Twenty seven years after her sister and nieces’ deaths, Mary Jones still keeps photos of them locked away in a drawer. “I can’t have them on the wall,” she told WalesOnline through her tears from her home on the Gurnos estate, Merthyr Tydfil, a stone’s throw from where her sister was killed in a deliberate arson attack along with her baby daughters Shauna and Sarah Jane. “It brings back too many painful memories.
“I sat for years with my mum and dad with Diane and the babies’ faces pushed in front of us all the time on the news and in the papers. There was never any warning - it was just again and again almost every night. The impact on my father was immense. He killed himself over what happened to Diane and the babies.
“Diane was a daddy’s girl. She was the spitting image of him. She had his ways. Everyone loved dad like they loved Diane. We were all close as a family, but they were especially close. If the photos of Diane were on the wall it would just be like reliving the grief over and over. It’s too painful.”
READ MORE: Vigil held in memory of mother and daughters who died in arson attack as they slept
“Funny and popular” Diane died at around 2am on October 11, 1995 after petrol was pumped through her door in the house on the modest, quiet cul-de-sac. A match was found later by police who have never found those responsible. Local women Donna Clarke and Annette Hewins were found guilty of arson with intent to endanger life and jailed for 20 years and 13 years respectively, but their convictions were quashed at the court of appeal in 1999 and they were both acquitted. All that remains is a solitary memorial stone dedicated to Diane and her girls.
After father Jonny took his life aged 52 following the horrific killings, their mother Myra died with cancer in 2016 - her dying wish was that Diane’s killer would be brought to justice. Then Mary’s partner Wayne killed himself three years ago. Mary says she has suffered nightmares, flashbacks and visions for years sparked by what she saw when she was just 18 and lived across the street from Diane.
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” the 45-year-old mother-of-three said of the day her sister and nieces died. “I still see the flames when I close my eyes. I collapsed, I was only 18, just turned 18. My mother collapsed. It is still fresh in my mind.
“I could never return to that flat. I never lived there again. I was homeless for a couple of months afterwards.
“I have suffered nightmares, flashbacks, I was put on medication because every time I shut my eyes again and again I’d see visions of the flames. Then I’d see visions of my dad, and holding my mum’s hand when she died. Then of finding my partner dead in the bed. It just goes on and on.
“What happened to Diane and the babies didn’t just take them away from us so cruelly, it took half my family as well. I know my father would still be here today if that match wasn’t thrown into Diane’s house.”
Mary is painfully reliving her story after spending the evening among friends beside her sister and nieces’ stone to mark 27 years since the killings. They have released balloons in their memory, many wearing T-shirts with photos of Diane, Shauna and Sarah Jane - doing so to bring the case back into people’s consciousness, and to appeal for help to finally bring the culprit to justice.
Inside this sea of pebble-dash homes at one of Britain’s most famous and largest estates, the longevity in the defiant response to the killings has shown there is much more to this community than their struggles so often highlighted. “People stick together here, we love each other,” Mary said.
“Many put the area down, but when something as awful as this happens in a community like ours, people come out and show their support. We’ve always had that.
“All I can do is continue to thank each and every one of them. I know Diane would be so proud of them. I’ve had so many messages and calls this week - too many to count. I’m going to spend time going through them. It does give us hope.”
Diane’s home in Marigold Close was opposite Mary’s flat. They usually spent every day together before Diane died, Mary said, and would often take the ten-minute walk to Goitre Lane where Myra and Jonny lived.
“They were lovely times,” Mary remembered. “When I think back to those times I remember how much Diane lived for those kids. They were her world. She’d come to me or I’d go to her and we’d look after them together, and then we’d pop round to mum and dad who idolised them.
“I think about that image all the time. My eldest daughter Amy is just nine months older than Shauna, so I often wonder how close they’d be. I wonder how different life would be.”
Above all, though, Mary says she has spent years trying to comprehend “how someone could be so cruel”. “Why would you want to rip a family apart, why would you be so cruel to take them away from us,” she said.
“Diane didn’t bother anyone. She was a funny and popular young girl, a well-known and bubbly character. I don’t remember her having rows with anyone, and she didn’t have enemies. Speak to anyone in this community and they would tell you the same.”
When each of her three girls were old enough, Mary told them of their aunty and cousins’ harrowing deaths. It has instilled in all of them a drive to fight for justice that still emanates from their mother, evidenced as they again stand together defiantly beside the memorial to release the pink, yellow and purple balloons marking another year with no answers.
While they continue to find the strength to return to the stone and renew their calls for justice each year, Mary explained it has become even more difficult as the years have gone by. “I’ve always been told I’m strong, but it’s taken its toll on me now,” she sighed. “I’m really suffering. I’ve been under the mental health team and have had to have a lot of professional help. But I feel as though I’m getting back.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time, but I haven’t had the strength since Wayne died. It’s been tragedy after tragedy. Now I think something has to be done for what we’ve been through.
“We want to renew our connection with the police. I haven’t spoken to the police for more than a decade. I need to try again. I’ve watched my mother and father die without justice, I’ve seen their pain that Diane’s killer is walking free.
“I don’t want to go to my grave and hand all this to my daughters, I can’t place that burden on them. I’d be very happy to go to my grave with my loved ones knowing we’ve seen justice. Diane and the babies aren’t resting up there, we need to see justice for them to rest.
“We are 27 years on, we’ve all got older and plenty of time has passed. Perhaps people who were too afraid to come forward can do so now. I know information is being held.
“Perhaps those who know something can look at their children, their grandchildren, and think how they would feel if this happened to their family. Can they picture how they would feel?
“Somebody out there knows something, most definitely. I don’t know how they sleep at night knowing that. How do you sleep at night knowing you poured that petrol through that door?”
South Wales Police Detective Superintendent Jason Davies said: “All historic murder cases, often referred to in the media as cold cases, are allocated to the major crime review unit and remain under active consideration and will be subject to reinvestigation as and when new information is received, or when there are opportunities following advances in forensic science. Each case is reviewed periodically. If information comes in from the public or other forces we will act on it.”
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