Godwin's Story

Godwin was so loved. He meant so much to me and he brought so much joy and love. On Valentine's Day he gave me a bunch of flowers and it was so huge it couldn’t even fit in my vase.

He was living in Oxford, playing for their football Academy and I'd talk to him every other day. He was really happy because he was going to catch up with his friends in London. When they went to get something to eat, he called to let me know he was going to be late. Then a group of boys, who were after one of Godwin’s friends, saw them. Four men, all wearing dark clothing, and one of them had a knife.

Godwin was able to run away but when they started stabbing his friend, he came back to stop the fight. He was such an incredible person. In court, I had to watch Godwin’s last moments on CCTV. The guy stabbed him. Just one stab wound, but it went straight to his heart.

Within minutes Godwin collapsed and died. Later, I heard a knock, and I opened the door to three police officers. The lady officer said, “There's been some altercation and I'm afraid Godwin has died.” I was so much in denial I just kept saying “No that's not true. He’s not dead”. When they confirmed 99.9 percent that it was true, my first reaction was to pick up my phone and call him. Over and over, desperately, desperately, desperately. I was wishing Godwin would say, “I'm on my way home Mum.”

But each time it went to voicemail. I kept ringing, saying, “Godwin this is Mummy here, the police officers are saying that you died. Please pick up your phone.” I called over 50 times.

The lady police officer offered to drive us to the scene to confirm it was him. It was one of the worst journeys I’ve encountered in my life. Arriving at the scene and seeing the tent was too much for me. My husband went into the tent and came back to the car, speechless. He nodded to confirm it was Godwin.

It was like it suddenly turned pitch black. After we got back, I didn't have any strength in my legs, I wasn't able to sit or stand up -all I could do was lie down. I rang my sister. I said, “I've just been told Godwin has taken his last breath.” My sister was shouting, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” The only balance I had was the floor, just to hold me.

I was lying down, shouting and screaming in agony and despair. It’s hard to describe the pain. It's like someone has taken your heart, ripped it apart and pounded on it. I just kept crying repeating that word, “died, died, died, died, died.” I remember saying “Why is it Godwin, why, why, why, why?” I kept thinking, ‘Would I never see him again?, Would I never be able to touch him again?’ I remember thinking "Oh my God, so knife crime is real.”

One minute he was here, the next he was gone.

I couldn't bring myself to visualize Godwin in a coffin. But I had to see him before the funeral. It was unbearable. I was going mad, in total shock and denial. I was looking at him, dressed up in his lovely suit, and I thought his chest was moving. I thought he was alive and just sleeping.

Godwin was stolen away from us in such a terrible way. My family is broken into pieces, just missing him. We didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, and he's never going to be there, he's never going to be part of us anymore.

The least we can do is use his memory to change lives.