STABBED TO DEATH IN HIS OWN HOME

Jeannine Burke, 44, thought her son was in the safest place

- KERRY HARDEN

Stepping into my house, I flicked off my shoes, taking in the smell of pizza, the sound of lively chatter coming from the kitchen.

‘Hungry, Mum?’ my son Ty’relle, 20, asked, lifting a pizza from the oven, ready to slice for his friends.

‘No, I’m fine,’ I smiled, grabbing a glass of water and leaving them to it.

Minutes later, I heard ‘Sure I can’t get you anything?’ Ty’relle asked.

‘Just a hug,’ I told him. He beamed, threw his arms around me, then headed back to his friends. I suffered from diabetes and Ty’relle worried about me. As I got ready for bed, I thought proudly about how my eldest son looked after everyone, cooked dinner for his mates and doted on his younger brother Pheron, then 14.

He’d been an energetic child, endlessly kicking a football around. When he got older, he’d swapped football for rap music and started recording his own songs. As a plan B, he was going to train as a security guard. I was happy he still lived at home – being a single mum wasn’t easy but Ty’relle brought so much fun and laughter to the house. As I lay in bed, the sound of him and his mates downstairs having fun made me smile. Although I wasn’t too sure about one of his friends, Denver Walton. He’d been to our house a few times but barely spoke and his hood was permanently pulled up. I wasn’t sure why but he gave me a bad feeling and I’d even warned Ty’relle off him. ‘He’s all right,’ he’d said, but that was typical of Ty’relle, he saw the best in everyone.

LIVELY CHATTER

A few weeks later, in April 2019, I woke up at 6am to hear voices coming from Ty'relle's room. It sounded like he'd brought some friends home.