To close the month, we spoke to Alex Evans who, along with his son Cian, survived a crash on the M4 in South Wales. Tragically, this claimed the lives of Alex’s partner and Cian’s Mum, Rebecca, along with their unborn daughter.
Alex shared their story with us, along with what he would like to see changed.
This is Alex & Cian’s story, in Alex’s words.
Another normal day…
Rebecca and I had been together nearly ten years. We met in university and we’d built a life in Bridgend with our son, Cian. We both worked at Shelter Cymru, and that morning was just another normal day—breakfast, getting Cian ready, and heading off to work.
Rebecca had a really good pregnancy. We’d lost a daughter just 11 months before to a severe, rare brain defect, so we were extra vigilant – counting kicks. This time we were told everything was normal and our baby was healthy, we’d even felt her move just that morning. Rebecca had only a few days left at work before maternity leave. We were excited, happy, and ready to welcome our daughter into the world.
We were driving along the M4 when traffic slowed to a stop near Margam. I looked up into my rear-view mirror and saw a car approaching fast. I hit the hazards, panicked, and said to Rebecca: “I don’t think that car is slowing down.”
It didn’t.
Then it hit us. I remember the bang, the ringing in my ears, then silence. For a moment, I must have blacked out. When I came round, I looked up from the steering wheel and the first thing I heard was a sound from Rebecca I will never forget—it was like her last breath leaving her body. She was bleeding heavily. I knew then that our daughter was gone too.
Cian, just two years old, was dazed and covered in blood. He had a huge gash across his face, so close to his eye. He wasn’t unconscious, but he wasn’t fully there either. I was frantic, torn between trying to help him and wanting to get to Rebecca, knowing deep down I couldn’t save her. I felt cold and helpless.
The emergency services arrived quickly. Police, ambulance, even an air ambulance. I sat with Cian as they treated him, he was sedated and his clothes cut off. I was looking out of the ambulance window and seeing police and paramedics erecting a tent around Rebecca’s side of the car. I knew from that she hadn’t survived, but I was still hopeful.
When the police later told me Rebecca and our daughter hadn’t survived, I felt completely numb. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. And before I’d even processed what I’d been told, I was being blue-lighted to the University Hospital of Wales in Cardiff to meet Cian, who flown by Wales Air Ambulance. He was going straight into theatre with two broken legs, a fractured skull, I’m not sure if he had a small bleed on the brain, but I remember his lung collapsed. Cian spent the next five days in hospital under heavy a close watch, the hospital team were amazing.
Living with loss
Breaking the news to Rebecca’s parents was one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done. They hadn’t been told, and I had to find the words to explain their daughter and granddaughter were both gone. I had to tell them what happened. Shortly after, I then had to decide to either leave our baby inside Rebecca or remove her. Nobody can prepare you for that question. I decided to place our daughter in Rebecca’s arms, to hold her forever. I named her Cari. It was the last thing I could do for her.
Those first days and weeks blurred together in chaos. I stayed by Cian’s side in hospital, barely leaving, sleeping between a chair next to his bed and in a small room on the ward when my mum was there. His both legs were in plaster from hip to foot, and still, after some weeks, he tried to walk. Against medical advice, he dragged himself along the carpet, wearing down the heels of his casts—his determination shone through even then.
But when we came home after five days, the reality hit me. Pulling into the driveway, Cian looked up at me and asked: “Where’s Mammy?” That broke me. How do you explain to a two-year-old that their mother isn’t coming home? I told him she was poorly after the crash, that she had gone to live with the stars. It was all I could think of at the time. Cian was so confused and upset, he cried so much and all he wanted was to see his mum. I couldn’t give that to him.
Our dog had been in the car with us and was in a bad way too; her pelvis was shattered in the crash. The vets were brilliant and looked after her while we were in hospital, and they let me settle at home before bringing her back to us. But our dog didn’t recover well at first, she reacted to the medication and was bleeding badly and had to go back to the vet. They treated her and looked after her for another two weeks until she was better. It was a difficult time adjusting to life – just me helping both my son and dog recovery from major injuries, I didn’t have time to think about how it affected me.
For years, the grief consumed me. I battled PTSD, depression, and anxiety. Public attention from the court case made it worse—I felt exposed, recognised, judged. I thought people blamed me. When Cian and I went out together, people would always stop and say, ‘it’s so nice to see a Dad and his son out together’ or ‘where’s mum today then?’ – it was easier to stay home. The justice system cut even deeper. I was told my daughter “wasn’t a person” because she hadn’t taken her first breath. That breath was taken from her by a man driving dangerously, using his mobile phone, ignoring speed limits, and crashing into us at more than 70mph while we had stopped. The man responsible served just 16 months in prison. Meanwhile, my little girl would be nine now, that’s nine years of a life sentence for me.
I threw myself into caring for Cian because he needed me, but inside, I was broken. I didn’t know where to find help. We weren’t offered child bereavement services, not by the hospital or GP. No leaflets, no referrals—nothing. Not even for myself. I did feel lost and isolated. Our solicitor did provide support at different stages, some too soon and some not right for Cian. Therapy isn’t a one-size fits all, I’ve learned that it can take time to find what works for you. Eventually, Cian found support through Harry’s Fund.
The long road to recovery
Cian has shown his strength and resilience from early on. He had to learn to walk and use the toilet again after his injuries. Emotionally, it was harder. He couldn’t talk about Rebecca. He blanked out what had happened because it was too painful to remember. He couldn’t draw a picture or write a card for her—it was too much for him. We tried play therapy with puppets, but it scared him, so we didn’t go back. We tried different types of therapy for years and we didn’t have any success.
It wasn’t until 2023, when he was older and starting to understand his feelings, that counselling through Harry’s Fund really made a difference. The support he received was life changing. For the first time, he could express his grief, process his emotions, and begin to heal. He can now celebrate his mum’s life, write to her, and talk about her openly.
For me, therapy came in different stages. I had a lot of counselling over the years which has helped me to a degree, but watching Cian go through counselling gave me the courage to go again. I wanted him to see that it was normal, and he wasn’t alone. We did it together.
Rebecca is always remembered in our home. On Mother’s Day, birthdays, and Christmas, we celebrate her life. Every night, Cian still gets two kisses from Kate, my wife now, one from her and one from his mum. She’s done this since she met him, she’s been an incredible support for us both.
From grief to giving back
A JustGiving page was set up while Cian was in hospital and raised over £9,000. It was overwhelming to see that so many people wanted to help us get through a dark time, and I always vowed to pay it back. I knew I could never pay each person back, so when I was able to, I donated £5,000 to each the Wales Air Ambulance and Noah’s Ark Children’s Hospital. Cian would have died without them. I’ve also donated £1,500 to Noah’s Ark Children’s Hospital for ‘parent packs’. Sometime after the crash I saw they had started making bundles of essentials for parents and carers who were staying with their children while receiving emergency treatment and care. The hospital didn’t offer these packs when Cian was there, but I was fortunate my friends brought these to me. It’s not something that crosses your mind when you’re experiencing immediate trauma – a toothbrush, deodorant, a sandwich. And not everybody has the same access to support, so I was happy to help in a small way.
We give a lot at Christmas, too. Food, clothes, toys – a lot of it is on the Noah’s Ark Amazon wish list. But we do support local food banks too. There is always somebody going through a tough time that needs help. Kate and I have two children between us, and they are both always excited to get involved with charities and help support other people in need.
Cian understands the support he received too. He’s grateful to so many people and it has turned into a passion for giving back.
His first challenge was walking 100km in a month for the Wales Air Ambulance, raising £1,000. Then in July 2025, he took on the Welsh Three Peaks Challenge— climbing Snowdon, Cadair Idris, and Pen y Fan in under 24 hours—to raise money for Harry’s Fund.
We woke at 3am and set off at 4am, climbing Snowdon in freezing, wet, and windy conditions. I didn’t expect it to be wet and cold. Visibility was poor and we even lost sight of the path on the descent. I told Cian from the start he was leading the way. Just one foot in front of the other, and if he is tired we can stop as many times as he wants. But there was no complaints and no breaks on Snowdon—he was like a rocket. Cadair Idris was tough, and by Pen Y Fan he was tired. He kept reminding himself why he was doing it: to help other children like him. He knew that the more he walked, the more money he was raising, and the more children and families he was helping. He saw every donation and message of support as they came in throughout the day. By the end he had raised over £5,000 on his JustGiving page and received another £5,000 corporate donation. Cian set out to raise £1,000 and he has raised £10,000 for Harry’s Fund.
I couldn’t be prouder. Out of the worst tragedy imaginable, he has found a way to create something positive—to make sure other children get the support that wasn’t there for us at first.
Road safety
I think about road safety and what needs to change. Too many people are still not paying attention to speed limits, and I see drivers using mobile phones every day. I think both areas need greater enforcement and harsher punishments, or nothing will ever change.
I would like to raise greater awareness of unborn babies who are killed in road traffic traffic collisions as they are not recognised as living beings by the courts during prosecution. In my case, our daughter was four weeks from birth, alive and well. We even felt her moving that very morning. We had a midwife visit days before and she was happy everything was fine.
When a victim is already experiencing so much trauma and loss, to then be told that their child, effectively is not a person, is extremely damaging. We were told that she was an “aggravating factor” during sentencing, and she barely was barely mentioned across the four-day crown court hearing.
I don’t know how, or if, we will ever get there, because I do understand the challenges this could bring. But I would really like to see change somewhere because it isn’t fair for victims to not have the justice they deserve for the people taken from them.
I would also like to see better access to Child Bereavement services. We were never offered anything – no signposting from the NHS; either through the hospital when we left, or by the GP afterwards. It was only through our solicitor, Victoria, at Harding Evans, that we found help.
Looking forward
Our lives will never be the same. Loss and trauma aren’t things you “move on” from—it becomes part of who you are. But it doesn’t define us. Our friends, family and community have shown us great empathy and kindness, and it’s helped us to rebuild.
Today, Cian is a confident, kind, and positive young boy. He still carries his scars—both physical and emotional—but he carries them with courage. I am in a better place too. I still struggle with PTSD when somebody drives fast or close behind me, I still have sad days, and I’ll always miss my girls. But I know Rebecca would be proud of the family we’ve become, and the young man Cian has become.
We are so grateful to everyone who has helped us—medical staff, police, legal teams, charities, friends, and family. And especially to Harry’s Fund, for giving Cian the chance to heal and grow.
Cian is such a positive, kind-hearted and happy young boy, and we’re so proud of him. We wouldn’t be here without the help we’ve received – medical, police, legal, family and friends. We’re very grateful to everybody that’s ever supported us, and our goal is to pay that kindness forward, because you never know what somebody is going through and who needs help.
Our heartfelt thanks go to Alex for sharing his and Cian’s journey with us. If you would like to donate to Harry’s Fund and help them continue with their work providing bereaved children with access to counselling, you can do so here.
If you need advice from our personal injury team, please get in touch.
