Martina Karos, a 40-year-old mother, took the life of her 8-year-old daughter—who had been blind since birth and unable to speak—before ending her own life by carbon monoxide poisoning inside their home in Greater Manchester on the evening of January 17, 2026. Emergency services discovered the bodies the following morning after a concerned relative raised the alarm when the pair missed a scheduled medical appointment and failed to respond to repeated calls.

Upon entering the property, officers found the child in her specially adapted bedroom and Martina nearby. A single handwritten note was discovered on the bedside table. The contents, read aloud during the opening of the coroner’s inquest on January 20, have since spread across social media and news outlets, leaving millions in tears:

“I’m sorry to everyone. I can’t watch her suffer anymore. Every day she cries in silence, every day she hurts and I can’t fix it. I’m taking her with me so she won’t be alone, so she won’t suffer when I’m gone. Please look after my little boy. Tell him Mummy and sister are together now and not in pain. I love you all. I’m sorry.”

The note ended with a barely legible final line: “Forgive me if you can.”

Forensic examination confirmed that the child had been given a fatal overdose of prescription sedatives from Martina’s own medication before the mother sealed the room and released carbon monoxide. There were no signs of struggle or resistance from the girl, who police believe was already deeply unconscious when the poisoning began. The deaths have been ruled as murder followed by suicide, with no third-party involvement.

Martina had been the sole full-time caregiver for her daughter since the child’s birth. The girl suffered from congenital blindness combined with severe neurological impairment that left her unable to speak, walk independently, or communicate beyond basic sounds of discomfort. She required tube feeding, constant pain management, frequent hospital visits, and 24-hour supervision. Neighbors and friends described Martina as “completely devoted” but increasingly isolated. She rarely left the house except for medical appointments and had gradually turned down most offers of respite care from social services, reportedly terrified that admitting she was struggling would lead to her daughter being taken into residential care.

In the months before the tragedy, those closest to her noticed alarming changes: chronic insomnia, panic attacks when leaving the home, and repeated statements that she “couldn’t imagine life without her daughter—and couldn’t imagine her daughter living without her.” She confided in one friend that she feared the system would “take her baby away” if she asked for more help. That terror—of losing control, of her child suffering alone after she was gone—appears to have driven her to the unthinkable conclusion that death was the only way to keep them together and end the pain.

The girl’s father, who had separated from Martina several years earlier but remained involved in the children’s lives, released a short statement through his solicitor: “I have lost my daughter and the mother of my son. There are no words for this pain. My only focus now is protecting my boy and making sure his sister is remembered for the beautiful, happy child she was.”

The surviving younger brother, who was staying with relatives at the time of the incident, is receiving specialist psychological support. Community members have created a small memorial outside the family home—teddy bears, flowers, candles, and hundreds of handwritten notes. One of the most repeated messages: “You were both loved beyond words.”

The case has reignited fierce debate across the UK about the support available to families caring for children with profound disabilities. Charities including Mencap, Scope, Contact, and Sense have issued urgent joint calls for increased funding for respite care, emergency mental-health intervention for carers, and better crisis support systems. “When a parent believes death is the only way to protect their child from suffering, the entire system has already failed them both,” a Mencap spokesperson said. “We cannot keep asking carers to carry impossible loads in silence.”

The coroner has opened and adjourned the inquest pending further investigation, including a full review of the family’s interactions with health services, social care, and mental-health support over the preceding years. Police have emphasized that no additional criminal charges will be pursued beyond the circumstances of the deaths themselves.

Online, the story has generated millions of views and an outpouring of grief, anger, empathy, and calls for change. Parents of disabled children have shared their own stories of exhaustion, fear, and the crushing guilt that comes with needing help but being afraid to ask for it. Many have said Martina’s note, however horrific, exposed a truth they had long felt but never dared voice: the terror of what happens to their child when they are no longer there to protect them.

This is not a story of evil. It is a story of despair so complete that a mother believed the only way to end her daughter’s suffering was to end both their lives. It is a story of a broken system that—despite the best efforts of many dedicated professionals—sometimes leaves the most vulnerable families to carry unbearable weight alone. And it is a story of love—desperate, protective, and ultimately tragic—that saw no other way forward.

Martina Karos and her daughter are gone. But the questions they leave behind will not fade quietly. How many more families are silently breaking? How many more parents are reaching the same dark conclusion? And how long will society wait before finally giving carers the support they need before it is too late?