For many looking at the Lucy Letby case, the so-called "confession notes" found at her home were the smoking gun. Presented by the prosecution as the ramblings of a guilty mind, phrases like "I am evil" and "I did this" were splashed across tabloids, sealing her fate in the court of public opinion long before the jury returned a verdict.
But at BRD Investigations, we believe in looking deeper. When we strip away the sensationalism and apply a psychological lens to these scraps of paper, a very different picture emerges. These are not the cold admissions of a killer; they are the chaotic, terrifying outpourings of a young woman experiencing a catastrophic mental collapse.
To understand these notes, we must first understand the Texas Sharpshooter fallacy Texas Sharpshooter Fallacy: A logical error where data is cherry-picked to fit a presumption. Like a gunman shooting at a barn and then painting a target around the bullet holes to claim he is a sharpshooter. . The prosecution cherry-picked the specific words that fit their narrative of guilt, painting a target around them, while ignoring the surrounding words that explicitly screamed of innocence, trauma, and despair.
The infamous 'Green Note' presented in court.
1. The "Green Note": Guilt vs. Imposter Syndrome
The most famous note is often cited as definitive proof of guilt. However, a forensic breakdown reveals a duality that the prosecution ignored.
"I haven't done anything wrong"
Hidden in plain sight, and often cropped out of news reports, is this clear, explicit denial. Why would a confessor write this? She writes of "Police Investigation slander Discrimination Victimisation". These are the words of someone who feels targeted and falsely accused, not someone unburdening a guilty conscience.
"I killed them on purpose because I'm not good enough"
This sentence is crucial. "Not good enough" is the language of professional inadequacy, not murder. A cold-blooded killer does not kill because they lack nursing skills. This phrase suggests Imposter Syndrome spiralling into toxic shame. In the high-pressure world of neonatal care, if a baby dies, a conscientious nurse often blames themselves: Did I do enough? Was I fast enough? Am I good enough? To a traumatised mind, failing to save a life can feel emotionally identical to taking it.
"I'll never have children or marry"
Lucy writes, "I'll never have children or marry" and "I'll never know what it's like to have a family". This is grief. Lucy is mourning the death of her own future. She realised that the mere accusation had destroyed her life, regardless of the truth. This is a "grief response," not a motive.
"I AM EVIL I DID THIS"
Written in heavy, dark ink, this looks like self-hatred. When an authority figure tells a compliant, anxious person repeatedly that they are responsible for a tragedy, that person can internalise that blame. This is known as an Internalized False Confession. She is not stating a fact; she is agreeing with the monstrous image of herself that is being projected onto her by the police.
The 'Yellow Note' featuring a cry for help.
2. The "Yellow Note": The Cry for Help
The second key note is even more indicative of a mental health crisis rather than a criminal mindset.
- "HELP": Bold, capitalised, and underlined. This is the central theme of her writing. She writes, "I want someone to help me but they can't". This is a desperate plea from a woman who feels trapped.
- "Panic / Fear": These words appear repeatedly across the notes. Panic and fear are the dominant emotions—not anger, not satisfaction, and certainly not the cold calculation of a serial killer.
- "I can't do this anymore": Repeated on multiple notes, this phrase, alongside the overwritten words "Kill myself", points to suicidal ideation. Lucy was looking for an escape from the pain of the accusations.
- "Today is your birthday but you aren't here": This expression of sorrow suggests empathy and remembrance for the lives lost, contrary to the prosecution's claim of a callous nature. She apologises to the parents: "I'm sorry that you couldn't have the chance at life you should have". This is the guilt of a carer who feels she failed in her duty to protect.
The frantic, scribbled note showing signs of psychological regression.
3. The Scribbled Note: Regression and Chaos
The frantic, scrappy note filled with names like "Tigger" and "Smudge" (likely pets) and the repeated word "Love" indicates psychological regression. Under extreme stress, the mind retreats to safe, childlike comforts.
The dense scribbling—writing over words until they are illegible—is a classic visual marker of high anxiety and a chaotic, overwhelmed mind. She writes "Please help me" and "I can't do this anymore" repeatedly. Does this look like the trophy of a killer, or the breakdown of a person pushed beyond their limit?
Conclusion: Evidence of Trauma, Not Crime
When we read these notes as a whole, rather than picking out isolated sentences, we do not see a murderer confessing. We see a young woman in the grip of a severe depressive episode, gaslit by the system into believing her inability to save these babies made her "evil."
She wrote "I haven't done anything wrong". It is time we listened to that part of the note.
This analysis is part of our ongoing series into the Miscarriage of Justice regarding Lucy Letby. For further reading on the evidence, please visit our Latest Articles section.
You people are a disgrace, think of the children’s families and you are doing this , just to make money from clicks . You are disgusting
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comment. We understand that this is an incredibly sensitive and emotional case, and our hearts go out to the families involved. However, seeking the truth is never a disgrace. If a miscarriage of justice has occurred—as the statistical and medical evidence suggests—then the families have been failed by the system just as much as the accused. Our goal isn't 'clicks'; it is to ensure that convictions are based on solid evidence, not coincidence or flaws. Justice requires the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is to question the narrative.
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