The birth mother of Preston Davey sobbed in court as she told her son's killer 'I will never forgive you'.
A statement from Sarah Davey, a convicted murderer, was read out at Preston Crown Court this morning ahead of the sentencing of Jamie Varley and John McGowan-Fazakerley. Ms Davey sobbed as she told the court she would 'never recover' from her son's death.
In the statement, she said her 'world ended' when she learned that 13-month-old Preston had died. She said she now lives with the 'unimaginable pain of wondering what he went through'.
Background of the Case
Preston was born to Ms Davey on June 16, 2022. Five days after he was born, the 5lb 7oz tot was taken into the care of Oldham Council. Varley and McGowan-Fazakerley were approved for adoption in January 2023. At the age of nine months, in April 2023, Preston began living at their home in Blackpool, Lancashire.
In the months that followed, Preston was subjected to ever increasing physical, sexual and emotional abuse at the hands of teacher Varley. McGowan-Fazakerley turned a blind eye to the escalating abuse and on July 23 took part in a joint attack on Preston, as he slumped helplessly over the bars of his cot. On July 27, Preston was carried into Blackpool Victoria Hospital in cardiac arrest. He was pronounced dead at 7.18pm.
This week, Varley was found guilty of murder; GBH; sexual assault; cruelty; and making, taking and distributing indecent images of Preston. McGowan-Fazakerley was convicted of causing or allowing Preston's death; cruelty; and sexual assault.
Victim Impact Statement in Full
Sarah Davey's victim impact statement was read aloud in court:
Preston Paul Arlo Davey was perfect from the moment he was born. The second he was placed in my arms, I fell completely in love with him. He was my baby, my only son, and from that day on I never wanted to let him go.
For the first seven months of his life, I was lucky enough to spend precious time with him. He had the most beautiful smile, one that could light up any room, and the bond we shared was something everyone could see. Those memories should have brought me comfort—but instead, they are now mixed with pain, because I know what you put him through in his final months.
The day he was taken from me was one of the worst days of my life. I had no choice in that decision. I tried to take some comfort in believing he would be safe, loved, and protected, and he was with his foster parents, Sandra and Paul, I trusted them, they and the system trusted you, that trust was completely and unforgivably broken. Preston was innocent. He was defenceless. He relied entirely on you—the adults responsible for him—to love him, care for him, and keep him safe. Instead, you caused him suffering. You took away his chance to grow up, to go to school, to make friends, to live a full life. You took everything from him.
There are no words that can truly describe the moment I was told my son had died. My world ended. A part of me died with him. But what makes it even more unbearable is knowing that his death was not an accident—it was something cruel, something he did not deserve, something that should never have been allowed to happen.
I'd always wanted to have him christened and this is something I prayed you would do for him, we had to do this when he was dead, a day which should be a celebration, was another day of mourning, suffering and filled with sadness.
I will never forgive you for what you did to my son and what you stopped him from becoming and achieving in his life. Every single day, I live with the unimaginable pain of wondering what he went through.
Those thoughts do not leave me. They are with me when I wake up, and they haunt me when I try to sleep. The reality of how he suffered is something I will carry for the rest of my life.
You have not only taken Preston's life—you have devastated mine and his sister's. His big sister is growing up without her little brother. Everyday moments that should be happy are now filled with pain. I see reminders of him everywhere. Simple things, like going to the park or giving my daughter a bath, are no longer normal—they bring back the reality of what you did to him.
Preston should be here today. He would be four years old. He should be getting ready to start school, learning, laughing, and living his life. Instead, he is forever thirteen months old. I am left trying to live a life that no longer makes sense. I carry grief, guilt, and heartbreak every single day. I try to be strong for my daughter, but part of me is broken forever. This is not something I will ever recover from.
To my beautiful blue-eyed boy, Preston you were, and always will be, loved beyond words. I wanted you with me every single day. We all did. Your Nanna fought so hard for you, and you deserved to be with the people who loved you. You were failed by the very people who were supposed to protect you.
All I can ask now is that the seriousness of what has been done to my son is fully recognised. No sentence will ever bring him back or take away the pain, but it must reflect the life that was taken, the suffering he endured, and the lifelong impact this has had on our family. I will carry you with me for the rest of my life, my baby boy.
I would also like to thank the police, the prosecution, and everyone who has supported me through this.
