Baby Killer Behind The Bar

Karly Hopson, 29, from cleethorpes,  will never forget her son – why should the man who took him away from her?

- Lianne Laborde

After I gave one last, exhausted push, the nurse placed baby Ethan on my chest.

‘He’s beautiful!’ I sobbed.

Cuddling my newborn, I’d never felt love like it. I drank in every bit of him – his button nose, mop of red hair, blue eyes –8lb 2oz of perfection.

I’d become pregnant at the end of a short relationship and his dad wasn’t around.

I’d be a young, single mum, but I couldn’t wait.

My mum Julie, then 50, had helped me decorate the nursery in sunshine yellow.

When Ethan and I came home, I took to motherhood like a duck to water.

Ethan was a dream, sleeping through by six weeks, happy, with a cheeky grin.

Then, one day in October 2011, an old mate, Jason Redgrave, then 24, messaged me on Facebook.

How are you? he asked.

I’d known Jason briefly, lost touch when he’d joined the Army. After we’d messaged a  bit, I asked him over for tea. Jason was funny, kind – and good with Ethan, then 4 months. He’d entertain him while I whipped up a spag bol, and romance bloomed.

That December, I’d been invited to a mate’s birthday and Jason offered to babysit.

We’d only been together a few weeks, and I’d only ever left Ethan with Mum.

But the pub was just round the corner and I’d only be gone two hours.

I fed and bathed Ethan, put him to bed, kissed him goodnight and, at 9pm, headed out.

A little later, Jason sent a text to say that Ethan was still sleeping. But, at 10.50pm, he sent another.

Ring me now, it read. Worried, I called at once. ‘Ethan’s not breathing properly!’ Jason gasped. My stomach dropped, and

I felt sick and terrified. ‘Call an ambulance!’ I yelled. Racing home, flying through the front door, I saw Ethan on the sofa, lifeless – paramedics trying to resuscitate him.