Please Catch My Son’s Killer
a good samaritan fatally stabbed His killer still walks the streets a grieving mum’s fight for justice
He’d been stabbed in the chest, was as white as a sheet
Michelle Mcphillips, 52, London
It was us against the world – just me and my son Jonathan. That’s how it’d always been. When he was born, in May 1988, the love I felt was unconditional.
Unfortunately, things didn’t work out with his dad. But Jonathan and I were a team.
On his first day at school, aged 5, I choked back tears as I said goodbye. I just couldn’t bear to be apart from him.
But Jonathan was such a popular lad, and made so many friends.
He just seemed to get along with everyone.
Passionate about motorbikes, when he turned 16, he left school to become a mechanic.
He worked hard, and I was beyond proud of him.
Around that time, Jonathan introduced me to a girl he’d met called Kennedy.
‘I really like her, Mum,’ he told me later.
I liked her, too. Most of all, I loved seeing him so happy.
Then, in 2012, I came home from my job running a pub to find Jonathan waiting for me in the kitchen. ‘Mum, I’ve got some news. Kennedy’s having a baby. You’re going to be a grandma,’ he grinned. I shrieked with delight, wrapping my arms around him. ‘You’ll be a brilliant dad!’ I said, tears in my eyes. In December 2012, his first little girl was born – and another followed in 2015.
Happy time
Now no longer just me and Jonathan, with Kennedy and the girls, we were a whole team! It was such a happy time, and nothing made me happier than seeing Jonathan with his girls. They all adored each other. Then, on 24 February, Jonathan, the kids and I spent the day at my mum Sarah’s, until, at 5pm, I had to leave for work.
Jonathan told me he was going out that night for his cousin Ben’s 26th birthday.
‘Have a good time, love,’ I said, as I left. ‘Love you.’ ‘Love you, too,’ he replied. But, that night, as I prepared for last orders, my phone rang.
It was Ben. He was out of breath and panicking.
‘Something’s happened to Jonathan!’ he cried. ‘He’s on Upper Street. You have to come…’ He began to cry. I left at once – Upper Street was round the corner from the pub.
My heart was hammering as I ran. And, getting closer, I saw a cluster of ambulances and flashing lights.
Charging up the pavement, the scene was one every mother dreads… My beautiful boy was lying on a stretcher on the street, being treated by paramedics. ‘Jonathan!’ I sobbed. He’d been stabbed in the chest, was as white as a sheet.
‘Stay with me!’ I begged him, as he started slipping into unconsciousness.
In the ambulance, he reached
over and grabbed my hand. ‘Mum…’ he croaked. Jonathan was taken to Intensive Care at the Royal London Hospital, but was in a bad way.
Hardest decision
I spent the next three days at his bedside, along with Kennedy, the rest of the family and all Jonathan’s friends.
The hospital waiting room was packed full of people, desperate to know how Jonathan was doing. Through the police and his friends,
I learned that Jonathan had intervened between a teenager and a gang.
The gang had been waving knives and had surrounded a lad in a car.
It was typical of Jonathan to step in to help. Always so caring. But his good nature had left him fighting for his life. Doctors fought to save him – but they couldn’t. And, on 28 February, I was told my boy was brain dead.
I made the heart-wrenching decision to switch off Jonathan’s life-support. Before he slipped away, I held him tight, my hand over his heart until it finally stopped beating.
And, in that moment, it felt to me just like it had when Jonathan was a little boy – us against the world.
Moments later, he was gone. He was just 28.
I was inconsolable, my precious son cruelly taken. Jonathan’s body needed to be kept for an autopsy for the police case.
But, in March, we were finally able to hold his funeral in St Mary’s
Church on Upper Street, just yards from where he’d been stabbed.
The church was packed with more than 300 people – proof of how popular and loved my boy was.
Kennedy and
I are both trying to stay strong for the girls.
But I feel tremendous pain for them. Because of a senseless
killer, they’ve been robbed of their dad.
We’ve decorated a wall outside my mum’s house with a mural for Jonathan.
The girls painted floral tributes and released two lanterns into the sky.
‘Find the brightest star each night, because that’s your dad looking down on you,’ I said.
Now, nine months after Jonathan’s death, still nobody’s been charged.
It makes my blood boil that my son’s killer is still free to walk the streets.
They still have their life, but my beloved boy’s had his stolen.
I have to get justice for my lovely son.
We were a team, so I won’t rest until his killer’s jailed. I’m doing this for you, Jonathan.
I won’t rest until my lovely son’s killer is jailed