ONE of the most difficult things for Bea Jones and her family is to share memories of happier times, because for them all it means revisiting the horror of daughter Moira's death.

But some days are worse than others, and some things, like the sound of a siren, make her anxious.

As Bea said: "Even now, when I hear police sirens, I become agitated because there were no sirens for Moira.

"If someone had called the police, they would have been there."

Moira, 40, was abducted yards from her home in May 2008 and then raped and murdered in Queen's Park, Glasgow.

Her killer, Marek Harcar, was a career criminal, with 13 previous convictions for violence and theft. The Slovakian is serving a minimum 25-year jail sentence after being found guilty in 2009, but he will never be held accountable for the other lives he destroyed that night.

Bea, a retired English teacher, was at home in Weston, a small Staffordshire village, on the night of the murder.

It is more than four years since a young police officer called at Bea and Hu Jones' home and broke the news their daughter's body had been found battered in a Glasgow park.

Bea is in Glasgow to discuss the forthcoming Moira Fund Autumn Ball, funds from which will go directly to helping families who find themselves bereaved through violent crime.

The 71-year-old regularly returns to Glasgow, to Queen's Park and to check there are flowers for Moira.

"We come up every few months," she explained. "I find a comfort here. When Moira was murdered I couldn't think about who was responsible, my head was full of Moira, I couldn't take in what had happened.

"Moira loved Glasgow, especially the humour and warmth of the people.

"And many Glasgow people thought the world of Moira, too. Because of that I always feel an affinity for Glasgow.

"When we had the commemorative service for Moira and the park reopened, there were a lot of people there and I was conscious of people standing quite close and looking at me.

"When the crowd started to disperse, there were still a few older ladies near me and I knew they wanted to speak to me and didn't know whether they should.

"So I went and thanked them for coming. They had wanted to say sorry. They wanted to say, 'I'm a mum and I am so sorry'."

But there was much worse to come when the case eventually went to trial in March 2009.

It was not until the family was gathered in the High Court in Glasgow that the full details of the night Moira was murdered were laid bare.

Lord Advocate Elish Angiolini urged the family to stay away from court because she felt the graphic catalogue of injuries would be too upsetting for them to hear.

But day after day Bea, Hu, Grant – Moira's brother – and Paul Thompson, Moira's partner, who remains close to the family, listened to harrowing and vivid evidence.

Moira's body had at least 65 injuries, including brain damage.

Bea said: "We were told often it might be better for us not to be there.

"But we wanted to be there. We were very close and felt we had somehow to try and understand, it was like we were trying to share it with Moira.

"We wanted to take it, and try and take the pain away from Moira, as if we were with her."

Almost as painful as the horrific details of the struggle was the knowledge Moira's screams for help went unanswered.

One man testified he turned to his wife and said: "If someone's been murdered, we've just heard it.

A woman who lived nearby looked out of her flat when she heard a scream being cut off, and a dog walker was also unnerved by the sight of Harcar looking into the bushes in the park.

The dog walker would later give a description for the police and details of the Eastern European accent he heard.

But it is the fact her daughter's fight for life went ignored that will always be so distressing.

"When I heard this in court, I wanted to shout out, 'You saw the time on your phone. Your phone was in your hand.' That is very hard to take," said Bea.

"At that time Moira was being held under a holly bush that was probably 30 yards from where people were walking on the street.

"There were two other couples who heard screams and a woman who finished by saying she heard a scream being cut off.

"She said that left her 'very disturbed' but it is hard not to wonder then why she did not pick up the phone.

"Ironically, on at least two occasions, I remember Moira telling me she had called the police from her flat when she saw trouble brewing outside and was concerned someone was going to be hurt.

"On both occasions police had responded promptly and things were sorted out.

"If someone had called the police, they would have been there. Even now, when I hear police sirens, I become agitated because there were no sirens for Moira.

"The dog walker had also heard a voice saying 'Stop it.' He went and got another dog walker who had dismissed it.

"He deliberately walked around shouting for the dog, even though the dog was with him, and Moira would have heard that. She would have known someone was close by."

Extensive and specialist counselling has been a small step towards acceptance of the dreadful death Moira suffered but, even now, Bea finds it impossible to get beyond the manner in which her daughter died.

It is difficult for the family to share memories of happier times because Bea cannot share them without thinking of the horror.

"When I first started going to counselling, it was hoped the trauma would soon be processed so I could begin to grieve," she said.

"I know there is a long way to go, but I think slow progress is being made and I have to keep hoping that one day I can think of Moira and smile, that I can access those very happy times we shared.

"At the moment though, I can't. I just can't."

Tomorrow: Helping others is our way of remembering Moira

The murder of Moira Jones in a Glasgow park has left a deep wound that, four years on, is only slowly healing for her mother. She tells ALISON McCONNELL of the pain