In the wake of two devastating tragedies that have shaken the United Kingdom, public scrutiny is intensifying around the intersection of mental health services, the criminal justice system, and government policy. As grieving families demand accountability and change, their stories are forcing a national reckoning with the ways vulnerable individuals—and those around them—are sometimes failed by the very systems meant to protect them.
One such story is that of Kennedi Westcarr-Sabaroche, a 25-year-old woman killed in April 2024 in Hackney, east London, by her boyfriend, Gogoa Lois Tape. According to BBC News, Tape, 28, was detained by hospital order in September 2025 after pleading guilty to manslaughter by reason of diminished responsibility. Diagnosed as an “undiagnosed schizophrenic” at the time of the attack, Tape will remain in psychiatric detention indefinitely under the Mental Health Act.
For Kennedi’s mother, Linda Westcarr, the pain of her loss has been compounded by what she sees as systemic failures that allowed such a tragedy to occur—and continue to disadvantage victims’ families. On October 20, 2025, Linda and her brother Leon met with Work and Pensions Secretary Pat McFadden in Parliament, lobbying for changes to the benefits system that currently allows offenders like Tape, and others detained in psychiatric hospitals, to continue receiving government payments.
McFadden, moved by the family’s “bravery and dignity,” stated, “I have asked officials to come back very quickly on possible changes to the benefits system to stop entitlements for offenders who are detained in psychiatric hospitals.” He cited the case of Valdo Calocane, another offender who, after being diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, was given an indefinite hospital order for stabbing two teenagers to death—and who, like Tape, is still eligible for government benefits.
Linda Westcarr, while acknowledging the meeting as “a step towards being heard,” insisted that her daughter’s death “deserves more than sympathetic words—it demands action.” She called for the implementation of Jade’s Law, which would automatically suspend parental responsibility in cases where an offender has killed a partner or ex-partner with whom they have children. “True systematic changes, including preventing killers sent to hospitals from receiving benefits, and the implementation of Jade’s Law, are needed to ensure victims are prioritised in the justice system,” she said.
Her calls for reform have not gone unnoticed, but Linda remains frustrated by delays. She has met with Jess Phillips, Minister for Safeguarding and Violence Against Women and Girls, and Victims Minister Alex Davies-Jones, but is still waiting for a meeting with the Prime Minister and Lord Chancellor David Lammy. “I am publicly calling on Sir Keir Starmer, along with the lord chancellor, to meet with me so I can share with them the many failures that have been seen in Kennedi’s case,” Linda declared, hoping that face-to-face meetings might finally prompt “real change so no other family has to endure what mine has.”
While the Westcarr family campaigns for legislative reform, another inquiry—this one in Liverpool—has laid bare a series of missed warnings and systemic lapses that culminated in one of the nation’s most harrowing crimes. On July 29, 2024, Axel Rudakubana murdered three children—nine-year-old Alice da Silva Aguiar, seven-year-old Elsie Dot Stancombe, and six-year-old Bebe King—at a Taylor Swift-themed dance workshop, also severely wounding eight other children and two adults. As reported by BBC News, a public inquiry at Liverpool Town Hall has revealed that Rudakubana’s “clear murderous intent” was missed by mental health services for years before the attack.
The inquiry heard that Rudakubana, first referred to Alder Hey Children’s Hospital NHS Foundation Trust on August 14, 2019, for suspected autism, languished on a waiting list for 45 weeks—far longer than the average 11 weeks at the time. During this period, teachers flagged alarming behaviors: he was expelled from mainstream school in October 2019 after carrying a knife, and was described as “monotone, emotionless and very matter of fact about his intentions.” In December 2019, he attacked a pupil with a hockey stick while carrying a knife in his backpack, and made comments about strangers being afraid he would murder them.
Lynsey Boggan, clinical lead for neurodevelopmental services at Alder Hey, admitted that clinicians were “blindsided” by key information not being shared and that emails from educators highlighting Rudakubana’s risks went unanswered. “I do agree there shouldn’t have been a delay and the risk was obviously very present at that time. The assessment should have been done there and then,” Boggan conceded under questioning. She further agreed that missed opportunities to assess for ADHD—a condition that, if treated, can reduce impulsivity and improve emotional regulation—may have contributed to the tragic outcome.
The inquiry also highlighted a controversial moment at a multi-agency meeting in January 2020, when John Hicklin, a clinical nurse specialist, reportedly joked about a “£5 bet” on what would happen to Rudakubana. While Hicklin later argued the comment was taken out of context, the episode underscored a troubling lack of urgency and seriousness in the system’s response to clear warning signs.
“The combination of high intelligence, lack of empathy, fascination with violence, potential conduct disorder and ADHD all add up to a really toxic mix,” observed Nicholas Bowen KC, representing the families of the murdered girls. Boggan agreed, calling the situation “concerning.”
Both the Westcarr and Rudakubana cases have ignited fierce debate over where responsibility lies and what reforms are needed. Advocates for victims argue that the current system too often prioritizes the rights and welfare of offenders over the safety and dignity of victims and their families. They question how individuals with such clear risk factors can slip through the cracks, and why government support—financial or otherwise—continues for those detained after committing violent acts.
On the other hand, some mental health professionals and legal experts caution against knee-jerk policy changes that might undermine due process or the principle of rehabilitation. They note that indefinite hospital orders are designed both to protect the public and to provide treatment for those whose crimes are linked to severe mental illness. The challenge, they say, is in designing systems that balance compassion with accountability, and that respond swiftly and effectively to warning signs without stigmatizing all individuals with mental health conditions.
As the Liverpool inquiry continues and government officials deliberate potential reforms, families like the Westcarrs and the relatives of the murdered children in Southport are left waiting—not just for answers, but for action. Their stories are a stark reminder that behind every headline is a web of missed opportunities, policy gaps, and human costs that demand more than sympathy—they demand change.
Whether the coming months will bring the “true systematic changes” Linda Westcarr and others are calling for remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the voices of those most affected are growing louder, and the call for reform is echoing through the halls of power.
