Please, act now

Karen Shelley, 42, from Kent, watched in horror as her little boy hung from the window blinds…

Red, blue, green, grey…

There wasn’t a car Riley, three, didn’t love.

And it was just the same with his little brother, Louie, one.

The pair of them spent every minute vroom-vroom-ing their toy cars around!

That morning, last November, they’d been playing at the coffee table, speeding along an imaginary motorway from the settee to the telly.

‘Right you two,’ I said. ‘I’m making lunch.’

‘Lunch!’ Louie babbled. Riley smiled. I knew he’d be looking forward to ham and cheese sandwiches – and a yoghurt if he ate it all. But Riley never said much. A year before, he’d been diagnosed with autism.

For me and the boys’ big sister Samantha, 16, it was hard.

The condition meant Riley found it difficult to relate to other people. Language was a struggle, too. But, with us, he felt safe. ‘You can get back to the cars after lunch, love,’ I said, ruffling his unruly blond curls.

Samantha was in her room, doing her schoolwork.

So I called up to her that lunch would be ready in five minutes, then went into the kitchen.

The kitchen’s open-plan to the front room, so I can keep an eye on the boys while I’m preparing food.

As I buttered bread, the boys carried on playing with their cars.

But then I saw Riley stepping from the edge of the settee to sit on the windowsill.

‘Riley, what have I told you about sitting on the windowsill?’ I said. ‘Get down, please.’ I knew why he was up there – he liked watching the cars drive by.

But it wasn’t safe, as I’d told him countless times. Except, as he

His body was hanging limp and lifeless

turned to step off, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

He reached out, grabbed at the blind cord hanging from the window down by the settee, grabbed it by both sides of the loop, and jumped. His little body lifted into the air. Then gravity quickly pulled him down again.

In those few seconds, the blind cord wrapped around his neck. ‘No!’ I cried, racing forward. But it was too late… Riley’s body juddered to a stop. His body was hanging down by the side of the settee, limp and looking lifeless.

The cord was wound tightly around his tiny neck. ‘Riley!’ I screamed. My mind was telling me I had to

lift him up, take the pressure off his neck. But my body refused to cooperate. Underneath me, my legs suddenly buckled. I sank to the floor, couldn’t move. He’s dead! My little boy, my

Riley! I panicked. Then I screamed again, powerless, just feet from where my boy was hanging.

Louie started wailing, but I couldn’t get to him, either.

I was effectively paralysed from the shock.

Just then, I heard Samantha coming downstairs.

‘What’s all the racket?’ she asked, pushing open the door to the front room.

Immediately, she sprang into action.

She just knew what she had to do.

I watched as