More than three decades after the brutal murder of two-year-old James Bulger shocked the United Kingdom to its core, the nightmare refuses to end for his family. On January 13, 2026, the Parole Board confirmed that Jon Venables—one of the two boys convicted of the toddler’s abduction, torture, and murder in 1993—has been granted a fresh oral parole hearing. The decision, expected to take place sometime next month, has plunged Denise Fergus, James’s mother, back into a vortex of unimaginable trauma, uncertainty, and raw anger.

In an exclusive interview with this publication, Denise, now 57, spoke with trembling voice and steely resolve about the resurfacing fear that has haunted her every day since February 12, 1993. “My fear never left,” she said, her words heavy with exhaustion and grief. “It sits there, quiet sometimes, but always ready to rise up again. Every time they tell me there’s another hearing, it’s like the wound rips open fresh. How many times do I have to relive this? How many times does the system get to decide if the man who killed my baby gets to walk free?”

The announcement came via a telephone call from parole officials to Denise and her family, informing them that after reviewing dossiers from prison staff, psychologists, psychiatrists, and previous victim impact statements—including Denise’s own—the board had deemed an oral hearing appropriate. This marks a significant shift: for the first time, Denise has been granted permission to observe the proceedings, albeit under strict conditions. She will attend via video link from a secure, confidential location, able to see the full hearing except for Venables’ face, which will be obscured to preserve his lifelong anonymity order. Most poignantly, she will hear his voice—something she has not experienced since the 1993 trial when he was just 10 years old.

“That voice,” Denise said quietly. “I’ve carried it in my head for over 30 years. Hearing it now, as a grown man… it terrifies me. He was a child then, but he’s bigger, stronger, and has more wits about him now. I have to warn the board: this isn’t the scared little boy from the courtroom. This is someone who has proven time and again he can’t be trusted in the real world.”

The case of James Bulger remains one of Britain’s most harrowing crimes. On that fateful afternoon in Bootle, Merseyside, Denise had taken James shopping at the New Strand Shopping Centre. Momentarily distracted in a butcher’s shop, she turned to find her son gone. Grainy CCTV footage later captured the heartbreaking image of the toddler being led away by two older boys—Venables and Robert Thompson, both aged 10. What followed was unimaginable cruelty: the pair walked James over two miles through streets where dozens of people saw them but failed to intervene. They took him to a railway embankment near Walton Lane police station, where they tortured him with bricks, batteries, and an iron bar before leaving his battered body on the tracks to be struck by a train.

The nation was stunned. The trial at Preston Crown Court in November 1993 made history as the youngest murder defendants in modern British legal history. Both boys were found guilty and sentenced to be detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. After serving eight years in a young offenders’ institution, they were released on licence in 2001 and given new identities under a lifetime anonymity order to protect them from vigilante justice.

Robert Thompson, now 43, has reportedly lived a law-abiding life since release and is not believed to have reoffended. Venables, however, has followed a darker path. In February 2010, he was recalled to prison after indecent images of children were discovered on his computer. Released again in August 2013, he was sent back in November 2017 for similar offences. In 2018, he admitted possessing category A images—the most serious classification—and even a “paedophile manual” detailing how to abuse children. These repeated breaches have fueled intense public debate about rehabilitation, public protection, and whether Venables can ever be safely reintegrated into society.

His most recent parole bid, in December 2023, ended in rejection. After missing the two-day hearing (citing mental health concerns about facing James’s family), the board deliberated for two weeks and concluded he remained “a danger to children” and “could not be trusted.” The panel noted his long-term sexual interest in children despite extensive prison therapy. Yet here we are, just over two years later, with another chance at freedom.

Denise’s spokeswoman, Kym Morris of the James Bulger Memorial Trust, described the latest development as a devastating blow. “Once again, Denise Fergus has been forced to confront a process that reopens unimaginable trauma,” Morris said. “She was hoping for a redirection—no hearing granted—allowing her some measure of peace and protection from further distress. That hope has now been taken away.”

The family’s pain is compounded by the timing. February and March mark painful anniversaries: James’s abduction, the trial, and other milestones. “We were on high alert over Christmas, knowing this could drop at any moment,” Denise explained. “Now it hangs over us again. We just want to reflect, to remember our beautiful boy without this shadow.”

Public reaction has been swift and furious. Social media erupted with calls for transparency, with many demanding Venables’ anonymity be lifted if released. “He’s a serial child abuser in adulthood and a murderer in adolescence,” one viral post read. “People deserve to know if he’s moving to a town near you.” Others expressed outrage at the repeated cycle: “How many chances does one person get?”

The Parole Board insists decisions are made solely on risk assessment. A spokesperson emphasized that the hearing will consider updated evidence, progress reports, and victim statements. No date has been set, and any release would come with strict licence conditions—but Denise remains unconvinced. “The system has failed us before,” she said. “They released him, he offended again, they released him, he offended again. Why should we believe it’s different this time?”

Through her charity, the James Bulger Memorial Trust, Denise has campaigned tirelessly for stronger child protection laws and victims’ rights. She has met politicians, spoken at events, and fought for reforms that give families a voice in parole processes. Recent changes allowing victims to observe private hearings are a step forward, but she argues they don’t go far enough. “I’m grateful I can be there, but it’s still hidden. The public should know the truth. James deserves that.”

As the hearing looms, Denise prepares her victim impact statement. She will speak of the endless grief, the milestones James never reached—first day at school, teenage years, perhaps a family of his own. She will remind the board that James’s life was stolen in the most horrific way, and that the ripple effects continue. “Every day I wake up without him,” she said. “Every holiday, every birthday, every quiet moment. And now this. My fear never left because the danger never left.”

The upcoming proceedings will test the balance between rehabilitation and public safety once more. For Denise Fergus, it is not abstract policy—it is the ongoing battle for her son’s memory and the protection of other children. As Britain watches, one mother’s anguish stands as a powerful reminder: some wounds never heal, and some fears never fade.