In the somber halls of Leicester Crown Court, where the weight of unresolved grief hangs heavy, a trial has unfolded that resurrects the specter of one of the world’s most infamous missing child cases. Julia Wandelt, a 24-year-old Polish woman, stands accused alongside 61-year-old Karen Spragg from Cardiff of stalking Kate and Gerry McCann, the parents of Madeleine McCann, who vanished without a trace in 2007. At the heart of the proceedings are chilling voicemails left by Wandelt, her voice trembling with conviction as she pleads, “I believe I’m really her,” insisting she is the long-lost Madeleine. These messages, played to a rapt jury, have laid bare a harrowing campaign of harassment that spanned over two years, blending delusion, desperation, and the raw pain of a family still searching for answers.

The case, which began its hearings last week, has drawn global attention, not least for its bizarre intersection of conspiracy theories and familial trauma. Wandelt, from the town of Lubin in southwest Poland, and Spragg deny the single count of stalking causing serious alarm and distress, a charge that could see them imprisoned if convicted. Prosecutors paint Wandelt as a manipulative figure who, since June 2022, has relentlessly pursued the myth that she is Madeleine, bombarding the McCanns with emails, texts, calls, and even unannounced visits to their home in Rothley, Leicestershire. “This was no mere curiosity,” lead prosecutor Michael Duck KC told the jury in his opening remarks. “It was a calculated intrusion into a family’s deepest wound, one that exploited their hope and amplified their fear.”

Madeleine McCann’s disappearance remains an enigma etched into collective memory. On May 3, 2007, the three-year-old with her distinctive coloboma—a keyhole-shaped fleck in her right iris—vanished from her family’s holiday apartment in Praia da Luz, Portugal. While her parents dined at a nearby tapas bar with friends, Madeleine was tucked into bed alongside her younger twin siblings, Sean and Amelie. By the time Kate McCann checked on the children around 10 PM, Madeleine was gone, the window shutters jimmied open, launching what would become the most expensive and extensive missing persons investigation in history. Over the years, leads have ebbed and flowed: sightings from Morocco to Australia, a prime suspect in German convict Christian Brueckner, and endless media scrutiny that turned the McCanns from grieving parents into tabloid targets. Accusations of neglect swirled, fueled by Portuguese police who briefly named them arguidos (persons of interest) before clearing them. Yet, no body, no confession, no closure—only the agonizing limbo that has defined their lives for 18 years.

Into this void stepped Wandelt, whose fixation began innocuously enough. In 2022, she approached a Polish missing persons charity, claiming first to be one lost child, then another, before fixating on Madeleine. Prosecutors allege she escalated her delusions into action, obtaining Kate McCann’s phone number and unleashing a torrent of communications. Intelligence analyst Robert Jones, testifying for the prosecution, detailed phone records showing Wandelt contacting Kate over 60 times in a single day in April 2024. “There were no replies from Mrs. McCann,” Jones noted, underscoring the one-sided barrage.

The voicemails, recovered from Wandelt’s seized phones and played in court, form the emotional core of the evidence. In one, her voice cracks with emotion: “I know you probably think Madeleine is dead. Well, she is not. I really believe I’m her. Help me. Don’t think Madeleine is dead. This is a chance. Please, I beg you.” Another pleads, “What if I’m her? What if there’s a small chance that I’m her? Isn’t that important for you? I don’t want money; I have a life here in Poland. I just want to know.” Wandelt referenced supposed memories recovered under hypnosis: barbecues with the family, playing Ring a Ring o’ Roses with the twins, even fragments of the abduction itself—being injected with a paralytic substance, unable to scream “Mummy, Daddy.” “I cry when I hear your voice,” she messaged Kate. “I feel this connection; I don’t know how to explain it. You are Mummy.”

These assertions extended beyond Kate. Wandelt targeted the now-20-year-old twins, Amelie and Sean, with what they described in court as “creepy” and “deeply disturbing” interactions. Amelie, testifying via video link, recounted Wandelt’s persistent messages on social media starting in January 2024. “She sent edited images making it look like we were together as kids,” Amelie said, her voice steady but laced with unease. “It played with my emotions—claiming memories of playing games with me and Sean. It’s quite scary because you don’t know what she’ll do next.” Sean echoed his sister, calling the claims “upsetting” and stressful. “If she’s fully aware she’s not Madeleine but makes these claims, that’s very distressing,” he told the jury. Both siblings refused Wandelt’s DNA test demands, with Amelie stating, “I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.”

Gerry McCann, a cardiologist whose stoic demeanor has defined the family’s public face, recounted a rare direct encounter. Answering one of Wandelt’s calls to Kate’s phone in October 2024, he curtly informed her, “You must have the wrong number.” Undeterred, Wandelt left a voicemail: “I know it was you, Gerry. You answered the call. Why is it so hard to answer and speak with me? I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’re looking for Madeleine, you should do a test with me.” In court, Gerry described the ordeal as “damaging the search for Madeleine,” emphasizing, “There’s no evidence she’s dead. When people claim to be your missing daughter after all this time, it pulls on your heartstrings—but it’s harmful.”

Kate McCann’s testimony was particularly poignant. Speaking from behind a privacy screen, she broke down recalling the “final straw”: Wandelt contacting Amelie. “It was distressing enough for us, but when she targeted the children, that prompted me to call the police,” Kate said. She described the voicemails as “hard to hear,” especially Wandelt’s repeated use of “Mum” and pleas like “I actually miss you. I want this horror to end. Please, Mum. Yours, Julia (Madeleine).” Kate recounted the December 2024 home invasion: arriving alone at night to find Wandelt and Spragg lurking in the darkness. “I got a fright,” she said. “They were shouting, causing us a lot of distress. I pleaded with them to stop.” Audio recordings played in court captured Kate’s voice: “You’re causing us a lot of distress, now stop it.” The pair banged on the door after she retreated inside.

Spragg, who met Wandelt online and bonded over her claims, emerges as a zealous enabler. Prosecutors revealed WhatsApp exchanges where the duo plotted “bizarre” schemes to obtain Kate’s DNA—from rifling through bins to swiping cutlery from restaurants the McCanns frequented. “We have to make a stand,” Spragg messaged Wandelt. On the night of the confrontation, Spragg texted a friend: “We are sat outside the McCanns’ home with our lights out like private investigators.” The following day, they returned to post a letter addressed to “Mum (Kate),” signed “Madeleine x”—a “cruel signature,” as Duck described it. Wandelt’s note expressed a desire to “hug” the family, a sentiment Kate rebuffed as unimaginable.

The defendants’ arrest came on February 19, 2025, at Bristol Airport, where Wandelt had flown in for another UK visit, with Spragg waiting in the car. Police seized phones revealing the extent of their communications, including Wandelt’s accusations of police corruption: “The police don’t want to help me; they don’t want to help Madeleine. It’s all corrupt.” In court, emotions ran high. As voicemails played, Spragg wept and fled the dock; Wandelt sobbed, shouting, “Why are you doing this to me?” before being led away.

Family friends also testified to the ripple effects. Reverend Rob Gladstone, who has known the McCanns since 2007, spoke of Wandelt’s attempts to infiltrate their church vigils. “Julia would message Kate saying she intended to turn up at Mass in Rothley,” he said. “Kate didn’t feel able to come. The uncertainty produces anxiety.” Another friend, Janet Kennedy, described tearing up an envelope from Wandelt after the bombardment began. Even neighbors’ Ring doorbell footage was entered as evidence, capturing the duo’s nocturnal approach.

Wandelt’s backstory adds layers to the narrative. Prosecutors allege she first claimed to be other missing children before fixating on Madeleine, turning up at a Leicester police station with tales of paralysis and abuse. Yet, investigations swiftly ruled her out: “We were satisfied Julia was not Madeleine McCann,” an officer testified. Her defense may hinge on mental health—hints of hypnosis-recovered memories and emotional breakdowns suggest fragility—but the prosecution frames it as knowing manipulation.

As the trial continues, it underscores the McCanns’ enduring nightmare. Their official Find Madeleine campaign persists, buoyed by occasional breakthroughs like the 2020 identification of Brueckner, currently imprisoned for unrelated crimes. Yet, false claimants like Wandelt erode that hope, turning grief into a public spectacle. “It’s appalling,” family friend Linda McQueen testified. “We’ve all got memories of Madeleine.”

In a world where social media amplifies every whisper, the McCanns’ plea for privacy resonates louder than ever. Wandelt’s voicemails, with their haunting refrain—”I believe I’m really her”—serve as a stark reminder: some echoes refuse to fade, no matter how much time passes.

The proceedings have exposed not just the defendants’ actions but the fragility of a family forever altered. As Kate McCann left the stand, her words hung in the air: “We don’t know what happened to Madeleine; there’s no evidence she’s dead.” For the McCanns, the search endures—unfettered by stalkers, sustained by unyielding love.