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DISABILITY-RESEARCH  May 2006

DISABILITY-RESEARCH May 2006

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Subject:

'Why our sister leapt off a bridge with her son'

From:

Colin Revell <[log in to unmask]>

Reply-To:

Colin Revell <[log in to unmask]>

Date:

Wed, 24 May 2006 13:40:41 +0000

Content-Type:

text/plain

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Parts/Attachments

text/plain (370 lines)

'Why our sister leapt off a bridge with her son'
By KATHRYN KNIGHT, Daily Mail

08:29am 24th May 2006

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/femail/article.html?in_article_id=387502&in_page_id=1879

Julie and Lindsay search for answers about Alison Davies' death
She was haunted by the burden of caring for a disabled child. But Humber 
Bridge mother Alison Davies faced even darker demons. Here, her two sisters 
Julie and Lindsay reflect on the secret agony that drove Alison to leap off 
the bridge with her son...

Every morning for the past few weeks, the two sisters have waited for the 
postman, hoping for a letter that might offer any answers to the haunting 
questions they have asked themselves time and again. They know in their 
hearts they are waiting in vain.

Any explanations, such as they were, were contained in the neat note that 
Alison Davies left behind for her family on the day she died.

Shortly after writing it at her home in Cheshire, Alison travelled to Hull 
last month with her 12-year-old son Ryan, taking a taxi from the railway 
station to the Humber Bridge.

There, mother and son climbed the railings before leaping to their deaths. 
Grainy CCTV footage showed the pair, ant-like figures against the vast 
backdrop of the bridge, scaling the safety barriers before jumping, eight 
seconds apart, with Ryan falling first.

The sheer human tragedy of that dreadful day propelled the story on to 
newspaper front pages, leaving millions questioning what kind of desperation 
could provoke such a heartrending act.

In the weeks that followed, as Ryan's body was discovered several miles 
downstream, a few small pieces of the jigsaw came together.

Troubled by depression, 40-year-old Alison had become increasingly weighed 
down by worry for the future of her son, who suffered from a genetic 
condition which had left him with severe learning difficulties. She had felt 
a failure as a mother, and had not wanted to become a burden to her mother 
or sisters.

The rest, though, was a blank. And with Alison's body still missing, her 
family could not even grieve properly. It would be another three weeks 
before her body was found, a few miles downstream from that of her son.

Finally, last week, five weeks to the day since they died, Alison and Ryan 
were cremated in a small, private ceremony in Hull, a few miles away from 
the bridge where she ended their lives. The service afforded some closure 
for her shattered family, who have taken comfort in the fact that, at least, 
mother and son are together in death as they were in life.

Now, they are left with only the painful questions which may never be 
answered: How could they not have known what she was planning? Could they 
have done more to help her? And how could they ever reconcile the final 
images of her death with their memories of their troubled but beloved sister 
and her cheerful son?

'Loving but shy woman'

Today, her sisters paint a deeply affecting picture of a loving but shy 
woman who was plagued by depression and who had slipped through the gaps of 
the health system.

"We cannot blame Alison for what she did," says Lindsay Cook, Alison's 
younger sister. "She loved Ryan so much and she tried so hard, but I think 
in the end she felt the future held no hope for her, that she couldn't find 
a way forward. I think she saw this as a final solution, as a way of taking 
control of her destiny.

"We just hope that there was some kind of relief for her. In our hearts we 
believe she never intended their bodies to be found, that they would be 
washed out to sea. I think she just wanted to find some peace."

The deaths have devastated her close-knit family. Despite being separated by 
many thousands of miles - while Alison and Lindsay lived close to their 
mother in Marple, Cheshire, the oldest sister, Julie, lives in Perth, 
Australia, with her husband Clive and five children - all the sisters had 
remained close, talking regularly on the phone.

Theirs was a bond forged during an idyllic country childhood in East Sussex 
where their father, Michael, and mother Jill ran a farm.

"Alison was a real tomboy. She loved being outdoors, climbing trees and 
walking through the countryside," remembers Julie, who flew back to Britain 
last month to be with her family. "She was passionate about animals and 
dreamed of working on a farm when she left school."

There were, however, other, darker influences that would cast a shadow over 
Alison's life as she grew up. As a shy, serious youngster, Alison struggled 
to cope with change of any kind and when, aged 11, the family moved to the 
nearby town of Lewes to run a busy local shop, she became withdrawn.

"She retreated into herself, didn't want to talk to anyone, and then when 
she did she would just lash out for no reason," Lindsay recalls.

This, of course, could easily be put down to the usual mood swings of early 
adolescence, but in Alison's case it foreshadowed something more serious — 
although the family did not know it at the time. "She just seemed to snap 
out of it and go back to normal," says Julie.

At 16, Alison left school and got a job in a nearby farm - from where, one 
evening, the family received a frantic phone call from the owner. "He said 
we had to come and get her as she was in a terrible state," says Lindsay.

"I went with Dad. When we got there it was as if she had a complete 
breakdown. She was laughing hysterically, but then crying and shouting. We 
didn't know what to do, so the following day we took her to hospital, where 
she was admitted to a psychiatric ward.

"She was there for two weeks, but it was not spoken about at home. We were 
just told that Alison was poorly. When she came back she seemed to be fine, 
back to the person she had been."

In fact, it was a warning sign: the episode was to become a recurrent theme 
in Alison's life, with intervals of profound depression and dissocation 
followed by long periods of calm. Frequently on medication, she had come off 
antidepressants a week before she died without telling her doctor.

'Withdrawal'

"We could sometimes tell when her episodes were about to happen," Lindsay 
reflects. "She would just withdraw into herself, retreat to a private space 
somewhere inside her head.

"We went various doctors, but she was never given a proper diagnosis. The 
situation was complicated by the fact that while there were these dark 
pockets, there were long periods too where she was functioning very 
normally."

It was during one of these calmer times that Alison met the man who was to 
become her husband. By the time she was 21, her mother and father had 
separated and Alison, who had remained close to both parents, was helping 
her father run a pub.

"Kevin worked there as a manager and I think he just fell in love with 
Alison on the spot," Julie recalls. The couple moved to Hull to be nearer 
Kevin's family, and, after a three-year courtship, married in a big church 
wedding with Julie and Lindsay as bridesmaids.

It should have been the happiest day of Alison's life, but instead, on her 
wedding day she was anxious and jittery. "She was being rather petulant, 
finding fault with everything. We just put it down to pre-wedding nerves," 
Julie says now.

In fact, it seemed Alison felt she had made a mistake: just ten months after 
walking down the aisle, she telephoned her sisters and told them she had 
moved out of the marital home.

"I think she felt that by marrying so young she was missing out. She always 
felt that she was the least successful sister and she wanted a slice of what 
we were having - travelling the world and enjoying our jobs," Julie says.

Instead, Alison's life took a different path. Within months of leaving her 
husband, she had met Phillip Johnson, a baker and the man who was to become 
Ryan's father. Two years later, she was pregnant.

"It was a turbulent relationship, always on-off," says Julie. "We felt she 
didn't need the stress, but when we talked to her she would insist she was 
fine. And when she rang to say she was pregnant, she seemed genuinely 
delighted. As a family we thought this might help give her a new focus."



Alison Davies with her son

By the time Ryan was born in 1993, the relationship was off once more, and 
Alison went to live with her mother, returning briefly to Hull until, in 
1995, she home in Marple, Cheshire, near the house her sister Lindsay shared 
with husband Andy.
With their mother having moved nearby, it gave Alison a period of stability. 
It was a happy time, but the terrifying unpredictability of depression and 
mental illness still cast its shadow.

"We always had this background niggle," Lindsay says. "We tried to make sure 
Alison kept regular appointments with her doctor, but the problem is that 
their approach tends to be reactive rather than proactive. There were no 
regular checks on her well-being."

Nothing could have prepared the family for the next devastating blow. As 
Ryan grew into a toddler, Alison became concerned that he was not reaching 
the normal developmental milestones.

Finally, after two years of appointments with doctors and consultants, and a 
litany of tests, five-year-old Ryan was diagnosed with Fragile X syndrome, a 
genetic condition similar to autism which causes mild to severe learning 
difficulties and affects one in 4,000 boys and one in 8,000 girls.

The whole family were tested for the same defect and while Lindsay was 
clear, Julie discovered she was a carrier and that two of her daughters had 
Fragile X.

It was a difficult and emotional period for all of them, but for Alison, a 
single parent battling her own mental health problems, it was a shattering 
blow.

"She was very, very upset," says Julie. "And it was particularly hard 
because she didn't have a partner. She loved Ryan with all her heart, but 
she was grieving for the child she thought she would have and for the child 
she knew he was never going to be."

Understandably too, her sisters were deeply fearful that the news would 
propel Alison into a period of depression. Ryan needed contant supervision, 
could not speak in full sentences and became distressed without a firm 
routine. It was a huge burden, yet she seemed to rise to the challenge.

"In a funny way some of those earlier years of Ryan's childhood were her 
calmest," Julie reflects. "Caring for Ryan kept Alison going - it's like she 
was fighting for him. She was so determined for him to be loved like anyone 
else."

Deeply private by nature, Alison found it hard to share her worries, 
although she confided in Julie. "Alison so desperately wanted Ryan to have a 
normal life, but she knew that would get harder and harder for him as he got 
older because adults are so much less forgiving than children. She had this 
terrible fear of him being institutionalised," Julie says.

Her family claim Alison had hardly any assistance from social services to 
help her care for Ryan, receiving no more than a couple of hours a week of 
help from a local organisa-tion called Independent Options - paid for by the 
local council.

'Badly let down'

After her death, one friend claimed she had been "badly let down" by the 
authorities, a sentiment echoed by her family, who feel there were 
insufficient procedures in place to help.

Would she be alive today if she'd had more help? We may never know, though 
more light will be shed on this troubling factor when police present 
evidence to a full inquest after liaising with social services.

"We all did our bit - Mum would have Ryan on a Saturday night, and he would 
often spend days or weekends with us, but it was still very stressful for 
her," Lindsay recalls.

"Alison used to worry that she was being a burden, even though we reassured 
her that wasn't the case. She felt like she was always the one having 
problems."

Despite the occasional depressive episode, Alison coped remarkably well, and 
in the last two years seemed to be thriving. She had learned to drive and 
had also started studying to become a medical secretary, determined to try 
to escape what she called the "benefit trap".

"I think it was important for her to have something for herself," Julie 
says. "She felt she was living a life she would never have chosen, that of a 
single mother on benefits. Coupled with her lack of confidence and her 
episodes of illness, it must have been very hard for her."

Despite these positive steps, however, Alison continued to worry, confiding 
in her mother shortly before she died that she was concerned about juggling 
work and childcare, having secured a job as a medical secretary. "It was 
getting harder with Ryan, no doubt about that," Lindsay reflects. "He was 
turning 13 and although he was still a lovely boy, he was becoming harder to 
control physically.

"He would shout at her, and shove her because he was frustrated. He needed 
constant supervision."

Despite these understandable concerns, there was nothing in Alison's actions 
in the final days of her life to suggest anything particularly the ordinary. 
A week before she died, she shared a last, chatty telephone conversation 
with Julie.

"I had to ring off in a hurry because my youngest son had started to run 
riot. She was chuckling, saying she remembered toddlers only too well," 
Julie says.

On the eve of their deaths, both Alison and Ryan had dinner at her mother's 
house. Her first few days in work had been a shock to the system, and she 
was tired.

The following morning Lindsay, who had planned to look after Ryan while 
Alison was in work, received a phone call to say neither felt well and both 
would be staying at home. "She sounded a little quiet, but no more than 
that."

It was not until the next evening that the family became concerned. With no 
answer from Alison's home phone or mobile, Lindsay drove round to the house. 
It was empty, the morning post still on the mat.

'I don't want to be a burden'

Lindsay alerted family and friends, but it was only later in the evening 
that they found a note. Lying unobtrusively in the kitchen, it read: "Don't 
worry about me. I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to fail Ryan any 
more. I wish you all the happiness you truly deserve. Alison."

In brackets, underneath, were two chilling words: "Humber Bridge."

Frantic with worry, Lindsay called the police. "The note seemed like a 
goodbye, although we hoped of course that Alison was just poorly again and 
had wandered off somewhere," she says.

In fact, Alison and Ryan were already dead. After making the 70-mile journey 
from Marple to Hull, they had gone straight to the bridge, where they had 
been recorded on CCTV chatting for half an hour, apparently relaxed, before 
plunging to their deaths.

What must they have said to one another in those last minutes of their 
lives? Did Ryan know he had gone there to die? Did Alison's resolve waver as 
she prepared to watch her child jump to oblivion? They are questions that 
can barely be countenanced by her family now.

For the family, still uncertain of their fate, the days passed in a blur of 
worry until, on Easter Sunday, they received the call from the police they 
had been dreading. Ryan's body had been found in the water 20 miles from the 
Humber Bridge.

"We knew then that Alison was with him. There was no way she would have left 
him on his own," Lindsay says. Finally, on May 1, her body was discovered 
three miles from the Humber Bridge.

Today, it is not fully knowing what went through her mind in those final few 
hours that is the hardest part for the family, although both Alison's 
grieving sisters feel they understand the fundamental reasons she chose such 
a dramatic course of action.

"We both spent a long time hoping a letter might arrive that would set out 
exactly how she felt, but we also understand how she came to this decision 
and we would never judge her. We just hope she knew how much we all loved 
her."

Julie and Lindsay have asked for a donation to be made to the Fragile X 
Society. More information: 01371 875100, www.fragilex.org.uk


Add your comment Reader comments (2)

Here's what readers have had to say so far. Why not add your thoughts below?

I understand totally what this mother went through, I have a son with 
ASD/ADHD & Tourettes and have suffered from depression since my teens. The 
main problems I've encountered is no central bureau / agency for parents of 
children who, for want of a better word "aren't normal".

Social services' repeated line is NO FUNDS, and if anything is available you 
need to fight tooth & nail for it. Which is usually the last thing you feel 
like after an extrememly challenging day.

Sometimes I feel that the future is too grim to think about, but it needn't 
be the case if a concerted effort is made to provide counselling as needed 
for the parents, rather than having to wait months for NHS appointments. 
Often an ear is all that is needed to relieve the immediate crisis / stress.
Of course there will always be suicides, mentally ill people can be Oscar 
winning actors hiding true feelings but most will try to reach out for help.

- Michelle Watson, Stanley, Co Durham

All too often mothers are failed by the medical profession, and by the 
social services. I can only imagine the anguish this poor woman felt as she 
stood on the bridge in those final moments. It is such a complete and total 
waste of life, but one that cannot be blamed upon the mother.

- Kate Davies, Hereford Herefordshire

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