real life
When Jamie Dill, 45, waved her little boy off to nursery, she never imagined it would be the last time she’d see him alive…
Making my boys, Owen, five, and Ollie, three, breakfast, I listened as they chattered about our cinema trip that afternoon to see Toy Story 4.
I normally drove Ollie to nursery, but that day we agreed that my husband, Andrew, 47, would take him on his way to work, while I stayed home with Owen who was on school holidays. After kissing Ollie goodbye, Andrew strapped him into his car-seat. “Bye bye Mama,” Ollie said, waving to me. It was a hot, sunny July day and I smiled as I watched them drive off. At lunchtime, I checked the nursery app to see what Ollie had eaten, and I was puzzled to read he hadn’t been signed in that morning. Picking up my phone, I called Andrew, who said he must have forgotten to do it when he dropped Ollie off.
But a couple of hours later, when Andrew and Ollie didn’t return home as planned, I began to worry. I phoned Andrew but there was no answer.
I called again and again, but still, no answer. Dread crept over me and I had a strong gut feeling something was terribly wrong.
I phoned the nursery and the person who answered put me on hold. After waiting a few moments, I hung up, put Owen in the car, and drove straight there. When I arrived, there was an ambulance, several police cars and Andrew’s car with the back door, on the side Ollie sat on, wide open. Shaking, I got out of the car but didn’t get far before a police officer stopped me. “There’s been an accident,” he said.
When he told me that Ollie had passed away, I could hear screaming, then realised it was coming from me.
Ollie had died of hyperthermia after spending around four hours locked in the car in hot temperatures. It was only after Andrew had driven back to the nursery to collect him, he’d found his body in the back. Andrew had thought he’d dropped him off and gone about his day.
The following hours were a blur. Owen was taken into the nursery by staff, I was taken to a room by the police, and my parents arrived. Andrew went to the police station to be questioned. Later that night, I was allowed to see Andrew, before he was taken to a mental health unit because he’d threatened to harm himself.
I felt a collision of emotions as we hugged and cried. Sympathy, because I knew he was in a living hell, deep pain because he was responsible for our son’s death, but still love for him. I knew he’d never have done anything to harm Ollie intentionally. The following day, Andrew was told he wouldn’t face charges; the police accepted this was a tragic accident.
Trying to plan Ollie’s funeral, both of us lost in grief and Andrew heavily medicated, was so hard,
