One Minute of Silence For: The Philpott Children




I know that I said I was going to write about the Lucas victims next, but I remembered that a few months ago I vowed to write a blog post honouring six little English children who died in monstrous circumstances. So here is the first in a series of One Minute of Silence posts, where I write about the victims of murderers other than serial killers. Here goes.

The children in the photo above, from left to right, are (back row): Duwayne, aged thirteen, John, aged nine, (front row) Jack, eight, Jesse, six, Jade, ten, and Jayden, five. The ugly bugger in the top right corner is their father, Mick Philpott.

On the eleventh of May, 2011, Mick Philpott put into action a plan to get revenge upon his former live-in mistress, who had fled his controlling, abusive personality and taken the children she’d had by him. Together with his wife, Mairead, and a friend of his named Paul Mosley, he set fire to his own house whilst the children lay asleep in their beds. They laced the premises with petrol, lit it, and then leant ladders up against the house and called for the children to come down.

But they never did.

The six little Philpotts stayed in their beds, sound asleep, as the fire gained momentum and spread throughout their home. They proably died of smoke inhalation. Not one of the three adults present climbeed up the ladders to save them.

The adult Philpotts at first acted heartbroken at the press conferences afterwards, but something was off. For starters, Mick tried to embezzle the money that the community raised to help him bury his children. Then, a hidden recording machine in a hotel room revealed that he and his wife had been lying to a considerable extent about their involvement in the murders. And of course there was the small matter of Mr. Philpott being diagnosed with an anti-social personality disorder-a mental defect one Jeffery L. Dahmer was also diagnosed with, if memory serves correct.

Mick Philpot was sentenced to life in prison. His wife got seventeen years. But what about the six little angels killed in their beds, and their grieving brothers and sisters? (Before the fire, there were seventeen Philpott children, mostly quite young.)

One image remains burned in my head from when a teacher at school showed us vidoes concerning the case, and it is this: Six white little coffins, balanced on the shoulders of men in black suits. The coffins have the names of the dead children incribed on their sides. The men are trudging into the church in a straight line. Six little coffins in a neat little line, going to be buried in the cold, damp cementary clay.

Duwayne and his siblings did not deserve their piggish father. They deserved the best, but they got the worst. If it is true that only the good die young-as it now appears to be-then Mick Philpott will live to a great age.

But, if God is just, he will die screaming.

Duwayne, John Jack, Jesse, Jade and Jayden-rest in peace, you poor misfortunate kids.


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