Each year, as December approaches, Jason Bennett faces the painful reminder of the tragic loss of his family. For the fifth consecutive Christmas, he will not call out to his children or search for their gifts beneath the tree. Instead, he walks to his mantelpiece, where only photographs of his daughter, Lacey, and son, John, remain. This ritual of kissing the frames has been his way of coping since their horrific deaths, which occurred on September 18, 2021, when their mother, Terri Harris, and her children were brutally murdered.
In a shocking act of violence, Damien Bendall killed Terri, Lacey, aged 11, John-Paul, aged 13, and Lacey’s friend, Connie Gent, also 11, using a claw hammer. The victims were pronounced dead at the scene, leaving a community in mourning. Bendall went further, committing an appalling act against Lacey before abandoning the scene to exchange items for drugs.
Jason has faced unimaginable grief since that fateful night. The holiday season brings back haunting memories for him, forcing him to relive the last conversation he had with his children. He recalls that he was on holiday in Devon and missed a video call from Lacey, but he returned the call, grateful to hear their voices one last time. They were excited to share that they had set up a charity stall to raise money.
The following morning, Jason awoke to find news spreading on social media about a crime scene at Terri’s home. Unable to reach his family, he felt a growing sense of dread until a phone call from the police confirmed his worst fears.
“I crumpled to my knees,” Jason said. “I was crying for my beloved angels.” As he faces another winter without his family, Jason shared that in many ways, Christmas “died” along with Lacey and John. The first Christmas without them was particularly painful, filled with thoughts of what gifts he would have given and the games they would have played together.
Jason used to cherish the festive season, taking joy in preparing Christmas dinner and celebrating with his children. “Christmas was everything,” he reflected, noting how he relished cooking and buying gifts that would enable family activities. Yet since their passing, he has struggled to engage in these traditions.
“The first two years were horrendous,” he admitted. “I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t go to work, and I didn’t even want to live. I just wanted to be with them.” Despite the overwhelming sadness, Jason found support from friends and family, which encouraged him to continue living in honor of his children.
He described the challenges of returning to normalcy, saying, “It’s difficult to fit in when you are feeling so fragile.” Jason has adopted various rituals to remember Lacey and John, including laying flowers at their funeral site around the time of John’s birthday and kissing their photo daily.
As he recalls his children’s personalities, Jason paints a vivid picture of their joy and kindness. Lacey was polite and caring, while John had a fiery spirit tempered by love and sensitivity. “They both were funny,” he said. “We had so many laughs together.”
Gradually, Jason returned to work and adapted to a new reality, which he describes as “not better, just different.” He has also focused on honoring his children’s legacy through charitable efforts. Jason has raised over £78,000 for the Youth Cancer Trust, the charity for which Lacey and Connie raised funds prior to their deaths. His initiatives have included three charity soccer matches, with the most recent held on the field of Sheffield Wednesday.
Looking toward the future, Jason remains hopeful that Christmas may one day regain its former joy. Until then, he will continue to cherish the memories of his children and express gratitude for the time they shared. “I was – and still am – truly the luckiest father on earth to have had them,” he reflected.
Damien Bendall has received a whole-life sentence for his actions, ensuring he will spend the rest of his life in prison after admitting to the brutal murders. Jason’s story serves as a poignant reminder of love, loss, and the enduring strength of family bonds.
