‘I went to bed a new wife – and woke up a widow’
Nearly two years after the brutal killing of her police officer husband Andrew, Lissie Harper, 30, wants to make a difference
Amonth after my 16th birthday, I got together with Andrew. We’d been friends at school for two years, and at 6ft 5in, Andrew was shy, but also funny, kind and protective. He was always writing me sweet, silly notes and offering me his coat if I was cold. When we were both 18, Andrew moved in with my family, and a year later, he joined the police force. Andrew had wanted to be a policeman for as long as I’d known him, and he loved it.
In 2013, we took a break from our jobs to go travelling, visiting 14 countries including Sri Lanka, Bali and South
Africa over seven months. It was an amazing adventure, and 18 months later, we bought a beautiful onebedroom cottage on the bank of the River Thames in South Oxfordshire. Then, in 2017, on a trip to Italy, Andrew got down on one knee. “We’ve been together since we were 16 and I can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?” he said. “Yes!” I replied, and we both laughed and had a little cry.
Our wedding day in July 2019 was absolutely perfect, and two days later, we went on a minimoon to Cornwall and were looking forward to our proper honeymoon in the Maldives the following month. After that, we planned to move to a bigger house and start trying for a family. Then one morning in August, four weeks after the wedding, I was asleep when Andrew, 28, left for work at 6am. We texted each other a few times during the day, and he told me he’d decided to work late. That was typical of Andrew, who was constable for the roads policing unit of Thames Valley Police. That evening, at around 10pm, we spoke on the phone, and I said I was going to bed and would see him in the morning. “I love you,” we both said before we hung up.
At around 3am, I was woken up by a knock on the door. Looking outside my window, I could see a police officer. I thought Andrew had brought a colleague back and maybe forgotten his keys, but when I opened the door, Andrew wasn’t there. “There’s been a road traffic collision,” the officer said, after I invited him in. “Is Andrew OK?” I asked. “Andrew has died,” he said. Immediately,
I started to hyperventilate. Fearing I was going to be sick, I ran upstairs to the bathroom and sobbed and screamed into a towel.
Back downstairs, the officer tried to comfort me and called my parents. As we waited for them to arrive, he explained that they had taken suspects into custody. In my state of deep shock, I’d assumed that Andrew had died in an accident unrelated to his work on the way home.
“So, it wasn’t an accident?” I said, confused. “We don’t think so,” the officer replied. Someone had taken Andrew’s life? I was in so much shock and distress, my mind was in a fog. Over the next day or two, my family tried to protect me from newspaper reports, but eventually I needed to know.
I found out that at about 11pm on 15 August, Andrew and a colleague attended a suspected quad bike theft by a group of young men. As Andrew tried to apprehend one of the thieves, he accidentally stepped with both feet into the loop of a tow rope attached to their car. Lassoed as they sped off, Andrew was dragged at highspeed for over a mile along country lanes, before eventually coming loose. His colleague, who chased after the vehicle, spotted his stab vest and belongings before finding Andrew lying dead in the road. He’d suffered catastrophic injuries, and now three men were in custody charged with his murder. Andrew’s body had been so badly damaged, I was told that I couldn’t see him, which made it even harder for me
‘We were absolutely devastated’
to accept that he’d gone. I went to sit with his coffin at the chapel of rest, and told him that I loved him and that we’d be together again one day. I found it too hard to be alone in our home, so I went to stay at my parents. I couldn’t eat, sleep or think about anything else.
That October, we held his funeral, and hundreds of uniformed officers lined the route to Christ Church Cathedral in Oxford. Somehow, I found the strength to stand up and read out his eulogy. “You used to tell me we were a team and that we would get through all of life’s hurdles together, how I wish you were here with me now,” I said in front of the congregation. “The hardest challenge of all is losing you.”
After the funeral, with Andrew’s family, we had faith in the judicial system that his killers would be brought to justice. Only, I ended up feeling severely let down. In July 2020, after a four-week trial at the Old Bailey, three teenagers from a local traveller’s camp – Henry Long, 19, Albert Bowers, 18, and Jessie Cole, 18 – were cleared of murder, but convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to between 13 and 16 years. As the verdicts were read out, we were absolutely devastated on Andrew’s behalf. During their trial, all three men had denied knowing Andrew was tied to the back of the car. The three killers had not shown a shred of remorse, and it was an insult to see them celebrating as their verdicts were delivered. Nothing was going to bring Andrew back, but to be left with this sickening feeling of injustice was hard to cope with. I couldn’t accept it – I still don’t. That’s why I started campaigning for Harper’s Law, which would mean automatic life sentences for anyone who kills a police officer or other on-duty emergency services worker while committing a crime. More than ever in the past year, there’s been such appreciation and celebration of front-line workers like Andrew. The very least we can do is offer them this kind of protection. I want to make a change and create something positive from Andrew’s death. He literally put his life on the line to protect others and made the ultimate sacrifice, and I don’t want another family to feel the way I do.
It’s been almost two years since Andrew’s death, and I’ll never stop grieving for him. I moved back into our cottage last May and I’ve found that alongside the sadness of missing Andrew is a deep feeling of comfort, because it’s where I feel closest to him. Our wedding photos are hung all around the house, but I still can’t bring myself to watch our wedding video. Along with support from family and friends, I’ve found solace in friendship with other widows, after meeting through the charity WAY (Widowed And Young). There are certain things you just can’t understand unless you have lived this experience, and that solidarity and empathy has really helped. Recently, I’ve started to wonder what the future holds for me. One thing I’m very sure about is that I want to find joy in life again. Andrew was one of those people who grabbed life with both hands, and I know he’d want me to do the same.
‘I want to find joy in life again’
● To sign Lissie’s petition, search “Harper’s Law” on Change.org