Choked to death
It was her favourite time of the year. How could she be gone?
Confident, witty, bubbly – that was my lovely daughter Michelle, to a tee.
Popular and pretty, she wasn’t short of a few admirers, either.
But poor Michelle had never been lucky in love.
She’d married in 2005, but it hadn’t lasted long, and had ended in divorce.
Since then, she’d had a few relationships. But I longed to see her happily settled.
Eventually, she met someone, seemed happy.
But she and her boyfriend were constantly on and off.
‘We’re on a break,’ she announced in 2014. ‘Not again,’ I sighed. It was hard to keep up. Later that year Michelle, then 44, told me and her sister Tracey, 39, about a man she was seeing.
‘His name is Carl Anderson,’ she told us, adding that she’d known him for a while through friends.
This Carl seemed to be making her happy, so I was keen to meet him.
But, when I did, I didn’t think much of him.
Scruffy-looking, I thought my beautiful daughter could do better.
And there was just something about Carl that I didn’t like.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I got a bad vibe from him…
‘Oh Mum, you don’t think anyone’s good enough,’ Michelle laughed, rolling her eyes at me.
Maybe she was right. After all, she was an adult and had to make her own decisions…
That December, a week before Christmas, Michelle popped in for a visit.
One of three siblings, she had no children of her own. But she absolutely doted on Tracey’s three, plus her younger brother Derrick had a little one on the way.
‘I can’t wait to see them unwrap their presents,’ she smiled.
We spent Christmas together as a family every year. And Michelle was really looking forward to it. It was her favourite time of year.
She was always singing Christmas songs at the top of her lungs, making everyone laugh.
And I always got into the festive spirit by decorating the front garden with a few light-up snowmen and some fairy lights.
Just as she was leaving my place, Michelle danced around the decorations in the garden.
She had such a silly sense of humour, she was always goofing around. ‘See you soon,’ she said. ‘Bye, love,’ I laughed, waving her off.
Only, two days later,
I didn’t think much of Carl... got bad vibes from him
on 21 December, I was woken up at 2am by a knock at the door.
‘Who on earth is that?’ I thought, checking the time.
When I answered the door, I was greeted by two police officers.
‘Oh no, what’s happened?’ I said, suddenly panicking about my kids.
I led them into the living room, and they sat me down.
‘I’m sorry, but Michelle’s gone,’ an officer said.
‘Gone?’ I asked them, confused. ‘Gone where?’
I thought they meant she’d run off somewhere.
But, when I saw the look on their faces, I realised it had to be something far more serious than that.
‘Michelle’s dead,’ the officer confirmed solemnly.
The words echoed wildly around my head. Dead? Surely there was some mistake?
I let out a piercing scream. Breaking into sobs, I was hysterical.
Derrick, then 27, had been upstairs with his fiance Sophie.
Overhearing everything, he’d run down the stairs to hold me.
‘How did this happen?’ he asked the police.
Deep down, I already knew. It was Carl. I just had a gut feeling that he’d hurt my lovely daughter. And I was right. We were told Michelle’s dead body had been found at Carl’s place, in his bed. But Carl himself was nowhere to be seen. He’d gone on the run. While police searched for him, I had to go and identify Michelle’s body.
Walking past the glowing snowmen in the front garden felt surreal. Just days earlier, Michelle had been larking around with them.
Now we were on the way to see her in the morgue.
Arriving, I prayed there’d been some terrible mix-up and that it wasn’t Michelle. But, as soon as I saw her, it felt like a dagger through my heart.
Michelle’s size-6 figure looked tiny on the table.
Her body was covered with a sheet, but I could make out red marks on her neck.
I couldn’t bring myself to think about what’d happened to her and how she’d suffered.
Days on, Carl was found in Leeds, and charged with Michelle’s murder.
And, as the days passed, more details about what’d
happened came to light.
The police told us that Carl had left a letter at his mum’s house, saying Michelle had pushed him too far. How dare he blame my girl?
When Carl’s mum couldn’t reach him on his mobile, she’d called the police.
She had a key to his place, so she’d let them in.
At first, they hadn’t seen Michelle. But then they’d spotted her dark hair sticking out from under the duvet.
My poor girl had been strangled to death.
I prayed there’d been some terrible mix-up
Sstruggling to come to terms with it all, I was in absolute bits.
And, before we knew it, Christmas Day had come around. How on earth would we get through it without our girl?
On Christmas morning, while the rest of the world celebrated, I just wanted to shut myself away.
How could we enjoy ourselves at home while Michelle was all alone, on a mortuary slab?
The pain of losing her was so raw, the whole family was in a grief-ridden daze.
Someone cooked a turkey for lunch, but none of us felt like eating at all.
I tried to be strong for the grandkids, but I missed Michelle terribly.
I’d bought her a dressing gown and slippers, but they stayed wrapped up.
My eldest son Alan found the presents she’d bought for us. She had got me slippers, too. I had tears in my eyes as I unwrapped them.
‘Like mother, like daughter,’ I sobbed uncontrollably.
Heartbreaking.
After the festivities died down, it was a waiting game for the trial.
I wanted to face Carl in court and hear what he had to say for himself. I needed answers. In June 2015, Carl Anderson, then 41, appeared at Newcastle Crown Court.
He kept his head down, unable to look me in the eye.
Coward.
The court heard that, on the day Michelle was killed, she’d told Carl she was getting back with her ex. It must’ve caused a row, because neighbours reported hearing the two of them arguing for 20 minutes. But then everything had gone silent. My blood ran cold when I realised that must’ve been when Anderson was strangling my girl. I couldn’t believe the evil brute had killed her, just because she’d wanted to end their relationship. Michelle was only 5ft 3in – a tiny little thing. She’d been no match for him. Anderson pleaded guilty to murder and was jailed for life, and ordered to serve a minimum tariff of 12-and-a half years. ‘It’s not enough,’ I sobbed to Tracey. Anderson robbed Michelle of her future, so he should serve a full life sentence, no matter what.
Instead, he could be released when he’s in his 50s – still young enough to start a new life for himself.
It makes my blood boil.
Now we’re three years on from losing Michelle, and the pain is still as raw as it was back then.
Every Christmas is an agonising reminder of what we’ve lost.
I’ve one less daughter to spoil with pressies, there’ll always be that empty seat at the Christmas dinner table – those things never go away.
When Anderson killed my lovely girl, he killed a huge part of me, too.
I just hope he can live with himself.
My only comfort is that the last time I saw Michelle, she was happy, excited and looking forward to Christmas.
She was messing about as usual, just being her.
I’m just so glad that when I waved her off for the last time in my garden, we were both laughing.
she’d told Anderson she was getting back with her ex