Wales news: Headteacher Anthony John Felton attacks deputy with spanner for  'sleeping with his lover'

Britain’s education system prides itself on decorum, discipline, and moral leadership—yet one March morning in 2024, those ideals shattered in a Catholic comprehensive school in South Wales. Dr. Anthony John Felton, a respected 54-year-old headmaster, ambushed his deputy, Richard Pyke, and attacked him with a heavy-duty spanner in a fit of “overwhelming sexual jealousy.” The brutal assault, captured on CCTV, stemmed from a explosive love triangle: Felton had been secretly sleeping with a female teacher—and fathered a child with her—only to discover she was also involved with Pyke.

What followed was a scandal that ripped through St Joseph’s Roman Catholic Comprehensive School in Port Talbot, destroying marriages, careers, and reputations. Felton, once a pillar of the community, was jailed for two years and four months. Now, speaking publicly for the first time from beyond bars, he reflects on his ruin in a prisoner newspaper. This isn’t just a tale of personal betrayal—it’s a gripping exposé of hidden passions, power imbalances, and the devastating consequences when private lives collide with professional duty in the unforgiving world of education.

St Joseph’s, a 900-pupil secondary school in Aberavon, seemed unremarkable on the surface: a faith-based institution focused on nurturing young minds in a working-class Welsh community. Felton had been part of its fabric for decades. Starting as head of mathematics in the early 2000s, he climbed the ranks through sheer dedication, earning promotion to headteacher in 2023. Colleagues described him as meticulous, ambitious, and highly regarded—a married father of four who embodied Catholic values. His deputy, Richard Pyke, 51, was equally respected: a long-serving educator and Felton’s friend, trusted to handle day-to-day operations.

Moment headmaster who had love child with teacher attacks deputy with spanner  after becoming embroiled in

But beneath the calm facade simmered secrets. Felton had embarked on a clandestine affair with a younger female teacher at the school. The relationship intensified; she became pregnant, and Felton fathered a child with her—all without his wife Maria’s knowledge. Maria, ironically, was the school’s co-ordinator for Religious and Sex Education, teaching the very principles her husband was flagrantly violating.

The turning point came after a school trip to Auschwitz—a somber educational visit attended by Felton, the mistress, and Pyke. Whispers reached Felton that his lover was also sleeping with his deputy. Consumed by rage and jealousy, he snapped.

On March 5, 2024, just before 10 a.m., Felton sent a bombshell email to all staff. In it, he issued a cryptic apology for the “distress” about to unfold, then accused the female teacher of “sleeping her way to the top” and engaging in sexual activity with at least two members of the Senior Leadership Team—including Pyke. Moments later, as Pyke sat at his desk with his back turned, Felton crept up from behind and swung the large spanner like a baseball bat. CCTV footage, later released by prosecutors, showed the ambush clearly: the tool glancing off Pyke’s head, causing serious injuries that required immediate hospital treatment.

Staff and pupils were left in shock. The attack occurred on school premises, during working hours, turning a place of learning into a crime scene. Police arrested Felton swiftly; he was charged with attempted grievous bodily harm with intent—the most serious form of GBH under UK law (Section 18).

As the case unfolded, the love triangle’s sordid details emerged in court. Judge Paul Thomas KC, presiding at Swansea Crown Court, called the assault “entirely without precedent” for a headteacher against a deputy. “You were hit by overwhelming sexual jealousy,” he told Felton, noting how the headmaster had “lost control” in a moment of raw emotion. Felton pleaded guilty, sparing a full trial, but the evidence was damning: the email as a premeditated warning, the CCTV as irrefutable proof.

In April 2025, Felton was sentenced to two years and four months in prison. The judge highlighted the breach of trust—not just personal, but professional—in a school setting. Felton’s world crumbled: his marriage to Maria ended in divorce; his affair collapsed; he lost contact with the child he fathered secretly. Suspended from teaching indefinitely, his £90,000-a-year job was advertised for replacement. He was sent to HMP Swansea, where anxiety landed him on suicide watch for nine days.

Yet Felton’s story didn’t end in total despair. Released early in August 2025 under the Home Office curfew scheme—after serving just six months plus remand time—he was electronically tagged and subjected to an indefinite restraining order barring contact with Pyke. Remarkably, Pyke, the female teacher, and Maria all returned to their posts at St Joseph’s, continuing to educate the next generation amid the lingering whispers.

Now, in January 2026, Felton has broken his silence in Inside Time, the national newspaper for prisoners. Writing candidly, he expresses profound shame: “I lost everything—my career, my family, my reputation.” He reflects on prison life, from forming unexpected friendships to seeking mental health support for his “hidden private life.” Today, he works for a charity supporting ex-offenders across the UK, channeling his regret into helping others rebuild.

The scandal’s ripples extend far beyond one school. National media descended on Port Talbot: BBC reports detailed the CCTV horror; The Guardian dissected the “sexual jealousy” motive; tabloids splashed headlines about the “jaw-dropping Catholic school love triangle.” Parents expressed outrage—how could such drama unfold in a faith school? Pupils, some witnessing the aftermath, grappled with the betrayal of authority figures.

Broader questions loom about workplace affairs in education. Schools are pressure cookers: long hours, emotional investment, isolated communities. Affairs aren’t rare, but this escalation to violence is unprecedented. Experts point to power dynamics—headteachers wield immense authority, deputies are close confidants—making betrayals explosive. The case has prompted calls for better safeguarding, not just for pupils but for staff mental health.

Felton’s downfall humanizes the rigid archetype of the headmaster. Once a man who quoted scripture at assemblies, he became a cautionary tale of how jealousy can erode even the most composed facade. In his Inside Time piece, he admits calculating his sentence obsessively on remand, grappling with anxiety in a system that strips away control.

Pyke, the victim, has remained silent publicly—no victim impact statement quoted widely, perhaps to protect privacy. But his return to work speaks volumes: resilience amid trauma. The female teacher, unnamed in reports to shield her, continues quietly, her career intact despite Felton’s public accusations.

St Joseph’s has moved on, outwardly at least. New leadership advertises stability; the Auschwitz trip’s educational value endures. Yet scars remain. For the community, it’s a reminder that educators are flawed humans—capable of great good and catastrophic falls.

Felton’s journey from respected leader to tagged ex-convict is tragic, almost Shakespearean: jealousy as the fatal flaw. He lost a marriage, a secret child, a vocation. But in redemption’s faint glimmers—charity work, reflection—he seeks meaning.

This scandal didn’t just jail one man; it exposed vulnerabilities in institutions we trust with our children. Love triangles thrive in secrecy, but when they erupt, the fallout is merciless. Anthony Felton’s spanner swing wasn’t just an assault—it was the moment a hidden world collided with reality, shattering lives in its wake.

As Britain reflects on yet another education controversy, one truth endures: power, passion, and proximity can ignite disasters. Felton’s story warns us all—jealousy doesn’t discriminate, even in the halls of learning.

Dearest readers, this tale of betrayal and brutality proves one thing: in the quiet corridors of power, the most dangerous weapons aren’t always visible—until it’s too late.