Neighbour begged me to kill my boy!
Were the revolting recordings being pumped into my home aimed at my innocent boy? Lauren Lukey, 30, Doncaster
A robotic voice repeated the same words
Heading out the door with my son Lake, 6 months, in his buggy, I spotted my neighbour up the street.
‘Hi there!’ he shouted.
I waved back, smiling. He’d moved in about a year before – and, though we weren’t on first-name terms, he seemed nice enough.
I’d often pass him in the street while meeting my son Lucas, 4, off a special school bus which stops outside our house.
So it annoyed me a little when the man started playing music loudly late at night. He knew we had kids. Selfish.
Especially since Lucas is severely autistic and has learning disabilities.
Non-verbal and easily distressed, it’s important he lives in a calm environment.
One night, I went over to politely ask the bloke’s housemate to turn it down. It seemed to stop after that. ‘Thank goodness,’ I said to the kids’ dad, my partner Scott Milne, 32.
Only, after a couple of months of blissful peace, I was in the bath one evening last November when I heard a weird noise coming through the wall. It sounded like a robotic voice repeating the same words over and over.
Mental maker, mental maker…
Throwing on a dressing gown, I went to get Scott.
‘Listen,’ I said, gesturing for him to lean against the wall.
Scott was as baffled as I was.
For the next five hours, it went on and on.
By 1am, I’d reached the end of my tether. I called the council and someone came to investigate that same night.
The council worker explained that they couldn’t do anything except ask him to switch it off.
He knocked on the man’s door and, within moments, the noise stopped.
But the peace didn’t last.
Over the next few days, the
recording was played repeatedly. We tried our best to ignore it and, luckily, Lucas didn’t seem to notice it.
But by Monday morning, as I getting Lucas ready for school, I heard a persistent coughing noise.
A new recording, being played on a loop.
‘Not again,’ I groaned. By 10.30pm that night, the sound grew louder. ‘How long’s this going to continue?’ I grumbled to Scott.
I was really starting to get worried. The next day, there was silence. But late on the Wednesday, the chilling robotic voice returned.
I am racist, I am useless, I am worthless. I am not human and that is why God punished me. I am the mental maker now.
‘What’s going on?’ I whispered to Scott, shaking with fear.
Panicked, I called 111 and logged an incident.
An officer visited the next day. He checked out the source of the noise.
‘There’s nothing suspicious in the house,’ he told us.
He’d spoken to a man – the neighbour who’d always seemed friendly – and asked him to stop.
‘It’s a noise complaint, not a police issue,’ the officer explained.
But for our family, it was more than a nuisance.
The constant droning was unbearable – and it was frightening.
Sure enough, despite the police having visited, the noise didn’t stop.
But this time, it was a man’s voice – and what he said made me burst into tears.
Your son is mental. Kill him. ‘Scott, listen!’ I cried.
Do you understand me? Kill him. Better for him, better for you, better for me.
‘He’s talking about Lucas,’ I sobbed.
It was vile. Within minutes, I was back on the phone to the police.
But apparently, the man was entitled to say anything inside his own four walls.
I was furious.
I’d seen that man walk past our house while Lucas was playing in his favourite spot by the window.
Were those creepy messages really targeted at my boy, wishing him dead? Surely
We’re powerless. I’m terrified to be home alone
no-one could sink so low?
In the last few months, I’ve been back and forth, talking with the police and our landlord.
But we’re powerless.
The recordings have stopped, for now, but I’m still terrified to be home alone.
Now, Scott and I have applied for a council house, so we can get away from the area.
They say ‘love thy neighbour’ – but I genuinely hate mine.