Denise Fergus stood outside her home in Merseyside on a cold winter afternoon in early January 2026, her voice trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and profound relief. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke to reporters gathered in the quiet street. “Finally, justice,” she said, the words carrying the weight of more than three decades of unrelenting grief. “This is the best thing to happen in 30 years – actually, make that 33. For once, the system has done the right thing. I can finally breathe knowing he won’t harm another innocent child.” For the mother of James Bulger, the toddler brutally murdered in 1993, the Parole Board’s latest decision to deny release to one of his killers, Jon Venables, felt like a rare victory in a lifelong battle against a justice system that has often left her feeling voiceless and betrayed.

James Patrick Bulger was just two years old – a cheerful, blue-eyed boy with a cheeky smile – when his short life ended in unimaginable horror on February 12, 1993. That afternoon, Denise had taken her son to the New Strand Shopping Centre in Bootle, Merseyside, for a routine errand. In a momentary distraction while paying at a butcher’s counter, James wandered off. CCTV footage – haunting images that would later shock the world – captured the toddler holding the hand of two 10-year-old boys, Jon Venables and Robert Thompson, as they led him away. What followed was a two-and-a-half-mile journey of torment: the boys took James to a railway line in nearby Walton, where they tortured him – throwing paint in his eyes, battering him with bricks and an iron bar, and ultimately leaving his battered body on the tracks to be cut in half by a passing train. The autopsy revealed over 42 injuries; the pathologist described it as a sustained, frenzied attack.

The discovery of James’s mutilated body two days later sparked national outrage. Britain, still reeling from the crime, watched as Venables and Thompson – truants with troubled backgrounds – became the youngest convicted murderers in modern UK history. Tried as adults in an unprecedented court case at Preston Crown Court, the pair were found guilty in November 1993. The judge sentenced them to detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure, with a minimum tariff of eight years initially, later increased to 15 by Home Secretary Michael Howard – a move overturned by the European Court of Human Rights. In June 2001, after serving just over eight years, both were released on lifelong licence with new identities, protected by one of the strictest anonymity orders ever issued in Britain.

For Denise, then 25 and newly separated from James’s father Ralph Bulger, the release was the beginning of a second nightmare. “They got their lives back, but I’ll never get mine,” she has often said. While Robert Thompson reportedly integrated quietly into society – forming a long-term relationship and staying out of trouble – Jon Venables has repeatedly violated his licence conditions. In 2010, he was recalled to prison for possessing indecent images of children. Released again in 2013, he was sent back in 2017 for the same offence – this time with images depicting serious abuse. Each revelation deepened Denise’s anguish, confirming her fears that Venables remained a danger.

Over the years, Venables has applied for parole multiple times, each bid reopening old wounds for the Bulger family. In 2013, 2018, and most recently in November 2023, hearings dragged Denise through emotional hell. The 2023 decision to deny release brought temporary relief – Denise called it a day she had “waited years for.” But by September 2025, news emerged of yet another parole review, plunging her back into despair. “It’s mental torture,” she told the press, describing sleepless nights and relentless anxiety. Campaigners, including Denise, fought for the right to address the Parole Board directly – a battle partially won when victims’ voices were strengthened under new laws.

The latest hearing, concluded in late December 2025, lasted several days behind closed doors. Experts assessed Venables, now 43, on his risk to the public. Reports highlighted ongoing concerns: fantasies involving children, a lack of full remorse, and difficulties managing his behaviour even in custody. The Parole Board, prioritising public protection, ruled that release was not safe. Venables reportedly reacted with fury, “losing his mind” according to prison sources, screaming in his cell at the rejection.

Denise’s reaction was visceral and deeply human. In interviews shortly after the announcement, she wept openly. “I feel pure relief and elation,” she said, echoing sentiments from previous denials but with added weight after 33 years. “This monster took my baby’s life in the most evil way imaginable. He’s shown time and again that he can’t be trusted. For once, they’ve listened.” Her words resonated across Britain, where the Bulger case remains a touchstone for debates on juvenile justice, rehabilitation, and victim rights.

Denise’s journey from devastated young mother to tireless advocate is nothing short of extraordinary. In the immediate aftermath of the murder, she endured vicious trolling – some sick individuals even sent hate mail claiming James deserved it. The media frenzy was relentless; tabloids dubbed Venables and Thompson “evil incarnate.” Yet Denise channelled her pain into purpose. She remarried Stuart Fergus in 1998, raising three more sons – Michael, Thomas, and Leon – while keeping James’s memory alive. In 2011, she published a memoir, I Let Him Go, detailing her grief and forgiveness struggles. She established the James Bulger Memorial Trust, funding holidays for bereaved families and anti-bullying initiatives in schools.

Her campaigning has influenced policy. Denise lobbied successfully for “James’s Law” – pushing for public parole hearings in exceptional cases – and greater transparency in child killer releases. She has met prime ministers, addressed Parliament, and rallied public petitions garnering hundreds of thousands of signatures. “I fight for James because he can’t,” she says. “And for every parent who fears the system will fail them.”

The case continues to divide opinion. Some argue Venables and Thompson were products of dysfunctional homes – Venables from a family plagued by learning difficulties and instability, Thompson from one marked by abuse and neglect. Rehabilitation advocates point to their young age at the time of the crime, citing brain development science. Others, including Denise, insist certain acts are beyond redemption. “Age doesn’t excuse evil,” she has repeatedly stated. Venables’s repeated offending – amassing thousands of child abuse images – has bolstered her case, eroding public sympathy.

As Britain enters 2026, the decision offers Denise a fragile reprieve. She plans to spend more time with her grandchildren, cherishing moments stolen from her with James. Yet she knows the fight isn’t over; Venables can apply again in two years. “I’ll be there every time,” she vows. “Until my last breath.”

This moment – a parole denial amid tightened rules under a new government prioritising victims – feels like vindication. Public protection reforms, spurred partly by cases like this, have shifted the balance. For Denise, it’s a small but powerful victory: not just for James, whose laughter echoes in her heart, but for every parent haunted by loss. In a nation still scarred by one of its darkest crimes, her tears of relief remind us that justice, though delayed, can sometimes prevail. And in her words, a nation hears the enduring cry of a mother’s love: finally, a breath of hope after decades in the shadows.