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| Lucy Letby |
Lucy Letby has been around me for ten months, yet I still don't get her. I'm not sure what you'd imagine the most frequent child murderer in Britain to look like. But I'm rather certain that it's not this.
Chart of social media images Letby's previous existence consisted of going out with pals, dressing up, and acting silly for the camera. She no longer has that appearance; her previously blonde hair has turned brown again.
With jail guards on either side of her and a pink scarf in her hands like a comforter, she cut a frail figure behind the glass dock screen. The grins from her images were replaced by a serious face.
The public gallery was crowded with the families of the deceased infants. The majority of the seats across the aisle were empty.But Susan and John, the nurse's parents, continued to attend every day, occasionally being joined by one of their daughter's friends—the only one to come.
Letby's seat and my press bench spot were only five meters apart. I would occasionally glance over at the nurse to try and get a sense of her personality. The nurse maintained a neutral expression as grieving parents described the agony of witnessing their children die. She sat still, regardless of how raw the evidence was.
Rarely, when she was brought in and out, would she glance up and catch my attention before looking away once more. I made an effort to probe her soul. I made ablank. I began to wonder if we would ever see the real Lucy Letby.
When the court adjourned for the holidays after the trial's start in October, I pondered what kind of Christmas she would be experiencing while incarcerated in a Yorkshire prison.
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I didn't notice Letby displaying any signs of emotion until February. It wasn't brought on by disturbing information or tragic testimony. The sound of a doctor's voice was what finally broke the nurse.
He was concealed behind screens to protect his identity, so she couldn't see him, but she could hear him speak, and his voice appeared to elicit emotions we hadn't witnessed before.
Letby later acknowledged that she had "loved him like a friend."Although the doctor was married, flirtatious texts between the two suggested there may have been more going on than that. He was portrayed by the prosecution as her boyfriend.
It struck me as odd that the nurse maintained her composure throughout months of testimony about the awful suffering of infants, but that her first reaction seemed to be pains of love for this doctor.
There were just a few more times when tears bubbled to the top. when it was indicated that she had suicide thoughts, when evidence regarding being removed from nursing duties was presented, and when passages from her post-arrest interviews were read aloud.
Later on, as main prosecutor Nick Johnson KC stood up to begin questioning Letby,I had a similar question to his first one.
He questioned, "Is there any reason why you don't cry when you talk about these dead and seriously hurt kids, but you cry when you talk about yourself?"
Letby responded, "I have cried when talking about some of those babies.
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As spring's first buds appeared, the trial continued.
The thick evidence was difficult to navigate. records of blood gas. Charts of fluid equilibrium. Medical records. The medical terminology dictionary provided to the media at the beginning of the trial was no longer necessary. We were all proficient in neonatal medicine lingo at this point.
The prosecution's case was meticulously supported by data and paperwork, yet there was no conclusive evidence.regarding Letby's personality. The nurse's demeanor continued to be the big question mark as the investigation developed without any understanding of her potential motivations.
Letby's life would occasionally receive a glimmer of light from anything. Photos of her home taken by the police following her arrest were shown to the jury. The walls were covered with quotes-covered art. A dream is a wish made from the heart. Everywhere You Go, You Shine. Shine like a diamond, bright.
Teddy bears were on the bed. flowers that are artificial. On the back of her bedroom door, there was a fluffy pink dressing gown. Trivial Pursuit and Monopoly. a DVD of Mrs. Doubtfire.
Letby had two books by his bedside. In Shock, a medical professional's autobiography about becoming gravely ill following a miscarriage, and Never Greener, anovel about a young woman who cheated on her husband.
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The case had started off well in the autumn when the prosecution revealed a green post-it note that had been found by police after Letby's arrest. I AM EVIL I DID THIS, I KILLED THEM ON PURPOSE BECAUSE I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH, I DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE, I AM AN AWFUL PERSON were among the frantic scribbling that covered it.
It was presented as a confession by the defense. The defense said it was a heartfelt confession from the falsely accused.
In any case, that was the most important mental picture we had of Letby. I requested authorization to make it public in a letter to the judge. He concurred.
The trial came back to the note after a few months. It turned out that there were other memos that Letby had scrawled on various pieces of paper, which the police had also discovered. As she was taken off duty as a nurse and the net closed in, her mindset was revealed in her tightly packed lines of writing.
Along with the names of friends, coworkers, and the married doctor, whose name was adorned with love heart doodles, were scrawled the phrases "Please help me," "I can't do this any longer," "Hate my life," and "I want someone to help me but they can't."
Tigger and Smudge, her cats' names, frequently showed up.
One of the letters was discovered in Letby's 2016 diary, a journal with the words "Have a lovely year!" and a cartoon bear on the cover.
She had recorded a night out at a Mexican restaurant, a salsa class, and a reminder to pay her council tax during the week that was displayed to us. The same week she killed two brothers, this happened. There were three baby boys.
I made an effort to comprehend the potential for this double life.
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Every now and then, the court was given WhatsApp and Facebook communications that Letby had sent to friends and coworkers, but it was difficult to discern the nurse's personality from the individual texts.
I took my time gathering them and soon discovered some intriguing patterns. She frequently texted other nurses to inform them of her work with babies who had collapsed; itshe appeared to be trying to win our compassion.
It is so dingerus
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