By Gemma Fraser
Head of content
But on June 17, 1994, her police officer husband Lewis was stabbed and killed while on duty in Glasgow, aged just 28.
“His superintendent telephoned,” recalls Christine. “At that point they said he was serious but stable, but he was talking and responding to commands.
“At worst, they were saying it was a punctured lung. It was only when they actually went to operate that they discovered the knife had pierced his heart.”
Lewis’s death tore Christine’s world apart, and she was left to bring up the couple’s seven-month-old son Luke alone – although she describes having her baby to focus on as “a blessing”.
“I had to get out of bed whether I wanted to or not,” she says.
Lewis’s murder also sent shockwaves through the policing community, and Christine felt the love and support of his colleagues in the aftermath of his death.
“I always say I cannot fault Strathclyde Police,” she tells 1919. “They really were tremendous.
“The welfare officer was there all the time, the chief constable was at the end of the phone, his superintendent was there all the time, plus his colleagues who obviously were friends. We had quite a tight-knit group.
“It got to the point where the police couldn’t physically do anymore. They’d got me through the funeral, they’d helped filling out all the forms.
“They couldn’t really do anymore because they hadn’t walked in my shoes – which is where the charity later came in, the peer support.
“But if I ever needed anything and I phoned, they would help. There was never any doubt about that.”
“It was a weight lifted off my shoulders that I hadn’t even known was there”
The charity Christine refers to is Care of Police Survivors (COPS), which she co-founded almost a decade after Lewis’s death.
It stemmed from visiting an equivalent organisation in the US, and speaking to police officer widows.
“I went not expecting to get anything out of it,” Christine admits. “As far as I was concerned, it was 10 years down the line, I’d dealt with my demons.
“And suddenly here I was with police widows, who I’ve never ever had the opportunity to really sit down and talk to.
“So, having gone to America and spoken to all of these ladies, I just felt so much better.
“It was a weight lifted off my shoulders that I hadn’t even known was there.
“And I came home thinking, ‘right, we’ve got to start something similar here’, and didn’t really know how I was going to go about it, but I knew there was a need for it.”

Lewis and Christine’s wedding day
It is perhaps an understatement to say that Christine was met with a lot of barriers when suggesting her ideas back in the UK.
It was a different time 30 years ago, and peer support for bereaved families wasn’t viewed as something that was needed – or wanted – within the police community.
“I don’t know whether it spurred me on, but I was determined it was happening, whether they wanted me to or not,” says Christine.
Her determination never wavered, and before long – with the help of the Police Roll of Honour Trust and the police motorcycle Blue Knights charity – she was holding her first COPS meeting in Lichfield, Staffordshire, for bereaved families from forces across the UK.
“I expected 46 survivors, and 64 turned up, so I knew from that moment that there was a need,” says Christine.
“There were families stretching back for years who had just never had the opportunity to get together with other families.”
The charity has grown over the past two decades, now supporting 600 people across the UK.
As well as hosting a full weekend taking place each year in Lichfield, there are also offshoot events for spouses, parents, siblings and children. Book groups, keep fit clubs and craft activities are also held for families online.
Her work in growing this supportive community for bereaved families earned her an MBE in 2008.
Alongside all this, Christine has also fought tirelessly for improvements to kit and uniform to help serving officers – and has done so ever since Lewis was killed.
It is a remarkable display of courage and selflessness to want so badly to help those working in a job which ultimately took her husband from her.
But has there ever been a part of Christine which blamed or resented the police service for what happened to her husband?
“I always took the attitude that Lewis knew what the job entailed,” Christine replies, without even having to pause to consider the question. “And he absolutely loved it.
“He knew he didn’t have that protection, but he chose to go and do it. So, I couldn’t blame the police.”
On the day Lewis lost his life, he was called to help colleagues in Norfolk Street in the Gorbals.
Eighteen-year-old Philip McFadden was wandering about the area brandishing a large knife and trying to kick in the shutter doors of several locked shop premises.
During the struggle to disarm him, Lewis was stabbed once by McFadden.
His killer, who was a schizophrenic, was found unfit to plead on the grounds that he was mentally ill at the time, and was sent to the State Hospital in Carstairs.
“They made a number of massive mistakes on the day, there were various things that could have been done differently that would have completely changed the situation,” says Christine.
“But again, you can’t change things.
“And equally, I’ve never felt anger towards McFadden because I’ve always accepted that he was mentally ill, he was a terrified boy fighting for his life. He had no idea what he was doing.
“I think if he’d murdered Lewis in cold blood, that would have been a very difficult situation to deal with, but he was just a terrified little boy.
“It’s one of the things that I fought for at the time was that they had to have better training in dealing with the mentally ill.”
Christine also spent years campaigning for the introduction of body armour for Scottish police – and to this day she continues to fight for Tasers for all frontline officers.
“When Lewis died, they were trialling stab-proof vests, but they were just like tabards, so they were front and back but the sides were open,” she explains.
“And the chief at the time, Leslie Sharp, told me immediately that if Lewis had been wearing one of these vests, it would not have saved him because the knife would have gone in at the side.
“So, he immediately cancelled that trial and said, ‘right, back to the drawing board, start again’.
“They were also trialling side-handled batons, which he authorised immediately and put them into use, so everyone got their training in that fairly quickly, certainly quicker than they should have.”
But going ‘back to the drawing board’ with the body armour saw agonising delays in rolling out the protective equipment to officers in Scotland.
Indeed, it was five years after Lewis’s death before Strathclyde Police began to roll out its new design.
“Other forces in the UK had them issued long before us,” says Christine. “And I remember one day seeing a news report about Durham, who not only got their officers stab-proof vests, their dogs had.
“And I was straight on the phone to the chief, saying their dogs are now wearing vests and our officers aren’t.
“So basically, I just kept nagging them until we got there.
“And in the meantime, we sailed on through better handcuffs and such-like. There were little things that they were introducing, but the vests took a long, long time.”
Campaigning to push through improvements was a comfort for Christine; a chink of hope emerging from such a tragic event.
“It’s been really good for the officers, that they are better protected now than they were when Lewis died, but it was equally as good for me”
“I was just a thorn in their side the whole time,” Christine laughs.
“It gave me something to focus on and a reason to go out in the world and speak to people.
“I know, from talking to others, that the urge to just stagnate and stop in the house under your duvet is very, very strong, and you have to have a reason to get out of that.
“I know it’s been really good for the officers, that they are better protected now than they were when Lewis died, but it was equally as good for me.”
In December, Christine was one of the first recipients of the Elizabeth Emblem, an award commemorating public servants who died in the line of duty – the civilian equivalent of the Elizabeth Cross, which recognises members of the UK Armed Forces who died in action.
Along with her son Luke – now a paramedic – she travelled to a special ceremony at Windsor Castle, where she was personally awarded the silver medal by King Charles.
“We were being told it would either be the Chief Constable or maybe the Lord Lieutenant who would present it, but then we got a message saying the King would like to present it in person, so that was very exciting,” Christine says.
“I was the very last person, so he worked his way along and I could hear him chatting to everybody, and when he got to me, he was asking all about COPS and he was asking Luke about being a paramedic.”
Christine recalls: “Then he wished us all happy Christmas and told us all to go and get a glass of champagne, and they came round with trays of champagne – I’ve got to say, it was spectacular.
“I’ve had bottles of Moët or whatever, and I don’t know what this was, but it wasn’t your supermarket plonk, I can tell you.”
Christine shows no sign of slowing down, stating her focus is very much on the work of COPS, and the Scottish Police Memorial Trust.
“But if there’s ever anything I think the police need help with, I’ll be there.”