Essex Boys, The New Generation Read Free

identifying him.
    ‘Before taking another step towards Dean’s body, I asked the detective if he had sustained any facial injuries. To my relief, he said that he had not, but when I looked down upon my son I saw that he had big red blotches all over his face. “What are those red marks?” I asked.
    ‘“We don’t know yet,” the detective replied. I later learned that Dean’s killer, or an accomplice, had squirted ammonia in his face before shooting him. The ammonia had irritated the skin, causing the blemishes.
    ‘I found myself staring at the bandages around his head, trying to imagine what grotesque injuries they were hiding. I felt an urge to remove them so that I could see for myself if Dean had really been shot. It was hard for me to believe because he looked so peaceful, as if he were asleep. The longer I spent with Dean, the less certain I became that it was, in fact, him.
    ‘The last time I had seen my son he was far from muscular, as this person was, and he wasn’t as full in the face either. Unbeknown to me at that time, Dean had begun weight training and using muscle-enhancing products.
    ‘“I can’t be sure that this is my son,” I eventually said to the detective.
    ‘He assured me that the body was Dean’s, but my heart refused to be convinced of the awful truth. “We will of course check and double-check,” he said, before leading me out of the room.
    ‘A part of my heart remained in that hospital with Dean as we drove off towards home. It has remained with him ever since. I know, because I felt it breaking in two whilst I was there. I don’t believe that it will ever heal because the indescribable pain I felt that day has failed to diminish.
    ‘The following morning I contacted the police and asked them if it would be possible to look at a tattoo on Dean’s arm, as it might have helped me to positively identify him. A few years earlier, he had been tattooed with a pouncing puma that he had designed himself. I told the police that if I could see this unique tattoo, then I would know in my heart that the body in the morgue was my son’s.
    ‘If I am being totally honest, I was misleading the police. I knew it was Dean in that godforsaken place, but I was finding it hard to come to terms with it. I needed to go back to my boy, to be with him for myself, not for any horrible identification formality. The police were very understanding and of course keen for me to give them a positive identification.
    ‘Going back was in many ways harder than my initial visit. The vague possibility that this had been some sort of unthinkable mistake had been snatched from me. All hope of Dean being alive was now gone. I was being forced to accept that my youngest son, the baby of my family, had been brutally murdered.
    ‘Being with Dean on this occasion brought me a lot of comfort. It felt as if it was only me and him in that cold room, which, for a fleeting moment, felt warm with his presence. I looked at the tattoo on Dean’s arm and confirmed to the detective that this body was indeed my son’s. I have since had an exact copy of the pouncing puma tattooed on my shoulder blade. I hadn’t previously dreamed of ever getting one, but this has made me feel as if a part of Dean is with me at all times.
    ‘I have a lot of regrets regarding Dean. The benefits of hindsight are, in my case, proving to be non-existent, only cruel. It’s never easy bringing up children, but I keep telling myself that I could have done better. I guess every parent says that at some stage. We do what we think is best at the time, but a parent’s input is often over-ridden by outside influences. We live in the fifth-richest country in the world and our children are butchering each other in the streets. Why? It’s not as if there are no opportunities or things for kids to do in this country. Basildon, where Dean grew up, has estates with high unemployment, where kids who were bottom of the class can earn thousands of pounds per