In a story that has gripped the nation for over three decades, the unyielding resolve of a grieving mother is once again thrusting one of Britain’s most infamous crimes back into the spotlight. Denise Fergus, the mother of toddler James Bulger, who was brutally murdered in 1993, has made a chilling promise: she will stop at nothing to ensure that Jon Venables, one of her son’s killers, remains behind bars. As Venables launches yet another bid for parole in 2025, Fergus declares herself “in touching distance” of justice, vowing that his freedom ends with her. This latest chapter in a saga of horror, redemption attempts, and relentless advocacy raises profound questions about forgiveness, rehabilitation, and the limits of mercy in the face of unimaginable evil.

The nightmare began on February 12, 1993, in the bustling Bootle Strand shopping center in Merseyside, England. Two-year-old James Bulger, with his cherubic face and infectious giggle, was out with his mother Denise for a routine shopping trip. In a split second of distraction, James wandered off, only to be lured away by two 10-year-old boys: Jon Venables and Robert Thompson. What followed was an act of depravity that shocked the world. The boys led the trusting toddler on a two-and-a-half-mile walk to a remote railway line, where they subjected him to hours of torture. They beat him with bricks, stones, and an iron bar, poured paint into his eyes, and left his battered body on the tracks to be severed by an oncoming train. James suffered 42 injuries, any one of which could have been fatal. The crime’s sheer brutality, committed by children against a child, ignited a firestorm of public outrage and soul-searching about the nature of evil.

Venables and Thompson were arrested days later, their faces captured on grainy CCTV footage that would haunt headlines for years. Tried as adults in a courtroom filled with raw emotion, they became the youngest convicted murderers in modern British history. Sentenced to indefinite detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure, they were initially held in secure units. But in 2001, after just eight years, a parole board deemed them rehabilitated and released them under new identities, protected by lifelong anonymity orders. The decision sparked fury, with many arguing it prioritized the killers’ futures over the victims’ families. Robert Thompson has reportedly stayed out of trouble, living quietly under his assumed name. Jon Venables, however, has proven to be a different story—a recurring nightmare for Denise Fergus and her family.

Venables’ post-release life has been a litany of failures and offenses that underscore Fergus’s fears. In 2010, he was recalled to prison after being caught with child abuse images on his computer, a chilling echo of the vulnerability he exploited in James. Sentenced to two years, he was released again in 2013, only to be jailed once more in 2017 for possessing over 1,000 indecent images of children, including a manual on how to abuse young boys. These violations revealed a man who, far from being reformed, seemed trapped in a cycle of predatory behavior. Each time, Fergus has been forced to relive her trauma, campaigning tirelessly against his releases. “He’s a danger to society,” she has said repeatedly, her voice a mix of exhaustion and steel. In 2023, Venables’ parole bid was rejected after a closed hearing, with the board citing risks to public safety. Fergus called it a victory, but a temporary one—knowing the system allows him to apply again every two years.

Now, in 2025—32 years after James’s death—Venables is back before the parole board, potentially facing freedom by the end of the year. At 42 years old, he remains in a high-security prison, his life a shadow of the anonymity once promised. But Denise Fergus, now 55, is not the same shattered woman who buried her son in a tiny white coffin. She has transformed her grief into a force for change, founding the James Bulger Memorial Trust to support families of young victims and campaigning for reforms in the justice system. Her latest vow comes amid reports of Venables’ new parole application, which could see him walk free within months if approved. “His freedom ends with me,” she declared in a recent statement, her words laced with the weight of three decades of pain. Fergus has expressed her determination to attend the hearing in person—a dramatic plan that could mark the first time she faces her son’s killer since the trial. “I’m in touching distance of holding him accountable once more,” she says, emphasizing that this time, she won’t let him slip away.

Fergus’s campaign is not just personal; it’s a rallying cry against a system she believes favors offenders over victims. She has long argued for the revocation of Venables’ anonymity, pointing to his repeated offenses as evidence that he forfeits such protections. “If he’s so rehabilitated, why hide him?” she questions. Her efforts have garnered widespread support, including petitions with hundreds of thousands of signatures and backing from politicians across the spectrum. In recent years, she has expanded her advocacy to emerging threats, urging the government to pass laws curbing AI-generated videos that recreate child murders, including horrific deepfakes of James’s final moments. “These technologies reopen wounds that never fully heal,” she warns, highlighting how social media amplifies trauma for grieving families.

The emotional toll on Fergus and her family has been immense. She has spoken openly about the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, and the constant fear that Venables could reoffend. James’s father, Ralph Bulger, has echoed her sentiments, writing victim impact statements to block releases. Together, they represent the human cost of a crime that refuses to fade. Fergus has remarried and had more children, but James’s absence is a void that time can’t fill. “Every milestone—birthdays, holidays—it’s there,” she shares. Her resilience is inspiring; she channels her energy into charity work, like launching a helpline for crime victims in James’s memory. “I do it for him,” she says simply.

As the parole hearing looms, the nation watches with bated breath. Will Venables convince the board of his change, or will Fergus’s unshakeable testimony seal his fate? Critics of the system argue that lifelong sentences for child killers should mean just that—especially when rehabilitation fails spectacularly. Supporters of parole point to the principle of second chances, even for the gravest sins. But for Denise Fergus, it’s black and white: Venables has had his chances, and each one has endangered innocents. “He feels like he’s the victim,” she has said, dismissing any notion of his remorse. Her vow resonates because it taps into a universal parental instinct—to protect, to avenge, to ensure no other family endures such hell.

In the end, this isn’t just about one man or one mother; it’s about justice’s true measure. As Fergus stands on the brink of what could be her final battle, her message is clear: some crimes are unforgivable, and some freedoms are too dangerous to grant. If she succeeds, Venables won’t walk free—not on her watch. And perhaps, after 32 years, James Bulger can finally rest in peace, knowing his mother’s love endures beyond the grave.