- Debbie Ballard, 55, of Warwick, Qld, thought her two-year-old grandson Connor was safe
- Instead he was killed by his babysitter
- Connor’s mother Emily and Debbie were distraught.
- Debbie lights a candle for her darling grandson every year on their birthday.
Here Debbie Ballard tells her story in her own words
Thrusting his little arms in the air, my grandson did his happy dance.
It melted my heart.
I had an extra-special bond with 12-month-old Connor. I’d been in the room when my daughter Emily, then 20, welcomed him into the world on my birthday. Cutting his cord, I was the first to cradle him.
As he grew, our cheeky boy loved getting his hands dirty as he helped me in the flower garden.
And he laughed himself silly when my hubby Russell, then 50, pushed him on our garden trolley.
Whenever I wasn’t working at an aged care centre as a carer, I looked after Connor for Emily.
A single mum, she tried to make ends meet.
But then Russell was in a workplace accident, hurting his back and shattering his pelvis. I helped him recover and didn’t have as much time to help Emily.
One day my workmate Lisa, had a kind suggestion.
‘I can babysit Connor,’ she offered.
‘Thrusting his little arms in the air, my grandson did his happy dance.’
We’d known Lisa for years, as my parents had been neighbours.
Better someone we trust than a stranger, I thought.
So Lisa began babysitting Connor at her house every few weeks.
She was a godsend.
But as the months passed, Lisa became pushy about seeing Connor and wanted to babysit him all the time.
One day when Emily brought him to my work, he was so happy to see me. But as soon as he spotted Lisa, he wailed.
Is he afraid of her? I wondered. Or just shy?
A few weeks later another workmate overheard Lisa say she wanted Connor to call her Mummy.
What? I thought, alarmed.
‘Back off and leave them alone,’ I said plainly, confronting her.
Shocked, Lisa began avoiding me.
As far as I knew Emily hadn’t seen Lisa again, and we busily planned Connor’s christening.
Then one Sunday morning in August 2018, Lisa called, frantic.
‘Connor’s had an accident. He’s fallen down the stairs,’ she panicked, explaining she’d told Emily.
‘Get him to the hospital, I’ll meet you there,’ I said.
‘Better someone we trust than a stranger’
Racing to Warwick Hospital, 10 minutes away, I pushed past Lisa crying outside in the corridor.
Nothing could have prepared me for Connor’s condition. Angry scarlet bruises covered my grandson’s tiny face, and blood streamed from his nose and ears as doctors and nurses fought to resuscitate him.
When Emily arrived she wept in shock, telling me Lisa had been watching Connor for her.
After 40 minutes, the doctor had grave news.
‘Connor isn’t going to survive,’ he said gently.
As our family gathered to say goodbye, I rocked Connor’s little body in my arms and told him how loved he was. I couldn’t believe my precious grandson was gone.
He was just two.
Five days later, the coroner rang explaining Connor was too injured for an open coffin.
My heart sank at the thought of what his little body had been through.
Lisa told police she’d left Connor having breakfast in the kitchen, gone to the toilet, heard a thud and found Connor had fallen down steps outside.
But I was sure in my own mind that Lisa was lying. That she’d taken advantage of Emily’s trust and was responsible for Connor’s death.
I told Lisa we needed some space but, despite my warning, I was appalled when she turned up at Connor’s funeral.
I stared at the tiny white coffin in sheer disbelief that Connor was in it.
Lisa watched the service in tears.
I tried to support Emily who was beside herself, wanting to be with Connor. I had constant panic attacks and could hardly leave the house.
‘It was the most painful betrayal I’d ever felt. ‘
Six months later I suffered a heart attack from the stress and was placed on medication.
In February 2020, 18 months after Connor’s death, police arrested Lisa for murder.
When the police came to tell us I fell to the floor, screaming. Emily was just as distraught.
It was the most painful betrayal I’d ever felt.
Finally, in November 2022, Emily and I watched as Lisa Halcrow pleaded guilty to manslaughter at Toowoomba Supreme Court.
As the prosecutor described her fatal outburst to the court, I muffled my tears.
Halcrow, who was hungover after drinking and using cannabis and methamphetamine, had flown into a rage, grabbed Connor by the jaw, and slammed the back of his head so forcefully he’d been knocked down the steps.
The blow caused bleeding inside and outside his little head, and his bowel and pancreas haemorrhaged.
We reeled in shock, unaware she’d been using drugs.
Worse, instead of calling an ambulance, Halcrow had wiped blood from Connor’s ears and nose, changed his clothes and tried to cover her tracks.
‘I couldn’t believe my precious grandson was gone.’
As I read my victim impact statement, I wept.
‘You even came to Connor’s funeral. To think you were standing there with crocodile tears… all the time knowing what you have done,’ I said.
Justice David Boddice labelled Halcrow, then 42, a ‘conniving liar devoid of remorse’. He sentenced her to 10 years declaring her ‘a serious violent offender.’
It’s now been five long years since Connor passed.
Emily still suffers terribly and I constantly wish that I could turn back time and stop that woman from ever babysitting.
I’m just glad we finally got justice for our beloved boy. I feel Connor around me everywhere, and I’ll light a candle for him on our shared birthday until the day I die.
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