TWO WOMEN DEAD, ANOTHER RAPED AND TUBE PASSENGERS SEXUALLY ASSAULTED: HOW DID THE JUSTICE SYSTEM FAIL TO STOP SIMON LEVY?
The conviction of serial sexual predator Simon Levy has exposed an extraordinary chain of failures across Britain’s criminal justice system, raising the disturbing question of whether two women could still be alive if authorities had acted differently.
Levy, 40, was found guilty at the Old Bailey of murdering Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo and Sheryl Wilkins, as well as two counts of rape, grievous bodily harm and intentional suffocation.
But the crimes for which he has now been convicted did not emerge without warning.
By the time the two women were killed, Levy already had a disturbing history of sexual offending. He had repeatedly come to the attention of authorities and had sexually assaulted women on London’s transport network.
Yet he remained free.
It is that sequence of missed opportunities—not simply Levy’s crimes—that has now placed the Metropolitan Police, British Transport Police and Crown Prosecution Service under intense scrutiny.
Levy’s offending against women stretched back years.
He had previously served a prison sentence for sexually assaulting women in public and was subject to restrictions intended to manage the danger he posed after his release.
But between October 2023 and May 2025, he committed another series of sexual assaults, with most occurring on the London Underground.
Women going about ordinary journeys suddenly found themselves targeted by a repeat sexual offender.
Authorities had opportunities to intervene.
Those opportunities repeatedly failed to remove him from the streets.
After being released from prison in September 2024, Levy was still facing allegations connected to sexual assaults on the Tube.
Instead of being securely contained as his risk escalated, he remained at liberty during crucial periods.
Then his violence became dramatically worse.
In January 2025, Levy encountered a woman in Tottenham.
What followed became one of the most harrowing pieces of evidence presented against him.
The woman described being violently attacked, raped and suffocated. She fought for her life as Levy overpowered her, suffering a broken collarbone during the assault.
She survived.
That should have been an enormous warning.
According to evidence subsequently examined in the case, the woman was able to identify Levy and investigators had information capable of pointing toward him.
Yet the investigation did not result in Levy being immediately taken permanently off the streets.
Weeks later, another woman would die.
In March 2025, Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo became Levy’s first murder victim.
Her death represented a devastating escalation from sexual offending to homicide.
But even then, the system failed to prevent what came next.
Levy was arrested during the investigation but was subsequently released on bail.
Five months later, in August 2025, Sheryl Wilkins was murdered.
The evidence surrounding Wilkins’s death demonstrated extraordinary violence. A pathologist found around 80 injuries on her body, including dozens inflicted around the time of her death.
The deaths of Valencia-Trujillo and Wilkins transformed scrutiny of Levy’s history.
Investigators could now look backward and see warning after warning.
There were previous convictions.
There were sexual assaults.
There was an alleged rape.
There were bail decisions.
There were missed hearings.
And there were opportunities when agencies possessed information that, if handled differently, might have resulted in Levy being detained.
Some of the failures were startlingly basic.
There were delays in investigating earlier allegations.
Important information was not always presented effectively during decisions concerning bail.
Levy failed to attend court hearings without the immediate consequences that might have been expected for someone with his history.
Authorities also faced criticism over the way information was shared and how his escalating risk toward women was assessed.
British Transport Police had responsibility for investigating many of the assaults committed on the transport network.
The Metropolitan Police became involved in other investigations.
The Crown Prosecution Service was responsible for crucial charging and prosecution decisions.
Instead of those separate parts forming an effective safety net, Levy repeatedly slipped through.
The authorities themselves have now acknowledged serious failures.
The Metropolitan Police described what happened as a collective system failure, while the CPS has apologized for mistakes connected to the handling of the case.
Two officers have also faced misconduct proceedings, and independent scrutiny has followed.
But those acknowledgements arrive after two women are dead.
That fact gives the case its most uncomfortable question.
Were the murders preventable?
No institution can predict every crime an offender might commit.
Police cannot legally imprison someone indefinitely because officers fear that person could become more dangerous.
Prosecutors must operate within evidential rules.
Courts must make decisions based upon information presented to them.
But Levy was not an unknown individual suddenly committing violence without a history.
He was a proven sexual offender whose behavior toward women was escalating.
That distinction is why the case has provoked such anger.
The women Levy targeted were often vulnerable.
Prosecutors argued that this vulnerability was part of his calculation: he believed he could attack women who might struggle to obtain attention or justice and escape serious consequences.
For a period, that belief appeared horrifyingly accurate.
His behavior on the London Underground also illustrates how apparently separate sexual assaults can become part of a much larger pattern.
An unwanted sexual touching on public transport may appear far removed from murder.
But when the same offender repeatedly targets women, authorities must consider the pattern rather than treating every incident as an isolated file.
Levy’s case demonstrates what can happen when those warning signs are not connected quickly enough.
His eventual arrest revealed further disturbing material.
Investigators searching his home found thousands of newspaper cuttings concerning serious and violent crimes. Examination of his computer uncovered a huge collection of material, including content relating to notorious offenders and a document titled “My Sex Record.”
None of that retroactively proves that authorities could have predicted precisely what Levy would eventually do.
But combined with his actual offending history, it contributes to the picture of a man whose obsession with violence and sexual offending demanded exceptionally careful management.
The focus must now extend beyond Levy himself.
He has been convicted.
He faces a mandatory life sentence for murder.
The more difficult institutional question is what happens after the headlines disappear.
Police forces and prosecutors must determine why information was delayed, why warning signs were missed, why bail procedures failed to contain an escalating offender and why women reporting sexual violence were not protected more effectively.
Those questions matter because the next Simon Levy will not necessarily arrive carrying an obvious warning label.
The warning may instead appear as separate reports.
A sexual assault on a train.
Another complaint.
A missed court appearance.
A bail violation.
A frightened woman identifying her attacker.
Individually, each event becomes another case file.
Together, they may reveal something far more dangerous.
Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo and Sheryl Wilkins cannot benefit from the lessons authorities now promise to learn.
The surviving women Levy attacked must live with what happened to them.
That is why this case cannot end simply with a judge imposing a life sentence.
The conviction answers who committed these crimes.
It does not answer the more painful question now confronting Britain’s justice system:
Why was Simon Levy still free to commit them?
