I’ve forgiven my son’s killer
When Alice Husband, 44, suffered every mum’s worst nightmare she found an empowering way to move forward
Watching my boys, Jake, 14, and Oli, 18, joke over the breakfast table, or locked in a heated debate over the latest computer game, a deep pain sears through me... because where there are two sons, there should be three.
I’d always wanted to be a mother, so when Oli was born in 2000, followed by Jake in 2004, and then Seth three years later, my happiness was immeasurable.
As a single mum, of course it was exhausting dealing with the relentless squabbling and the mountainous piles of laundry. But watching my boys share fun and laughter was worth all of it.
We’d go camping, where I taught them how to build a fire and put up a tent. We were so happy, just the four of us.
At home, the boys would build dens in the garden or we’d snuggle up on the sofa for one of their favourite films. Seth loved superheroes, and being the youngest, he usually got his way. I lost track of how often we sat down to watch Spiderman, most often with Seth in his Spider-man costume.
After all the fun at the weekends, Seth never moaned about going to school. The teachers had nicknamed him ‘Smiler’ – and it stuck. Soon everyone was calling him that, and at parents’ evenings, I was filled with pride hearing how loved he was.
Christmas excitement
Around dusk in early December 2014, Seth, then seven, was bouncing around the living room in his Christmas jumper, excited for the school’s festive fair that evening. Jake, 10, was helping me pack a few bits into a bag, while Oli, who has autism, was away at his residential school.
‘Can you pop this in the postbox, sweetie?’ I asked Seth, handing him a letter, hoping the walk would calm him down a bit. ‘OK, Mummy,’ he said, rushing towards the door.
We lived in the small village of Tydd Gote, Cambridgeshire, and the post box was just across the road. Seth knew to be careful, but despite there being a 30mph speed limit, I reminded him to look both ways.
Five minutes later, Jake and I stepped
‘Seth knew to be careful crossing the road’
outside, but Seth still wasn’t back as expected, so I sent Jake up the path to look. He came running back towards me – alone. ‘I think it’s Seth,’ he cried. As he spoke, I noticed cars had stopped and people were getting out to look at something. I ran down the path towards a small group of bystanders. A woman was getting out of her car – she looked pale and in shock.
I didn’t want to believe it but my body was already shaking as I saw it – a little figure lying motionless on the ground, blood spilling from his familiar curly hair. It was Seth.
Terrible shock
I wanted to open my mouth and scream, but an overwhelming sense of purpose hit me. I had to save my son.
As I moved towards him, I shouted, ‘Does anyone know CPR?’ A man dashed over and began chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth as I stroked Seth’s hair, willing him to be OK. ‘Please wake up, baby,’ I whispered. The driver was being comforted by others around her. She was shaking and crying, but I didn’t have time to think about her.
Paramedics arrived and Seth was flown by air ambulance to Addenbrooke’s Hospital. I left Jake with my mum and followed in a police car. In shock, I couldn’t process what had happened.
At the hospital, I learnt Seth had damage to his left leg and mouth and serious injuries to his brain. He was moved to intensive care and placed in a medically induced coma to help his body rest.
I was taken to a quiet room where my son was hooked up to machines and his face covered in cuts. ‘No mother should ever see this,’ I thought. Doctors operated the next day to set Seth’s leg and release a build-up of fluid on his brain. And as the pressure on his brain began to ease, I held on to hope.
I stayed by Seth’s side, watching for a flicker in his eyes, or his finger to move a little. But there was nothing. Friends and family came and went, bringing clothes and toiletries while Oli stayed at his school and Jake was with Mum.
We still knew little about the accident and what had happened, but Seth was my only focus. As the days ticked by without improvement, I needed more than just hope, so I prayed for a miracle.
Nearly two weeks after the accident, the doctors gathered around and explained Seth was unable to breath unaided. ‘Surely there’s a chance,’ I said, but there wasn’t, my boy was brain-dead.
He was taken off life-support and days before Christmas, my son slipped away forever. He was just seven. Telling the boys was agony. As they dealt with the unbearable grief, Oli curled up in a ball on his bed, sobbing, but Jake was silent, staring into space. We were all in a haze of unbearable grief.
Though I felt I couldn’t breathe for the terrible pain, I tried to give the boys some normality over Christmas. But Seth’s absence of presents under the tree were an inescapable reminder of what we had lost.
Saying goodbye
In January 2015, mourners crammed into St Mary’s Church, Tydd, to say goodbye to our Smiler. Many came as superheroes or wore bright colours in tribute, while others dressed as Batman, Robin and a pirate carried his tiny coffin. Afterwards, we threw a children’s party.
Gradually, we learnt what had happened on the day of the accident. The driver, Amy Asker, had been talking to a friend on speakerphone when her car collided with Seth. She was driving within the 30mph speed limit and hadn’t seen Seth walk into the road.
In May 2015, she admitted careless driving at a magistrates and walked free with a £90 fine and five points on her licence. An inquest later ruled that Amy’s use of the phone had contributed to Seth’s death. Many people thought I would be angry or hate Amy for the heartbreak heaped onto my family, but I didn’t. It was a tragic accident and it could have happened to anyone.
No doubt she is suffering too. Anybody in her shoes would be haunted for the rest of their life. That was punishment enough. Besides, blaming the driver wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring Seth back. So I poured my energy into making talking on a hands-free set when driving illegal. Since my campaign, tougher penalties have been introduced. You will now be prosecuted if you’re using a hands-free to make a phone call and are involved in an accident. However, it’s still not illegal to make calls while using hands-free devices. It’s something I think about every day. We’re muddling along without our wonderful Seth, but the fact is his death was avoidable. Please help me to change the law and put lives, like my little boy’s, ahead of phone calls.
‘The driver will be haunted all her life’
l To sign Alice’s petition or find out more, visit facebook.com/signforseth/