Murdered By A Serial Killer

That animal took my boy, and then three others.

- Lianne La Borde/Sara Lain

When my son Anthony Walgate announced, aged 18, that he was moving to London, my heart sank.

‘If I want to make it in Fashion, I need to be in London,’ he insisted.

Anthony had always dreamed of being a famous fashion designer, sketching his first outfit aged 12.

So I helped him enrol at college in the big city.

He never told me he was gay, but I knew, and I watched proudly as my shy Mummy’s boy blossomed into a smiling, confident young man.

By March 2014, Anthony, then 23, was studying Fashion at Middlesex Uni, where my hubby Sami, 48, and I went to see his catwalk show.

I watched in awe as models strutted around in pieces Anthony had designed, cheered loudly when he came on stage to take a bow. ‘You’re already a star,’ I beamed. 

That June, Sami and I jetted to Turkey. But, several days into our holiday, I switched on my phone to check my messages, and it started buzzing like crazy.

I’d missed numerous calls and texts from friends and family…

Mum, I need to speak to you, my eldest son, Paul, 32, had texted.

Call home urgently, my ex, Anthony’s dad Tom, 53, said. Shaking, I phoned Paul.

‘Mum,’ he sobbed. ‘Anthony’s dead.’ 

‘No!’ I cried. 

I went into shock, unable to speak or move. 

Sami took the phone and within minutes we were driving killer to the airport. The journey’s a total blur but, back home, reality kicked in.