The tragic story of the Epping mother and daughter deaths has left an entire community stunned and questioning how two lives vanished so quietly. Alphonsine Djiako Leuga, 47, and her 18-year-old daughter Loraine Choulla were found dead in their home in Radford, Nottingham—months after they had passed.
Loraine, who had Down’s syndrome, relied entirely on her mother for care. Alphonsine, originally from Cameroon, had moved to the UK with her daughters in 2016 after arriving from Italy. Despite being known to social services, both were left alone in worsening conditions, unseen and unheard.
Steve Smith, a friend who had housed the family temporarily in 2016, described Alphonsine as a woman in need but always looking out for her children. Over time, locals in the community got to know her as the “Cameroon woman.” Shopkeepers recalled her warmth and resilience even when times got tough.
Alphonsine told neighbors about struggles with heating and school attendance for Loraine, which had affected her benefits. One shop allowed her to buy food on credit, describing how she always paid back what she owed. Still, the cold worsened, and her face showed signs of illness. “The cold is too much,” she once said during a visit to the store.
Eventually, Alphonsine disengaged from housing and social services. In 2021, she stopped allowing staff into her home. Gas officials capped her supply, and although she asked for reconnection, she refused entry again. By 2023, the house had no hot water or heating.
On February 2, 2024, Alphonsine called emergency services and pleaded for an ambulance. “Please come, please,” were her final words. Unfortunately, the call was wrongly logged as abandoned, and help never arrived. She died of pneumonia soon after.
Loraine, unable to care for herself, remained alone for weeks. The inquest revealed that she died from malnutrition and dehydration. Authorities believe she tried to feed herself. They found unopened tins of tuna in the microwave and raw pasta scattered around the room.
This tragedy sparked outrage and sorrow across Nottingham. Many locals, including shop owners and neighbors, expressed guilt and confusion. “It means there’s a problem in the community,” said one resident. “Everybody is by themselves. Nobody checks on each other.”
Deborah Williams, who lived next door, recalled seeing signs of distress. Windows were left open in winter. Mold covered the panes. The garden was overgrown. Still, she didn’t realize how severe the situation had become. “You want to stay invisible here,” she admitted. “We all missed the signs.”
Deborah also noticed how Alphonsine encouraged Loraine’s speech development, often reading aloud and prompting her daughter to repeat words. She had seen the pair with matching hairstyles, bright and joyful in earlier times. But things gradually declined.
Social workers did attempt visits in early 2024. However, when they saw no signs of activity, they left. According to the coroner, Nottingham City Council missed critical opportunities to escalate concerns. The council, as landlord, failed to involve police for a welfare check when it mattered most.
Jamil Ellahi, who owns a nearby barbershop, shared his grief. “I blame myself. I blame everyone. We should have been more of a community.” He believes if people interacted more with their neighbors, tragedies like this wouldn’t go unnoticed.
He urged others to learn from what happened. “You can’t point the finger at one agency or one person. We all carry some responsibility.”
As new tenants now occupy the home on Hartley Road, the memory of Epping mother and daughter deaths continues to haunt the neighborhood. The quiet lives of Alphonsine and Loraine ended not with noise, but with silence—unseen, unheard, and unhelped.
Their story is a painful reminder of what can happen when social safety nets break down and communities stop looking out for each other.
