Caroline Williams

My husband Jim was a much-loved GP, who had always worked unstintingly for his patients. He was always willing to go out at night and yet was always cheerful. We had four children, two of whom followed their father into medicine, one became a musician and one followed his great love of nature and became an ecologist.

Jim retired at 65 and the first free weekend afterwards went to visit our eldest son and had an idyllic weekend going on long walks in the country. We were driving home on the Monday morning full of plans for the future and so very happy. Suddenly, from the line of traffic coming in the opposite direction a lorry swerved across the road and hit us head on. There were many feelings and thoughts, from the intense pain of the impact, feeling flung around as the car was spun, to the realisation that I could hear nothing from my husband.

I had been smashed in the face and jaw. I could not breath I was starting to choke. I knew if I was going to live I would have spit out the blood and bone. As I did this I could feel myself going unconscious but I realised I must stay awake. I was crushed inside the car and could not feel or see my husband. Just as I started to despair I felt someone’s hand hold mine and a woman’s voice speaking to me, telling me everything would be fine and that the emergency services were coming. This person’s voice gave me hope and the strength to keep going.

Finally in The A&E department of the local hospital I heard familiar voice that of my son’s. Trying to speak I asked him about his father and heard “ Sorry Mother, he is dead”.

I had server facial injuries and had lost an eye. When I was finally able to leave the hospital I had gone from 9 stone to just 7 stone in weight. I could not see well enough to drive and my loss of balance prevented me from riding my bike. The pain in my face and head was constant but somehow I had to take stock of my life and try to deal with the aftermath of the crash.

When you are bereaved and in my case also injured it is very difficult to then deal with the Inquest, a very formal occasion with no sympathy shown. You have to be interviewed by the Police and you have to learn about how the law works. I grew up respecting authority and assuming professional people were to be trusted. I thought British Justice was utterly fair and that I could just let the law take its course and justice would be done. I was very shocked when I was told by the solicitor for The Crown Prosecution Service that they would only charge the driver with “Driving without due care and attention”. “But surely”, I said, “if he couldn’t slow down and stop he was driving dangerously”. The solicitor said it would be too difficult to prove.

For the first time since that terrible day I felt really angry. Angry that the law was so useless and unfair, angry that the magistrate had said my husband’s death was the “unfortunate result of an unavoidable accident”.

In the aftermath of this tragedy I felt that there was no one on my side. The police were trying to charge the driver but the death of my husband and my injuries were quite peripheral. I was completely ignored by the justice system and was deeply shocked by the insulting treatment of the death of my dear husband, this wonderful man, who gave so much for others.

I will miss him always.