Pure Evil
How Tracie Andrews murdered my son, deceived the nation and sentenced me to a life of pain and misery
MAUREEN HARVEY
For my son Lee…
Lee, your life was cut short. I now know why you were always in a hurry. Watching the clock, wearing out the carpet walking up and down the lounge, waiting for your friends to arrive, complaining they were late, ready for a good night on the town.
You lived life to the full and I was so proud of you.
Lee, thank you for being my son and my friend. My love for you will never end.
God bless, my darling. Love you, miss you, Mum x
Special thanks to Ray, Michelle, Steve, my family, my friend Joyce and to West Mercia Constabulary.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1 The Nightmare Begins
2 The Reality of Grief
3 Suspicion
4 Press Conference
5 The Breakthrough
6 Suicide Bid
7 Closing in on a Killer
8 Charged
9 Tears for Lee
10 The Trial
11 The Verdict
12 The Aftermath
13 Picking up the Pieces
14 Edge of Reason
15 The Appeal
16 Tracie’s Confession
17 The Tariff
18 Facing the Future
19 Among Friends
20 Playing the Victim
21 Fighting Our Corner
22 Brief Encounter
23 Costa del Foston
24 Remembering Lee
Copyright
It was 3.20am on Sunday, 1 December 1996. The sound of a car pulling up outside had woken Ray and me. Who else would turn up in the middle of the night but Lee?
I lay awake in the darkness wondering why I couldn’t hear him letting himself in downstairs. Typical, I thought, getting out of bed. He’s probably forgotten his front-door key. But, when I pulled back the curtains and saw a white car parked at the end of our drive, I realised it wasn’t Lee’s. I was horrified when I saw two uniformed police officers get out of the car and make their way up the garden path.
I can remember shouting, ‘No!’ as they were knocking on the front door and, in that split-second, as Ray leaped out of bed and nearly fell over as he tried to put both legs in one trouser hole, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Had Lee been in an accident? Was he hurt? Was it Michelle, my daughter? She was pregnant and on a Center Parcs holiday with her husband Steve and two-year-old daughter Paige. What in God’s name had happened?
Even as Ray and I were running down the stairs, I was silently praying, ‘Please, God, let everything be all right. Let them have the wrong address.’
Facing a policeman and woman on the doorstep, I gripped Ray’s arm. ‘Are you the parents of Lee Harvey?’ one of them asked.
The blood was pounding in my head as Ray nodded and stepped back to let them into the hallway.
‘I’m afraid he’s been in some sort of row,’ the officer continued. ‘A road-rage attack. He’s been stabbed.’
I could hardly breathe. ‘Is he all right?’ I asked.
His face said it all. ‘We’re very sorry, Mrs Harvey…’
‘Oh, God!’ I screamed. ‘Please don’t tell me he’s dead.’
Ray was crying as the officers followed us into the sitting room. The policewoman put her arm round me and said she’d make us a cup of tea. I went into the kitchen and started getting cups out of the cupboard. I was in such a state of shock that I couldn’t find anything else. I stood shaking by the sink and let the policewoman gently take a cup from my hands.
This couldn’t be happening to us. It happened on the television to other people. I’d read harrowing interviews in the newspapers and magazines where other parents had relived this nightmare. It was too much to take in that now it was our turn and that our son was dead.
‘It can’t be Lee,’ Ray said. His voice was choked, barely audible.
‘No,’ I heard myself say. ‘You’ve made a mistake… It’s not him… It can’t be.’
‘I’m afraid it is Lee,’ the first policeman began.
‘What about Tracie?’ I interrupted him. My mind was racing. Lee stabbed? Murdered? A road-rage attack?
‘Was she with him?’ I asked. ‘Is she hurt?’
‘She’s been taken to the Alexandra Hospital in Redditch,’ he said, watching Ray pace up and down the room. ‘She’s in shock and has some bruising from where she was attacked, but she’s all right. We’ll be talking to her later.’
‘What do you mean, “She’s all right”?’ Ray demanded. ‘Why didn’t she phone us? If she was with Lee when someone killed him, she’s a witness. Why would anyone leave a witness to identify them?’
Even when you’re facing the kind of shock that feels like a sledgehammer punch in the chest, like someone is squeezing the breath out of you, you still, somehow, focus on trying to make sense of the unthinkable.
Tracie Andrews… we’d lost count of the times our son had driven or caught a taxi back home in the early hours after yet another row with Tracie. The arguments between them were the only predictable thing about their on-off relationship.
Usually, after one or both of them had downed one too many drinks, Tracie would end up either phoning her mum or the police to say she wanted Lee out of her flat for good. She’d claim he was throwing things at her, threatening her, taunting her. Like us, the police knew it was a case of six of one and half-a-dozen of the other and would log the call as another domestic. They’d turn up, Tracie would turn on the waterworks and play the victim, and Lee would pick up his jacket and leave. He’d get home covered in scratches and bruises, while Tracie would be crying on her mum’s shoulder, blaming Lee for causing yet another bust-up.
A couple of days later, the phone would ring and Lee would listen to her in floods of tears begging him to come back… and off he’d go. That was just the way things were between them. Tracie seemed to thrive on the drama and Lee was so besotted