A father reflects.

It's ten years since Billie was murdered, and on this anniversary the poignancy and sadness of her loss continues to hurt. Billie would have been 24 this year. I can't help wondering how her life might have been, and what milestones she would have passed on her journey to adulthood.

The tragedy of losing a child is that you expect yourself to leave this world before them. You anticipate growing old and seeing your children prosper and starting their own families. When this natural state of affairs is disrupted, you're left feeling cheated by life itself. I continue to ask God why her life was so cruelly taken and how such an act fits into God's purpose. I realise that such questions are invariably devoid of answers but maybe it's the asking that helps us cope with our grief.

I still miss Billie. My memories of her remain strong, and I find myself reflecting on her life and on happy family occasions. Despite having been dealt a difficult hand in her early years, she did experience the joy of laughter and the gift of being loved unconditionally.

I have always loved my family deeply. From the day that Annie was born, through the births of our other three daughters, to the day that Billie joined our family in 1992, I felt thankful and content. I considered myself a fortunate man to have been blessed like this.

Over the last ten years I have often pondered on my family life in Hastings. I remember the weekdays when Annie and Billie used to walk from Helenswood to William Parker so that I could drive them home. On our arrival I'd make the two of them tea and toast before they were joined by my other three daughters. I always had to return to work, leaving the children with either Lois or our au pair, but when I got back they'd all be waiting. I tried to give individual time to each of my daughters, and also remember the banter and shared experiences of family life.

It's common knowledge how my last ten years have passed. Billie lost her life and my family's world was turned upside down. Tragedy was heaped on sadness as the police investigation followed a flawed line of enquiry.

Since my acquittal I have been reading through every available piece of evidence. I have divided this into relevant sections and with help from other people, I am in the process of trying to re-create the jigsaw of events. I will not rest until Billie's killer is brought to justice.

Over the year since I've been free I have been asked if I've now found peace and some kind of resolution. I will never feel resolution is possible while her killer walks free . People encourage me to think of 'moving on' and putting everything behind me, but my priorities centre on getting justice for Billie. My hope for this year is that that progress will be made.

As I especially remember Billie this week, my thoughts are also with Annie, Charlotte, Esther and Maya. These years have been a terrible burden on them. During my imprisonment, it was their existence which kept me strong and able to face each day. I could not have got through my incarceration without the thought of them. The belief that I would be freed one day and we would be together again, helped me to face some distressing times. I love each of them so much, and cannot give up the hope that one day I will again take up my role as their father. I desire this more than anything. The day I had to leave my daughters behind in Hastings was one of the saddest of my life. So to them I want to say 'I love you, and I will always be there for you when you need me.'

On 15 February I will again lift up my private prayers and give thanks for Billie. I have found comfort in this each year since 1997. I loved Billie - our daughter - and need to know who ended her life. So I work, read and investigate to this end.

Billie will never be forgotten. I will never give up. That is my message to the person who took her life.

Siôn Jenkins. February 2007.