Stalked by an arsonist

Saturday 18th August 2007

Maggie Smith's family was being targeted by a fire-crazed maniac. But would she discover who it was before it was too late?

The piercing scream hit me first. Then the acrid smell of smoke.
'Wayne!' I shrieked, sitting bolt upright in bed. 'Fire!'
But Wayne was nowhere to be seen.

I ran downstairs, past the flames and into the living room. Wayne, 28, was sprawled out on the settee, asleep.
'Fire!' I yelled, shaking him awake, then I bolted back upstairs for the boys.

As I flung open their bedroom door, their bewildered faces peered back at me from their bunk beds. Aaron, 8, was huddled on the top bunk. Below him, Brandon, 6, had already whipped back his duvet.
'Quick!' I snapped. 'There's a fire.'

I watched them disappear before running into my bedroom. There, lying in a cot beside my bed, was my youngest son, 6-month-old Kieran. Picking him up, I headed back out onto the landing.

But the stairway was now filled with thick, black smoke.
'Help!' I screamed, stumbling back into the bedroom. Kieran wailed in my arms. Then I remembered there was another life that needed saving. I was three months' pregnant with my fourth child.

Just then I heard sirens, and a fire engine came screeching into the road. The fire fighters made short work of the flames before bundling us out onto the front garden. I was guided to an ambulance, and Brandon and Aaron were inside, blankets around them.
'Thank God,' I wept.

You see, this wasn't the first fire we'd suffered. In the 18 months since I'd met David Burtonshaw — who was called by his middle name, Wayne — we'd been the target of an arsonist. This was fire number six.

Wayne was sure he knew the identity of the culprit.
'It's my step-dad, Paul Spencer,' he'd told me countless times.
The police investigating the new fire promised to interview Paul. But in those coming days, as we moved home, it was the usual story.
'There's no evidence against him,' the officers said.

In May 2005 I was at breaking point. I trawled estate agents, searching for somewhere new to rent. At 29 weeks' pregnant it was the last thing I needed, but I had no choice.

After tea one day, Aaron and Brandon settled in their new bedroom to watch their Batman Forever DVD. I had a bath with Kieran, then got ready for bed.

Wayne was still downstairs watching telly as I drifted off to sleep. Suddenly a loud scream jerked me awake. I flew out into the hallway and burst into their room. The boys were still in their beds, frantically pointing behind the door. Their blue carpet was on fire. Flames flickered up around their telly.

Wayne appeared, lugging a bucket of water up the stairs. Grabbing Kieran I ran downstairs and handed Kieran to our neighbour, Stuart Simpson. Then I ran back upstairs to find Wayne standing helplessly in the boys' bedroom doorway. What was the matter with him?
'Get the boys!' I screamed.

Brandon dived into my arms. But Aaron was still cowering on his top bunk.
'Just grab him!' I screamed at Wayne.

After that everything was a blur. We were bundled into a neighbour's living room. Then the room started swarming with police.
'You're under arrest for arson with intent to endanger life...'
'What are you doing?' I said as they snapped handcuffs around my wrists.

At a police station in Hull, I was stripped naked and given a yellow paper suit to wear.
'Is Aaron OK?' I cried.
Ignoring me, the officers locked me in a cell. Sobbing my heart out, I lay on the hard bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, the police interrogation was ruthless.
'This fire was deliberately started,' the officer snapped.
But how? And by who?

Then the police told me that they had arrested Wayne too. Brandon and Kieran were staying with Wayne's mum Susan.
'And Aaron?' I asked.
The officer hesitated…
'He's critically ill with 90% burns,' he explained.
Why hadn't Wayne got him out?

Three officers escorted me to the Royal Manchester Children's Hospital. Stepping into Aaron's room, I stifled a sob. Just his face, untouched by flames, was left un-bandaged. How could the police think I'd do that to him?

Luckily, I was released without charge. And when I was 35 weeks' pregnant, my waters broke. An ambulance rushed me to St Mary's Hospital, five miles up the road and, after five hours, I was holding my new 6b 10oz son, Daniel Aaron.

'I've called your new brother after you,' I told Aaron, who was still in hospital. He seemed pleased, but the following week I couldn't bear to tell him there'd been an arson attack at the hostel Wayne was staying at and the police had charged him with arson, with intent to endanger life. I was absolutely shattered. Could it really be him? Fires did seem to follow him about.

When Daniel was 3 weeks old, I arrived one day to the worst news. Aaron's blood pressure had started dropping.
'Keep fighting,' I begged.
But after nine weeks of battling he was too tired.
I was with Aaron when he took his last breath. The pain of watching him die is indescribable.

In those following months I was rehoused and Brandon and Kieran were returned to me. A year after the fire, in June 2006, Wayne appeared at Hull Crown Court but the jury failed to reach a verdict on the charge of murder. It was another year before he faced a second trial.

But eventually, the court heard how, on the night of the last fire, Wayne used a lighter and an aerosol to start the fire, before closing the boys' door. Although Wayne promised he'd save Aaron, he'd abandoned him and left him to burn.
'How could you?' I wept out loud.
I was sickened and so were the jury. They found Wayne guilty of murder and he was jailed for 25 years.

I now know that Wayne had a history of arson, dating back to when his mum married his step-dad. He was jealous of Paul, and then he was jealous of my gorgeous boys. But, whatever Wayne's motive, I've lost Aaron forever. And I'll never forgive him.

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