It's still manipulation and it is still abuse on these children's minds
In the shadow of one of Britain's most harrowing murder cases, Kelly Higgins has emerged not only as a survivor but as a voice for legal reform — arguing that a system which allowed her imprisoned, abusive mother to retain parental authority over her children long after their removal is itself a continuation of harm. Her campaign asks a question that sits at the intersection of law, childhood, and justice: when a parent has forfeited the moral claim to parenthood through violence, should the legal claim endure? The answer, she insists, must change.
- A woman whose mother was jailed for life for one of Britain's most brutal murders spent her childhood still legally bound to that mother — forced to visit her in prison and seek her approval for basic life decisions.
- Kelly and her brother were tied to chairs, beaten with belts, and hospitalised from injuries inflicted by the same parent the law continued to recognise as their guardian.
- Forced visitation created a psychological paradox that haunts survivors: a child's longing for a parent's affection can coexist with terror, making each visit a fresh wound dressed as a reunion.
- The UK government has moved to restrict parental rights in rape and serious sexual abuse cases, but Kelly argues physical abuse victims remain unprotected by the same logic.
- Kelly is now campaigning for abusive parents to lose not just visitation rights but all legal decision-making authority — framing the current system as a mechanism that extends abuse beyond prison walls.
Kelly Higgins was seven years old when her mother, Bernadette McNeilly, participated in the torture and murder of sixteen-year-old Suzanne Capper in Moston, Manchester. McNeilly was sentenced to life imprisonment in 1993. But a life sentence, it turned out, did not end her legal authority over her children.
Kelly and her brother James were placed with foster families, yet the law left McNeilly's parental rights intact. She could approve or block decisions about where her children travelled, what medical care they received, even whether their ears could be pierced. And she could see them. Kelly remembers those visits with painful clarity — and she remembers her own abuse at her mother's hands. She and James were tied to chairs and beaten with belts. Some beatings ended in hospital visits. She reported the abuse to social services and police. Nothing changed. Her mother was never convicted of harming her own children.
Now forty, Kelly is calling for English law to be fundamentally reformed. She wants abusive parents stripped of all parental rights — not merely visitation, but the legal power to shape a child's life from behind bars. The current system, she argues, is an extension of control, a form of abuse that follows a child into the safety of a foster home. "It's still manipulation and it is still abuse," she said.
Her foster mother, Sue Williams, now seventy-three, watched the toll those visits took. "It was tears going in and tears coming out," Williams recalled. She and her husband Pete tried to build a stable life for Kelly, but the law kept drawing her back toward the person who had hurt her most. Williams believes that transferring parental rights to foster carers would encourage more people to open their homes to vulnerable children.
The Ministry of Justice has taken some steps, introducing automatic restrictions on parental rights in cases of rape and serious child sexual abuse. Kelly argues this falls far short. Children bearing cigarette burns and belt scars, she says, deserve the same protection. Greater Manchester Police declined to comment on her specific case. Manchester City Council has not responded. The legal question Kelly is raising — whether imprisonment for extreme violence should sever a parent's authority over the children they abused — remains, for now, unanswered.
Kelly Higgins was seven years old when her mother lured a teenage girl to their home in Moston, Manchester, as part of a plan that would end in murder. Bernadette McNeilly, then 24, was one of six people who held 16-year-old Suzanne Capper captive for eight days in 1993. They burned her, extracted her teeth, starved her, and eventually doused her in petrol and set her alight. A judge sentenced McNeilly to life imprisonment. But three decades later, from inside prison, McNeilly retained the legal right to see her children and to approve decisions about their lives—where they could travel, what medical procedures they could have, even whether their ears could be pierced.
Kelly and her younger brother James were removed from their mother's care and placed with foster families. Yet the law did not strip McNeilly of her parental authority. Kelly remembers the visits with visceral clarity: the sound of scratches on walls, the screaming from the room where Capper was held. She also remembers her own abuse at her mother's hands. She and James were tied to chairs and beaten with belts. Hospital visits followed some of the beatings. Kelly says she reported the abuse to Manchester City Council's social services and to Greater Manchester Police, but nothing changed. Her mother was never convicted of abusing her own children.
Now 40, Kelly is calling for a fundamental change in English law. She wants abusive parents to lose their parental rights entirely—not just visitation rights, but the legal authority to make decisions about their children's lives. The current system, she argues, is a form of control that extends a parent's abuse long after the child has been removed to safety. "It's still manipulation and it is still abuse," she said. "Massive abuse on these children's little minds."
The psychology of forced visitation is more complicated than it might appear from outside. Kelly described a paradox that few people understand unless they have lived it: the fear of an abusive parent can coexist with a child's longing for affection. When McNeilly was kind during visits—stroking her hair, holding her—Kelly found herself not wanting to leave. Her foster mother, Sue Williams, now 73, witnessed the emotional toll. "It was tears going in and tears coming out," Williams said. She tried to convince Kelly that her birth mother was still her mother, that the visits were necessary. But the contradiction was unbearable: Williams and her husband Pete wanted to build a life with Kelly free from the shadow of someone who had hurt her so deeply. Yet the law kept pulling her back.
Williams believes that transferring parental rights from abusive birth parents to foster parents would encourage more people to take in vulnerable children. "Sue and Pete's love for me is why I am who I am today," Kelly said. The Ministry of Justice has made some changes. Through its Victims and Courts Bill, it automatically restricted parental rights in cases of rape and serious child sexual abuse offences carrying sentences of four years or more. But Kelly argues this does not go far enough. She points to children with cigarette burns, scars on their faces and arms and legs—children who can account for every mark on their bodies, yet are still being forced by law to visit the people who inflicted those injuries.
Greater Manchester Police declined to comment on Kelly's specific case but said it was working to support victims of non-recent child abuse. Manchester City Council has not yet responded. The question Kelly is raising—whether the law should allow a parent imprisoned for one of the most brutal crimes imaginable to retain authority over the children they abused—remains unanswered. For now, the system that kept her tied to her abuser continues to operate as it has for decades.
Notable Quotes
It was tears going in and tears coming out. We want to be able to say we can have a life with you, and not have to answer to somebody who's hurt you so much.— Sue Williams, Kelly's foster mother
Some of these children have got cigarette burns on their bodies, some of them have got scars on their faces—and yet these foster carers are still having to drag these poor children to visit that abuser.— Kelly Higgins
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did your mother's imprisonment for murder not automatically end her parental rights?
That's the core of what I'm fighting. The law treated her as a parent first, a murderer second. She was in prison for life, but she was still my mother on paper. That meant she had a say in my life from behind bars.
What did that actually look like in practice?
She had to approve things. Holidays abroad, medical decisions, things a normal parent decides. But it was more than paperwork—it was the visits. I had to go see her. I was terrified of her, but also... when she was nice to me, I didn't want to leave. That's the trap.
Your foster mother described the visits as devastating.
She was fighting two feelings at once. She wanted to give me a normal life, but the law said I had to answer to the woman who'd hurt me. Every visit undid some of what she was trying to build.
Do you think the law has changed since then?
Slightly. They've restricted rights in rape cases and serious sexual abuse. But physical abuse? Torture? That's still not enough. Children with cigarette burns are still being dragged to visit their abusers.
What would change if parental rights transferred to foster parents?
More people would foster. Right now, you're asking someone to love a child while answering to the person who broke that child. That's impossible. If Sue and Pete had had full authority, they could have actually protected me.
Do you think your mother understood what she was doing to you when she forced those visits?
I don't know if she understood. But it didn't matter. The law gave her the power, and she used it. That's what has to stop.