My friend and I got into an altercation, and I’m the only one who came out alive. That’s what the voice on the other end of the 999 call told the Essex Police operator. The caller was eighteen-year-old Lewis Daynes. The friend he was talking about was my son, Breck.
He was fourteen years old. I grew up in Michigan and moved to London in 1997. It took my ex-husband and me four years to have Breck, our first child. He was a dream baby.
We took him everywhere. Two years later, we had triplets, and Breck was the best big brother—helpful, patient, always teaching them things. He was my right-hand man. He was clever.
From an early age, people called him the boy wonder. He could look at a puzzle or a piece of machinery and just understand how it worked. He loved the sciences, computing, and technology. We lived in Surrey, and I even started working at the children’s school just to be close to them.
When Breck turned thirteen, his friends from school invited him into a new gaming group. They communicated through a channel called TeamSpeak. At first, that felt safe to me because it was with friends I’d known since they were young. I never imagined it would be anything other than those boys playing together.
Then I noticed an older-sounding voice in the group. It didn’t feel natural. I was worried as a mom. When I questioned Breck, he said, “Oh, that’s just Lewis.
He runs the server. He’s so clever. He’s teaching us everything. ”
“How do you know him?
” I asked. “The boys have been gaming with him for years. ”
Lewis Daines controlled every member of that gaming group. He ran the server, took away privileges, and decided who got to participate.
You could always tell who was the boss. And he was pulling Breck into private channels, away from the other boys. I tried to get to know the boys in the group. I’d say, “Hey guys, what’s going on?
” The ones who knew Breck would clam up and go quiet. But Lewis would be chatty. “Hey, Mom, how are you doing? ” We’d talk about the weather.
Breck had told me Lewis lived in New York City. But whenever I asked, Lewis never had real stories about the city. He was always on our time zone in England. When I brought it up to Breck, he’d say, “Oh, that’s because he works his own hours, Mom.
He’s his own boss. He works for a government agency. ”
The stories didn’t add up. But the more I tried to convince Breck, the more Lewis worked to make me look like the bad guy—a mean, judgmental mom who didn’t understand technology and didn’t want what was best for her son.
That was part of the grooming. He was turning Breck away from me. Over months, Lewis isolated Breck from his friends and family. He spun a web of lies.
He promised the boys—especially Breck—that they would earn a hundred thousand pounds once they left school through a big technology venture. He controlled access to the site, who was allowed in, and he held enormous influence over Breck. None of the boys had ever seen him. To ease their concerns, Lewis eventually showed himself in a grainy, dark room to just Breck and one other friend.
They reported back, “Yeah, we met him. He’s a teenager like us. Breck’s mom is paranoid. ”
What the boys didn’t understand was that predators can be any age.
Lewis even wrote what I later called a manifesto, saying that if I didn’t comply with his demands, Breck would leave home at sixteen and get a job that Lewis would provide. Whenever I walked into the room while Breck was gaming, a wicked witch would fly across the screen. One day I went in and said, “Breck, it’s time for dinner,” and a picture of Hitler marched across the stage. I knew that what I was doing as a parent to keep Breck safe wasn’t working.
Lewis fabricated an overheard conversation, telling Breck that his friends had said they hated him. It was a lie, but it drew a wedge between Breck and his friends. Lewis made himself the only person Breck felt he could trust. I talked to everyone I knew.
I said, “I’m worried that Breck and the boys are being groomed by someone they’re gaming with online. ”
And everyone responded, “Oh, don’t worry. They’re all online with strangers now. That’s the norm.
”
Nobody told me to call the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Command. I felt like I was seeking help, but I was going to the wrong places. I tried to talk to Breck. He couldn’t see it.
He was happy. He enjoyed the attention and the knowledge he was gaining. He had joined the Air Cadets because he wanted to be a pilot. Lewis talked him into quitting.
Everything that was healthy and normal, this predator tried to pull him away from. So I did the most important thing I knew to do. I phoned the police. On the thirteenth of December, 2013, I gave them all the information I had gleaned about Daines—his age, where he lived, everything.
I wanted to know if I should be worried about my son. Three times I was told that police intelligence would be checked. I felt so relieved. I thought I was finally going to get answers and fix the problem.
Then I waited for the investigation outcome. They told me to take away Breck’s technology. I did. I removed all of his equipment for a week.
Then I organized an intervention meeting with the other parents and the boys two days later. We sat them down, and it was civil. I said, “I am worried that Lewis is grooming you. ”
Breck said, “Oh, that’s a harsh term to say, grooming.
”
His dad said, “That’s why we’re worried, Breck. We feel that’s what’s happening. ”
Unbeknownst to us, Lewis had told Breck to record the meeting on a little MP3 player I had missed when I took away the technology. The meeting was recorded and played to the other boys in the gaming group.
It made us parents look awful. At the end, the boys just wanted the meeting to end. They said, “Okay, fine. We’ll game with some other friends.
We won’t be friends with Louis anymore. ”
I said, “If he won’t meet with us, then that’s it. I’ll meet him for a coffee. I’ll meet in London.
I’ll meet in his town. I’ll meet wherever. ”
The boys said, “He’ll never meet up with any of you. He doesn’t like parents.
”
We said, “If he won’t meet up, then that’s it. No friendship, no gaming, no interaction at all. ”
The boys reluctantly agreed. I gave Breck back his computer equipment after he promised to cease all communication with Daines.
I felt like we’d fixed the problem. Breck went back to being his normal, happy-go-lucky self. If I asked him to do chores, he’d do them. If I said, “Come to the table to eat,” he’d come.
But unfortunately, forbidding Breck from speaking with this predator made it more dangerous. It all went underground. Lewis couriered a burner phone to our home so he could continue the communication, the manipulation, and the grooming. In February 2014, everything appeared to be back to normal.
Breck left for a school trip to Spain. I was so pleased. It was an opportunity for him to experience a new culture and spend time with his friends face-to-face. As we left, we hugged and kissed.
I told him I loved him. I never expected that to be the last time I would see him alive. He messaged us: “Oh, it’s great, Mom. The food, the people, I’m having a great time.
”
I later found out he was being inundated by this predator, who didn’t want to let go just because Breck was on a school trip. When Breck met a girl and posted a picture leaning his head in with her, Lewis couldn’t stand it. “Take that picture down. She looks horrible.
”
There was an element of jealousy there. Lewis sent messages asking why Breck wasn’t responding as quickly as he should be. He even faked an illness to get sympathy and a response. After the trip, Breck stayed at his father’s home in Surrey.
Lewis continued to contact him via the burner phone, pressuring him to meet in person. He put the idea in Breck’s mind: “Tell your father you’re at a sleepover. Not with me, but with one of your friends. ”
Surprisingly, Breck’s father said yes.
He knew the family Breck claimed he was staying with. But that was fictitious. It was all set up by Lewis to get Breck to come to him. On the sixteenth of February 2014, a taxi arrived at Breck’s father’s home.
As far as his dad was concerned, it was taking Breck to his friend’s house for a sleepover. In actual fact, the taxi was booked by Daines. It took Breck all the way to Grays in Essex—a trip of about thirty miles costing around a hundred pounds. Lewis had told Breck he was ill.
Because of this illness, he couldn’t carry on with his business—his multi-million-pound IT business. What he wanted to do was hand that business over to Breck. Put yourself in Breck’s position. He was being promised that his future was made.
Everything he wanted, everything he saw that Daines had, was going to be given to him. All he had to do was get a taxi to Daines’s home to discuss the handover. I woke up on my birthday with a feeling of impending doom. I didn’t know what was wrong.
Then I got a strange message from Breck’s dad. He said Breck hadn’t come home from his friend’s house. He needed me to look after the triplets. He didn’t know where Breck was.
I immediately started making phone calls. I phoned his friends, trying to get answers. They all sounded funny. They said, “Oh, Breck’s with his friend.
” The reason they didn’t know what to say is because they knew something was very wrong. Unfortunately, his dad called me back, and I got the absolute worst news any parent could ever get. On the morning of February 17, 2014, at around 11:06 a. m.
, Lewis Daynes made a 999 call to Essex Police. “My friend and I got into an altercation. And I’m the only one who came out alive. ”
“Are you telling me you’ve killed somebody?
” the operator asked. “Yes, I am. ”
He told the operator he had a chest of drawers with a folded penknife on it. Breck picked it up, opened it, and lost control.
He claimed Breck tried to harm him. He said he acted in self-defense. But he wasn’t frenzied. He wasn’t panicked.
He was slow, deliberate, telling his story, pausing at various times, and telling the operator to be quiet and let him finish. He was in control. He wanted to control the narrative. He said, “I grabbed the knife, and I stabbed him once in the back of the neck, I believe, somewhere near the brain stem.
The fight ended with me cutting his throat. ”
“I tried to stop the bleeding,” he said. “I was compressing the wound. ”
Then he said, “Look, are the police on their way?
I can hear them. I’m going to go and do my part, please. Thank you for your help. ”
He was the one who put the phone down.
It is one of the most chilling and extraordinary 999 calls ever heard. When police entered the flat, they saw a long corridor. One of the first things they saw was a knife on the floor. In the living room, there was a plastic bag containing cut-up clothing.
On the bed, there was a laptop covered in blood. In the bins, they found duct tape that appeared to have been used to bind somebody’s hands and feet. In the bathroom, computer devices belonging to Lewis Daines were submerged in water in the sink—he had apparently tried to erase the digital evidence of his communications with Breck. Daines himself had had a shower after killing Breck.
He was saying this was self-defense. This was an accident. “I didn’t mean to kill him. ”
But if it was an accident, why would the computer equipment be in water?
The investigators looked for defense injuries on Daines. Although there was still some blood on him, there were no defense injuries. The air ambulance arrived while Daines was being taken out of the police car. He panicked, worried that Breck might still be alive.
But when officers entered the flat, it was clear Breck was dead. There was nothing they could do. One of the many disturbing things about what happened is that photos of Breck’s dead body were posted online very shortly after he died. Links to these posts were shared with his siblings—the young triplets.
They received messages from their friends saying, “Is this true? It’s so sad. ” At the same time, their parents were receiving the call from police that their son had been murdered. I screamed and screamed and screamed.
I damaged my vocal cords. I couldn’t stop until I was sedated. I felt like I tried so hard, and yet this happened. My job was to protect my children.
I tried. I just didn’t get the right help, and I didn’t know what I was up against. I didn’t recognize how evil some people can be. At the post-mortem, it was shown there were at least four movements of the knife to the fatal wounds on the neck.
That wouldn’t have happened in a sudden fight. The duct tape found at the scene was consistent with restraints around the wrists and arms. They had been cut off at some point. Breck’s clothing—boxer shorts and a t-shirt—had been cut off in a way entirely consistent with him being constrained.
Hairs on the inside of the tape showed it was around Breck. There was blood on the restraints, including on the underside of the adhesive. Breck was already bleeding when the restraints were put on. Investigators thought Daines had claimed it was an accident in case Breck survived.
In December 2014, preparations were underway for the trial of Lewis Daynes, who had been charged with the murder of Breck Bednar. But one thing Daines didn’t know: in the bottom of Breck’s rucksack was his iPad. It contained information that provided a real indication of the communications between the two. Investigators were able to see the lengths Daines had gone to in order to manipulate Breck.
In his police interview, Daines still claimed he was acting in defense. He also said there had been a sexual liaison between him and Breck for the first time, pretending it was a consensual relationship. It was all untrue. Investigators dug deeper into Daines’s background.
He had experienced a disrupted, difficult childhood. His parents had separated. From the age of sixteen, he had been living on his own in that flat. Essentially, his whole life was online.
He spent hours upon hours talking to people who were all, generally, much younger than him. In 2011, there had been allegations that he had sexually assaulted or raped another boy. Police had investigated, but decided not to take any action. When I made my complaint to the police, they should have looked at the Police National Computer.
They would have seen that record of the allegation against Daines from 2011. They didn’t even check the computer. If they had, the alarm bell surely would have rung, and the police would have taken action. On the first day of the trial, Daines changed his plea.
He would plead guilty. When the judge looked at the circumstances around Breck’s death, she concluded that Daines should be given a minimum of twenty-five years in prison. I didn’t expect the trial to only last two days. I think it would have been much harder sitting through hours and days of that pain.
In some ways, I’m glad he changed his plea. Breck was my amazing, clever, beautiful boy. He had so much potential. He had so much to give to this world.
We have set up the Breck Bednar Memorial Foundation to help raise awareness and protect all children from danger. We want to educate young people to make safer choices for themselves. Boys can be groomed too. Predators can be any age.
You never know who you’re really talking to. The biggest loophole in modern gaming is side channels—chats that happen off platform. If you move into Discord or Telegram, these are spaces that game designers can’t reach. They can’t build safety tools there.
We know how to create safe shopping malls and safe playgrounds. We need to learn how to apply those lessons to the digital space. Just because it’s in a game doesn’t mean it’s not real. I try to live a normal life, but every day is hard.
I hate every minute of missing Breck. I miss knowing what he would have done. I miss hearing his voice. I miss his sense of humor.
I just miss him. Because he was innately a good person.
