Weeks after we’d proudly sent Greg off to uni, the police were at our door. But what they told us made no sense. By Mandy Mackie, 63
Seeing my son Greg step out on to the stage alone and start singing, my mouth fell open.
‘He didn’t tell us he had
a solo,’ I whispered to my husband Colin.
We’d recently moved to
a new village, and Greg,
six, had settled in well.
Smiley and bubbly, Greg quickly found his feet at the village school. He’d made new friends and now, here he was performing Highland Cathedral in the end of term concert – and I couldn’t have been prouder of him.
‘You were brilliant!’ Colin told Greg afterwards scooping him in for a hug.
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ Greg said, grinning cheekily.
Soon after, we went on holiday to Greece and when he spotted two women giving out flyers for a nightclub, he offered to help them.
As he chatted with
holiday-makers, we both marvelled at his confidence.
One thing I’d noticed about my boy, too, was that if he ever saw anyone standing alone in the playground or at
a party, he was always the first to go and make them feel at ease.
It’s like he never wants anyone
to feel lonely,
I thought proudly.
Over the next years, Greg continued to thrive.
Colin helped manage the local speedway team, and when Greg was 12, he was riding as well.
'Our son has never used drugs'
I would wince as he’d zoom around the track, whizzing this way and that. But he loved it.
Time went by so quickly
as Greg grew, and before
I knew it, he was a handsome 17-year-old lad, getting ready for his school prom.
‘Well, what do you guys think?’ he asked, showing
us all his outfit.
He’d opted for a bright pink and purple suit.
‘A bit of colour cheers everyone up!’ he insisted.
When he turned up, his teacher told him he was
the only person who could have pulled off that outfit!
There were more celebrations when Greg secured a uni place at Edinburgh College.
He was off to study TV and Media and we were all
so proud of him.
At first, he commuted the
hour and a half to the campus, but then he paid for student accommodation himself after taking on two part-time jobs, although he would still nip back in the
car with his dirty washing.
He made friends there straightaway, and I’d never seen him happier.
‘I really want to take some of the acting classes,’ he told me and his dad excitedly
on a trip back home. ‘And
I’d love to go and work in Australia for a year.’
Then, six weeks after Greg had moved into student
digs, Colin and I were awoken by a knock on the door of our home in Moffat, Dumfries and Galloway.
It was only 6am, still pitch-black outside, and we shook ourselves awake to
go and answer.
On our doorstep were
two police officers, and one asked, ‘Are you the parents
of Greg Mackie?’
When we nodded, they asked to come inside and panic began to rise inside me.
We sat down with them and one said, ‘We’re really sorry, but your son has died of a drug overdose.’
The words just didn’t make any sense to me.
Colin looked straight at them and said, ‘That can’t
be right. Are you sure you have the right person? Our son has never used drugs.’
However, the officers
were adamant.
‘He was found in his student room,’ explained
the officer.
Still, we just couldn’t connect what he was telling us to our boy.
In order to apply for his uni place, Greg had filmed
a short documentary on the dangers of drugs.
Plus, we’d always raised the kids to be open and honest about everything, so why would Greg suddenly start keeping us in the dark?
It just wasn’t him.
The officers said they had no further information, but would be in touch again soon, and then they left.
I collapsed in tears.
'Greg was found in his student room'
It was left to Colin to begin telling our family, starting with Greg’s doting big sisters – my daughters from a previous relationship – who were heartbroken.
We’d sent our 18-year-old off to uni for the first time, and just two months later, he was dead. And as we tried to get our heads around that, only one thing made sense.
‘Someone must have spiked his drink as a prank,’ I said.
‘A prank that went badly wrong,’ Colin added.
Everyone we spoke to
who knew our boy said the same thing.
It was two more weeks before we were allowed to see him, and even then all we were allowed to do was stand behind the glass partition of a hospital morgue.
Finally, once the post-mortem examination was completed, we were able
to visit him at the funeral parlour. There I got to give my son one last cuddle.
Soon after, it was confirmed Greg had five ecstasy tablets in his system when he died – an amount even hardened drug users wouldn’t take.
‘The only explanation for this is that his drink was spiked,’ Colin and I insisted to the authorities.
But we still had no answers as to what had happened when we were finally able
to hold his funeral – the day before my birthday.
We asked mourners to wear purple, Greg’s favourite colour.
He always said it gave him hope for the future.
Over 500 people attended, with more listening in outside as the strains of Highland Cathedral – the song he had sung when he was six years old – filled the crematorium.
Afterwards, the police investigation continued.
They took more than 70 statements, some insisting that Greg had been drinking.
But the toxicology report confirmed there was no alcohol in my son’s system
at all. The only thing he had drunk that night was cola.
After a year-long inquiry, the police decided to close the case, classifying it as a non-suspicious drugs death.
When we insisted Greg had been spiked, social-media trolls commented we were simply in denial. But no one knew our boy better than us.
We went to organisation after organisation with our belief about what had happened. But there had been no one to help us, so we created our own charity, Spike Aware UK.
Our hope was that no other family would have to go through what we did without any support.
We’ve spent the last eight years raising awareness of spiking.
According to official figures, one in nine people have reported being spiked – and who knows how high the real figure is?
We’ve set up a helpline for victims and their families. The youngest person we’ve helped was just 11, the oldest was 82.
This year, Greg would have turned 26, and it still seems totally wrong that he’s not here with us.
As far as we are concerned, we continue to not know how Greg lost his life.
Our charity relies on donations from the public, and every single penny goes to creating awareness.
We visit schools, colleges, pubs, anywhere we can, warning people to cover
their drinks and never leave them unattended.
We tell them to watch out for their friends as well, and to alert authorities if they witness anyone attempting
to spike someone.
Recently, Colin gave evidence to Parliament, helping to shape new legislation on spiking, which will come down harder on the perpetrators.
There’s not a day that we don’t miss our precious boy.
Now, we’re determined to keep his legacy alive and
get comfort from the fact
that even in death our son’s helping others.
• Superintendent Joanne McEwan from Police Scotland said, ‘We continue to thoroughly investigate reports from people having been spiked. Every report is taken seriously, with extensive enquiries carried out, and where perpetrators are identified, they are dealt with swiftly and robustly.’
• For information or to donate visit spikeawareuk.org