The parents of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman have spoken for the first time since Ian Huntley’s death on 6 March 2026, releasing a short but powerful joint statement that captures more than two decades of enduring pain and quiet resolve. “Finally our daughters’ souls can rest,” the families said. “Huntley’s death changes nothing about the loss we carry every day, but it does mean the shadow he cast over our lives will no longer grow longer.”

The words arrived late on the evening of Huntley’s death, delivered through a brief press release coordinated by the Holly and Jessica Foundation. They were careful, measured and deliberately unsentimental – exactly the tone the two sets of parents have maintained since the summer of 2002 when their ten-year-old daughters disappeared from the streets of Soham.

Huntley, the school caretaker who abducted, murdered and concealed the bodies of Holly and Jessica, had been attacked by another prisoner at HMP Frankland on 27 February. He suffered catastrophic head injuries and never regained consciousness. After life-support was withdrawn he died in hospital nine days later. He was 50 years old and had served just under 24 years of a minimum 40-year tariff imposed at the Old Bailey in December 2003.

The statement from the families contained no reference to Huntley by name, no expression of relief or satisfaction, and no speculation about whether his violent end inside prison constituted any form of justice. Instead it returned the focus to the two little girls whose lives were stolen in the space of an afternoon and whose names have never faded from public memory.

“Holly and Jessica were kind, bright, funny children who loved their friends, their families and their pets,” the statement continued. “They had dreams and plans and ordinary, beautiful futures ahead of them. Those futures were taken by one man. Nothing that happens now – nothing at all – can give those futures back. We remember our daughters every single day. We honour them through the work of the foundation and through the love that still surrounds them. That is what matters. That is what will always matter.”

The measured language reflects a deliberate choice made long ago by both families: never to let Huntley’s name or his actions dominate the story. From the earliest days after the girls’ disappearance they refused to feed the media frenzy that surrounded the case. They rarely gave interviews. They did not allow photographs of Holly and Jessica to become iconic images of victimhood. They protected their daughters’ dignity even after death.

The Holly and Jessica Foundation, established in the years following the trial, has quietly funded child-safety education programmes, supported families affected by abduction and murder, and lobbied for stronger background-checking systems for anyone working with children. Both sets of parents have remained actively involved, attending events, meeting families in similar situations and speaking – when they speak at all – with restraint and purpose.

Huntley’s death has inevitably reopened old wounds. The Soham murders remain one of the most traumatic collective memories in modern British history. The image of two girls in matching red Manchester United shirts, arms around each other, smiling at the camera, is still instantly recognisable more than twenty years later. The discovery of their bodies in a drainage ditch thirteen days after they disappeared, the televised vigils, the overwhelming police search, the trial that gripped the nation – every element of the case is etched into public consciousness.

Yet the families’ statement makes clear that they do not see Huntley’s death as a turning point. It changes nothing about the hole in their lives. It changes nothing about the birthdays that pass without celebration, the Christmases with empty chairs, the milestones their daughters will never reach. It changes nothing about the quiet, permanent grief that lives alongside every ordinary day.

For many in the UK the news of Huntley’s death prompted a complex mixture of emotions. Some quietly welcomed the knowledge that he would never walk free. Others felt unease that a whole-life tariff – the strongest punishment the courts can impose – had effectively been cut short by prison violence. A small but vocal group expressed concern that vigilante justice inside the prison system undermines the rule of law. The families of Holly and Jessica have never engaged in that debate. Their focus has always been on prevention, on safeguarding, on keeping other children safe.

The foundation they support has trained thousands of school staff, parents and community volunteers in recognising signs of grooming and abuse. It has helped fund secure missing-persons protocols and pushed for tighter regulations around school employees. Every pound raised in Holly and Jessica’s names has gone toward practical measures rather than memorials or campaigns for harsher sentences. That practical, forward-looking approach is reflected in the tone of the statement released on the day of Huntley’s death.

There will be no public comment on the circumstances of the attack at HMP Frankland or on whether Huntley’s killer should face additional punishment. There will be no appearance on television to discuss closure or justice. There will simply be another day of remembering two little girls who loved each other, loved their families and loved life – and whose absence is still felt every single day.

The families’ words – “Finally our daughters’ souls can rest” – are not an expression of triumph. They are an acknowledgment that one source of recurring pain has been removed. The shadow Huntley cast will no longer lengthen. The newspapers will eventually move on. The documentaries will become less frequent. The name “Soham” will slowly lose its power to stop conversations.

But Holly and Jessica will not be forgotten.

Their names live on in the foundation that bears them, in the safeguarding changes they helped bring about, in the countless parents who hug their children a little tighter because of what happened in August 2002. They live on in the quiet determination of two sets of parents who chose, long ago, to turn unbearable grief into quiet, enduring action.

Ian Huntley is dead.

Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman are still loved.

And their families, after more than twenty-three years, have allowed themselves to say – simply and without apology – that a small part of the weight they have carried every day has finally been lifted.