‘We need to talk about child suicide – it’s heartbreaking I didn’t know my daughter was so unhappy’

In 2016, 14-year-old aspiring student Jessica Collins took her own life. With over 200 children lost to suicide in the UK every year, her mum Lee-Anne talks about what it’s like to lose a child this way and why every parent and young person needs to be more aware of the dangers of social media.

‘I never understood what real grief was, until I lost my daughter, Jessica, to suicide. I couldn’t get out of bed, or function as a person, let alone a mother. 

The day she died, my whole world died and I know I will never be the same. 

I was young when I had Jessica and her twin brother, Adam – just before my 18^th birthday. So you could say I grew up with them. 

She and I were like best friends. We were the Queen of Shops, going to Primark and all the usual girlie places. We would do our nails, our hair – we loved spending time together. And it wasn’t just a girls’ club; she was close with her dad, too.

However, Jessica wasn’t a typical 14-year-old. She had a very old head on her shoulders, and absolutely doted on her little sister, Molly, who was four years younger. 

Molly would organise tea parties, and Jessica would skip hanging out with her friends just to attend. She made sure that her little sister knew she was her world.

Jessica was very different from her twin brother, but they’d always got on well, too. 

When we moved to Great Yarmouth seven years ago from East London,  it was a massive change – and our kids loved it. The fresh air, being out of the city. They made friends really easily. Jessica thought she’d found the best friends, the ones she would grow up with for the rest of her life.

She was an incredible student, and academically talented. She even secured a youth scholarship to the University of Cambridge. She wanted to become a music teacher, and she had a very bright future.

Just a few months after we moved, I lost my mum to lung cancer. It was heartbreaking – like Jessica and me, my mum and I were like two peas in a pod. I only had my mum, no dad, and in my mind that was always going to be the biggest loss I’d ever suffer. 

Jessica took it really hard too, as they were extremely close. But there were other things going on, things I didn’t know about.

She was having issues with her friendships. There were rumours – which turned out to be completely false – going around that something had been sent on Snapchat, something she was supposed to have said or done. On social media, things can just go around so much faster. There’s no way to share or say anything privately anymore – and it just blew up.  

One Tuesday night in July, I was in a rush trying to find a pair of leggings. Jessica helped me, and I remember saying: ‘Thank you, I love you. I’ll speak to you later.’ Those were the last words I spoke to her. 

When I came home, my husband, David, said Jessica had gone to bed – she was prone to migraines, and would usually go to a dark room to sleep it off. But the next day, 6 July 2016, she didn’t wake up.

Jessica would normally get her little sister up for school, because they shared a bedroom. But that morning, my husband noticed that the room was quiet. ‘I can’t hear the girls,’ he said. 

When he went in, Molly was still asleep on the top bunk. Jessica was on the bottom. My husband found her. He came running out and shouted, ‘Oh my god, Jessica’s dead.’

He desperately tried to bring her back with CPR as we waited for the ambulance, but it was too late. 

I remember going outside and screaming. I’m disabled, and at that time I was in a wheelchair or using a stick. My neighbour was holding me up to keep me on my feet. Another neighbour used to be a nurse, so she ran upstairs to help my husband. 

To this day, I still don’t remember a lot of what happened next. Maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s nice not to know, but sometimes I wish I could remember just to piece together the puzzle. 

I don’t really try to remember, because I know it won’t make a difference. I don’t even know when I found out she was really dead.

When Jessica died, we had to leave our family home. Molly couldn’t even go back into that bedroom. We moved so we would have no ties to the house.

Looking back, I think everything just got too much for her, and what breaks my heart is that I wasn’t really aware. I was grieving so hard for my mum. 

About three years ago, I decided I had to turn my grief, my pain, into something positive. 

I was part of some social media groups for bereaved parents, and every day – every hour – there was a parent logging on saying they’d lost their child to suicide. I’ve read stories from America, where children were taking their own lives at seven years old – seven is just a baby.

The name PAPYRUS, a national charity dedicated to the prevention of young suicide, came up a few times, and I got in touch and asked them what I could do, to please let me help. 

I wanted to do something to help highlight the support out there and make people aware of child suicide, as I do wonder if Jessica had known about PAPYRUS, whether she would have reached out to them before it got to where it did.

I do know that if it hadn’t been for PAPYRUS, I may not be here today. They have been the most incredible support. And quite a lot of people have said to me that this small charity has saved them or helped save their child, or helped them understand their child better.

PAPYRUS is campaigning for greater online safety and awareness around social media, and I think that schools and parents need to be more educated on that, especially about platforms they don’t use like Snapchat or TikTok. There’s also the Online Safety Bill making its way through Parliament now, which has a subsection dedicated to protecting children. 

Change needs to happen, and I just want to be part of that change.

Jessica didn’t think she had friends who cared about her, but she did. Some still honour her memory – they have tattoos of her name, help raise money and visit her memorial bench. Jessica’s school, Cliff Park Ormiston Academy, even created the Jessica Collins Music Award.

We have good days and bad days now. Our whole family suffers from mental health issues. My daughter, Molly, who’s just past the age Jessica was when she died, suffers from severe PTSD. But we stay as strong as we can, we stay together as a family. Adam, her twin, is amazing – lives every day to the fullest.  

And anything I can do, to help stop more tragedies, I do in my daughter’s name. I do it with a smile on my face, because I know that’s what she’d want.’

MORE : ‘I set up a suicide prevention charity to stop other families from suffering like us’

MORE : My son took his own life in lockdown – as a parent, you can’t help but feel guilty

MORE : Want an unforgettable adventure? Sign up to our night-time mountain climb

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.