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BBC racing commentator John Hunt, whose wife and two of his daughters were murdered last July, describes in an emotional first interview the legacy of love they left behind.

It was this, John and his daughter Amy tell the BBC, that had helped sustain them through their trauma and grief.

Carol, Louise and Hannah remained such a constant presence in their lives that he still talks to them every day, almost a year on from their deaths, John says.

“From the moment I wake up, I say good morning to each of them,” he says.

“Sometimes I say out loud to Hannah and Louise, ‘girls, sorry I can’t be with you, I’m with your mum at the moment’. As I close my eyes at night, I chat to them as well. They’re very close to me all the time.”

John and Amy say they took the decision to talk publicly now because they did not want their loved ones to be defined by their deaths. They also feel much of the initial reporting after the murders was inaccurate and it added to their pain.

They’ve also shared previously unseen family photos with the BBC.

Kyle Clifford fatally stabbed 61-year-old Carol, raped his former partner, Louise, 25, then used a crossbow to shoot both her and her sister Hannah, 28 – all at their family home in Bushey, Hertfordshire, in July last year.

Amy says the minute Clifford left their home on the day of the incident, “my mum, Hannah and Louise became a statistic. They became victims of Kyle Clifford.”

“I want to breathe life back into my mum, Hannah and Louise as fully-rounded people.”

Amy and John tell the BBC’s Victoria Derbyshire they also strongly reject reports there were clear signs of abuse by Clifford during his relationship with Louise.

The Hunt family have always been extremely close.

In the early years of their marriage, Carol encouraged John – then a police officer – to pursue his dream of becoming a racing commentator.

That unending belief was inherited by their three daughters – Amy, the eldest, their middle daughter Hannah, and Louise, “the baby”. They talked all the time and shared everything with each other.

John, Carol, Hannah and Louise lived together in their home in Bushey, Hertfordshire. Louise ran a dog-grooming business from a pod in the garden and Hannah worked in aesthetics and beauty.

Their life, John says, was “one of complete happiness – awash with it, really”.

They remember one Friday night last May, two months before the murders, when the three sisters had gone out for sushi together.

“We were talking about how lucky we’d been as a family, to have had the parents we’ve had and the life we’ve had,” Amy says.

John agrees, and adds that when Hannah came home from the dinner, she was “typically effusive”.

“She came barnstorming through the door, and Carol said something like, ‘you had a lovely time?’ And she said, ‘do you know what, mum? We talked about how lucky we have been. We have been so lucky. We’ve not had a minute of concern or worry through the lives you’ve given us’,” he says.

“It’s a beautiful thing to recall. It was a beautiful thing to hear at the same time.”

While things were idyllic with the family, Louise and Clifford’s relationship had started to sour. At the end of June, Louise broke up with him.

Less than two weeks later, on 9 July, Clifford turned up at the family’s home on the pretext of returning some of Louise’s things.

Doorbell footage captured the moment Carol opened the door to Clifford, and greeted him with friendly advice.

“Maybe… maybe think in the next relationship,” she told him, “the way you are, maybe try and change. If you carry on like this you’ll end up on your own.” Clifford agreed, seemingly cordial, and told her he had started therapy.

Carol turned to go into the house, and Clifford followed her inside.

He then stabbed her multiple times, before waiting in the house for Louise to come back inside from her dog grooming pod. When she did, he restrained, raped, and killed her with a crossbow. When Hannah returned later, he shot her with the crossbow too.

In her dying moments, Hannah messaged her boyfriend, Alex, and managed to call 999. She was able to tell them what had happened and, crucially, who was responsible. John was in central London at the time. He believes Clifford intended to kill him too.

“Police officers of 30 years’ experience had their breath taken away by how brave she was, how she was able to think so clearly in that moment, to know what she needed to do,” John says.

Asked if Hannah’s actions saved his life, John adds: “That’s what I believe.

As the news of the murders spread, the narrative spun out of control.

John says “from day one” their family – and in particular, Louise – was “completely misrepresented in the media and on social media”, including false suggestions Louise was in a controlling and coercive relationship with Kyle Clifford.

He and Amy recall misinformation on news sites, including the claim that John had been the one to discover his wife and daughters’ bodies in their home.

They also remember photographs being lifted from their loved ones’ social media pages by sections of the media without consent, something John describes as “grave-robbing”.

Amy recalls one newspaper headline reading, “Crossbow maniac was jilted”, a framing she describes as “victim-blaming”.

But most painful, they say, were claims in the press that there were clear signs of abuse and misogyny in Clifford’s relationship with Louise.

John and Amy say the family had misgivings about Clifford – there were things about him they didn’t particularly warm to. He was immature and, at times, inconsiderate. They say he couldn’t deal with conflict, and was bad at taking criticism. The family, including Louise, would talk to each other about Clifford’s lack of consideration.

But their relationship also seemed unremarkable, they say. The two of them would giggle and cuddle in the house, watch films together, cook together, go on holidays to Europe and take weekend trips to the seaside.

A turning point came when the couple went away for a friend’s wedding. The night before the ceremony, Louise struggled to use the oven in their accommodation. The next day, when other wedding guests asked Louise what she did for a living, Clifford would interject with the barb that “one thing she doesn’t do is know how to work an oven properly”.

Clifford started to belittle her. When looking through the couple’s text messages after Louise’s death – something John says he found “very difficult to do” as the messages were personal to Louise – they noticed signs, from spring 2024, of “gentle manipulation”.

But did they notice anything at the time that suggested the relationship was abusive?

No, John says. Clifford never physically assaulted Louise when they were together. The family also never heard them raise their voices at each other.

“At the point of Louise ending [the relationship], there was absolutely evidence that he had turned out not to be a nice person,” Amy says.

“But I want to put it very bluntly now. Did we have any indication that this man was capable of stabbing my mother, of tying Louise up, of raping Louise, of shooting Louise and shooting Hannah? Absolutely not.

“He’s often been referred to as ‘crossbow killer’ and ‘crossbow maniac’ – but that takes away from the very real issue we know to be true. He was just a person, just a man… who went to the gym, had a family, had a relationship, watched TV.

In the months that followed the murders, John and Amy had to navigate a complex criminal justice system.

John makes a point of highlighting the “incredible people” who supported them – the police officers, their family liaison officers, their barrister, and the “compassionate” judge who oversaw the rape trial and sentenced Clifford. They were, they say, “very lucky to have met these people in these terrible circumstances”.

But, he adds, “each of them is working in a system that is clearly not fit for purpose”.

On the day Clifford appeared at magistrates’ court after being charged, John and Amy’s family liaison officers weren’t able to attend the hearing with them as they were at another murder in Luton.

“It just so happened that that morning in the magistrates’ court, they revealed aspects of the murders that we had not heard of at all, from anybody,” John says. “That was an awful day.”

Amy then found out the details of her sister Hannah’s final words on the phone to 999, from a newspaper headline.

When they spoke to the CPS about their concerns, they were given a complaint form and told to return it within 28 working days – “as if we’d had our bike stolen”.

On another day, when Clifford was due to enter his pleas, Amy says they were told the hearing needed to be postponed because the prison transport “didn’t turn up to take him to court”.

The proceedings were long and torturous for John and Amy. Clifford initially denied the charges against him, before pleading guilty to everything except the charge of rape. This meant the case had to go to trial. He was convicted in March.

Clifford refused to attend his sentencing later that month, meaning he did not hear the judge’s damning comments about him, or the devastating testimonies written by John and Amy.

“It’s consistently a system that prioritises the perpetrator,” Amy says. “That’s a traumatising thing for so many people.”

The Crown Prosecution Service says it has apologised, and it has “the utmost admiration for the Hunt family, who had the strength and courage to attend court every day and hear first-hand the devastating truth of what happened to Carol, Louise and Hannah.

In the months since the sentencing, John and Amy say they’ve been trying to focus on living again.

“When it happened I thought, ‘how on earth am I ever going to be able to care about anything ever again’?” John says.

“It’s fine to sit with that thought in the wreckage of what was our personal disaster. But you come to realise that, with a little bit of work, you can find some light again.”

He says they’ve found comfort in good counsellors and support groups, mindfulness exercises, and the love and support they have for each other.

But above all, every day he remembers Hannah’s final act, and how it saved his life. “I get to live,” he says. “Hannah gave me that, and I’ve got to treat it as a gift from her.”