Where's the JUSTICE?

Catherine Wardle's son died over a senseless Snapchat spat

- CANDICE FERNANDEZ.

I can't tell you the number of times I had strangers say I 'had my hands full'. 'Four boys! You've got your work cut out!' 'How do you do it?' 'Bet they keep you on your toes.' But I adored being a single mum to four sons - they were my boys and I strived to ensure we always remained a close family.

That's not to say they didn't give me sleepless nights, especially my eldest, Nathaniel. In April 1990, I was in the kitchen washing up when I heard my neighbour screaming my name. I swung around to the unlocked front around to the unlocked front door to see him tearing in with Nathaniel, then 11, in his arms. Natty was bleeding.

A lot. He had a gaping hole in his forehead, some of his teeth were smashed, and he was barely conscious. I was shaking with panic, holding Natty until an ambulance arrived a few minutes later.

He'd been on his cousin's quad bike, hit a pothole and flew into a concrete post. He was lucky to be alive, but had to spend seven weeks in hospital. He had frontal lobe brain damage, causing short-term memory loss.

Surgeons screwed a metal frame in his skull from the top of his head to his jaw, but life was never the same for him.

He had learning difficulties and blurred vision, and lost his taste and smell, yet he was still the same happy boy I loved, never losing his infectious smile. When his frame was removed a few months later, he was left with scarring and a lopsided face, which made him a prime target for bullies.

But Natty just laughed off their jibes, and even as an adult laughter was like a medicine to him.

In 2002, aged 23, he met Laurie*, then 24, and in March 2004, he became a father to Nathaniel Junior.