The December morning began like any other, cold and hurried. Masi Sibanda, heavily pregnant and feeling unwell, prepared to drop her 14-month-old son, Noah, at nursery. A sense of unease, a subtle warning she now recognizes, brushed against her as she navigated the treacherous roads.
Masi and her husband, Thulani, had placed their complete trust in Fairytales Day Nursery. It felt natural, akin to the trust they had in their doctor or hospital. They hadn’t imagined needing to question kindness, or to fear malice – it simply wasn’t on their radar.
Noah, a quiet and gentle baby who hadn’t yet found his voice or his feet, had always seemed content at nursery. Masi’s only minor concern was a persistent nappy rash, a detail easily dismissed amidst the bustle of the busy staff. He was always happy to be picked up, a small comfort she clings to now.
That day, however, a different staff member received Noah. A fleeting moment, unremarkable at the time, now replayed endlessly in Masi’s mind. She carried on with her day, unaware that a nightmare was unfolding just a few miles away.
The call came just after 3 pm. A simple request to collect Noah, initially perceived as a minor illness. Calpol and a few comforting items were hastily gathered, a mother’s instinct preparing for a sniffle or a small bump. The reality, delivered on the drive to the nursery, shattered her world: Noah wasn’t breathing.
A frantic rush to the hospital, a desperate fight for life, and then, the devastating confirmation. Noah was gone. A two-year investigation would reveal a horrifying truth, a betrayal of the trust they had so freely given.
CCTV footage, a visual echo of unimaginable cruelty, showed nursery worker Kimberley Cookson pinning Noah face down on a cushion during naptime. He was tightly wrapped, a blanket obscuring his face, his small body held against his will. Staff failed to notice his distress for a “considerable” amount of time.
Masi hasn’t been able to bring herself to watch the full footage, only able to bear glimpses of still images. The nursery, she says, offered no explanation, resuming business as usual the following week, even suggesting Noah’s death was due to illness and subtly shifting blame onto the parents.
Cookson eventually pleaded guilty to gross negligence manslaughter. Deborah Latewood, the nursery director, admitted a health and safety violation, claiming ignorance of the dangerous practices, but acknowledging she should have known. The “Nursery of the Year” for the Midlands in 2020 was subsequently closed.
Masi remembers Cookson as quiet and reserved, attributing her demeanor to personality rather than malice. “I can be like that around people,” she reflects, “but I would never think that this person kills children.” The realization is a chilling weight she carries every day.
Now, Masi advocates for stricter nursery regulations, demanding more frequent, unannounced inspections and accessible CCTV for parents. “More CCTV isn’t enough,” she insists. “My baby was killed on CCTV. It needs to be easily accessible so parents can see what’s happening and make informed decisions.”
Just ten days after Noah’s funeral, Masi and Thulani welcomed their daughter, Mali, into the world. She is Noah’s mirror image, yet strikingly different in personality – vibrant and outgoing. Sending Mali to preschool feels like a painful echo of the past, a risk they must take, but one that fills Masi with dread.
“Noah wasn’t like that,” Masi says, her voice thick with sorrow. “He was more reserved. Maybe he would have changed, become more like her. But we will never know. That’s what Kimberley took from us.” The sentencing for Cookson, Latewood, and the nursery is scheduled for April 16, a date that offers a small measure of closure, but can never truly heal the wound.
