For any parent, the loss of a child is an unimaginable horror. For Jane Johnson, the death of her 19-year-old son Leo in February 2023 brought not only overwhelming grief but a subsequent, gruelling battle with bureaucracy that she is now determined to spare other families.
A Final Message of False Hope
On 3 February 2023, Leo Johnson, a bright oceanography student at Plymouth University, sent his mother a photo. It showed the calm, blue Devon sea after a cold-water swim. "The last few days have been really good," his text read. Hours later, the promising young man from a close-knit Stourbridge family threw himself under a train.
Leo had confided in his parents about struggling with mild depression. He had seen a doctor, deleted social media apps like TikTok, and was spending more time outdoors. To his mother Jane, 55, and sister Ella, now 21, it seemed he was proactively managing his mental health. The reality, tragically, was far darker. Months before his death, Leo had disclosed suicidal thoughts to his GP, but patient confidentiality meant his family was never warned.
The Crushing Weight of 'Practical Chaos'
In the devastating aftermath, Jane, Ella, and Leo's father were confronted with what Jane calls the "practical chaos" of an unexpected death. As Leo was a legal adult with a largely digital life, they had to prove their right as next of kin to access and close his myriad accounts.
"We had no formal death certificate for months," Jane explains. Every institution—banks, savings accounts, digital providers—demanded separate evidence. The family embarked on a painful fact-finding mission with no central record to guide them. They discovered £300 in cash in his wallet and feared there may have been accounts they never knew about.
Some organisations were helpful; others sent documents to the wrong address or even issued a cheque in Leo's name. The process felt like an invasion of the privacy she had always respected for her son. "I didn't want to read Leo's messages... I just had to close down his accounts and protect him in death in the same way I would do in life," she says.
A Legacy of Love and a Call to Action
Jane has channelled her grief into advocacy. She is a staunch supporter of Legacy Hub, a digital platform that allows people to securely store essential information—from financial records and funeral wishes to personal videos and letters—for loved ones to access if the worst happens.
"I'm a realist," Jane says. "Expecting a 19-year-old to leave organised records of accounts or passwords is unlikely. But it would have been so helpful during the worst of times." She believes everyone, especially young adults, should have a simple, non-intrusive way to record the basics.
Beyond the admin, Jane mourns the memories she doesn't have. "If I'd had a video of him, I could hear him laugh again," she shares, worried she will forget the sound of his voice. She urges others to preserve their stories and wishes, not just for older generations but for the young, whose digital footprints are vast but often inaccessible to grieving families.
Her mission, born from profound loss, is clear: to change the system and ease the hidden, bureaucratic burden that compounds the tragedy of suicide, so other families might face one less heartache in their darkest hour.
For confidential support, call Samaritans on 116 123 or visit samaritans.org.
