Có thể là hình ảnh về tóc mái, tóc vàng, em bé và cười

Denise Fergus, the mother of murdered toddler James Bulger, has released a series of private family photographs of her son for the first time, sharing them publicly amid renewed controversy surrounding a Channel 4 documentary accused of showing sympathy toward his killers. The images, tender snapshots of a happy two-year-old James smiling in everyday moments—playing, laughing, and surrounded by family—offer a poignant reminder of the innocent life stolen in one of Britain’s most shocking crimes. Released to coincide with ongoing discussions about media portrayals of the 1993 murder, the photos serve as Denise’s quiet act of reclamation, countering narratives that have, in her view, shifted focus away from James and toward his perpetrators.

The murder of James Bulger on February 12, 1993, remains etched in collective memory. Abducted from a shopping center in Bootle, Merseyside, while holding his mother’s hand, the two-year-old was led away by ten-year-old boys Robert Thompson and Jon Venables. They took him to a nearby railway line, where they subjected him to prolonged torture before killing him. The case horrified the nation, sparking debates about childhood violence, parental responsibility, justice for juveniles, and media influence. Thompson and Venables were convicted and sentenced to detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure, later released on license with new identities after serving eight years.

Denise has spent the intervening decades advocating for victims’ rights, founding the James Bulger Memorial Trust to support families affected by crime, and speaking out against what she perceives as insensitive depictions of the tragedy. Her decision to unveil these private photos comes at a time when a Channel 4 program—part of a series revisiting high-profile cases—has drawn sharp criticism. Viewers and commentators accused the documentary of humanizing the killers excessively, presenting interview excerpts and contextual background that some interpreted as excusing or downplaying their actions. Complaints flooded in, with many arguing it reopened wounds for the Bulger family without adding meaningful insight.

The timing of Denise’s photo release amplified the emotional contrast. While the documentary delved into the killers’ backgrounds, childhood circumstances, and post-release lives, Denise chose to spotlight James himself—the child whose future was erased. The images, never previously shared beyond close family circles, capture fleeting joys: James on a swing, beaming at the camera, or cuddling with siblings. Denise accompanied the release with a statement emphasizing hope amid grief: her ongoing work to prevent similar tragedies, her belief in rehabilitation for young offenders when appropriate, but her firm stance that James’s memory must remain central, not overshadowed by sympathy for those responsible.

This is not the first time media portrayals have sparked backlash from the Bulger family. In 2018, a Channel 4 documentary titled “The Bulger Killers: Was Justice Done?” faced similar accusations of imbalance, with viewers blasting it for seemingly sympathizing with Thompson and Venables. Earlier controversies included the 2018 Oscar-nominated short film “Detainment,” which used child actors to recreate police interviews and drew a petition of over 200,000 signatures demanding its removal from awards consideration. Denise publicly condemned such projects, arguing they retraumatize survivors without family consent and risk glorifying perpetrators.

Through it all, Denise has maintained remarkable dignity. In interviews and her book “I Let Him Go,” she has spoken candidly about the guilt that lingers—questioning that brief moment she released James’s hand in a busy shop—while channeling pain into purpose. The trust she established provides counseling, awareness campaigns against bullying and violence, and support for families navigating loss. Her sons, born after James’s death, have occasionally spoken about the shadow the tragedy cast over their childhoods, though they largely stay private.

The current controversy underscores ongoing tensions in true-crime media: the balance between public interest, educational value, and respect for victims. Channel 4 defended the program as an examination of justice and societal responses to child offenders, but critics—including some criminologists and victim advocates—argue it risks normalizing or excusing heinous acts by overemphasizing mitigating factors like the killers’ ages and troubled homes.

Denise’s photos cut through the noise. They refocus attention on James—the curly-haired toddler who loved trains and his family—rather than the endless analysis of his killers. Sharing them publicly, she has said, is part of keeping his memory alive and positive, ensuring he is remembered for his innocence, not just the horror that ended his life. In a statement accompanying the release, she expressed a desire for healing: “James would be in his 30s now. These pictures remind me of the joy he brought, and I want others to see that light too.”

The response has been overwhelmingly supportive. Social media flooded with messages of solidarity, with many praising Denise’s strength and calling for greater sensitivity in crime documentaries. Some called for stricter guidelines on victim consent in media retellings, echoing her long-standing campaigns.

As the documentary debate continues, Denise’s act of sharing these intimate glimpses stands as a powerful counter-narrative. In releasing photos she once kept locked away, she reclaims agency over her son’s story, transforming private grief into public remembrance. The images serve as a testament to enduring love and resilience—a mother’s refusal to let controversy silence hope. Amid the outrage, her message prevails: James Bulger was a beloved child whose life mattered, and his legacy endures through acts of courage like hers.