In the shadow of one of the world’s most heartbreaking mysteries, a new layer of terror has emerged. Julia Wandelt, the 24-year-old Polish woman who has obsessively claimed to be Madeleine McCann for years, is doubling down on her delusions even as her stalking trial grips the nation. From the depths of Leicester Crown Court, shocking details have spilled out: Wandelt’s barrage of “terrifying” messages to Kate McCann, Madeleine’s grieving mother, pleading for hugs, DNA tests, and tearful reunions. “I miss you, Mum. What if I’m her?” read one late-night voicemail, sent just days before her arrest. As the court hears echoes of her unyielding obsession, the McCann family braces for more pain—will Wandelt’s grip on this false identity ever loosen, or is it a nightmare destined to haunt them forever?

The saga of Julia Wandelt began in early 2023, when she burst into the public eye with a bombshell Instagram post. Born in 2001 in Lubin, southwestern Poland, Wandelt alleged she had been trafficked as a child and was the long-lost Madeleine Beth McCann, who vanished from a holiday apartment in Praia da Luz, Portugal, on May 3, 2007. At just three years old, Madeleine’s disappearance while her parents dined nearby shattered the world, spawning endless theories, media frenzies, and a £12 million police investigation that remains unsolved. Wandelt’s claims—backed by blurry photos, dubious “memory recoveries” under hypnosis, and amateur DNA comparisons—quickly went viral, amassing a toxic following of conspiracy theorists who flooded social media with support.

Wandelt, a tall brunette with striking blue eyes that she insisted mirrored Madeleine’s, shared “evidence” that ranged from the eerie to the outright fabricated. She posted side-by-side images of her childhood photos next to aged-up sketches of Madeleine, claiming a 70% DNA match from a home test kit. “You can’t dispute the facts,” she messaged supporters. “I remember the barbecue, the ball, the cries in the night.” Her posts detailed supposed flashbacks: being snatched from a sunlit room, the scent of ocean air, even a pink toy she linked to Madeleine’s belongings. But experts swiftly debunked it all—official DNA tests confirmed she was unequivocally not Madeleine, and her “memories” borrowed heavily from public reports of the case. Undeterred, Wandelt launched a GoFundMe, raising thousands from believers who saw her as a victim of a global cover-up.

What started as online eccentricity spiraled into a relentless campaign of harassment. By mid-2023, Wandelt’s fixation zeroed in on the McCann family: Kate, 57, a former GP; Gerry, also 57, a cardiologist; and their twins, Amelie and Sean, now 20. The family, who have endured 18 years of scrutiny, suspicion, and heartbreak, suddenly faced an intruder in their private grief. Wandelt began emailing Kate directly, signing off as “Your daughter, Madeleine.” “Mum, I cry when I hear your voice. I feel this connection,” she wrote in one early message, attaching edited photos of herself in a blonde wig to mimic the missing girl. The barrage escalated: over 60 calls and texts in a single April day in 2024, each more desperate than the last.

Kate McCann, speaking from behind a courtroom screen to shield her from Wandelt’s gaze, described the toll. “It was incessant. I’d get voicemails at all hours—’What if I’m her? Don’t think I’m dead. Please, just a DNA test.’ It twisted everything inside me.” One chilling audio, played for the jury, captured Wandelt’s trembling voice: “I believe I’m really her. You are my mother; it’s science no one can deny it. I want to hug you, Amelie, Sean. End this horror.” Kate paused during testimony, her voice cracking. “Hearing her call me ‘Mum’—it’s hard. It preys on that tiny, impossible hope we’ve clung to all these years.” The messages weren’t just pleas; they were psychological daggers, forcing the family to relive the abduction night by night.

The harassment peaked with physical invasions. In May 2024, Wandelt appeared unannounced at the McCanns’ quiet Rothley home in Leicestershire, knocking insistently. Kate, pulling into the driveway alone, heard a voice from the shadows: “Kate.” Heart pounding, she turned to face the stranger who’d haunted her inbox. “I knew it was her from the photos,” Kate recounted. “She lunged forward as I tried to shut the door, hands out, begging for a test. I barely got inside.” Days later, a letter arrived, pushed through the slot: “I’m so sorry for the distress, but seeing you stirred everything. You know in your heart it’s me. Love, Madeleine x.” Prosecutor Michael Duck KC called the sign-off “cruel,” a mocking echo of the daughter Kate lost.

Worse was to come in December 2024. Teaming up with Karen Spragg, a 61-year-old Cardiff pensioner and fervent online ally, Wandelt stormed the property again. Spragg, who had bankrolled Wandelt’s travels and echoed her rants about McCann “guilt,” filmed the confrontation for “proof.” Audio from the doorstep captured chaos: Kate pleading, “You’re causing us so much distress—stop it!” while Gerry demanded they leave. Spragg shouted for DNA, Wandelt sobbed about “stolen memories.” As they retreated, texts flew between the pair: “Kate cried—Gerry was horrible. LOL, stakeout next vigil?” The duo even plotted rifling through bins for DNA scraps, a scheme abandoned only when police intervened.

Amelie and Sean McCann, the twins born just two years after Madeleine, bore the emotional brunt. Amelie, testifying via video link, recalled Instagram DMs from Wandelt: fabricated tales of shared childhoods, hypnosis “proof” of family barbecues. “It was creepy—details twisted from news stories, playing with my emotions. She said we’d danced together, but I was a baby then. It scared me; you don’t know what she’ll do next.” Sean, opting for a read statement, admitted the stress: “If she’s aware she’s not Madeleine and does this anyway, it’s upsetting. Deeply disturbing.” The siblings, who slept beside Madeleine that fateful night, now navigate vigils and anniversaries shadowed by this impostor.

Wandelt’s backstory adds layers of tragedy to the delusion. Raised in a modest Polish family, she spoke of blackouts and unexplained scars, convinced they stemmed from trafficking. Before fixating on Madeleine, she claimed to be two other missing girls: Burundian Lisa, abducted in 2017, and even a Norwegian child from years prior. Psychologists have hinted at dissociative identity issues, but the court paints her as manipulative—a “conspiracy theorist” who thrived on media bites. Her Instagram, once a hub for “evidence” like voice analyses and eye scans, now sits dormant, but supporters still rally, decrying the trial as a “cover-up.”

As the two-week trial unfolds, the McCanns’ resilience shines. Kate and Gerry, authors of the 2011 memoir Madeleine, have channeled pain into advocacy, founding Missing People and lobbying for child safety laws. Their 2025 book update, Still Searching, details fresh searches in Portugal’s Atalaia region, but privately, this ordeal has reignited old wounds. “We’ve faced trolls, accusations, but this feels personal—like grief weaponized,” Gerry told the court. Family allies, including Kate’s aunt Janet, who met Wandelt at a 2024 vigil, tore up her “gifts” after the calls began. “She handed me an envelope, whispering she was Maddie. Then the bombardment—Kate couldn’t even attend Mass without fear.”

Wandelt and Spragg deny stalking charges spanning June 2022 to February 2025, pleading not guilty. Wandelt, remanded since her February arrest at Bristol Airport, has outbursts in court: “Why are you doing this to me?” she cried recently, led away in tears. Her defense argues vulnerability, not malice, but prosecutors counter with “unequivocal science”—Wandelt’s DNA mismatches, her awareness of the harm. As jurors deliberate, one voicemail lingers: “Don’t block me, don’t give up. I won’t.” For the McCanns, it’s a stark reminder: hope is a double-edged sword, and some shadows never fully fade.

In the end, Julia Wandelt’s story isn’t just about a false claim—it’s a cautionary tale of how obsession devours the vulnerable. The McCanns, unbreakable after nearly two decades, continue their quest for truth. But as Wandelt clings to her phantom identity, one question haunts: How many more “Mums” must she torment before the nightmare ends?