It's almost two years since his son was killed in Iraq, but John Miller is still waiting to hear from Tony Blair. He tells Nick Morrison why he's finding it hard to face the future.

IN the corner of John Miller's living room is a glass cabinet filled with pictures of his son Simon. There's Simon in his uniform. Simon in the desert. Simon on a night out. Scattered amongst the photographs are glass paperweights etched with Simon's name. On the middle shelf is an urn containing Simon's ashes.

Upstairs, in Simon's old bedroom, there's a shelf with his old footballing trophies, and more pictures on the wall. Simon at his passing out parade. Simon with his football team. Simon and his older brother.

"People say we have got to move on, but how can we possibly move on? We can't even begin to draw a line. We can't even begin to pick the threads up," John says.

What is preventing John and wife Marilyn from moving on are the circumstances of their son's death. It will be two years on Friday since Simon was killed at the age of 21, one of six Royal Military Policemen trapped by a mob in a police station in Iraq.

An Army Board of Inquiry found a number of failings that June 24, but concluded that no individual officer was accountable, and nothing could have prevented the deaths, the largest single loss of life as a result of enemy action since the Falklands War. It's not a judgement that finds much favour with John.

For him, the Army is full of guilty men. From the inexperienced RMP lieutenant who failed to ensure his patrols were all equipped with satellite phones and with the regulation amount of ammunition, to the company commander who left such a novice in charge while he returned to England.

From the major in the Parachute Regiment who negotiated an agreement with the Iraqis that coalition forces would not enter the town of al-Majar al-Kabar without prior notification, but then failed to tell the RMPs, to the brigade commander, who claimed the agreement said patrols would continue, when it did not. In John's eyes, all must bear responsibility for Simon's death.

"I want accountability for the officers in charge. We have to make sure that these people will never put anybody at risk again. Because of their negligence, six young men have lost their lives. I know it won't bring them back, but I'm damned if I don't make sure they never do it to anybody else," says John, 54.

"People say they knew the risks when they joined up, but had they been equipped and had they been informed and had they been shot in a firefight, we would get on with it, but we can't even begin to move on."

What little is known about the events that day suggests the RMP were unprepared for the volatile situation in al-Majar, and put up little fight. Three of them may not even have had their weapons with them when they were cornered and killed. The others either had little time to return fire, or quickly ran out of ammunition. "You can consider it as being killed in action, but at the end of the day we know that he was murdered," says John.

During the General Election, John, a sales manager from Washington, Tyne and Wear, supported Reg Keys, the father of one of the other RMPs killed that day, against Tony Blair in Sedgefield. It was ultimately an unsuccessful attempt, but provided the defining moment of the campaign, as Reg Keys stood up at the count and denounced a visibly squirming Prime Minister for sending soldiers into Iraq under false pretences, and refusing to visit the wounded.

John is clearly disgusted by the lack of contact. He compares it with the treatment of the family of Ken Bigley, the British engineer kidnapped and then executed by Iraqi insurgents last year. Ken Bigley's family received a personal visit from Foreign Secretary Jack Straw, and telephone calls from Mr Blair. Tragic though his death was, and horrifying in its manner, John points out that it was no worse than what happened to the six RMPs. The only difference was that Mr Bigley was in Iraq of his own accord.

"Tony Blair was making personal phone calls, but why has he never done that to one of the British servicemen he sent out there? He never sent Ken Bigley out. He said he took all the risks, but he has refused to talk to us.

"The well-wishings and condolences we got were fantastic. The one thing we didn't get was anything from Tony Blair," he says.

John wrote to Downing Street to complain about the lack of contact, "playing hell" he says, and received a dissembling reply along the lines of it wasn't the Prime Minister's job to send out letters of condolence, but thankfully this has changed and he can now do that.

John holds out little hope of the men who killed his son ever being caught, even though then Defence Secretary Geoff Hoon told him the Army knew their names back in July 2003. When the Ministry of Defence handed jurisdiction over to the Iraqi Central Criminal Court it was effectively washing its hands of the investigation, John says.

He takes some comfort from the knowledge that Simon would have known little about it. He is thought to have been the first one killed, and one of the bullets would have rendered him instantly unconscious. He was hit 17 times, but remarkably none of the other 16 bullets hit any major organs. According to the pathologist's report, most of the bullets hit when Simon was already lying on the ground, including some which took his toes off.

As far as the Army's own responsibility is concerned, John wants an independent inquiry, although this is a remote possibility. Instead, much of his hopes are pinned on the inquest, which must take place by law, although it has been delayed after the Government refused to provide additional resources to help the coroner carry out his inquiries, and is not expected before August at the earliest.

But the inquest should give the families of the six RMPs the opportunity to cross-examine the officers involved, and could provide the impetus for a fresh inquiry. Even if it doesn't, John is determined not to rest until he has done whatever he can, and is prepared to take it to the European courts if necessary.

'It will never bring Simon back, but I'm buggered if I'm going to my deathbed without doing anything about it," he says.

But he recognises the other side of this campaign is that he may never move on. Marilyn, 46, hasn't returned to her supermarket job since Simon's death. Part of John's motivation is to ensure the same thing doesn't happen to John junior, Simon's older brother, who is also in the RMP. But it's Simon's memory which is keeping him going.

In his last letter from Iraq, Simon told his parents how his experience of life there had made him appreciate how precious life was, and how he was determined to make the most of it when he came home. He never got that chance.

"He said, 'I will tell you everything when I get back. We will sit in the pub and talk'. I was so looking forward to that," John says.

"It is an odd thing to say, because we have got another son, but the next day that comes is another day closer to being with Si again. It is just another day closer. You wake up in the morning and think, 'Why has the sun come out?' It is so difficult to go on."