When my girl was taken from me, I made her a vow to discover the truth. It turned out to be closer to home than I’d realised. By Stephanie Belgard, 63
Placing the dish of piping hot mac and cheese in front of my 18-year-old daughter, Courtney, a wave of emotion hit me.
‘My favourite,’ said Courtney, happily.
‘I can’t believe my baby girl is off to university,’ I sniffed.
‘I’m so excited,’ she replied, between forkfuls of pasta.
Courtney was the youngest of my three kids. Her two older siblings, Lace, 25, and Heather, 24, had already flown the nest and now my baby was growing up too.
To support herself as she studied, she’d also got a job as head receptionist at a dental surgery.
So while I was going to miss her, I was proud of the hardworking, independent young woman she’d become.
Days later, we helped move Courtney into her new flat. Although it was only three miles away, I felt tears welling up again.
‘She’ll be fine, love,’ said my husband, Bobby.
Bobby had been her stepdad since she was a baby and he was as proud of her as I was.
As Courtney settled into student life, we spoke on the phone regularly, and when Bobby and I were planning to go away camping for the weekend, Courtney agreed to look after our two dogs.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’ I asked her when she arrived.
‘No, Mum, you know I don’t do nature!’ she laughed. ‘I’ve got friends coming over later anyway.’
I handed her some petrol money, then gave her a hug.
‘I love you,’ I told her. ‘See you in a couple of days.’
‘Love you too, Mum,’ she said.
The following day,
I called Courtney to check she and the dogs were OK, but she didn’t answer.
‘She’s probably with her friends,’ Bobby said.
‘You’re right,’ I replied.
'We've found a body'
After enjoying our last night around the campfire, we drove home the next day.
I knew Courtney would have fed the dogs in the morning, but when we arrived back at lunchtime, they seemed ready to eat again.
‘You greedy pups,’ I said.
The next day, while Bobby was at work, I popped out to do some shopping.
The phone was ringing when I got home and when
I answered, a voice said:
‘This is Detective Green. Is Courtney there?’
‘No, she doesn’t live here any more but I’m her mother. Is something wrong?’ I asked.
‘Well, we’ve found a body and Courtney’s graduation ring is on it,’ he said.
‘Could you repeat that?’ I asked, shakily.
When his words finally hit me, I dropped the phone, screaming.
Seconds later, I grabbed it off the floor and called Bobby, Lace, Heather and my mum, Ina. They all rushed over and we cried together as we waited for news.
When detectives arrived to speak to us, I wailed: ‘It can’t be her. Someone must’ve stolen her ring.’
I knew I was clutching at straws, but I had to hold on to a glimmer of hope.
We answered the detectives’ questions and they asked if someone would identify the body.
My brother-in-law, Greg, had arrived by then and he offered to do it.
‘Look for the butterfly tattoo on her back,’ I said, tearfully.
That would be the telltale sign it was my Courtney.
Greg went the next morning and when he called, my sister, Lynn, answered
for me.
‘I’m sorry, it’s definitely her,’ I heard him say and I sank to the floor, sobbing.
The next day, a post-mortem was performed. There were no obvious marks on her body, but it was so decomposed, the coroner couldn’t determine the cause of death. Whatever had happened, there was no evidence of a sexual motive.
Soon, detectives told us
the horrifying details.
Whoever had killed Courtney, 19, had put her body in the boot of her car and driven three hours to an abandoned building where they’d dumped her in plain
sight of people passing by.
Only a monster could do that, I thought.
A member of the public had found her partially clothed body, and forensics concluded she’d been there for three or four days.
'Only a monster could do that'
I realised she must have been killed on the day we left for our camping trip.
No wonder the dogs were whining for food when I got home, because they hadn’t been fed all weekend.
Soon after, we held Courtney’s funeral. Family members, including Lace’s boyfriend, David, were among the pallbearers who carried my girl to her final resting place.
In the weeks that followed, the police investigation continued but detectives seemed no closer to finding Courtney’s killer.
One day, I knelt at her graveside and told her: ‘I promise we will find who did this to you.’
But the case quickly ran cold and every time I called the police, all they could say was: ‘We’re doing all
we can.’
I built up my own case file of all the evidence, but it brought me no closer to keeping the vow I’d made to my girl. Before I knew it, 15 years had gone by and the police had all but given up.
Then one day, a former murder detective called Woody Overton reached out to me through Facebook and said: I’d like to investigate your daughter’s case.
I jumped at his offer and gave him my file. He began working the case, conducting interviews and digging into the evidence and within months, he had some astonishing news.
‘I believe Courtney was strangled, and I think I know who did it,’ he said.
It took another year for the investigation to progress.
But then Woody called and said: ‘The police have charged David Anthony Burns with second-degree murder.’
My blood ran cold. David was Lace’s boyfriend, who’d helped carry Courtney’s coffin at the funeral. It made me sick to think he’d done that when it was him who’d put her in there.
He and Lace had split a few years after Courtney’s death, but for the eight years they’d been together, he’d been part of our family. He’d been there as we’d all struggled with our grief.
Time passed and eventually, David Burns, 46, appeared in court and denied second-degree murder.
The court heard that on the day Courtney died, he’d argued with Lace and stormed out. It was thought he’d gone over to Courtney’s.
What happened after that remained unclear, but it was suggested he’d fancied her and that perhaps he’d killed her for rejecting him, before dumping her body.
Although there was no DNA evidence connecting him to Courtney’s murder, three witnesses claimed he’d confessed to them.
Despite his defence lawyer questioning those testimonies, the jury took just over an hour to find Burns guilty. He showed no emotion as he was jailed for life without the possibility of parole.
I burst into tears. After 18 years, I’d finally got justice for my baby girl.
Last year, Burns tried to appeal against his conviction and I was relieved when it was refused.
That man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and as far as I’m concerned, he deserves to rot in jail.
My girl had her whole life ahead of her when he murdered her. Then he watched as my family were consumed with grief at the loss and unanswered questions surrounding her death.
I’m grateful to Woody for taking up Courtney’s case and helping me keep my promise to my daughter to find her killer.
I know she’d be proud of me for not giving up and for always believing we’d get justice for her.
● For more about the case, listen to Woody Overton’s Real Life Real Crime podcast on Spotify.