The victims of Lucy Letby – and full statements from their parents

Over nine months, Manchester Crown Court heard evidence of Lucy Letby’s attacks on her victims, who were too small to defend themselves, set out in harrowing detail.

Though their real names were used in court, all 17 babies involved in the case against Letby were granted anonymity through a strict reporting restriction, with an order also extending to their parents to protect their identity.

The lifelong order, imposed by a judge, means journalists can only refer to the babies as children A to Q – but some details, such as when they died, or whether they were a twin or triplet, could be reported.

Before a judge handed down a whole-life order to Letby, which will likely see her die in jail, victim impact statements of the parents of the newborns attacked by the killer nurse were read out in an emotionally-charged session.

These are all of Letby’s victims, what happened to them, and what parents said today, with some details removed to protect their identity:

Child A and B

A twin boy and girl. The prosecution said the younger of the two, Child A, died on 8 June 2015 after air was injected into his bloodstream. His elder sister was attacked with the same method just over a day later but survived.

Letby was found guilty of Child A’s murder and of the attempted murder of Child B.

In a victim impact statement read to court before Letby’s sentencing, his parents said:

2015 was going to be the best year of our lives, we were going to become parents to a little boy and a little girl. Everything was perfect, our babies were doing well in the neonatal unit. We were told that Child B needed a little bit of extra help but was doing well and that Child A was very strong and doing really well.

Never could we have imagined that the most precious things in our lives would have been placed in harm’s way and in the care of a nurse, who is capable of such despicable actions. We never got to hold our little boy while he was alive because you took him away.

Our minds are traumatised that it won’t let us remember most of the night where you killed our child. What should have been the happiest time of our lives had become our worst nightmare.

After losing Child A, not only were we absolutely traumatised at what had happened, we were riddled with fear for our baby girl Child B. We weren’t there when Child A collapsed and by the time I was brought through to him, he was gone despite all the efforts to revive him. You had been successful in your quest to cause maximum pain and suffering.

We are so thankful that we had that fear for Child B as it saved her life, not allowing you to fully do the same to her as you did to Child A.

After losing Child A we made sure that there was always a member of family at her side watching. However, we made a mistake, we started to believe that what happened to Child A was a tragic event that we couldn’t have been stopped. We trusted that Child B would be given extra special care, it had certainly appeared that way. Little did we know that you were waiting for us to leave so you could attack the one thing that gave us a reason to keep going on in life. We are forever grateful that you weren’t able to take Child B away from us that night.

Although our family has a gaping hole where Child A should be, there is a constant shining light in Child B. You tried to take everything away from us. You thought it was your right to play God with our children’s lives. Our lives are tough, we struggle with anxiety, depression and PTSD and sometimes we almost want to give up. But we never will, we have a duty to our children. We have a duty to keep Child A’s memory alive for generations to come and we have a duty to give Child B the best life possible and we will spend our lives doing that.

You thought that you could enter our lives and turn it upside down, but you will never win. We hope you live a very long life and spend every single day suffering for what you have done. Maybe you thought by doing this you would be remembered forever. But I want you to know my family will never think of you again from this day, you are nothing.

Child C

A baby boy, who died just before 6am on 14 June 2015. At the time, the consultant pathologist gave the cause of death as “widespread hypoxic/ischaemic damage to the heart/myocardium due to lung disease”.

Letby denied an allegation that she injected air into Child C’s stomach via his nasogastric tube.

Jurors found her guilty of Child C’s murder.

Child C’s mother read this impact statement to the court:

I have thought a lot about whether to tell the court about the impact that losing Child C has had on us, whether to allow Lucy Letby to know the extent of our pain.

But my need to represent my son and my love for my son outweighs any feeling I will ever have about the defendant. I will always remember the overwhelming wave of emotion that I felt the first time I held Child C. I understood right there and then the bond and immediate love between a mother and their baby. That moment I will never forget. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

The way he smelt, the feel of his fine hair on my chin. My tiny feisty boy, my first born, my son. The shock and panic of the night that he collapsed will stay with me forever. It was so sudden, so unbelievable. It really felt like I was watching someone else’s life not my own.

Our two sets of parents held Child C for the first and only time in the hours that he lay dying. It was a pain for us all that was just too hard to bear. The trauma of that night will live with all of us until the day we die. Knowing now that his murderer was watching us throughout these traumatic hours is like something out of a horror story.

The sleeplessness and nightmares followed. The disbelief that this had really happened. That I would never hold him again, that he was never going to get the chance to grow up. I blamed myself entirely for his death – I still live with the guilt that I couldn’t protect him in pregnancy or in his short life. There are many “what ifs” that have kept me awake – what if I had not gone to bed that night? Maybe he would still be here. Eight years have passed. Our grief is just as heavy as it was, but we have worked hard to build life bigger around it to help carry that great weight. I miss Child C every day. I miss everything that we should have had – first smile, first word, birthdays, Christmases and the physical feeling of that bond.

I think about what his voice would have sounded like, what he might have looked like now, who he would have been. Every milestone our living children have reached have been reached with joy, but also highlight the many milestones there should have been for Child C – all of the things we have missed. All of the things about him that we will never know and all the people in our lives who never got the chance to meet him.

In the darkness of the days, weeks and months that followed Child C’s death, I would open his memory box. I would smell his familiar smell, I would touch his hand print. His hand and footprint were made into a pendant, I wore it round my neck. It made me feel closer to him.

When Lucy Letby was first arrested these few tangible memories I had of my son felt tainted… she took those hand and foot prints, I felt so conflicted as to what that meant so I stopped wearing them – I needed to understand what part Lucy Letby had played in the death of my defenceless baby boy. Now we know as much about Child C’s death as I believe we ever will, I feel able to wear his hand and footprints for the first time in five years. I know now that they represent the love that I have for my son, and I will not allow evil to taint that. They represent justice and the truth.

Lucy Letby, to think that you could get any kind of gratification from inflicting pain on Child C and from watching our suffering in the aftermath goes against everything I believe it is to be human. I am horrified that someone so evil exists. To you, our son’s life was collateral damage in your persistent desire for drama, attention, praise and sympathy. You have betrayed and manipulated those you worked with and the many families who put their tiny precious babies and all of their hope in your hands. There is no sentence that will ever compare to the excruciating agony we have suffered as a consequence of your murder of our son. But at least now there is no debate – that, in your own words, you killed them on purpose. You are evil. You did this.

Child D

The prosecution said she died following an intentional injection of air into the bloodstream and collapsed three times in the early hours of 22 June 2015. On the third collapse, she could not be revived and died in her parents’ arms.

Letby was found guilty of her murder.

Child D’s mother said this in her victim statement:

Lucy Letby had a chance to say something to us all parents of the victims, and she only had one word – “unimaginable”. Her wicked sense of entitlement and abuse of her role as a trusted nurse is truly a scandal.

Lucy Letby you failed God and the plans he had for Child D. You even called it fate, you were clearly disconnected with God!

After today I hope to be free of this limbo state I have been stuck in. The heavy load constantly on my mind has deeply changed me. My heart broke into million pieces the second Child D lost her battle against evil and that is when hell broke loose for us.

Those lives were not yours to take and although I am torn with sadness, anger and unanswered questions… I cannot forgive you. There is no forgiving, not now, not ever.

After Child D passed, we were asked if we would like her to be an organ donor. This was a very difficult question to answer but we thought if she could be a baby’s saviour, as painful as it felt, it felt right to say yes. We were told a baby needed a heart. I can’t explain how I felt then but very soon they came back to us and said that a post mortem has been ordered as they couldn’t explain why Child D collapsed and died. Therefore she could not be an organ donor which broke my heart even more.

I stayed a few more days in hospital to recover, then Child D’s father and I went home… just the two of us instead of a family of three. We were given Child D’s hand and foot prints and also a memory box with two tiny teddy ears. One to go with Child D and one for us to keep.

Our family cleared all traces of baby stuff around the house, removed the baby seat from the car, took Child D’s hospital bag back home. All was stored inside her bedroom and the door remained closed for any months.

We had to organise her funeral. You don’t choose the date, the service took place the day before her due date. Her ashes were hurried in a tiny box on her actual due date.

Those weeks were particularly difficult. I couldn’t rest or stop thinking about all the little things I should be doing instead. My arms, my heart, my life all felt so painfully empty. I missed Child D so much.

I was desperate to feel her, smell her, cuddle her. I needed to be her mum in every way to look after her and keep her safe. I felt so guilty and questioned if any of this was my fault. Did I miss something, did I do something wrong. Did I fail my daughter?

When I left the hospital, I requested Child D’s medical notes and mine. I got clued up on medical terms, neonatal death statistics, guidelines, protocols… I was knocking on doors, asking questions, meeting with doctors from the Countess and even the management team. We got a solicitor and I wanted the police involved. At that stage I was told that this was not a criminal matter so the police were out of question.

We got the post mortem report and even the coroner ordered an inquest. Things just didn’t add up. A week before we were due to go to court and face the coroner, we got a call at 6am from the police, telling us that they were about to arrest someone on suspicion of Child D’s murder and also other babies.

This was something else to overcome. We knew nothing during the whole time of the investigation or what has happened to Child D. I became obsessed, and this took over my life: fighting for Child D and justice. I wanted to know everything. I was told by someone once, not to expect too much and that it wouldn’t change anything nor bring Child D back.

Thank God the police started their investigation. Now the why and never knowing will keep this wound forever opened.

The following year, l gave birth to Child D’s brother. Such a gorgeous boy. Then it was all those first times – first time we held our baby boy, first trip in the car to come home…first bath, first cuddle, first smile, all those moments were filling my heart with happier memories.

I love being a mum and at the same time struggle with grief and depression. I have disconnected from many people around me. I lost my confidence as a friend, a woman, a mum, a wife… I never feel good enough, I feel I’ve let myself go. My marriage is also scarred by all the hurdles we went through.

At first we were each other’s rocks but as challenges were met, we found ourselves dealing with them in different ways, not at the same pace and it has been hard to keep strong together at times.

I feel not only I lost Child D but lost all those years of my life too. Since Child D passed away I lived beside my own shadow. I have had multiple therapies, panic attacks, dark thoughts plus many struggles to overcome. After a nervous breakdown I took time off work and started anti-depressants. I guess it was time but I felt so scared I would never recover.

I gave up, then tried again but it became a rollercoaster and I was mentally exhausted, I did feel very lonely, at time it felt like I was losing my mind, my sanity, my worth, myself. I considered ending it all, I couldn’t continue and didn’t really want to. I was hoping so hard that maybe if I went to the other side I would see my daughter and be with her. Now whether this is true or not, I now find comfort thinking that my prayers brought me the strength and courage to stay.

Fast forward to the trial. This was a long time coming and knew it would be really hard to stay in a bubble until I gave my evidence. My husband went to court everyday, listened to the opening statements and the evidence on first victims, he would come home but was not allowed to speak to me about any of it. He was so strong and I had no idea what he was taking on. I believe that part of the trial was harder on him than me.

When I finally gave my evidence and sat on the public gallery to listen to all the facts the prosecution team has gathered, it was clearly overwhelming. It felt invasive having Child D’s short life exposed to the public. And sit through, listening to all the babies’ tragic stories. At the same time I found comfort, getting some answers, be able to ask questions and finally meet other families.

In preparation for the trial, we also had to consider what we would tell Child D’s brother about his sister. I explained that Child D died because someone hurt her. He asked where that person was, and when I said prison, he didn’t ask anymore until a while after. Then one day, he asked me who had the keys to the prison and if there was any chance the person that hurt Child D could get the keys and get out. He got upset and worried she might get out and hurt other babies. I had to reassure him that there was no chance of that happening.

We still have Child D’s death to declare officially, and this could not be done until the cause of death has been agreed. This is going to be another difficult thing to do, going to the registrar and declare our daughter’s death eight years after her birth. We wanted justice for Child D and that day has come.

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Child E and F

The eldest (Child E) died in the early hours of 4 August 2015, after what the prosecution said was an injection of air into his bloodstream by Letby. His mother interrupted the attack and found him distressed and bleeding from the mouth.

Letby was accused of attacking Child F a day later by poisoning his IV bag with insulin. He survived.

Jurors found Letby guilty of one charge of murder and another of attempted murder.

This is their mother’s full victim impact statement:

When our boys were born prematurely, we were both nervous and overjoyed to have our long-awaited family. Our dreams had come true, and both boys were thriving after their birth. Child E, our little fighter, was breathing without support and growing in the neo-natal unit. Child F, although needing some additional support, was also doing well. Never did I imagine that Child E would die.

There were discussions about their progress, and the staff asked if we would like to transfer to our local hospital since both boys were thriving and stable enough for the journey. However, on the 3 August 2015, our world shattered when we encountered evil disguised as a caring nurse. Losing Child E was the most difficult thing we have ever experienced. The heartbreak and shock left me feeling confused and numb. How could Child E collapse so suddenly after spending the day cuddling with us?

Grieving and caring for a premature baby while being away from home were immensely challenging. The psychological impact on us was unimaginable and devastating. While caring for Child F, we lived in constant fear of losing him too, especially during the night following Child E’s death. I thought, “please, not again”. I spent the entire night with Child F, watching him closely and hoping his heart rate would stabilise. It was a living nightmare. Little did I know that the nightmare of pain and hurt would continue, emotionally battering me throughout my children’s lives.

On 3 July 2018, my family slept in our new home for the first time. At 6am, our world was shattered once again with a phone call that took my breath away. We were informed that a nurse we trusted had intentionally caused our baby’s death. We felt cheated, deceived, and utterly heartbroken once more. The emotional impact on our family was catastrophic. We felt a range of emotions: Why did this happen to us? Guilt consumed me, thinking I was able to save Child F but couldn’t save Child E because I followed the instructions to leave him with Lucy.

Trusting my own instincts since this happened became challenging. In the neo-natal environment, vulnerability prevails as you rely on the expertise and knowledge of others to make decisions for your babies, especially as a first-time parent. We followed the instructions given to us diligently, even asking for permission to touch our babies during visitation. It was a tense and unnatural environment, and we were afraid that deviating from the instructions would hinder our boys’ progress.

We were robbed of precious time with our baby boy after he died. We were denied the opportunity to spend private moments with him, having to grieve openly in the presence of Lucy and the neo-natal unit staff in nursery one. Lucy bathed Child E, an action I deeply regret, and dressed him in a woollen gown. He was buried in that gown, a gift from the unit chosen by Lucy. I feel sickened by the choice we made. Not a single day passes without distress over this decision.

Our boys were extraordinary miracles. We had experienced failed IVF attempts, with the conclusion that I would never be able to conceive. Then, out of the blue, we discovered we were expecting twins. That feeling remains one of the happiest times in my life. I felt like I was walking on a cloud, pure happiness. And that’s what confuses me the most. Lucy was aware of our journey and deliberately caused significant harm and cruelty to our boys. No children in this world were more wanted and loved than them. No child deserves what happened in this case, but I still struggle to understand why it happened to us. Lucy presented herself as kind, caring, and soft-spoken. Now I know it was all an act, a sadistic abuse of power that has left me unable to trust anyone.

Child F has been diagnosed with severe learning difficulties, which we believe is a result of being poisoned with a large quantity of insulin. We attend regular hospital visits for Child F complex and severe disabilities, which leave me feeling uneasy, I never allow him to be alone with medical professionals. The anxiety I felt when he had to undergo an MRI as part of the investigation was unbearable because I had to leave him in the care of a nurse.

Logically, I know not every nurse is like Lucy, but the distorted side of my brain whispers that if it happened once and I couldn’t protect them, it might happen again. Our lives have been dramatically altered by Lucy’s actions in August 2015. We don’t lead lives like everyone else. Child F doesn’t have the same opportunities as other children his age due to his learning difficulties and being non-verbal. It breaks my heart to know that things could have been so different for him. He is without his best friend his other half. We have essentially grieved for both of our boys and the future we had planned.

Until Lucy was charged in November 2020, we lived our lives in three-month cycles, anxiously waiting to see if her bail would be renewed and what would happen next. Life moved forward, but a dark cloud loomed over us. I experienced flashbacks and painful memories from my time at the Countess of Chester Hospital. For six years, not knowing what happened to our children was distressing, negatively affecting our psychological well-being. Peace and happiness have eluded us in the last eight years. We had to endure months of sitting in court, listening to each individual crime and reliving every painful detail in public. It was heart-wrenching and soul-destroying.

The questioning sometimes felt insulting, especially when it was suggested that Child E’s cry “wasn’t as bad as I said it was”. I was there, I witnessed it, and those moments are etched into my mind. And just hours later, he died in my arms. I replay that night in my mind repeatedly, from taking Child E’s milk to the unit before 9pm to his final moments. Lucy must have been on edge after Child E’s death, worried that I might mention to another staff member that I was there around 9pm when Child E was bleeding, and Lucy sent me away with an explanation about his feed tube rubbing his throat. Perhaps that’s why she was so tentative around me during our time at Chester. Only Lucy knows. Lucy abused the power she held. She claims we had a good relationship and got along well, this is in response to questions about her repeatedly searching for me on Facebook. The relationship should have been strictly professional, that of a nurse and a grieving parent. I was a vulnerable, grieving parent doing my best to get through each day. There was no real relationship; I was at the unit for only 13 days and didn’t see Lucy again until the start of this trial. The lies she has told fill me with anger.

The trial helped us understand the medical aspects of what happened to our children. We now have every raw and graphic detail to process in the coming months. Nothing can change what has happened to us. We are living with a life sentence because of Lucy’s crimes. Child E didn’t die because it was “the luck of the draw”, it couldn’t have happened to any baby, he was murdered. Child F didn’t have large amounts of insulin put into his tiny body accidentally it was done with intention and maliciously to cause him serious harm. Lucy is right she killed them on purpose because she was not good enough to care for them. She has preyed on vulnerable babies, who couldn’t stop her, its cowardly and sickening, and I feel like my boys were a just a pawn in her sick twisted game.

The heartache and pain caused by Lucy’s actions extend beyond my family. It affects every family, every nurse, every doctor, and everyone involved in this trial who had to listen to the horrendous and heartbreaking details from June 2015 to June 2016, when her reign of terror finally ended. The trial felt like a platform for Lucy to relive her crimes, and it feels cruel that we had to endure a ten-month trial when she knew all along that she intentionally killed and harmed my babies. She has repeatedly disrespected my boy’s memory.

Even in these final days of the trial she has tried to control things, the disrespect she has shown the families and the court show what type of person she is. We have attended court day in and day out, yet she decides she has had enough, and stays in her cell, just one final act of wickedness from a coward. I would like to thank Lucy for taking the stand and showing the court what she is really like once the “nice Lucy” mask slips. It was honestly the best thing she could have done to ensure our boys got the justice they deserve.

We have been living a nightmare, but for me, it ends today. I refuse to wake up with my first thought be about my boys being harmed. Lucy no longer has control over our lives. She holds no power or relevance in anybody’s life. She is nothing. We have all been robbed of so much.

Child G

Letby allegedly tried to kill Child G, a baby girl, three separate times. On one occasion, she was fed an excessive amount of milk and vomited. She was moved back to the hospital where she was born and recovered.

Letby faced three charges of attempted murder. She was found guilty of two, but cleared of the third.

A statement was read to the court from Child G’s father, who said their daughter was the result of IVF, which had cost the family great expense abroad, with the parents initially fearing she had miscarried early on.

Child G was left disabled following the attacks – she is registered blind, nil by mouth (and is fed via a tube), and has progressive scoliosis which has caused her spine to curve.

It left her parents “afraid” and, as a result, they have not had any more children, and have not returned to use the remaining embryos left in an IVF clinic overseas.

“We were afraid of having another disabled baby,” he says in his statement.

Her mother finds it difficult to trust people who work in hospitals, but they need nurses to visit them every week to help support them.

He says: “What if Child G outlives us? Who will then care for her?

“Everything feels like a constant battle just to have the essential things that Child G needs during her daily life.”

He says his daughter will “never have a sleepover with a best friend, or go to high school and graduate. She will never have a first kiss, a boyfriend, or get married.

“She will always be in her chair.”

Child I

The prosecution said Letby tried to kill Child I on three occasions before succeeding on the fourth, and that she had given her excessive air via her nasogastric tube. A massive amount of gas was found in her bowel and stomach, and a coroner ruled the first three incidents had left her with brain damage.

Letby sent Child I’s parents a sympathy card on the day of her funeral and kept an image of the card on her phone.

The former neonatal nurse faced one charge of murder over Child I, and was found guilty.

Read her mother’s victim statement in full:

When Child I was born she was doing really well for a baby born at 27 weeks. When being transferred to Chester we were told all she had to watch out for was infection.

After a couple of weeks at Chester, Child I had her first collapse and needed resuscitation. It was really bad to watch our daughter go through this. When they thought it was due to infection this made me become paranoid because I didn’t want her to go through this again, so at first I wouldn’t get Child I out of her incubator as she was safer in there. We stopped all family from visiting all to reduce the risk of infection because watching our baby fight for her life and watching what she had been through, nothing was worth the risk of this happening again.

With Child I being in the hospital for so long we had to juggle the hospital with our home life, as we had other children. Child I’s father had to go back to work as we had a mortgage and kids to provide for. This meant we had to split our time so I went all day and Child I’s father went in a evening until about 11 o’clock to be with her. It was so hard and exhausting because when at the hospital, we were always worried about home and when at home worried about Child I in hospital. A few weeks after the first collapse Child I had another one. I had gone home that day at three o’clock and for the first time in a while I had started to relax because Child I was doing well, she was no longer in an incubator and was in a cot.

I decided to go and see a friend because I hadn’t spoke or seen any one since Child I was born – within half hour of being there I got a phone call to get to the hospital ASAP as Child I had become unwell. When I arrived at the hospital they were resuscitating Child I. I was on my own because her father had to get to the hospital from work, it was so scary having to watch our tiny little girl have to fight so hard.

I had started to just feel positive about Child I’s progress then this happened and it knocked me back down. We kept thinking why is this still happening as Child I was now eight weeks old and we were told the older she got it wouldn’t be as bad but Child I’s collapses were getting worse. We would get transferred to other hospitals and Child I would pick up straight away but it meant we would have to stay at the other hospital for a while.

Just before Child I’s third collapse she was like a full term baby, she was on full bottle feeds sat on my knee, very alert, she often smiled and she never cried, she was a very content little girl. I remember phoning her father and saying we’ll be going home soon, they had even asked us to bring the car seat in to be checked. But a week later this all changed, we were called and told we needed to come in as Child I had another collapse. When we arrived we were told Child I had been found unresponsive in her cot. This time we stayed at Chester and me and her father stayed in the hospital. We were in fight or flight mode, we barely ate or slept because Child I just kept needing to be resuscitated.

When she had become stable but still on a ventilator we were told to go and get some rest in the family room – but that didn’t last long and they were banging on the door for us to come quick. They then transferred Child I to Arrowe Park after a couple of days where she suddenly picked up that evening and didn’t even need the ventilator. After this collapse Child I was all swollen and looked in a lot of pain, her eyes looked very sad.

When going back to Chester we stayed at the hospital as we were to scared to leave her but as the days went on Child I started to really improve. She was back in her clothes and she was rooting for food but she had to be nil by mouth for 10 days, so we decided to go back home to spend some nights with our other kids. On the night Child I died we were speaking with the nurses in room one and they said at the rate she was improving there was still a chance she could be home for Christmas.

We left that night at around 10.30/11pm. Later that night, we had a missed call off the hospital so called them straight back. Someone told me Child I had had a collapse but she was ok now, they briefly put her on a ventilator but had to take her off and she’s like nothing ever happened. I felt uneasy and needed to see Child I for myself so I called straight back to tell them I was coming in. They answered and said you need to come ASAP Child I had collapsed again.

When we arrived they were resuscitating Child I it wasn’t like all the other times, Child I wasn’t fighting – as soon as they would stop she would just crash. I remember standing by the incubator with my hand on her foot because there was only room for us at the bottom. I was shaking, I couldn’t look at the monitors because I knew she was a lot worse than all the other times, I felt absolutely broken. When they handed Child I to us we never wanted to let her go, we held her so tight, she was our gorgeous little princess and I can’t even begin to explain the pain when we lost her, a part of us died with her.

The first year after Child I’s death was a blur, I don’t even know how we got through it. I would wear sunglasses permanently to hide the pain and tears from my kids as I didn’t want to upset them as they were also struggling. I struggled to be out in public, to eat and sleep. I would relive all these collapses and the emotions were like they were at that moment, happening again. I would wake in the night in a panic because of the nightmares and night sweats, I felt like I was sinking into a black hole and it was getting harder to keep myself going, I went to the doctors who gave me anti-depressants, sleeping tablets and beta blockers to help.

Child I’s father struggled to be around us and for someone who was a family man and spent all his time with us, he really struggled and would stay in the pub to avoid home and block it out. He wished he was dead, he wished it was him that died and not Child I. We separated for a while and went through a really bad time because neither of us could deal with what happened. This also had an impact on our kids.

Me and Child I’s father got back together and we knew we had to put our family back together. I then got pregnant again. I don’t remember the pregnancy, I put a wall up and blocked it out. We were so scared of the same thing happening again – even the scans, they weren’t happy moments, they were just filled with fear.

I didn’t breast feed [my new daughter], as I had thought my milk might have been a cause to what happened to Child I so I wasn’t prepared to take the risk. Her father struggled because she was the double of our Child I when she was born. [My husband] was convinced someone had done this to Child I. I would tell him don’t be stupid, who would deliberately hurt our tiny daughter and it’s the grief that makes you think that, but there was never a real explanation to why she died. So when the police contacted us to say they were investigating Child I’s death and they needed to speak with us, I really stressed about how I was going to tell this to her father.

When I did speak with the police I got the impression it could be hospital mistakes but they had to look into criminal as well. So I did them a statement which I was told to just go through a day to day of what I remembered. This knocked me back, the nightmares started and the night sweats again, all I could think about in my head was the events that happened at the hospital. I went back to the doctor who gave me more anti-depressants, sleeping tablets and beta blockers but this time I also started therapy for PTSD. When they told us they were arresting someone for Child I’s murder I remember my whole body shaking and having to tell her father.

We were both absolutely broken that someone could do something so evil to our precious little girl and this has had a massive affect on our family even until this day. We dug for years trying to get answers for what had happened and over the years we have been in some very dark places mentally. I have had therapy for six years and still ongoing. This has impacted so much on our family.

To then be told what happened to our daughter, as it went to court, I don’t think we will ever get over the fact that our daughter was tortured till she had no fight left in her and everything she went through over her short life was deliberately done by someone who was supposed to protect her and help her come home where she belonged. We struggle with trust, I wont leave my kids in a hospital and we will never give anyone that type of trust with our kids again. Our Child I will be eight this year and we should be watching her grow, playing with her friends and her brothers and sisters and we have to live with the fact that was all taken away from her in the most cruellest way.

Child L and M

Letby was accused of poisoning Child L with insulin on 9 April 2016 after she was moved from night shifts.

As his twin’s blood sugar levels dropped dangerously Child M (also on 9 April) was harmed by having air injected into his bloodstream and came close to death. Both boys survived, but Child M was left brain-damaged.

The nurse faced two charges of attempted murder and was found guilty of both.

Their father said this:

The whole event surrounding this case has taken its toll on me both physical and mentally. Initially doctors told us that the whole events that took place in 2016 surrounding my children were normal for premature babies and we believed what the doctors were telling us at the time. Little did we know that a year or so after their birth, the police would come knocking on the door and break the news that this could be an attempted murder case.

I was first on the scene when Child M had his collapse, and that image has been forever etched in my mind and this case has been going on for five plus years. The stress and strain have been unbearable at times and my mental health has suffered as a consequence of this case. I have had to take time out of work and seek counselling. I also have had to take a course of anti-depressants to help me cope with this. Even though they have helped, they can never take away the feelings I have as a parent knowing now what had truly happened at the Countess of Chester in 2016 and it doesn’t make it any easier to cope with over time.

I have also had a seizure for the first ever time in my life since all this has been going on and this traumatised my kids as they were with me at the time of the seizure. The doctors found no cause of this episode, and this can only be put down to the tremendous amount of stress and pressure this has put on me. I’m also a diabetic and this whole saga has taken a toll on that as well and my sugar levels have been raised through the stress, along with chest pains and my sleep has been disturbed. Even to this day, I have trouble sleeping as I get flashbacks. The GP prescribed some sleeping tablets temporarily but once these were completed I was back to having trouble with sleeping.

This whole case has taken its toll on me as a person. Previously I was a happy go lucky guy but now I feel burdened with the fact that I was normally a very patient person – but my patience has worn thin as time has gone on and has affected my relationship with my children. I would lose my patience with them more quickly than I had previously done and I’m sure they can tell as well and its not fair on them they never did anything wrong.

One extra thing I would like to add is that there was a day when I was at the trial and the public gallery was full and I was sat in Lucy Letby’s line of view and she kept looking over at me. That made me feel quite uncomfortable and uneasy and I had to move in the afternoon so I was out of her view.

This statement came from the boys’ mother:

Being involved in this case has taken its toll on our family and seeing my husband suffer throughout the last five years has been heartbreaking for me to witness.

I was second on the scene when Child M had his collapse as I was still on the ward at the time. My mental health has suffered as a consequence of this case and I have some good days, some bad, especially as the trial was about to begin and anxiety levels increased.

The boys had to witness their dad suffer a seizure for the first time in his life which was traumatic for them and I believe this would never have happened without the enormous amount of stress and anxiety this has placed on us as a family and I have suffered also from restless, sleepless nights throughout this five-year ordeal waiting for the case to come to court.

Child N

Letby faced three charges of attempted murder and was found guilty on one attempt, but the jury could not reach a verdict on the other two.

A statement from the mother Child N was read to Manchester Crown Court – she described how, when she found out she was expecting him, her family felt “complete”.

They had been expecting to take him home when Letby struck.

“The day we were called to the neonatal unit was the worst day of our lives,” she said, describing walking into the chaos of the room.

“Seeing our tiny baby fighting for his life… and not knowing if he would live or die.”

“I honestly knew Child N had been deliberately harmed,” she says, calling it a “mother’s instinct”.

“I just kept questioning why our healthy baby boy was fine one minute and then bleeding from the mouth and needing CPR the next.”

She says she no longer trusts anyone else to look after her son: “Our trust has been broken.”

She adds: “I think there has only been one occasion when [my husband and I] have gone out alone since Child N was born.”

They wanted him to be home schooled because their belief in people in positions of trust has been completely broken.

“We know we smother him with love and affection because we don’t want him to be sad and upset,” she says.

Child O and P

The boys – two of three triplet siblings – were among Letby’s last victims. Both died within the first week of their lives.

Child O was found with severe liver damage – beyond that expected from the CPR he had undergone that was “likely the result of an assault”. Just 13 minutes after he died, medical records showed Letby feeding Child P alone. As Child P was being prepared to transfer elsewhere, he also suddenly desaturated and died. Shortly before he died, Letby told a doctor: “He is not leaving here alive, is he?”

Jurors found her guilty of both their murders.

A pre-recorded statement from the mother of the triplet boys was played to the court.

She said: “I recall putting all my trust into the medical experts.”

Following the first death, she says: “I was in a state of total shock and disbelief.”

Then a second triplet became unwell.

“I had that awful sense of ‘it is happening again’,” she says, telling the court she blamed herself, believing she had passed an illness onto the boys and infected them.

After two of her sons died, she says she had a “horrible feeling” her third son was next. He was moved to another hospital.

“I only have one photograph of me holding all three boys together.

“It was Lucy Letby that dressed Child P after his passing and took his footprints which were stored in a memory box.”

She says the nurse was inconsolable, and herself grows emotional as she recalls how she thanked the killer for helping her.

In 2017, she became pregnant again.

“I found it hard to relax or feel excited about the prospect of having another child and spent the whole time fearing I would lose him too.”

This is the full victim impact statement from their father:

Our first child was born fit and well at the Countess of Chester Hospital. We both considered ourselves to be “blessed” having been told that there was a slim chance of my partner ever getting pregnant.

We later found out that my partner was pregnant again. At that first scan, I remember telling my partner that I could see more than one child. It transpired that we were having triplets. We were both shocked on hearing this news, I had mixed emotions of both joy and apprehension of raising triplets.

Scans continued on a weekly basis, and at each scan we were told everything was perfect and progress was going well. My partner and I were certainly well known at the Countess, staff called the pregnancy a “miracle”. We were informed that the birth would be at the Countess should they have sufficient staff and beds to accommodate the triplets. If not, it could have been anywhere in the country.

My partner went into labour… because we were having triplets, the hospital ordered us to come in straight away. The next morning, we went down to surgery. The caesarean section was a traumatic experience, and a terrifying event. Following their birth, I followed the boys into the nearby neonatal unit (NNU) – the room where they were housed was exceedingly small. The boys were feeding well with no complications. The team were happy with the births, and I was told how lucky we were. I spent a brief time holding one of the boys. I took several photographs of the triplets on my phone and later showed these to my partner on the ward. It was later that same day we were both allowed to go and see the boys.

We were so excited at how well the boys were doing and commented on how identical they wer – it was almost impossible to tell them apart. I stayed over on the ward and the extended family came for a visit the following morning. The visits were brief due to the rules and regulations on the NNU. All was going well.

Shortly after, things started to go downhill. I was present in the NNU and was informed that Child O had collapsed and to be patient and to give the staff some space. I was not given any further information and became scared and panicked. I was thinking the worse and was hoping that staff would tell me that everything was going to be fine.

I informed my partner and it was a very traumatic time. I was reassuring her that everything would be okay. I strongly believed that Child O would pull through. More equipment was used, Child O was visibly struggling and it was very distressing to watch his deterioration. I noticed the colour of his skin was changing rapidly, it didn’t appear normal to the naked eye, it was horrific to see, and it is an image that I’ll never forget, deep down I knew it was not going to end well.

Child O received a blessing from the priest and was quickly christened – moments later, Child O was gone. I felt like I had been stabbed in the heart, no words could describe how I was feeling. I kept wishing it had happened to me and at that time would have gladly taken his place.

My partner was inconsolable, extremely upset and visibly crying. It was also awful to see her mother crying and upset. I remember pulling in all our heads together and saying, “we’ll get through this”. No one at the hospital gave any explanation as to why Child O had died. I felt helpless, and my partner was blaming herself. The medical team eventually left, having given their condolences, which left my partner and I alone with Child O. We were extremely concerned about the other boys but were told not to worry and that they were fine.

Having spent some time together with my partner, I went home and informed my mother of the sad news. My mother was extremely angry and upset. I collected our eldest child and continued back to the Countess. It was difficult taking him to see his mother, and it was hard to disguise our emotions, we had no directions or advice as to what to tell him. My partner’s mother was supportive, more than the hospital. Together with my mother, we went into a small family room, but no one knew what to say, there was an awkward silence. My partner was as white as a ghost, with no colour whatsoever.

A nurse brought Child O into the room and we were allowed to spend time with him and say our goodbyes. We were given a camera to take photographs and later a memory box. We asked about dressing him into a final outfit – it was very traumatic and not one of us could do it, so the nurse assisted. The whole experience was difficult and upsetting to watch. Child O was handed back to the nurse, but we did not know where he was going or what was happening.

I stayed that evening at the hospital. Child O was eventually taken to the mortuary, where I thought it would be the last time we would see him. It was so distressing, I didn’t know what to say to his mother. I was upset, but I could see how hurt she was. I felt useless and blamed myself.

From that point I spent some time on the unit with Child P and his brother – I did not know how I should be feeling, and was worried about other complications, every beep on that unit caused me anxiety and additional stress. I became overly protective and paid close attention to any feeds and it was impossible to relax and enjoy the moment. Between 10am and 11am on the morning of 24 June, my partner and I were informed that Child P was poorly.

We both went immediately down to the unit where I met my father in the corridor. I informed my father, “it’s happening again”. My partner broke down in tears – we feared the worst and it was not looking good. I did not know what was happening, we were still waiting for an explanation for Child O. The experience seemed far worse than the previous day, I knew it was bad, and I was terrified at losing another boy.

My partner called her mother and I tried to ask what was going on but was told something like “we can’t tell you at this time.” The situation escalated and I was worried at the drama and panic unfolding in the room. I knew it was serious when doctors arrived. The whole ordeal was a repeat of the previous day, I knew it was not going to end well. I thought we were going down the same road as we did with Child O.

The situation lasted a long time whilst we waited for the transfer team. I witnessed Child P being resuscitated having crashed on more than one occasion. It was very disturbing to see. My partner continually blamed herself, which was awful to hear. Child P sadly passed away later that afternoon and the transport team got ready to leave. We pleaded with the doctor that they had to take [Child O and P’s sibling] with them back to another hospital and that he could not stay in this hospital and that he wasn’t safe there. All I could think about was getting him out of the Countess. Eventually they agreed to take [their sibling] and we were overjoyed on hearing this news.

To enable us to follow their sibling, their mother was forced to discharge herself from the Countess. It was a terrible situation to be in. She was still in a wheelchair and we were both very scared. We had a brief time in a side room with Child O and P, who had been placed in a cold box (open Moses basket). They were both dressed identical from garments we had chosen. The nursing staff were tearful and upset, but we still had not had any answers as to what had happened, we felt disappointed and let down. It was a very scary first night, I was petrified that something was going to go wrong. I did not sleep at all, the stress and pressures gave me a horrific headache, I couldn’t eat as I had no appetite.

Life was difficult, our days revolved around seeing Child O and P’s sibling as much as we could. We did not receive any counselling or support, after losing the boys, I didn’t know how to deal with situation or what to tell our eldest child, we had had no guidance for the siblings There was no contact from the Countess whatsoever, our extended family kindly offered to collect the memory boxes, but this wasn’t acceptable at the Countess as the hospital wanted the direct family to collect which made us very upset and angry as we never had any intentions of returning.

Home life was difficult at that time. I was emotionally drained and gave up work having been signed off sick by my GP. I did briefly return to work, but then the breakdowns happened which affected my mental health. I became irritable, angry, and bad tempered and started having terrible nightmares. I hid all of this from my partner and didn’t share my thoughts and feelings which placed a huge amount of stress on the relationship.

I found it difficult to talk about what had happened, I could not grieve properly and became cocooned and insular. Everyday life was difficult, just getting up and living was a struggle. It was difficult to be happy around Child O and P’s sibling and our eldest child, I felt guilty if I showed any happiness, normal life was impossible to enjoy. This affected our children when they saw me upset.

As time went on, around a year after Child O and P’s first anniversary, I was still struggling to come to terms with their deaths and so I turned to alcohol. I had not really drunk excessively before. I could see how much this was all hurting my partner. I hid how much alcohol I was consuming; I was low and disgusted with myself. I couldn’t stop and I feared I would show how angry I was if I did. I became dependent on alcohol, I was on the edge. My partner had had
enough.

One day I took the car keys and had thoughts of ending my life. I even told my partner of my intentions. I was aware that I was out of control but subconsciously I felt in control. My partner and I broke up, I was rock bottom at that point, I’d lost my job, my partner and so I moved back to live with my mother. This continued for around six months, I was still on contact with the children although it was a tough time for all involved. My partner and I
rekindled our relationship, and I accepted that I needed help.

Life was slowly improving but then in 2018, police informed us that nurse Lucy Letby had been arrested. I recall that she was one of the nurses that had cared for the boys whilst at the Countess. At first, I was gobsmacked but also relieved that there was finally some form of explanation for the deaths of Child O and P and all my issues had not been in vain.

I was always adamant that there had been some form of medical negligence at that hospital and never believed that their deaths were natural causes. I knew that something was not right, but it never occurred to me that they’d been purposely murdered.

I live in constant fear of something happening to any of my children and the whole experience blighted the pregnancy of our youngest one’s birth [at a later date]. I couldn’t relax or get excited at the prospect of having another child, I was always thinking I’d lose this baby too. When it comes to socialising with friends and family, I really struggle. Even the slightest of conversations would trigger my anger. I struggled when asked “how many children do you have?”. It was such a tricky question to answer.

I couldn’t talk directly about my own children, sadly two are not with us. It is always hard to explain to Child O and P’s sibling that he was a triplet and trying to answer any questions that he may have. We have tried to explain to our children that there’s a lady in prison and that the police think that this lady has hurt your brothers, we did this in case they hear anything from a third party or at school.

Having to come to terms with a police investigation has been hard to live with, I have so many unanswered questions and the waiting has been unbearable. June is always a difficult month for obvious reasons, it comes with so many mixed emotions. Since the news about Lucy Letby, I have attended several counselling sessions provided by victim support services. I am still classed as “long term sick” and continue to take antidepressants. I was not ever prepared for the actual trial at Manchester Crown Court, the whole process was extremely difficult as my partner had initially been called as a witness which meant that we couldn’t discuss the case together. In the court room everything became so real, seeing Lucy Letby for the first time since 2016 was difficult.

Hearing the evidence unfold was hard as I was discovering latest information about the case that I was unaware of. More so the texts that Letby had sent to her work colleagues and the personal Facebook searches. I thought that these actions were both in poor taste and unnatural, hearing this in open court sent a shiver down my spine. It was also difficult for our relationship during the court hearing, I found it hard to watch my partner being so upset and to manage our other children who quite rightly were constantly inquisitive about what was going on.

Lucy Letby has destroyed our lives. The anger and the hatred I have towards her will never go away. It has destroyed me as a man and as a father. I have missed over six years of our children’s lives because of her actions. The continual pressure of having the trial hanging over us has been immense and difficult to describe. Even after the trial has ended, it will continue to haunt us and will always have an impact on our lives.

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