James Bulger’s mum:
It’s been 25 years since the sickening murder of toddler James Bulger by two schoolboys. His mum, Denise Fergus, tells Closer how she will never get over the trauma
“There’s no forgiveness in my heart for his killers”
Getting my purse ❝ out to buy two pork chops for tea was the last thing I did before my world imploded forever. I went into the butcher’s holding my little boy James’ hand – and I left without his hand in mine.
People often ask me if I blame myself for what happened that day, for taking my eyes off him for that split second; for letting go of his hand as I looked for my purse. For not seeing what the CCTV footage later showed: Jon Venables and Robert Thompson beckoning James away from my side and out of the shop. The answer is, of course I do. Twentyfive years later, there aren’t words to describe how I still feel, every day. I was the one who let go of his hand; I was the one there meant to protect him… Friday 12 February, 1993, started just like any other. We went to The Strand shopping centre near to our home in Bootle, Merseyside. The final stop was the butcher’s. James was two and held my hand as we went inside. The only time I let go of his hand was to pay for the chops I’d bought, and he was standing right beside me. But as I opened my purse to count the right money, I glanced down and James was gone. I looked immediately outside the shop doorway and all I could think was, “Which way, which way?” – I had a 50/50 chance of picking the correct path, so I turned left and frantically started searching for him. It was a small decision that had earthshattering consequences. I couldn’t see James. I took another left turn and went towards the security information centre, then they immediately made an announcement over the tannoy. I was hysterical as I started my own search, running in and out of shops, a deep swell of fear inside me. Forty minutes after James went missing, the police arrived, as did my husband, Ralph, who was just as panicked, and we were shown CCTV footage. A camera outside the butcher’s showed a very blurred image of a tiny boy running through the door.
HAUNTING IMAGE
Another camera, timed just after 3.40pm, showed James on the upper floor apparently following two boys. The next frame timed at 3.42pm became the most haunting – that now infamous grainy image of my baby holding hands tightly with his killers. The final frame, at 3.43pm, showed them walking out of the shopping centre’s upper exit – just four minutes was all it took to lure him away.
Seeing the CCTV footage, I allowed myself to feel a tiny bit of relief. James wasn’t a lost child – he had been taken. Immediately everyone went from fearing the worst to discussing the fact they could be mucking around with him, feeding him Mars Bars and treating him like a kid brother.
When his bedtime neared, I couldn’t help but think that he should be in his pyjamas and tucked up in bed, not out in the cold, without me. I couldn’t sleep or eat. I was like a zombie, waiting for news.
Two days later, we were told James was dead. A group of boys had found his body on a railway track, nearly three miles away from the shopping centre. I never found out the
exact nature of all that was done to James in his final hours and I never wanted to know.
On Saturday 20 February, Robert Thompson and Jon Venables, who were both just 10, were charged with my baby’s abduction and murder. I was horrified and sickened that two children could be capable of something so evil. I hated them for taking my son.
FINAL MEMORIES
I asked if I could see James one last time, but was advised by police not to. When I think back now, though, I’m glad I get to remember his cheeky face the way it always looked, with his smile and mischievous eyes.
At the end of March, I discovered I was pregnant. It wasn’t planned and I was completely stunned, but it was the lifeline we all needed, especially as the trial was due to start in November.
It took 24 days for the jury to reach a guilty verdict. Thompson and Venables were each given a minimum of just eight years.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to Michael and felt like I had a purpose again. But everything we’d been through had taken its toll and, when Michael was less than a year old, Ralph and I split.
In 1996, I met Stuart Fergus. We got married and Thomas came along in July 1998, then Leon a year later. Fearful about history repeating itself, I never let the boys out of my sight.
They all knew about James. I never sat them down and said, “You had a brother and this is what happened to him,” it was just that James was part of the family and I’d always include him in the conversation. Often when we were sitting round the dinner table and one of the boys would do or say something, I’d tell them, “James used to do that.” He was very much part of the family he didn’t live to meet.
TERRIFYING NEWS
In June 2001, just over eight years after killing James, Thompson and Venables were released on life licence and given new identities. I was terrified they’d come after us, and our house was like a fortress, surrounded by high fences and locked gates.
In 2010, Venables was recalled to prison for breaching the terms of his release and he was re-arrested in November 2017, at the age of 35, after officials discovered child abuse images on his computer during a routine visit. My response was, “Here we go again.” When will the Government listen to me?
Only Venables and Thompson know why they did what they did, and I realised I had to stop asking why a long time ago – because the answers are never coming. There is no forgiveness in my heart for my son’s killers. I’m just grateful for my husband and kids, who have given me a sense of happiness and peace I could never have imagined after the day James left my side. ● I Let Him Go by Denise Fergus (Blink Publishing) is out on 25 January To make a donation to the James Bulger Memorial Trust, supporting disadvantaged families, please text JBMT00 (choose your amount) families to 70070. 100 per cent of your donation goes directly to the charity. You will be charged your standard network rate, plus your donation.