SIMON LEVY LIVED WITH HIS MOTHER, WAS UNDER SURVEILLANCE… YET CARMENZA VALENCIA-TRUJILLO AND SHERYL WILKINS STILL FEATURED IN THIS FILE
Simon Levy was not someone who had never appeared on the authorities’ radar.
He had a history.
He had been through the criminal justice system.
He was subject to offender-management measures.
And, according to accounts emerging around the case, he was living with his mother during part of the period in which authorities were attempting to manage the risk he presented.
On paper, those details might create an impression of control.
A known offender. A known address. Risk assessments. Supervision. Agencies supposedly watching for signs that his behavior was becoming more dangerous.
Yet the names Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo and Sheryl Wilkins would ultimately become inseparable from Simon Levy’s story.
And that leaves a deeply uncomfortable question:
What did being “under surveillance” or supervision actually mean in practice?
HE WAS KNOWN—AND THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING
The disturbing aspect of the Levy case is not simply what authorities discovered after his arrest.
It is what was already known beforehand.
Levy had previous convictions for sexual offending and had come into contact with different parts of the criminal justice system before the killings.
That distinction matters.
When an offender is unknown, investigators may have few opportunities to anticipate what is coming.
When someone is already being managed because authorities recognize a potential risk, expectations are very different.
The public naturally assumes that supervision means warning signs will be noticed.
But supervision does not necessarily mean an officer is physically watching an offender around the clock.
Risk management can involve scheduled contact, reporting requirements, information sharing, assessments and restrictions. The level of intervention can also change when an offender’s assessed risk changes.
And this is where the questions surrounding Levy become increasingly serious.
WHAT HAPPENED WHEN HIS RISK WAS DOWNGRADED?
One of the most controversial elements surrounding the case concerns how Levy’s risk was assessed.
Reports surrounding the subsequent reviews have raised questions about decisions made before the killings, including the management of his risk and whether agencies possessed enough information to recognize an escalating threat.
A downgrade does not automatically mean an offender is considered harmless.
Nor does it prove negligence.
But when a person subsequently commits extraordinarily serious crimes, every previous assessment inevitably comes back under the microscope.
What information was available?
Who had access to it?
Were separate incidents viewed individually rather than as a developing pattern?
And most importantly, did reducing the level of concern affect the intensity with which Levy was subsequently managed?
Those questions cannot be answered simply by pointing to one decision.
The timeline is much bigger.
THEN CAME CARMENZA VALENCIA-TRUJILLO
On March 17, 2025, 53-year-old Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo was found unresponsive at an address on the Aylesbury Estate in south London.
Emergency services could not save her.
A post-mortem examination initially failed to establish a cause of death, complicating the investigation.
But Levy soon became a suspect.
On April 1, he was arrested on suspicion of her murder.
That should be remembered when considering everything that happened afterward.
Authorities were no longer dealing merely with historical offending or theoretical assessments of future risk.
Levy had now been arrested in connection with the death of a woman.
Yet he was subsequently released while the investigation continued.
It was not the end of the story.
THE WARNING SIGNS KEPT ACCUMULATING
By this point, Levy’s history contained far more than a single troubling episode.
A woman had reported being subjected to a serious sexual attack in January 2025.
Levy had previous sexual-offending convictions.
There were further allegations and incidents.
There were court proceedings and bail decisions.
And there were missed opportunities that would later attract scrutiny.
Two Metropolitan Police officers have faced investigation by the Independent Office for Police Conduct over their handling of the January attack investigation, including whether investigative opportunities were missed.
Being investigated does not mean those officers have been found guilty of misconduct.
But the existence of that investigation demonstrates something important:
Authorities themselves recognize that earlier decisions need to be examined.
And those decisions are not being considered in isolation anymore.
They are being viewed through the lens of what came next.
SHERYL WILKINS
On August 24, 2025, Sheryl Wilkins entered the timeline.
CCTV captured the 39-year-old walking with Levy toward a car park near Tottenham High Road during the early hours.
It would become some of the last footage of Sheryl alive.
Her body was discovered later that morning.
Levy was arrested on September 4 and subsequently charged with her murder and serious offences relating to another woman.
The investigation surrounding Valencia-Trujillo also continued, and Levy was later charged with murdering her.
Now the chronology looked terrifyingly different.
A man with previous convictions.
A man whose risk had been managed.
A surviving alleged victim.
A murder investigation.
Release.
Further opportunities for intervention.
And finally another dead woman.
WAS THE “SURVEILLANCE” ENOUGH?
This is perhaps the most important distinction in the entire story.
Saying Levy was subject to supervision does not mean authorities knew his location every minute of every day.
Living with his mother did not make him incapable of leaving the house or committing crimes.
And describing him as being “under constant surveillance” risks suggesting a level of physical monitoring that has not necessarily been established.
The real issue is more complicated—and arguably more disturbing.
Were the safeguards actually proportionate to the danger Levy represented?
If risk-management procedures existed, did officials have the complete picture when applying them?
If information was fragmented between police, probation, prosecutors and courts, did anybody recognize the pattern developing across those separate encounters?
And when Levy’s behavior produced new warning signs, how quickly did that information change the assessment of him?
These are questions about a system, not merely one individual decision.
THE FILE IS GETTING THICKER
What initially appeared to be the prosecution of one violent offender has therefore become something much larger.
Previous decisions are being revisited.
Police conduct has faced independent scrutiny.
Risk assessments are being questioned.
The actions of different criminal-justice agencies are being reconstructed.
What should not happen is for speculation to outrun the evidence.
There is a major difference between proving that officials deliberately “turned a blind eye” and discovering that fragmented information, incorrect assessments, missed opportunities or procedural failures prevented authorities from recognizing the danger quickly enough.
But for the families left behind, that distinction cannot erase the outcome.
Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo was dead.
Months later, Sheryl Wilkins was dead.
And the man eventually convicted of killing them was not someone the authorities had never heard of.
They already knew Simon Levy.
That is what makes this case so difficult to explain away.
The question is no longer simply what Levy did when nobody was watching.
It is what happened while a system designed to manage his risk was supposedly watching him.
And as investigators continue reconstructing that timeline, one question refuses to disappear:
If Simon Levy was already known, supervised and considered enough of a risk to require management, how did the system still fail to prevent Carmenza Valencia-Trujillo and Sheryl Wilkins from becoming the two names at the darkest end of his file?
