Is Baby Killer: The Lucy Letby Story Based On True Events?

At 3:00 p.m., Rose Jenkins, the new hire who had barely been here a few days, suddenly tagged me in the company group chat with a few hundred people in it. [Hi, can you stop hammering your keyboard? The noise is making my stomach hurt! The baby I'm carrying is sleeping. If you shake it into a concussion, I swear I'll make your whole family pay for it!] I rushed to explain. I was racing to finish a proposal that was due soon, and I was using a silent keyboard. But she wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said. I kept my patience and explained it over and over. To avoid any more trouble, I even asked if I could move out to the hallway to work. What I didn't expect was that a week later, she would storm into the break room with a kettle of freshly boiled water and dump it straight over my head. I collapsed in a pool of scalding water, my skin blistering and tearing open. She kept screaming as if she had lost her mind and smashed my head with her high heels, over and over. "It's all your fault! I lost the baby! Your keyboard noise shook my son to death!!" My vision blurred. By the time everything went black, I still couldn't understand how a silent keyboard could possibly kill someone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she first went off on me in the group chat. This time, faced with the same insults, I didn't back down. I went straight into the chat and fired back. [Stop pretending you're pregnant. You've got more going on down there than your dad does!]

Eight months pregnant, my family threw me a loving baby shower. When fire broke out, my parents instantly shielded my blood-cursed sister and fled, leaving me behind to die. My husband, Lysander, rushed into the flames to save me. His back was scorched raw, yet he only cradled my belly, whispering, “You and the baby must be safe.” I thought that was love. Until I accidentally saw his messages to my sister— “Once she gives birth, the cord blood will save you. Just hold on a little longer.” I touched the life kicking inside me and smiled silently. The next day, I scheduled a termination. And on the day of the procedure, they stormed into my hospital room with sedatives and restraints.

My husband, a lawyer, tells his true love to deny that she wrongly administered an IV and insist that her patient passed away due to a heart attack. He also instructs her to immediately cremate the patient. He does all of this to protect her. Not only does Marie Harding not have to spend a day behind bars, but she doesn't even have to compensate the patient. Once the dust has settled, my husband celebrates with her and congratulates her now that she's free of an annoying patient. What he doesn't know is that I'm that patient. I've died with his baby in my belly.

The day I found out I was pregnant with my second child, the impossible happened: the baby in my womb spoke. "Stupid sister, are you even listening? Mom said that as soon as you graduate, she's selling you off. That money is for my future wedding!" My daughter went still. She didn't say a word, didn't confront me, didn't even cry. She just quietly applied to study abroad. And from that day on, I never heard from her again. My husband, seeing how devastated I was, moved to comfort me. But the baby's voice cut through the silence once more. "Comfort her? You're the biggest fool in this house! When I'm born, I'm not calling you 'Dad.' My real dad is that handsome guy from the bar!" The color drained from Sean's face. Before I could utter a word of explanation, he dragged me straight to the hospital for a paternity test. The results came back quickly—my best friend had pulled some strings to expedite them. And there it was, in cold, clinical print: NO PATERNITY BIOLOGICALLY ESTABLISHED. He didn't let me speak. He filed for divorce immediately. In a panic, the baby's voice cried out from inside me again, "Why is the idiot backing out now? Did he finally figure out Mom tricked him? The one who saved his life all those years ago wasn't her—it was her best friend!" That one sentence shattered my entire world. My husband turned his back on me and married my best friend. As for me… the shock and grief hit me like a physical blow. I felt a hot, sudden gush of blood. Before the doctors could save me, I died on that cold hospital bed, my hands clutching my swollen belly, my mind still reeling, unable to comprehend how my life had unraveled so completely. It wasn't until I was reborn, and once again heard the treacherous little voice inside me, that I finally began to understand the truth.

When Lilian, a company janitor, discovered an abandoned infant in the restroom, she took my daughter and me to court. In the courtroom, she had screamed in frustration and rage, “Gabrielle’s daughter is nothing but a cheap tramp! “She toyed with my son like a fallback guy. After that, she got pregnant, refused to take responsibility, and dumped that baby in a restroom like it was garbage. That was a living, breathing human being! “Those two women are cold, heartless monsters!” Lilian’s son, Raymond, looked like a pure-hearted lover who had been toyed with and said with teary eyes, “Trinity slept with anyone who gave her the time of day. I looked the other way while hoping she’d eventually be mature and settle down. “But who knew she’d be ruthless enough to kill her own baby?! She’s a monster!” The live broadcast of the trial immediately exploded with outrage. [These rich people are absolutely disgusting! How could they give birth and throw the baby in the trash like that?!] [That’s child abandonment! She belongs in prison!] There were plenty of harsh comments. However, everyone was completely stunned when I produced Trinity’s medical examination report.

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.