ALICE Clark was like any other 15-year-old girl - excited for her prom, a lover of animals, Christmas and her family.
But in December 2024, after being off school sick for two days, with her mum Joanne Garcia-Dios watching over her, she died of a paracetamol overdose.
When Joanne, 43, found her daughter incoherent in her bedroom, she discovered from friends that Alice had taken a fatal dose of the painkiller days before.
Joanne and her family, from West Parley, near , do not believe Alice meant to end her life, and are petitioning for the law to change regarding the sale of paracetamol.
Here, she tells her story and makes a plea to all parents...
IT was a summer’s day, but as I walked into the kitchen, it smelt like .
As ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ blasted from the speakers, my daughter Alice, then 11, turned to me, flour dusted on her cheeks.
“What do you think, Mum?”
she said, pulling out a tray of gingerbread men.
“They’re perfect, sweetheart, but it’s only August!” I chuckled.
“You know Christmas is my favourite time of year,” she grinned. “I couldn’t wait!”
Alice was always making me, her stepdad Rudi and brother Jake, 17, laugh. Jake and Alice were each other’s worlds.
Alongside Christmas, Alice adored animals and enjoyed collecting snails and woodlice from the garden, making them her pets.
She was family-orientated too, and loved spending time with my parents - who she called Nanny and Bop-Bop - and her dad, Rob.
Before I knew it, my little girl had turned 15.
Her were her next big exams and after that, her prom. Alice had sent me photos of prom dresses she liked, all in her favourite shade, baby blue.
I knew she would look like a princess, with
her blonde hair
and model looks.
At Christmas, she had a tree up in her room, decorated with Jellycat teddies.
It was a December morning when I went into her bedroom, but she didn’t seem herself.
“I’ve got a funny tummy,” she said.
“Don’t worry about school today,”
I told her.
I was working from home so I could keep an eye on her.
She spent the day on the sofa, but later, seemed to rally. She went to her orthodontist appointment and was her normal chatty self.
But the next morning, she texted me from her room.
“I’ve been sick and my tummy hurts,” she wrote.
Alice was sick a few more times that day, but she was also laughing and joking.
“I’m popping out for a bit,” I said to Alice later. “Do you need anything?”
But when she replied, she wasn’t making sense and slurring her words.
What Alice’s friend told me left me reeling
Mothers’ instinct kicked in - could it be a ,
I thought?
“What’s your brother called?” I asked. “I don’t have a brother,” she replied.
I asked her what month it was, thinking she had to know with the Christmas tree right beside her. But to my shock, she was stumped.
“I’m ringing 999,” I said to Rudi.
Back at hospital, doctors told us the next few days were critical. As the hours passed, we held Alice’s hands and stroked her hair.
Joanne Garcia-Dios Alice Clark's mum
As we waited for paramedics, Alice’s phone didn’t stop ringing.
“Alice is really poorly and can’t talk now,” I told her friend.
But what he said sent me reeling. He told me my girl had taken an two days ago.
“No way,” I said, not believing it. But the first thing
I did was tell the paramedics.
“This isn’t my daughter, but
I’m relaying what I’ve been told,” I said.
Alice was so sensible, and had seemed absolutely fine.
She was rushed to hospital, where they ran
tests all night. Rudi, Rob and
I were beside ourselves.
Alice was falling in and out of consciousness and so confused, as we stayed by her side all night.
The next morning, the doctor came to see us. “Alice has acute ,” he said.
They believed it was caused by taking too many paracetamol tablets.
Alice was given dialysis treatment, but wasn’t improving.
We were told that Alice would need to be put into an induced coma and moved to a specialist hospital in London.
“It’ll give her brain the best chance of survival,” the doctor said.
While Alice was transferred by ambulance, I picked up Jake.
Back at hospital, doctors told us the next few days were critical.
As the hours passed, we held Alice’s hands and stroked her hair.
Heartbreaking goodbyes
By 10pm, we hadn’t slept for so long, so we decided to go and get some rest.
“Good night, Alice,” I said, kissing her forehead, before Jake and I went to the family accommodation.
Only 10 minutes later, Rob called me. “You need to get back now,” he said.
Jake and I ran to her ward. Rudi and one of my sisters had just been driving home, but they turned back too.
“I’m so sorry, but Alice isn’t responding to treatment,” the doctor said.
Then suddenly she went into .
After 25 minutes, she came round, but moments later, they were working on her again.
Jake was too upset and waited in the family room with his auntie, my sister, while Rob and my husband tried to shield me from what was happening.
But despite trying for another half an hour, they couldn’t save Alice.
I let out a cry of pain as Rudi held me.
I’d never believed she wouldn’t make it, never thought I’d need to say “I love you”.
The loss was excruciating.
We were allowed some time with Alice, and Jake helped the nurse take Alice’s hand and footprints.
Searching for answers
The next days sped by in a blur of grief and confusion.
I just couldn’t understand why Alice had taken the pills and how she’d deteriorated so quickly.
The police took her phone to glean clues from her messages.
In time, we held Alice’s funeral, where everyone wore a splash of baby blue.
Car-loving Alice would have been thrilled to be escorted to her prom in a supercar, but she’d never get that chance, so my son-in-law contacted three supercar owners to accompany her on her final journey.
As her coffin was carried out of the 
car, the drivers of
the cars, including a Lamborghini and Ferrari, revved their engines.
My eulogy, which was read out by the priest, talked of her love for her family, Jellycats, cars and loud music.
“Alice left this world far too soon, leaving behind so many people who absolutely adored her,” he said. “She leaves a huge emptiness in the hearts of everyone who loved her.”
After police returned Alice’s phone and I’d spoken to her friends, I pieced together, as best as I could, what had happened before she died.
My beautiful, smiley Alice never appeared to be in a dark place and her struggles with mental health escalated so quickly, it came as a horrendous shock to us all.
Joanne
and messages from Alice showed she had taken several paracetamol tablets in one go over several hours.
She’d received harassing, then nasty messages from school pupils and also had the stress of looming exams.
Although she’d told several of her peers she had taken
the pills, none of them had told an adult.
I learnt that if caught early, doctors could have pumped her stomach and even 24
hours later, they could have given her medicine that reversed the effects.
If only someone had said something, I thought, desperately.
We don’t believe Alice realised the severity of what she’d done, or that taking that many paracetamol could kill her.
We believe that Alice thought that by being sick she was getting them out of her system.
‘I’ve done something silly’
By the time any of us, including her, realised something serious was wrong, she wasn’t talking properly or making any sense.
Even in those conscious moments, she still didn’t tell us what she’d done.
She told one of her boy friends, “I’ve done something silly” - we don’t believe she meant to end her life.
As time went on, I did more research and was shocked.
People saw paracetamol as harmless and readily available, but thousands were admitted to hospital with overdoses every year.
I wanted everyone to know the dangers, that medicines should be locked away, even if parents thought they had sensible children.
I’ve started a petition to call for the medication to be taken from supermarket shelves and placed behind the counter at a , where it can be dispensed by
a pharmacist.
I also want to raise awareness of the and the importance of speaking up if you know someone has taken too many tablets, even if it feels as if you’re betraying their trust.
My beautiful, smiley Alice never appeared to be in a dark place and her struggles with escalated so quickly, it came as a horrendous shock to us all.
My life’s purpose now is to raise awareness of her death and prevent this from happening to anyone else.
In the name of my gorgeous girl, I’m determined to save others.
