January 4th 2025.
It's been three years now, and I can't help but feel like it's time for Prime Minister Keir Starmer to take some action. It was back in December 2021 when our lives were completely turned upside down. Normally, this was always a joyful month for our family. We would celebrate my son Oliver's birthday and then before we knew it, Christmas would be here. Our home would be filled with love and laughter for the entire 31 days. But that year was different.
On the evening of December 10, my son, who was 19 at the time, mentioned that he was going to meet up with some friends. Usually, I would have been all over him with questions about who he was meeting and where he was going. It didn't matter that he was now living in a flat with his partner and their newborn baby, as a mother, I always wanted to make sure he was safe. But that night, I held back. I didn't want to nag him. Now, I can't help but wonder, if I had asked him those questions, would things have turned out differently?
In the early hours of the next morning, which also happened to be the day before his 20th birthday, my phone rang. When I answered, his partner screamed three words down the phone that no mother should ever have to hear. "Oliver's been shot!" she shrieked. My heart sank. As a mother, all I wanted was for my son to be safe.
Between sobs, she told me what had happened. Oliver had ended up at a party with friends and had been attacked. Meanwhile, I was frantically trying to figure out how to get to him as fast as possible. I had recently had major surgery and couldn't drive, and my husband was in isolation with Covid. Eventually, I called a friend who lived nearby and she drove me and my other son, Charlie, to the scene.
As we raced there, several police cars flew past us with their lights flashing. I just knew they were headed to the same place as us. When we arrived, there was chaos. Police were trying to get people to go back inside or clear the area so they could cordon it off. But I refused to leave. "Please," I begged, "my son was shot."
One officer came over and asked me to explain what I knew. He then told me that they didn't think Oliver had been shot, but that he had been stabbed in the leg. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I thought to myself, it can't be that bad. He'll just need some stitches at most. I never could have imagined the devastating reality.
When I looked over and saw paramedics performing CPR and using a defibrillator, my heart dropped. I knew it was serious. But despite my pleas, the officers wouldn't let me go see him. They wouldn't even let me stand near him. Later, I found out that the knife had severed his femoral artery and vein, and he was losing blood quickly.
I remember lying on the ground, peering under a car and seeing the paramedics trying to save my son's life. I kept yelling, "Oliver, I'm here!" over and over, hoping he could hear me and that he would be okay. But eventually, the same police officer I had spoken to earlier came over to me again. "I'm sorry," he said, "he's gone."
I don't remember what happened next. I don't know if I screamed or cried or collapsed. It's likely that it was all three, but in that moment, it felt like my world had ended. My darling boy, just one day away from his 20th birthday, had been taken from us. Then on December 12, 2021, around 200 people, including friends, family, and even strangers, gathered to release balloons at a local park in his memory. It was a deeply emotional day.
Now, three years later, I am pleading with Prime Minister Keir Starmer to take action. My husband and I have just one thing to say to him: we're not shocked, we're just disappointed. Our son was taken from us in a senseless act of violence, and we don't want any other family to go through the same pain. It's time to make a change.
It's been three years, but the pain is still raw. I remember that December in 2021 like it was yesterday, the month that turned our lives upside down. Normally, this was a month of joy and celebration for our family. My son Oliver's birthday and Christmas were just around the corner, and our home would be filled with love and laughter for 31 days straight. But that year, everything changed.
On the evening of December 10, Oliver, then 19, mentioned he was going to meet up with friends. As a mother, I always worried about his safety, but that night, I chose to stay quiet and not nag him. Looking back, I wonder if things would have been different if I had asked him all the usual questions. In the early hours of the next morning, my phone rang, and my heart stopped when I heard his partner's panicked voice on the other end. "Oliver's been shot!" she screamed.
My heart sank, and I immediately raced around the house, trying to figure out how to get to him as fast as possible. I had just undergone major surgery, and my husband was in isolation with Covid, so I couldn't drive. In desperation, I called a friend, and she drove me and my other son, Charlie, to the scene. As we raced there, we saw several police cars speeding past us with their lights flashing. I knew they were headed to the same place as us.
When we arrived, the area was swarming with police officers and flashing lights. They were trying to cordon off the area, but I refused to leave. "Please," I begged, "my son was shot." One officer came over and asked for more information, and then he dropped a bombshell – Oliver had been stabbed in the leg, not shot. In that moment, I felt a sense of relief. I assumed it was something minor, and he would just need some stitches. I never could have imagined the devastating truth.
But as I lay on the ground and peered under a car, I saw paramedics performing CPR and using a defibrillator. My heart started to race, and I knew something was seriously wrong. The officers wouldn't let me go near him, and I later learned that the knife had severed his femoral artery and vein. Despite the best efforts of the paramedics, my darling boy had been murdered just one day before his 20th birthday.
I couldn't process the news. I screamed, cried, and collapsed. My world had shattered in an instant. Two days later, on December 12, 2021, we gathered with around 200 people – friends, family, and even strangers – to release balloons in Oliver's memory at a local park. It was a day filled with raw emotion, and it was clear that Oliver had touched the lives of so many.
Now, three years later, my husband and I are calling for action from Prime Minister Keir Starmer. We are not shocked, but we are deeply disappointed. Our son's life was taken too soon, and we want to see changes that will prevent other families from experiencing this heartache. We will never forget our beloved Oliver, and we hope that his memory will live on through positive change.
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