Despite being seen by multiple healthcare professionals — a nurse practitioner, a junior doctor, and a senior pediatric registrar — Lila was discharged from the hospital just after 2:30 a.m. with a suspected case of tonsillitis. Her mom says she trusted them. She worked with them. She never imagined they’d be wrong.
“I felt reassured by them, to be honest,” Rachael told BBC. “She had quite a few infections before this and she’d always received amazing care. I worked for that hospital. You don’t really not trust people when you work with them.”
That trust was shattered the next morning.
“I knew she’d been dead for quite some time”
At around 9 a.m. on December 28, Rachael found Lila unresponsive in bed.
She called 999, performed CPR, and waited for paramedics. But it was too late. Her daughter had died just hours after being sent home.
“I knew she’d been dead for quite some time,” Rachael said. “The paramedics arrived within five minutes and they couldn’t do anything.”
A post-mortem confirmed what Rachael had feared from the beginning: Lila had pneumococcal meningitis — and it killed her.
The inquest that followed painted a devastating picture of missed opportunities and systemic failures. Jurors concluded that Lila’s death was preventable — and that neglect played a role.
“Had Lila been admitted to hospital and given broad spectrum antibiotics within the first hour of being triaged, this would have prevented Lila’s death,” the jury’s statement read.
For 17 months, Rachael and Lila’s father, Darren Marsland, waited for answers. When the inquest finally concluded, the word they had dreaded became official: neglect.
“Hearing the word ‘neglect’ is something a parent should never have to hear,” Rachael said outside the courtroom, according to Manchester Evening News. “We are now left with the devastating loss of our daughter for the rest of our lives.”
“We’ve never received an apology”
What makes it even harder? The apology never came — at least not directly.
“We’ve never received an apology,” Rachael told the BBC in June, 2025. “The first time we saw it was on the news after the inquest.”
In a statement, the hospital trust acknowledged “missed opportunities” and issued a general apology, saying it accepted the coroner’s findings and would work to improve care.
But for Lila’s family, the damage is permanent.
“She was always happy,” Rachael recalled. “She would make everyone laugh. She was just a special little girl.”
Her big sister Ava, now 15, adored her. The two were inseparable.
“She just loved her life and was a pleasure to parent,” said Rachael. “She loved school, she loved playing out with her friends.”
Raised over $24,000
Now, instead of taking her to school, the Marslands are running a charity in her name.
They created Lila’s Light, a nonprofit that distributes “bereavement bags” to siblings of children who have died — a small way to help kids express grief in a world that often doesn’t ask how they’re doing.
“The parents can understand their grief by what they are writing and drawing,” Darren said. “A lot of children don’t speak out — but they’ll put it on pen and paper.”
They’ve handed out the bags to more than 15 hospitals and raised over $24,000. Darren and his friends even climbed Ben Nevis in Lila’s memory.
But what they really want — beyond change, beyond awareness — is their little girl back.
“You’re just sort of surviving, really,” Rachael said. “There’s all the ‘what-ifs’. What if we had taken her to another hospital? There’s all sorts.”
Lila Marsland should be remembered for her love of life, not for what was taken from her. She should still be here, playing with her sister, riding her bike, and lighting up every room she walked into.
Instead, her name has become a rallying cry — not because she was famous, but because she should never have had to be.
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