In the hours after the murder, my dad thought about ways of ending our lives
THE murder of his mother on Wimbledon Common in 1992 may have been the defining moment of Alex Hanscombe’s life – but since then he has completed a remarkable journey to forgiveness.
Alex, now 27, has every reason to hate Robert Napper, the psychopath who knifed his beautiful, happy and devoted mother, and the Metropolitan Police – whose scandalous errors allowed the killer to roam free for years after the attack. And yet, in an exclusive interview to mark the publication of his new memoir, Alex declares: ‘Accepting all that life has handed me and then forgiving the person responsible has allowed me to let go. Napper being put behind bars brought me no sense of satisfaction. I never harboured resentment.
‘Even as a child, I understood. There was no one magic moment of forgiveness. When I reached adulthood I was able to look back and see I had already let go naturally and gradually.
‘I can take a step back and see where Napper was coming from: a difficult childhood, a violent household, being abused, in psychiatric care. He tried to commit suicide after his first attack. No matter how dysfunctional that may seem to us, it was him reaching out for help.’
It’s a humbling response to the question of justice and revenge. But speaking to Alex, it’s clear that the killing which tore apart his childhood has not corrupted his adult life. Instead, he’s a man at peace with himself. He says:
‘What I have taken away from the experience of losing my mother is the knowledge that I must appreciate every day.’
Even a failed bid to oblige the Metropolitan Police to be more publicly accountable back in 2010 causes him no grief.
‘Police officers are human, so mistakes happen. They are not goodies or baddies, they just belong to an institution that is greater than any person within it.
‘When you have a system of dark corridors, where people are not forced to face the consequences of their actions, you attract those who are prone to mistakes or corruption.
‘What I question is not who made what mistake, it is whether the systems are effective. In our particular case, mistakes led not only to my mother’s death but to violent attacks on over 80 women.
‘Sadly, I don’t think things have changed over the last two decades. The organisation remains bigger than any particular person. Bigger even than Cressida Dick.’ Instead of bearing a grudge against Ms Dick, the new Met Commissioner, who officially apologised to Alex seven years ago for the force’s failings, or pouring his emotional energy into a hatred of Napper, Alex chooses to live a contented life in his adopted home city of Barcelona.
He travels widely, practises yoga for two hours a day, is passionate about jazz and speaks English, French, Spanish and Catalan.
Currently single, he has been in a loving long-term relationship and would one day consider having children to recreate the loving family unit he once enjoyed with his own parents. Rachel Nickell was just 23 when she died on July 15, 1992, leaving her partner, Alex’s father Andre Hanscombe, now 54, to raise their beloved only son. The bungled police investigation which followed focused on innocent loner Colin Stagg, and it was not until 2008 that Napper was convicted of Rachel’s manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility.
The killing gave Alex just three years with his mother. ‘She wanted a boy, that was her dream, to have a strong son to look after her.
‘She was always grooming me to be that man. I remember her smile, her smell, the sound of her voice. Even though she is in the spiritual realm now, I know she is looking out for me.
‘I feel blessed because in the first three years of my life I had a happiness not everyone enjoys. I would rather have had that experience of love and loss than live without it.’
This equilibrium has been hard won. In the hours after the murder, Alex’s father considered killing both himself and his young son. ‘He could not imagine me wanting to go on without her, so he was thinking about the method he was going to use to end our lives,’ Alex admits. ‘But I knew it was not my time.’
Instead they sought anonymity moving to France and later to Spain, where they still share a home. Alex says: ‘I was able to complete my childhood in private. Now I am ready to talk about it which is why I have written a book which I believe would make my mother proud.’
He and Andre are working on a series of children’s books based on the stories Andre invented to amuse and stimulate Alex in his recovery. They are also considering publishing a self-help book codifying the beliefs that helped them survive.
Alex is proof such a book would be valuable. He’s not angry or embittered but filled instead with courage, optimism and kindness.
‘There are a hundred different what-ifs but I believe everything has played itself out for a reason,’ he says. ‘Those experiences have made me who I am today and there is no one else whose shoes I would rather be standing in.’
‘I remember her smile, her smell, her voice’