What if your usual Sunday catch-up call turned into the start of a nightmare?
For Ray and Sarah Lakeman, that’s exactly what happened one December evening in 2014.
Their sons, Jacques and Torin, had gone away for a football weekend in Manchester.
But when they didn’t come home—or pick up their phones—their parents knew deep down that something was wrong.
And hours later, the knock on the door confirmed their worst fears: both boys had died from an MDMA overdose.
A Future Stolen in a Single Night
Jacques was 20.
Torin, just 19.
Brothers, best friends, inseparable since childhood.
In fact, they were so close in age and spirit that their parents often described them as more like twins.
That weekend was their first ever trip away together without family. And tragically, it became their last.
They had taken a fatal dose of MDMA—enough for 30 people.
It was bought online in powder form, then split equally between them.
No instructions, no labels, just a silent death waiting to happen.
From Dreams to Devastation
Both boys were thriving.
Jacques was pursuing his passion for music in London while working in a hotel.
Torin, a budding astrophysicist, was deep into his second year at university in Aberystwyth.
They had everything ahead of them: careers, love, maybe kids of their own someday.
Their dad, Ray, now 74, reflected on all the milestones they’ll never reach.
“It’s not just their future we lost,” he said.
“Ours too—no weddings, no grandkids. Our world stopped.”
A Devastating Discovery
In the days that followed their disappearance, the Lakemans did everything they could to trace the boys.
They called the police, contacted Manchester United, and rang hospitals—only to hear reassurances that “they probably met some girls.”
But deep down, Ray and Sarah knew.
By the time police arrived at their Isle of Man home, they had already braced for the worst.
“Have you come to tell us what we already know?” Sarah asked before the officers even spoke.
Torin’s Secret and the Hidden Cost of Stress
What shocked them most came after: it was Torin, not Jacques, who had bought the drugs.
The same Torin who had once been part of the Army Cadets and was always anti-drugs.
They believe he started using ecstasy at university, possibly to manage the stress of academic life.
He and a friend sourced it from the dark web, thinking it would be “safer” than buying on the street.
But the dose was unmarked, unregulated—and deadly.
A System That Failed Them
At the boys’ inquest, experts talked about a “recreational dose,” suggesting that ecstasy could be used safely in moderation.
That stuck with Ray.
“If they were going to take it,” he said, “they should’ve at least known what they were taking.”
He doesn’t blame his sons.
He blames the system that let them fall through the cracks.
“They were casualties in the war on drugs,” he said.
“It didn’t have to be this way.”
From Grieving Dad to Drug Reform Advocate
Since their deaths, Ray has poured his energy into drug law reform.
He joined the Anyone’s Child campaign, lobbying for a shift from criminalisation to regulation.
He’s been a vocal advocate in the Isle of Man—his home—which has more autonomy to change laws than the UK.
In 2022, he petitioned the Manx Parliament to rethink its approach.
Slowly but surely, policies are evolving to prioritize health and education over punishment.
Moving from Prohibition to Education
Ray’s argument is simple: prohibition hasn’t worked.
“People take drugs,” he says, “just like they consume alcohol, sugar, or caffeine—to feel better.”
Instead of pretending abstinence works, he pushes for education, safety, and control.
“Other substances are regulated, why not drugs?” he asks.
“We don’t ban alcohol because it’s risky—we teach people to use it responsibly.”
Honouring Jacques and Torin With Music and Memory
Despite their grief, the Lakemans have found strength in remembrance.
Every year on the anniversary of the boys’ deaths, they host a charity concert.
It started as a way to honour Jacques’ love for music, but it’s become a source of healing for the whole community.
For Torin, they found a different way to remember.
He loved Warhammer figurines—tiny, detailed characters used in tabletop games.
So at his funeral, everyone got one, with a mission: take it somewhere the boys might’ve wanted to visit and send back a photo.
Now, their memory lives on through photos from all over the world.
More than 100 countries and counting.
Small Acts, Big Impact
When Jacques would’ve turned 21, his parents threw a party—a proper one, the kind he would’ve loved.
When Torin’s 30th birthday came around, Sarah travelled to Svalbard, a destination he had once dreamed of visiting.
She left a Warhammer figure there as a tribute.
Learning to Live Again
For a long time, Ray couldn’t bear to watch football, listen to guitar music, or hear the Neil Young songs the boys used to play in their garage band.
But slowly, he found his way back.
Now, those things bring him peace, not pain.
He remembers how Jacques refused to replace Torin in the band—even after he moved away for university.
“We’ll wait till he’s back,” he’d say.
Justice and Frustration
The man who sold the drugs online was sentenced to 16 years in prison.
Ray was glad—“That’s who the law should be targeting.”
But he’s frustrated that the bigger problem remains untouched.
“Governments keep saying they won’t change the law,” he says.
“But more people are dying, gangs are thriving, and drugs are more available than ever.”
A Message from the Heart
Ray wants his boys to be remembered not just as statistics, but as vibrant young men with dreams, talents, and kind hearts.
“They weren’t criminals. They were good kids who made a mistake,” he said.
He ends with a plea: “Let’s stop pretending the current system works.
Let’s protect our children—not by punishing them, but by educating and safeguarding them.”
