happy. It was like she had an extra spring in her step. That was just how I'd felt too.
When I cuddled Chloe for the first time, I felt like the happiest man in the whole world.
‘She's perfect,' I sobbed.
But now Chloe had been murdered by the one person she trusted most in the world.
‘She must've been so scared at the end,' I wept to Michaela.
Soon, Dawn was unmasked as a health-centre mole, too. Apparently, she'd been feeding confidential data to Martin.
Over a four-month period, he'd tried signing patients up to his personal injury claim firm. But the patients had complained, so the hospital had investigated. That's when they discovered she'd been illegally accessing a computer.
‘She lost her job 12 months ago,' an officer told me. ‘As far as we're aware, Martin ended their relationship a week before the murder.'
‘I had no idea,' I mumbled.
She must've been really ashamed. That's why she had pretended things were still the same. Then, he'd dumped her and she'd totally flipped.
Only later, when we were allowed into her house, did
I realise just how bad things
had been. It was a tip. There were wine bottles everywhere.
‘I could've helped you!' I yelled to the empty room. ‘Why did you do it?' I was so angry.
Soon, it was time for Chloe's funeral. Her teacher said a few words. ‘Her class are building "Chloe's Den", a place for the kids to remember their friend,' she said tearfully. I was touched.
Later, Chloe was buried in her favourite red dress. I made sure some photos of us playing together were tucked into
her coffin, too.
‘I don't want her to feel alone,' I whispered to Michaela.
‘You're still with her that way,' she smiled.
The company I worked for were great, too, and paid the £1,500 I needed for a beautiful headstone. I was so grateful.
A further two months on, Dawn's ex-boyfriend, Martin Campbell, 34, was summoned to court. He was fined £1,050 plus £1,175 in costs after he admitted seven counts of
breaching the Data Protection Act.
He'd obtained the names of 29 accident victims who'd been treated at the hospital.
He'd been doing it purely so he could increase his wages.
I felt sick. Although Dawn had killed our daughter, I couldn't help but feel anger towards him. Maybe if he hadn't pestered her for help, she wouldn't have been driven to do what she did...
Somehow, I muddled on. Michaela gave me the strength to get up each morning.
‘You have to be strong for Chloe,' she urged me.
I knew she was right, but it was so hard. Memories of my daughter were everywhere. Her drawings were stuck on the fridge, her little trainers still sat at the bottom of the stairs...
Some days, I just wanted to forget, so I'd down cans of lager until the pain blurred. But nothing could dull the ache in my heart.
Ten months on, Dawn had finally regained consciousness and was being interviewed by the police. I'd not seen her in hospital but now she was officially charged with our daughter's murder.
I'd been told that she'd been left permanently wheelchair-bound by her suicide attempt, and was living under 24-hour care in a rehabilitation unit.
I was allowed to go and see her. I knew it would be tough, but I had to face the woman who'd killed our precious child.
Walking into the room,
I was shocked. Her injuries were bad. I already knew she couldn't go to the toilet or eat by herself, but it wasn't just that. She looked like a different person, dead behind the eyes.
Even though our love for one another hadn't lasted, we'd still shared our daughter. That bond had always been there. Hadn't it?
So why did she feel she had no choice but to take Chloe with her when she tried to kill herself? What gave her that right? Chloe had been a part of me, too.
‘Why did you do this, Dawn?'
I whispered, my voice hoarse.
She hung her head.
‘Please, tell me,' I begged.
Desperately searching her eyes, I silently fought for an explanation. Couldn't she remember how excited we'd been to have Chloe? The first time our daughter had smiled, her first words, her first steps... we'd both been there for all of that. How had that changed?
‘I'm so, so sorry,' was all she kept telling me, the tears pouring. Desperate not to give up, I went back to see her twice.
But that was all she'd ever say.
Finally, it clicked. The woman sitting there, her hands twitching from where she'd destroyed the nerves when she slit her wrists, was already serving her sentence. No matter how many times I asked, her answer would always be the same.
Now, every day must be a living nightmare for her. She has to live with the daily reminder of what she did. We all do, except none of us were given the choice.
‘Bye, Dawn,' I told her, the sadness overwhelming me.
Eight months on, Dawn pleaded guilty to manslaughter. She was jailed for 12 years.
A part of me felt like justice had been served. But at the same time, nothing could bring my princess back.
I still have nightmares, and sometimes I wonder if I even have the strength to get through the day. But my girlfriend and family keep me strong.
I'll never know what drove Dawn to do what she did. But she was Chloe's mummy, the woman who was meant to protect her from harm. I can never forgive her.
All I can do now is hope that one day I'll be able to remember my pretty red-haired girl for the child that she was, so innocent, happy and full of life.
Michael Burke, 40, Bury, Greater Manchester