The Evil Within: Murdered by her stepbrother – the crime that shocked a nation. The heartbreaking story of Becky Watts by her father
I was so lucky to have Anjie through that whole difficult period, as I told her on many occasions.
‘If it wasn’t for me and my family, you and Nathan could have a peaceful life,’ I said to her. ‘Are you sure you really want all of this? You didn’t sign up for it and I wouldn’t judge you if you wanted out.’
But Anjie simply smiled at me. ‘Your family is my family,’ she said, squeezing my hand. ‘I love you, and of course I’ll stick by you, no matter what happens.’
That was just another example of Anjie being Anjie – she was the kindest person in the world.
Someone must have told social services that I was a heavy drinker, because they made me do a breathalyser test on a few occasions when I went to pick up the kids. It was annoying. Like most lads I’d had drunken moments in my younger days, but I hardly ever drank in that period. Still, I did the tests willingly to keep the peace and to prove I was a responsible parent. They also quizzed me on my job, my relationship with Anjie and Tanya, and what my relationship was like with the kids. It was exhausting and upsetting, but, with the help of Greg Moss, I did my best to prove that I was a hard-working man who would do anything to support his family.
When the children stayed with us at the weekends, Anjie and I tried to make it as normal as possible for them, often taking them out for the day to take their minds off everything. I was desperate for them to know how wanted they were and how much they were a part of our family. They seemed in bright enough spirits, and the foster parents they were with seemed lovely, so I knew they were being well-treated when they weren’t with us. Their foster parents’ own children were in the sea cadets, and they took Becky and Danny along for some of the outdoor activities, which they enjoyed, but it wasn’t their home and Danny knew it.
‘Daddy, why can’t I live with you and Anjie?’ he asked as I dropped them back at their foster home one Sunday evening. He always looked confused whenever I had to leave without him, and he would hug me hard as I said goodbye. ‘I don’t want you to go, Daddy,’ he said, peering up at me.
It broke my heart, but I tried to reassure him. ‘Anjie and I are doing our best to get you and Becky home where you belong. Don’t you worry, son,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, you’re going to stay with this nice family and have lots of fun. I’ll see you soon, I promise.’
But Danny simply looked up at me with his sad eyes. Walking away from that front door while waving goodbye to my kids felt impossible sometimes, and I had to force myself to put one foot in front of the other. It just made me all the more determined to get them home with me, where they belonged.
Nathan was fourteen at this time, old enough to understand, so Anjie explained to him what we were doing and how important it was to get Danny and Becky out of care. He got on well with Danny and didn’t seem to mind the idea of seeing more of him, but when we spoke about Becky coming to live with us he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
‘I don’t want her to live here with you, Mum,’ he moaned. ‘She’s so loud and annoying.’
‘She’s only a baby, Nathan,’ Anjie explained. ‘She’ll grow out of all that in time.’
We didn’t pay much attention to Nathan’s attitude to Becky at the time. There were eleven years between them and he was bound to be irritated by her demanding ways. He was also prone to getting jealous over his mother’s affections. Now and again, he would get annoyed if Becky grabbed Anjie’s hand, but we always reminded him that she was only little and needed more attention. We guessed that he would probably feel jealous about Becky and Danny coming to stay with his mother full-time, while he only stayed with us on the weekends, but we decided to cross that bridge when we came to it.
It was a long process, but in January 2002 the family court granted us an interim care order for Danny and Becky to stay with us full-time until the final hearing, and in March 2002 we were granted a residence order, meaning we were awarded full custody of them. When we opened the letter I threw my arms around Anjie in celebration. It was over, and we had won. My kids were staying with me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved in all my life. I vowed to enjoy every future minute I spent with them.
That night, when I put them to bed in our house, knowing that I wouldn’t have to drive them back to that foster home ever again, I spent longer than usual tucking them in and reading them a story. Becky was still too young to understand, but I explained things to Danny. ‘You’ll be living with Anjie and me now,’ I said. ‘You’ll be sleeping here every night. No more living in foster care. That’s all over.’
The relief on his face was obvious. He had taken it upon himself to look after his younger sister while they were in care – he was even given an award from social services at South Gloucestershire Council for being such a brilliant older brother. But that was far too much responsibility for a five-year-old to shoulder, so I think he was happy that, from that minute on, he could go back to being a kid again.
One Friday evening, not long after we were awarded custody, we drove Becky and Danny to pick up Nathan from his nan’s house. As we waited outside for him, Becky looked out the car window and saw him coming towards us. She opened her mouth and, as clear as day, said the word ‘Nathan’.
I swivelled around in shock, as did Anjie. It was the first distinct word she had ever uttered.
Nathan jumped in the car and looked round at us, puzzled by our stunned faces.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Becky just said your name,’ I told him.
‘Yeah, right!’ he sneered. ‘Becky doesn’t even talk yet. As if she said my name!’
‘Seriously, Nath, Becky said your name,’ Anjie said. ‘You should be flattered. She’s never said anything before.’
Nathan turned to look at Becky, sitting there in her car seat, and he was obviously surprised.
We spent the rest of the day trying to get her to say it again, but she wouldn’t.
Chapter 3
Happy families
TUESDAY, 3 MARCH 2015
Despair for Becky’s family follows discovery of dismembered body: Shockwaves were felt across Bristol today following the discovery of mutilated body parts thought to belong to missing schoolgirl Becky Watts. Police believe the teenager’s corpse, which was found at a house in Barton Court, Barton Hill, around a mile and a half from her home, had been cut up. Becky’s family are said to be ‘in hell’ and ‘completely broken’ after hearing the harrowing news, which ends any hopes they had of seeing her alive again. Becky’s dad, Darren Galsworthy, and stepmother, Anjie, described the latest development as ‘too much to bear’. The grisly find, which is understood to have followed a tip-off yesterday evening, comes 12 days after the 16-year-old first vanished. The body was driven away in a private ambulance before a team of forensic experts went into the mid-terrace property. As officers continue their investigations, police have put up a white tent outside the house, which is close to a number of other properties that have already been searched as part of the operation. They’ve also seized a black Vauxhall Zafira. Today, police were granted a further 24 hours to question a 28-year-old man and a 21-year-old woman arrested over the weekend in connection with Becky’s disappearance. Following the discovery of the body parts, they have arrested a further four people on suspicion of assisting an offender.
From the minute we knew Becky and Danny were permanently staying under our roof, I felt deliriously happy. I know it sounds corny, but I just loved seeing everybody together like that. On weekends I’d jump out of bed and rush downstairs to make us all a hearty breakfast, then we’d go out somewhere in the car.
As soon as we got our residence order for Danny and Becky, Anjie and I rushed out to buy them some new bunk beds and things for their room. I grabbed a few cuddly toys for Becky and some games for Danny – although I knew he would probably want to spend most of his time playing on the PlayStation with Nathan.
Becky had a few favourite toys, but she mainly enjoyed playing with her dolls and doing arts and crafts. She would often rush over to show me something she had made for me, perhaps a clay model or a drawing. She occasionally asked me to play dollies with her. I tried it once or twice, but I have to admit I was never very good at it, so we usually ended up playing basketball in the back garden. From an early age she also loved books. Her favourite bedtime story was ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, and she used to make me read it to her almost every night. Once she was staying with us, she began speaking more and more, until she was chatting so much that we forgot she’d ever been slow to start.
For Becky’s fourth birthday in June 2002, I spent the best part of a week making her her very own playhouse in the garden. I had to tell Becky I was building a shed, as she kept peeking around the back door to see what I was doing. I got some aluminium sheets from work and carefully created a miniature house, complete with windows and doors. It had a latch on the door, windowboxes full of flowers, and a velux window on the roof. Inside, I laid lino and arranged a little table and chairs, her dolls and a play cooker. I painted everything pink and purple, Becky’s favourite colours, and piled her presents inside for her to wake up to on her birthday morning.
When the day arrived, I carried her out to the back garden and pointed at the little house.
‘That’s yours,’ I said. ‘I made it for you.’
Becky furrowed her brow and looked at me suspiciously. ‘No, Daddy, you told me that was your new shed.’
‘I said that so it could be a surprise,’ I said, laughing. ‘It’s far too small for me – it’s your very own playhouse. This is your birthday present. Look – all your other gifts are inside!’
It took a moment for the penny to drop, and then Becky beamed with delight and squirmed out of my arms. She ran straight into the house and sat down to open the rest of her presents. Later that day, she dragged poor Danny in there to play ‘house’ for hours. He even had to eat his tea in there with her! He was less than impressed, but he could see it was worth it for the look of joy on Becky’s face.
That night, when I tucked her into bed, she smiled up at me in her adorable way.
‘Have you enjoyed your birthday, sweetheart?’ I asked.
She nodded sleepily before muttering, ‘I love you, Daddy,’ and nodding off. Those were the moments I lived for every day.
Our lives had been completely put on hold while we fought for Becky and Danny to live with us, so that summer I wanted us to have as much fun as possible. I pushed my overdraft right to its limit and I added quite a bit to my credit card bill too – but it didn’t matter, because finally we were all together. That July, the five of us went on a week-long holiday to Littlesea, Weymouth. I bought a second-hand caravan and we pitched up in a big green field and spent hours and hours of quality time together. During the days we played adventure golf and tennis, and I taught Becky and Danny to swim. In the evenings, we made a campfire and toasted marshmallows over it. Once the kids were asleep, Anjie and I had a drink under the stars.
One night, I looked across to see her smiling at me.
‘Well, that’s it now, love,’ I said. ‘It’s the five of us together from now on. Lots more memories to make.’
As she reached across and squeezed my hand, I couldn’t remember ever feeling happier.
There were always going to be some teething troubles, bringing together three kids with such a big age gap between them, but on the whole it wasn’t too bad. Danny and Nathan got on fine from the start, but Becky continued to get on Nathan’s nerves sometimes. One of his hobbies was painting Warhammer fantasy models. He used to sit at the coffee table in the living room for hours on end, carefully painting these miniature fighters from make-believe worlds with paintbrushes that were so well-used they only had two or three bristles left. He was brilliant at it, and I was always impressed by his patience – much more than I’ve ever had! Sometimes he would try to get us all involved, and Anjie, Danny and I would do our best, squinting down at the little figurines and trying to keep a steady hand. However, little four-year-old Becky wasn’t so careful. Once, she toddled over to see what we were doing, grabbed a model, dunked it in a pot of paint and held it out to Nathan, smiling proudly. Of course, she had ruined the model completely and Nathan was furious, but her eagerness to please him from an early age was there. Becky clearly adored him.
As time went on, Becky grew more and more attached to Anjie, and one day, when she was five, we realised she didn’t entirely understand the relationships in our ‘blended family’. I’d been on the phone to Tanya and I’m afraid the conversation had got a bit heated. After I hung up, Danny looked across at me from where he was sitting on the sofa.
‘Who was that?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just your mother,’ I answered.
‘Do you have to speak to her like that?’ he asked. Danny always protected his mother. I think he just wished we would all get on with each other, which is only natural.
‘She’s playing silly buggers yet again,’ I said. ‘You should have heard the way she spoke to me.’
Becky – who was lying across Anjie’s lap – grinned at Danny. ‘My mum’s better than your mum! My mum’s better than your mum!’ she sang, trying to tease him.
Danny looked at her, incredulous. ‘My mum is your mum!’ he shouted. ‘Oh Becky, you are stupid. She’s your mum too, you idiot.’
Poor Becky looked crestfallen. She looked at me first, uncertainty in her eyes, and then up at Anjie. ‘He’s lying, isn’t he?’ she asked.
Anjie glanced at me, a worried look on her face. We’d always known the moment would come, but we’d never really sat down and talked about how we were going to handle it.
‘You’re my mum, aren’t you?’ Becky continued to Anjie, desperate for it to be true. ‘Did it really hurt when I came out of your tummy?’
I knew we had to tell her the truth, so I decided to grab the bull by the horns. I crouched down next to Becky while Anjie wrapped her arms around her. Becky sat, listening silently as I explained that Tanya was her mum, not Anjie.
‘You never actually came out of Anjie’s tummy, darling,’ I said soothingly. ‘Danny’s right, you’ve both got the same mum.’
Suddenly, Becky let out an ear-piercing scream. She burst into tears, looking utterly devastated. Anjie tried to console her, but she squirmed away and bolted up the stairs to her bedroom.
As soon as the door slammed behind her, Anjie burst into tears too. ‘I wish she was mine,’ she sobbed. ‘She feels like she’s mine.’
‘I know, love,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘She’ll be OK, I promise.’ I hated seeing Anjie upset almost as much as I hated seeing any of my kids upset.
But Anjie knew how to handle it. She went upstairs and gently knocked on Becky’s door. I heard Becky let her in – and that’s where they stayed for the rest of the day. They cuddled up together, talking, reading and watching television. I brought them their dinner on a tray that evening, and then at night Anjie slept in Becky’s bed with her. That seemed to do the trick because the next morning she was right as rain.
She came bouncing down the stairs and beamed up at me the way she always had. ‘I’ve got both a mum and an Anjie,’ she chirped. ‘And I love my Anjie.’
Sometimes, she’d come out with stuff like that – things that completely melted my heart. From then on, she drew pictures of the whole family together, and when she was finished she held them up proudly to show Anjie and me.
‘Look, Daddy,’ she said. ‘I’ve got two mums, two brothers and a dad.’
‘Yes, you have,’ I said, ruffling her hair. ‘Aren’t you the luckiest girl around?’
Her relationship with Anjie went from strength to strength after that. They spent a lot of time together, baking, shopping, and sewing – all the things that mothers and daughters normally do. Anjie had always wanted a daughter, and now it seemed that at last she had one.
In 2003, Becky started at Summerhill Primary School, where Danny was already a pupil. It was just a few streets away from where we lived, and we hoped that she would settle in quickly and enjoy her time there. Instead, she screamed her head off when Anjie tried to leave her there, with the upshot that she had to hang around and help the teachers, just to make Becky stay. At home she had always been fearless, but at school we were surprised to find that she seemed to struggle to bond with most other kids. She had one close friend, called Hope, and she also became close to her cousin, Brooke, Anjie’s sister’s daughter, who was three years older than her. She might only have had two friends, but Becky was fiercely loyal to them from the start, something she shared with her old man.
When the summer holidays arrived it was always the start of a chaotic but fun-filled time in our house. We didn’t have a lot of money, so we never went abroad, but we always went off in the caravan for a week or two. We’d start by picking Nathan up, complete with his massive rucksack, then get on the motorway to our destination of choice, usually Brean Sands, Weymouth or Minehead.
As soon as we got there, Danny and Nathan would be off, getting up to mischief as all boys do, and Becky would beg to go to the swimming pool. She was a proper water baby. She adored swimming, and by the time she was five she was incredibly confident in the water. She could happily spend all day in the pool at our campsite, and it was always a nightmare getting her out again. She loved it so much I built a 25-foot-long and 12-foot-wide pool in our back garden for her to splash about in. Her feet couldn’t touch the bottom but she was absolutely thrilled, and every day when it was warm enough she’d strip off straight after school, tug on her swimming costume and jump in.
Becky’s favourite place to go on holiday was definitely Butlin’s. She loved it there, because there were so many things for kids to do that they never got bored. It was great for Anjie and me too, as the kids could entertain themselves, leaving us with some valuable adult time.
By the time Becky was five, Nathan was sixteen and old enough to babysit her and Danny while we went for a drink. He liked to earn some pocket money and show us how grown up he was. I was proud of the effort he made with his siblings on these occasions. He even volunteered to take Becky into the ball pit a few times to thrash around in the colourful plastic balls, and he often took Danny on the water slides. I remember one occasion in particular that always makes me chuckle. Anjie and I were in the pool with Becky, waiting for the boys to come down the slide, and we noticed that they were taking an awfully long time.
‘What on earth is the hold-up?’ I muttered to Anjie. Then I noticed that Nathan was laughing – holding onto his sides with laughter, in fact – while six-year-old Danny had a face like thunder. After a while, they came back down the steps, with Danny looking like he might burst into tears.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ I asked, thinking some kid had picked on him. ‘Why didn’t you come down the slide?’
‘Some fat woman got stuck.’ Nathan howled with laughter. ‘They sent everyone back down the steps. They’ve had to call for help to get her down.’
We all watched with amusement as they tried to drag this poor woman down the slide by her feet. Danny was upset to miss his turn on the slide, but he saw the funny side in the end and he had another go later. I know it sounds odd, but that is one of my favourite memories of us on holiday as a family: all five of us standing there, laughing at something silly.
One of the best things about Bristol is that there are loads of family friendly events held all year round. One of our favourites was the Bristol Balloon Fiesta. Becky loved watching the hot-air balloons take off and fill the sky, and all three kids adored the fairground. Nathan always took Becky and Danny on the rides for me because I was far too petrified to get on them myself. As an engineer, I could see everything that could possibly go wrong with the mechanics of a ride. It would make me feel sick just watching, but I couldn’t bear to spoil their fun by banning them from going on.
‘I’ll just wait here, Bex. Nath will take you,’ I’d call, waving them off. I usually stood, rigid with fear, for the whole three minutes while they whizzed around, screaming their heads off with delight.
Of course, life with children isn’t always about treating them – I had to do a great deal of teaching and coaching too. When Becky was six years old I taught her to ride a bike by slyly removing her stabiliser wheels before she climbed on. I gave her a shove and was thrilled when she sailed off down the path without them. Of course, as soon as she realised they were missing she fell over with a look of surprise and confusion on her face.
‘My wheels have fallen off, Daddy!’ she shouted, but she soon got up and tried again. She was always a very determined character.
When she started learning her times tables at school, I would test her while she was on her trampoline in the back garden. She would bounce up and down while I sat on the step and shouted out: ‘Five times three? Six times four?’ That was our unique way of doing homework!
Becky was never happier than when she was outside, and she and I loved going for long country walks. Although Bristol is a busy city, it is blessed with lots of countryside around about and some fantastic public parks. One of our favourite places for a stroll was St George’s Park, which wasn’t far from our house. Becky would pull on her wellies and trot along by my side, her little hand in mine, but she did insist on stopping every five minutes to examine any flowers or bugs she could find. She loved climbing trees or fishing for tadpoles in the pond with her fishing net. We would collect them in jam jars and watch as they turned into frogs – something my father used to do with me.
Becky wasn’t the type of girl who was afraid of insects. When she caught head lice at school – an ongoing battle for Anjie and me, as she was always coming home with a new crop of them – she’d ask me to show her the little critters I combed out of her hair. She was fascinated by them, examining them under her microscope and even labelling them as ‘my little friends’. It made me shudder with disgust, I have to say.
As she got older, her personality just got stronger – complete with an attitude on occasion! Once, when she was six years old, she finished her dinner and waited expectantly at the table for dessert. I realised that I didn’t have anything else to give her, as I hadn’t done the food shopping yet. I was hoping that she would get bored and play with her toys, as Nathan and Danny had done, but she stayed at the table, staring at me.
‘Daddy, where’s my pudding?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Sorry, Bex, no pudding tonight,’ I said. ‘Daddy hasn’t been to the supermarket yet.’
The dismay on her face was almost comical. ‘No pudding?’ she exclaimed. ‘But I ate all my dinner!’
‘You can have extra pudding tomorrow for being a good girl,’ I said, chuckling.
I didn’t expect her to react so violently, but she threw herself dramatically from her seat and ran out of the room, returning a few seconds later with the phone.
‘This is child abuse,’ she announced. ‘I’m phoning Childline.’
I couldn’t help bursting out laughing, which only infuriated Becky more.
‘I’ll do it, Daddy!’ she shouted, waving the phone in the air. ‘I’ll call them and tell them you wouldn’t give me any pudding.’
That just set me off even more, of course.
Becky couldn’t stop herself cracking a smile, and soon she was in stitches too – that’s just how it was with us. Even when one of us started out genuinely annoyed about something, in the end we’d both be falling about in hysterics.