In an exclusive and emotionally charged interview, Kiran Kaur, 53, the mother of convicted killer Vickrum Digwa, has broken her silence on the horrific stabbing of 18-year-old university student Henry Nowak in Southampton on December 3, 2025. Kaur, who was found guilty of assisting an offender by removing and concealing the bloodied ceremonial knife used in the attack, described the night as one that “shattered two families forever.”
Sitting in a modest room, her voice trembling and eyes filled with tears, Kaur began with words that have stunned many: “I’m sorry, but that is not something any mother would do… Please forgive me.” She confessed not only to hiding the weapon but revealed what her son told her in those chaotic moments after the killing, and admitted to another action she says has haunted her every day since.
The Fateful Night Unfolds
Henry Nowak, a bright first-year finance student at the University of Southampton, was walking back to his student halls after a night out with friends. CCTV and Snapchat footage captured the moments leading up to the tragedy. Digwa, who carried a 21cm (8-inch) kirpan — a ceremonial Sikh dagger he claimed was part of his faith — became involved in a brief altercation with Nowak. What started as teasing escalated fatally. Digwa stabbed Nowak multiple times, including a wound to the heart. Nowak collapsed, pleading for help as he bled out.
Digwa called his family. His parents and brother arrived at the scene before police. According to court evidence, Digwa handed the bloodstained knife to his mother, Kiran Kaur. She took it and hid it back at their family home in St Denys Road, where it was later discovered by police alongside more than 20 other weapons.
In her first public comments, Kaur recounted the frantic phone call: “Vickrum was hysterical. He said, ‘Mum, I stabbed him. He came at me. I had to defend myself.’ He told me the boy had used racist words and attacked him first. In that moment, as a mother, all I could think was protecting my son. I didn’t know the full horror.”
Kaur described arriving at the scene to chaos — Henry lying on the ground, police yet to arrive. “There was blood everywhere. Vickrum was shaking. He pushed the knife into my hands and begged me to take it away. ‘Hide it, Mum. They’ll take me away forever.’ I did it without thinking twice. I drove it home and concealed it. I’m so sorry.”
“Another Action” — A Deeper Confession
But Kaur’s interview went further. She confessed to another action that night, one she says “no mother should ever have to face, but I did it out of blind love.”
“When I got home with the knife, I didn’t just hide it. I cleaned some of the blood off it initially, trying to make it less obvious. I wiped parts of the handle and blade with a cloth before wrapping it and stuffing it in a drawer among other items. It was stupid, desperate. I know now it was tampering with evidence, but in my panic, I thought it might help him. Please forgive me — that is not something any mother would do, but I did.”
Kaur broke down as she spoke these words. “I regret it every single day. Henry was just a boy, full of life. His family must hate me, and I understand why. I would too.”
Court proceedings revealed that Digwa lied to police, claiming he was the victim of a racist attack by Nowak. Officers, influenced by statements from the Digwa family, handcuffed the dying Henry as he repeatedly said, “I’ve been stabbed. I can’t breathe.” Bodycam footage of this has sparked national outrage, leading to an Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC) investigation. Digwa was convicted of murder on May 28, 2026, and sentenced to life with a minimum of 21 years. Kaur was convicted of assisting an offender.
A Mother’s Regret and the Broader Tragedy
Kaur spoke at length about her son’s troubled past. She described Vickrum as someone who had been “difficult,” with previous concerns raised in the Sikh community about his behavior. “We tried to guide him. He was obsessed with weapons, always talking about protection and faith. But I never imagined this.”
She revealed what Digwa told her later: “He said it was self-defense, that Henry had bumped into him aggressively and called him names. But deep down, I think he knew it went too far. When the truth came out in court — that Henry’s blood alcohol was low, that he was filming innocently — it broke me.”
Kaur expressed deep sorrow for Henry’s family. “Henry Nowak was ambitious, kind, and loved. His mother Lucy Ross has spoken so powerfully about her loss. No parent should bury their child. I pray for them every night.”
The case has ignited fierce debates on knife crime, the carrying of ceremonial blades like the kirpan, police response, and community tensions. Hampshire Police and Crime Commissioner Donna Jones called it a “national tragedy.” Calls for stricter blade controls, even for religious exemptions, have grown louder. Protests and online campaigns for “Justice for Henry” continue.
Family Fallout and Community Response
Kaur’s family has also been torn apart. Her husband and another son face weapons charges. The family home was raided, uncovering an arsenal that shocked investigators. “We’ve lost everything,” she said. “Vickrum is in prison for life. We’re under threat, scared to leave the house. Two families destroyed by one terrible night.”
Members of the Sikh community have distanced themselves, condemning the misuse of the kirpan. A grandmother in the family previously described Vickrum as a “difficult boy” and noted the mother was “heartbroken.”
Henry’s family has called for knife crime to be treated as a national emergency. In victim impact statements, they highlighted how their son “did not die with dignity,” handcuffed and disbelieved in his final moments.
Reflections on Forgiveness and Change
Towards the end of the interview, Kaur addressed the public directly: “I’m sorry. I hid the weapon. I cleaned it partially. I protected my son when I shouldn’t have. It was wrong. If I could turn back time, I would call the police immediately and try to help that poor boy. But I can’t. All I can do is confess and hope for some mercy when I’m sentenced on July 17.”
She added a plea: “This must stop. Knife crime, assumptions based on race or appearance, failures in policing — Henry paid the ultimate price. Let his death bring real change.”
Kaur’s words come as the nation grapples with the case’s implications. Legal experts note her confession could influence her sentencing, though tampering with evidence adds gravity to her guilt.
Henry Nowak was remembered by friends as fun-loving, determined, and full of potential. A talented student with dreams of a career in finance, his life was cut short in a senseless act of violence.
As Kiran Kaur faces the consequences of her actions, her interview serves as a raw, human glimpse into the aftermath of tragedy. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “But sorry doesn’t bring Henry back.”
This case underscores the devastating ripple effects of one violent decision. From the streets of Southampton to courtrooms and living rooms across the UK, the story of Henry Nowak continues to demand answers, accountability, and reform. His memory endures as a call to confront knife crime head-on, without excuses.
