My mum always said Alan was killed by the hospital, she was right

The story of Alan Jones stands as a searing indictment of a public health disaster that has left a trail of grief, unanswered questions, and a relentless campaign for justice. Alan’s mother was convinced her son had been murdered, a belief that haunted her until her death—years before an inquiry finally confirmed Alan was among the victims of “a catalogue of failures at systematic, collective and individual level” after receiving an infected blood product at Cardiff’s University Hospital of Wales, which led to him contracting HIV and Hepatitis C.
Alan was just 25 when he died, his final days marked by severe swelling and a persistent cough, his body ultimately sealed away from his grieving parents. Decades later, with both parents now gone, the fight for answers continues through his siblings, Susan and Chris, who have inherited the burden of seeking justice. Alan, the youngest of five, was born in 1968 with severe haemophilia—a diagnosis that came as a shock, with no prior family history. A fall at age three resulted in a brain bleed, leaving him with lifelong learning difficulties and forcing his father to learn to drive so Alan could be rushed from their valleys home to Cardiff hospital at any hour.
Susan recalls the terror and urgency whenever Alan suffered a bleed, the scramble for a tourniquet, and the trauma of being left behind as her brother was taken to hospital. Extended hospital stays were common for Alan after joint bleeds, and the family now knows he was infected with HIV and Hepatitis C at just 15, told the news alone despite his mental health challenges. He died in 1993, and the emotional fallout—anger, guilt, and a sense of responsibility—still lingers for his siblings.
The family’s struggle did not end with Alan’s death. Susan and Chris have pressed for answers at the Senedd, drawing on findings from an independent inquiry that laid bare the profound betrayal felt by affected families. Despite the inquiry’s clear recommendations, compensation for those infected and their families remains slow and mired in bureaucracy. “Our parents have both passed away, they would be here,” Susan says. “We’re carrying on because we have to, it destroyed my father, what happened.” The challenges extended beyond health: getting Alan into school was a battle, with staff fearful of accidents and their mother always on call. Alan was moved between schools, including boarding schools and a specialist institution for disabilities, despite being physically able-bodied.
“Our parents had so many other issues with Alan. He was left with social issues, and a lot problems,” Susan explains. “He never quite fit in anywhere, and he had a lot of anger then, because of all this, and he went Treloars for about 18 months, but he’d already been infected, he was infected in the Heath. There were so many hurdles for my parents to get over, but all because of infected blood.” Lord Mayor’s Treloar’s College, which had a specialist NHS haemophilia centre, became notorious after it emerged that at least 72 pupils died from HIV and hepatitis infections linked to contaminated blood products. “You’ve got your life in the doctor’s hands, and when at the home treatment came out they were over the moon, they could treat him at home with the Factor VIII,” Susan recalls, but it was this very treatment that led to Alan’s infection, bringing a crushing sense of guilt to his parents. Chris said: “Dad felt he was infecting Alan.” Susan added: “He said I’ve given him that treatment.” “Factor VIII should have made everyone’s life better,” Susan reflects.
In his final days, Alan’s condition worsened, and after his death, his body was sealed away, denying his father a final farewell. The siblings now campaign in their parents’ stead, seeking recognition and accountability from those in power. “We want the acknowledgement of what they’ve done, because at the end of the day, they experimented on these all haemophiliacs and the acknowledgement and payment that he should have had.” Susan said: “He should have had it, he should be here, enjoying his life.” Chris added: “Just because he’s passed away, it doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have his payment, we should have a payment for what they did to him.” Susan’s mother always insisted, “your brother was murdered,” a claim Susan doubted until the inquiry confirmed the extent of the wrongdoing: “When the inquiry came