Killer driver distracted by smartphone jailed for six years and eight months

“The pain may dim, but our lives will never be the same again”

A family has been left devastated by a dangerous driver who killed a much-loved husband, dad and grandad on a North Yorkshire road.

Sophie Waugh (pictured below), 31, of Rowantree Gardens, Redcar, was today (Friday 7 February 2025) jailed for six years and eight months after pleading guilty at Teesside Crown Court.

She also received a driving ban of five and a half years and must undertake an extended driving test. These come into effect only when she is released from prison.

Waugh was charged with causing the death by dangerous driving of 71-year-old Ian Morris, from Bedale, following an extensive investigation by North Yorkshire Police’s Major Collision Investigation Team.

On the afternoon of Wednesday 28 June 2023, Mr Morris was cycling on the A6055 Leeming Lane near Kirklington.

Waugh, a serving soldier with the Royal Logistics Corp of the British Army, had left her place of work at Alanbrooke Barracks at around 2pm to return home.

Mr Morris was cycling northbound when Waugh, travelling in the same direction, struck the rear of Mr Morris’ bicycle.

At around 2.24pm, the emergency services were alerted to the collision by a member of the public.

As a result of the collision, Mr Morris died instantly at the scene.

During Waugh’s journey whilst driving alone, Digital Forensic Unit officers were able to prove that she had been using her smartphone prolifically up to the point of the collision.

This included the locking and unlocking of her device 10 times, 13 outgoing messages from Facebook Messenger and six outgoing messages from Snapchat.

Overall, there had been 34 incoming and outgoing messages during this time.

Significantly, the digital evidence report showed that the handset had locked at 2.24pm with the Instagram app on the screen. 

Detective Constable Laura Cleary, from the Major Collision Investigation Team, said: “Waugh claimed during police interview that she had not seen Mr Morris on his bicycle and even suggested that he must have swerved out in front of her car.

“Witnesses to the collision challenged her version of events, stating that Mr Morris was riding normally and wearing a long-sleeved fluorescent green cycling jersey and had a flashing red light on the rear of his bicycle at the time of the collision.

“They said it was Waugh’s car that had veered towards Mr Morris.

“Thankfully, Waugh has now admitted causing death by dangerous driving and accepts that she was driving while using a mobile phone.

“This is one of the ‘Fatal 5’ factors in such collisions, the others being careless driving, drink and drug driving, not wearing a seatbelt and speeding.

“The horrific consequences of being distracted by mobile phones are plain to see in this case.

“This is a stark wake-up call for anyone who is tempted to use their phones while in control of a vehicle.

“Our thoughts remain with Mr Morris’ family who have been left devastated by this wholly avoidable tragedy.”

Ian Morris

Family statements (written in 2024)

Mr Morris’ wife, Pauline:

Ian Morris was my husband of nearly 50 years, a father to my two sons, a doting grandfather to our four beautiful grandchildren, and a close friend to many. His death has been a loss so great; words will not do it justice.

The very act of having to write this statement, has been a heart-breaking and emotional rollercoaster for the family and brought back all the memories of 28^th June 2023.

As a family we now measure things by what we will never do again or not be able to do, from a family walk or a game of golf, to those lifelong dreams or holidays, through to birthdays or university graduations or key milestone events that Ian will not be a part of. 

Not knowing so many of the details around the accident has been very difficult, looking for forms of closure has been impossible in the 17 months since we lost him.

Our lives have been on hold since that day, we are stuck in limbo, waiting for the truth, waiting for the line in the sand, waiting for an explanation, waiting for some understanding. We are still finding a way to live as a family without him, to manage the loss, to hold on tightly to the memories, to talk of him often, to keep him in our hearts without it breaking them.

But it will never be over for us, the pain may dim, but our lives will never be the same again.

What happened on 28^th June last year has had a catastrophic effect on my life and the lives of the members of my family.

To put into words the impact it has had, for you to understand how I felt when it happened, and I still feel, even 17 months later, is very hard, as even when you hear my words, for most of you, unless it happens to you, you will never really understand what it feels like, as I did not, until the awful day when we all lost Ian.

I lost my lovely husband; my sons lost their father and my grandchildren their grandfather.

To me he was my everything - friend, lover, partner, and teammate. It is like I lost half of me that day. He was kind, polite, caring, full of fun, grumpy at times, but a generous man who loved to plan surprises. He was very proud of his sons, Tim and Jon, and was very happy that they had both married two wonderful girls Becky and Tara who had given him four wonderful grandchildren and loved them very dearly.

I went from living with my parents to being married to Ian for 48 very happy years. It would have been our golden wedding anniversary this year. We knew how we were going to celebrate and mark the milestone – a dream trip to play golf at the famous Pebble Beach golf course in America. A long hope for a trip for the both of us that we will never get to fulfil now.

I feel like my future has just been cancelled. Ian and I were always a team, we did everything together. We built our house together, staying at my parents’ house and doing what we could do ourselves on the house together on weekends and evenings.

We had never been apart for more than 10 days in our life together, to now sleeping on my own, no one to plan things or to talk about my day with. Ian did so many things that I now have to find a way of doing, from gardening to fixing those little things around the house.

Watching my sons cancelling all mine and Ian lives together, changing everything into just my name, cancelling the holidays we had already planned made me feel and continue to feel that my future was just being cancelled, which it was.

Just after Ian’s death it felt unreal, like it was a cruel test to see if I could live alone, after a few weeks I wanted to shout ‘I have done it. I pass. Ian can come back now’. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that would never be and the reality was that he was gone forever. But still, I live in hope that he will walk back through the door.

I have always been a social person, but I have now lost my confidence, I don’t always go to things because of the fear of being on my own and tend to avoid events. I live my life pretending I’m feeling OK when in truth I am not. I am emotionally drained, with the effort not to appear sad and miserable.

Before that awful day I was happy, full of fun and enjoying life to the full. Now I feel like I put a mask on at the front door, I put it on so people do not have to be around someone who is miserable and crying all the time. Sometimes it’s a struggle to keep the mask on, some days I just can't get it on, so I don’t go out or if I do, the real me is obvious to everyone. When I walk back through that door, I am glad the mask can come off because wearing it is a strain, but I am now on my own, alone.

On the day of the accident, I had chosen not to go with him on the bike ride, as I would normally have done. He followed the route we usually took; a route Ian chose because it’s a straight road with good visibility. The decision not to go haunts me, if I had, would he still be with us today?

At night in bed, I go back through that day, and I struggled to understand what had happened. How could this nameless girl not see him, he had his lights and his green luminous top on, what was she doing? What could be more important than watching the road, more important than Ian’s life, hopefully I find that out today. I have not been able to get on a bicycle since, another hobby I used to enjoy.

Not just Ian’s death but the aftermath, dealing with the police, the Coroner and the Courts are all things which are frightening for me, and are emotionally draining. The whole thing is an ordeal which makes me feel anger, resentfulness and bitterness, feelings which are alien to me, but which are a direct result of the circumstances of Ian’s death.

On happy occasions with the family, on holiday or watching the grandchildren perform or them achieving awards, I feel guilty that I get to see all this, and Ian does not, so the happiness is marred. Sometimes I think I will never really be happy again.

I never got to say goodbye and thank him for all the happy years we spent together. So, the impact is that I have learnt that grief is a very lonely road to walk, it is love that has no place to go.

But in my heart of hearts, I know that Ian would want me and the family to get on with our lives, live them to the full and to be as happy as we can be. This is our goal.

Mr Morris’ son, Jon:

It is not possible to put into words the impact the defendant’s dangerous driving has had on all of our lives. An ongoing nightmare that I can't wake up from, a constant pain in the pit of my stomach. He wasn't just a man that died, he was my father and friend, who loved his life and whose loss has had a huge impact on so many people.

All the family holidays, birthdays and other special occasions that will never be the same again. No more family 4 balls at golf or laughs with a beer over the barbecue. It is the everyday things that are always taken for granted that you miss the most.

I still remember the fear in my mum's voice when she rang me in complete panic that something had happened after my dad had not returned from his bike ride, and my rush to the hospital in the hope he had been brought in injured, but we were not that lucky.

Instead, we had the harrowing wait with my mum for the Police to confirm the devastating news we already knew deep down was coming.

It is of course not only our loss and heartbreak that we now have to manage but also that of our children, dad's grandchildren. How do I console my 8-year-old son when he is crying in bed at night with the worry that he will lose his memories of his grandad, knowing that this probably is going to happen. How do you explain why he only got such a short time with him?

My 10-year-old daughter was asked at school to write a short story on the theme of kindness and the following is an extract from the story she wrote...

“I love my grandad. He has luminescent blue eyes that twinkle when he laughs, and he always wears an intricate gold chain that glints in the sun's golden rays. His hair is a silvery-grey and he always has a smile on his face. When we go to the beach, you can always count on him to buy an ice-cream. He loves ice-cream, once he even made the family lose a game of Geocache as he got distracted by an ice-cream shop. He also enjoys the arcades (especially the two-penny machines)! I hope when I’m older I can be like my grandad and still play on the games at the seaside. My grandad is great in many ways; he is kind and polite – he always makes people feel welcome and gives you a hug when you are sad - and he is really funny - he calls my brother Charlie even though that isn’t his name! He is also very active and sporty – he plays catch and football with me and my brother; he plays golf as much as possible, and he even does sit-ups every night to stay fit and healthy!

Wednesday 28 June 2023 was the worst day of my life. My grandad had gone on a bike ride and never returned home. Frantically, my dad accompanied my grandma as they drove around, searching for him. My uncle called him, desperately hoping for him to answer but instead, it was the police who picked up, informing us that my grandad had been knocked off his bike by a car and he had passed away. 

I felt like all the kindness had been sucked out of the world. Home was filled with tears and gifts. The vibrant hues of all the flowers were a contrast to the sadness we felt inside. The brilliant scents felt over-whelming and I would break down into tears. My grandad. My grandad gone, just like that. And I felt like all kindness had gone with him. How had this happened?”

A question that as a family we are unable to answer.

Whatever sentence the defendant is given today will pale into insignificance in comparison to the sentence we are living through every day.

A sentence where we will never see my dad and children’s grandad ever again. It is heart-breaking to think that he was killed in such a senseless manner, for nothing. He was such a great man and role model, a proper dad! He would do anything for anyone, and his loss is one that I will never be able to get over, I just can’t believe this has actually happened to him, to us. 

I wonder if the defendant has any idea of the extent of the devastation she has inflicted on our family.

Our lives will never be the same again, there will forever be a piece of our family and our heart missing.

 

Mr Morris’ son, Tim:

I feel the loss of my father every day. We shared a passion for golf and would regularly play together, this was our time together where we would chat about the kids, along with being competitive together, something we loved and now something that I can never do again with my dad.

We also shared an allotment together and would meet at weekends to tend it, something again that kept us both fit and another excuse to talk about anything that was on our minds.

Not only have I lost that outlet for mental health, I have also never been back on the allotment and have given up the plot, I just couldn’t bear to be there on my own, it was our place.

I was in West Wales with work on the day of my father's death. I knew he hadn't come home, and I was the one ringing my dad’s mobile phone whilst we were all trying to find him. Eventually a police officer answered the phone, who couldn’t tell me what had happened, but did want me to confirm all his details and then told me that they could only speak to my mum and that they were on their way and that she shouldn’t be on her own. I knew at this point exactly what had occurred without actually being told, my life was shattered in that phone call.

Later that evening my wife had to confirm the news to me, when I was 5 hours from home, and nowhere near my loved ones. I knew I needed to get home. Whilst the journey was hard, nothing was real until I stepped in through my parents’ front door and looked in my mum's eyes. At that point my world came crumbling down, as the reality of it all hit.

I too have two children who will now never be able to share the joys of life with their Grandad. Every Monday, without fail my mum and dad looked after my two children, they see them both as extended parents rather than just grandad and grandma. My daughter will hopefully one day get married and never be able to share that joy with her grandad, he used to thrive on her swimming achievements. My 8-year-old son went to football training every week with his grandad, something they shared.

How do I ever answer their questions about why their grandad isn’t here and how he could go out on his bike and never come back, how are they to get back on their bikes and feel safe again? How do you explain to kids how this can happen?

He’d wanted all his life to be a grandad and have a family as he didn’t have a family growing up and now, he was finally living out his dreams which he’d worked so hard to create a large loving family group he could be part of and take care of and enjoy. He and us all have been robbed of that far too early.

I used to ride my bike and had ridden around 2,000 miles a year for the past three years. Since 28^th June 2023 I have only ridden my bike once and that was possibly the most stressful bike ride I’ve ever had, the fear was unbearable, and my heart raced as I panicked every time a car went past! My health has suffered along with my mental wellbeing and confidence something I never thought could happen to me.

Life is now always revolving around what life was like when granddad was here. I have to say the whole process since that day has been the most traumatic of my life, each time the police contact us to give us more information about how things were progressing to the day that we had to first attend court ties my stomach in knots and brings all of the emotions and memories back from that day.

I feel cheated for my mum the most of all, they have both worked for local government all of their lives, my dad had just completed 50 years of service at North Yorkshire County Council and was just beginning his retirement, he was in the shape of his life and had so many dreams and plans. They had so many plans to spend their retirements together and now he doesn’t get his retirement and my mum doesn’t get the retirement she had planned. All of their hard work and dreams ended through a reckless act, through no fault of their own.

Finally, what hurts the most is that I never got to say goodbye to my dad, my best friend, he was just ripped away from all of us.