In the hushed, wood-paneled confines of Leicester Crown Court, where the air carries the faint echo of past verdicts and the weight of unresolved grief, a scene unfolded on October 8, 2025, that blended raw emotion with the cold precision of legal scrutiny. Julia Wandelt, a 24-year-old from the quiet town of Lubin in southwest Poland, sat in the dock, her slender frame clad in a simple white jumper and black leggings, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Beside her was Karen Spragg, 61, a Cardiff resident with a history of dabbling in online conspiracy circles, dressed in a navy coat that seemed to swallow her slight figure. The two women, charged with stalking Kate and Gerry McCann—the parents of the vanished three-year-old Madeleine—faced a jury of eight women and four men, their expressions a mix of curiosity and quiet resolve. But it was Wandelt’s outburst that shattered the courtroom’s composure: as Kate McCann, poised yet palpably weary at 57, delivered her testimony, Wandelt dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, her cries piercing the silence like a siren’s wail. “Why are you doing this to me?” she screamed in broken English, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. Officers gently escorted her from the dock, her body shaking, while the jury averted their eyes, the gravity of the moment hanging heavy in the oak-scented air.

The trial, now in its third day, revisits one of the most haunting chapters of modern British history: the disappearance of Madeleine McCann on May 3, 2007, from a sun-bleached holiday apartment in Praia da Luz, Portugal. What began as a parents’ nightmare—leaving their toddler asleep while dining nearby—spiraled into a global saga of hope, heartbreak, and relentless scrutiny. Eighteen years later, with no closure in sight despite a prime suspect in German national Christian Brückner, the McCanns endure not just the void of loss but a barrage of cranks, theorists, and false claimants who prey on their pain. Wandelt’s story is the latest, most invasive iteration: a young woman convinced, through a haze of hypnosis sessions and fragmented “flashbacks,” that she is the girl who vanished. Her claims, amplified by social media and fringe podcasts, morphed into a two-and-a-half-year campaign of harassment, prosecutors allege, causing “serious alarm and distress” to the McCanns from June 2022 to February 2025. Both defendants deny the charges, but the prosecution’s case paints a portrait of delusion meeting determination, with DNA demands and doorstep confrontations that reopened wounds the family thought long scarred over.

Kate McCann’s appearance marked a pivotal moment, her first time testifying in a case tied to her daughter’s enduring mystery. Entering the witness box with the quiet dignity that has defined her public persona since 2007, she wore a simple navy blouse and slacks, her blonde hair neatly bobbed, her face lined not just by time but by the unyielding ache of absence. Prosecutor Michael Duck KC, a veteran barrister with a measured baritone, guided her through the timeline with surgical care. “Mrs. McCann,” he began softly, “tell us about the first time you became aware of Julia Wandelt.” Kate’s response was steady, her Scottish lilt carrying a hint of steel: “It was in early 2023. I saw a photo of her online—some viral post claiming she was Madeleine. It was clear immediately it wasn’t. The age, the features… none of it matched.” Yet, as Duck pressed on, detailing the onslaught that followed, Kate’s composure wavered. She described the initial emails and voicemails—Wandelt’s voice, laced with desperation, pleading for a DNA test, recounting fabricated memories of “ring a ring o’ roses” in the Rothley garden or spoon-feeding baby brother Sean. “I remember Kate putting a pink shoe on my foot,” one voicemail intoned, played chillingly for the court, the jury shifting uncomfortably as Wandelt’s recorded words filled the room.

The barrage escalated in April 2024, Kate recounted, when Wandelt bombarded her phone with over 60 calls and messages in a single day. “Hello, Mommy,” one read. “I remember the night I was taken—you rubbed my head and said you’d find me.” Kate paused, her hands clasping the witness box’s edge. “It was relentless. I’d block one number, and another would appear. WhatsApp groups—I’d leave them, and she’d add me back. It felt out of control.” The court heard how Wandelt, undeterred by silence, pivoted to the McCanns’ twins, now 20-year-old university students shielding their own fragile normalcy. In January 2024, messages flooded Amelie’s Instagram: “I’m the girl who went viral saying I’m Madeleine. I’ve had hypnosis—flashbacks of our garden, of you as a baby. Please, Amelie, ask your mum for a DNA test. I’ll pay. Maybe in your heart, you know.” Sean received similar pleas, ignored but etched into the family’s quiet evenings. “That was the final straw,” Kate said, her voice dropping. “Contacting my children? I called the police that day. Sean and Amelie—they’ve lost so much already. I won’t let them be dragged into this.”

Wandelt’s sobs erupted midway through, as Duck played the audio of the November 2024 confrontation—a pivotal encounter that prosecutors call the “climax of cruelty.” Tracked by automatic number plate recognition, the pair had flown into East Midlands Airport, checked into a Birstall Ibis, and staked out the McCanns’ Rothley home. Kate, returning from a routine errand, pulled into the driveway to find two women waiting like specters in the dusk. “It gave me a fright,” she testified. “Julia stepped forward, demanding a DNA test right there. Karen was behind her, unnerving—banging on the car window, trying to force a letter into Gerry’s hand when he arrived.” The recording, scratchy but searing, captured the chaos: Kate’s plea, “You’re causing us so much distress—please leave,” met with Wandelt’s insistent “I’m your daughter, Mummy. Why won’t you believe me?” Gerry’s arrival added urgency: “You need help. You’re not Madeleine. Go away—we’re not discussing this.” As Kate recounted fumbling with her keys, Wandelt allegedly blocking the door, the jury leaned forward, the room thick with secondhand tension. “I was scared,” Kate admitted. “Not just for me, but for what this does to us. Every year, on the vigil, we remember Madeleine. This… it twists that pain.”

The next day’s letter, slipped through the door, amplified the intrusion. Addressed to “Dear Mum (Kate),” it read: “I’m so sorry for causing you so much distress, but when I saw you yesterday, my emotions were so strong. I felt a connection. All I want is the truth. Yesterday, I heard care and love in your voice. Please contact me.” Signed “Lots of love, Madeleine x,” it landed like a gut punch. Duck called it “a final, cruel signature,” twisting the knife of a name long synonymous with loss. Kate’s eyes welled as she described finding it: “Gerry and I just sat there. It’s not just harassment—it’s a mockery of our grief.” Cross-examination by defense barristers Tom Price KC (for Wandelt) and Simon Russell Flint KC (for Spragg) probed gently. Price asked why no DNA test: “It started getting to me, I’ll admit,” Kate replied. “But the photo, her age, being Polish—none made sense. I know I’d recognize my own daughter.” Flint highlighted Spragg’s voicemail offering “new DNA evidence,” but Kate dismissed it: “I’ve had hundreds of messages over the years. Not many claim to be Madeleine, but this… it crossed lines.”

Wandelt’s breakdown came as Kate stepped down, her cries echoing: “Why? Why are you doing this?” Comforted briefly by Spragg, she returned composed but haunted, the weight of “unequivocal scientific evidence”—revealed on day one—crushing her narrative. Prosecutor Duck had laid it bare early: DNA tests confirm Madeleine as the McCanns’ biological child; Wandelt shares no link. Born weeks after the abduction, her claims unraveled further in court: not just Madeleine, but Inga Gehricke, a missing German girl, and Acacia Bishop, a vanished Utah infant—serial delusions peddled to charities like Missing Years Ago. Hypnosis “flashbacks” of non-events, like the pink shoe, underscored the fabrication. Spragg, portrayed as the enabler, allegedly “peddled” the story online, plotting bin raids for DNA or restaurant fork thefts. Their WhatsApp exchanges chilled: “If Kate’s alone, she won’t be controlled by Gerry,” Wandelt texted. Spragg replied: “Lol, stakeout again.”

The trial’s backdrop is Madeleine’s unsolved saga—a £13 million Operation Grange probe yielding Brückner as suspect, yet no charges. The McCanns, once suspects themselves (cleared in 2008), have channeled agony into advocacy, their 2011 book Madeleine a testament to endurance. But false hopes like Wandelt’s exacerbate the torment, fueling conspiracy mills that accuse the parents of involvement—a “very cruel accusation,” Duck noted. Public reaction swirls: X posts from accounts like @UKCourtsLive detail the sobs in real-time, while true-crime forums dissect the ethics of empathy for a troubled defendant. Wandelt, remanded since February’s arrest at Bristol Airport, has supporters claiming mental health woes; a GoFundMe lingers, pleading for “help for Julia.” Spragg, on bail, maintains innocence.

As the jury adjourns, Kate’s parting words linger: “The thing I want most is Madeleine back—calling me ‘Mum,’ safe at home.” For the McCanns, this trial isn’t vengeance but validation—a bulwark against the fringes that exploit their void. For Wandelt, it’s a mirror to delusion’s cost, her tears a fractured echo of the girl she’ll never be. In Rothley’s quiet streets, where annual vigils flicker like distant stars, justice plods on, one sob at a time, toward whatever truth endures.