At 10am this morning Geoff Whaley died in his wife's arms at a Dignatis clinic after sipping a cup of water laced with lethal drugs.

The moment had been a long time coming for Mr Whaley who travelled from his home in Chalfont St Peter in Buckinghamshire to the facility in Switzerland with wife Ann, adopted children Alix and Dominic, and some close friends.

But before the 80-year-old took his last breath surrounded by his loved ones, there was one final thing he needed to do - publish a haunting letter he hoped would be his legacy.

He titled it: 'By the time you read this, I will be dead' and addressed it to all Members of Parliament urging them to change the law surrounding assisted suicide .

"No family should ever have to endure the torment we have undergone in recent weeks," the retired accountant wrote.

"But it will be easier to bear knowing that by sharing it we can contribute to future change."

Mr Whaley, a grandfather-of-four, was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, an incurable, terminal illness, in 2016.

As the years passed he lost the use of his limbs. His ability to speak, swallow and breath also began to rapidly deteriorate.

However, he knew the worst was still to come which is why he chose to die in Switzerland rather than face 'immense suffering' in the end stages of the devastating condition.

He admitted to the BBC : "This is one of the illnesses you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy."

But not only was Mr Whaley crippled by the disease in his final weeks, he says he suffered immense "anguish" at the hands of police and social services who were tipped off about Mr Whaley's plans.

Mrs Whaley, 76, found herself being interviewed under caution by Thames Valley Police.

And Mr Whaley said the added stress of police involvement had "destroyed everything we had done to prepare ourselves".

He wrote: "I was saying my final goodbyes and preparing myself for the end, the final, biggest bomb dropped and I could no longer keep it together.

"This bomb was in fact an anonymous phone call to social services who informed the police of my plans to go to Switzerland. Within hours Ann and I were facing a criminal investigation.

"The thought that I might not make it to Switzerland, or that, if I did, Ann might be facing 14 years in jail for helping me, was almost too much to bear."

Mrs Whaley, 76, who supported her husband's decision, told the BBC it was the first time in their 52 years of marriage that she had ever seen her husband cry.

"He said 'everything that I've worked for to protect you has all been blown apart by this anonymous phone call,'" she said.

"I wasn't frightened because I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong. I wasn't ashamed. I was cross.

"There was a policewoman and a detective sergeant and they were clearly not expecting to find a non-abusive situation because they were very embarrassed about the whole thing."

Helping someone commit suicide is punishable by up to 14 years in prison.

Mrs Whaley booked the flights to Switzerland and a hotel because her husband could no longer use his hands.

"It was so ridiculous to put us through this when he is in the final few days of life," she said.

Police have since dropped the case, but the couple want to see the law changed to allow assisted dying in some circumstances.

They believe the law can be written to ensure vulnerable people are still protected from abuse.

Mrs Whaley admitted: "I just want him to be here, but I know what he has chosen to do is the right thing for him.

"I wouldn't put an animal through what he would go through if he went to the end."

At least three Britons have faced a police investigation after returning from a loved one's assisted death at a Dignitas clinic, the Times reported, although no-one has been prosecuted.

When asked if he is concerned about the consequences his wife could face, Mr Whaley, who spent his last night having dinner with his family at a hotel in Zurich, replied: "Ann can handle anything.

"The one thing that has worried me all along is leaving Ann because I've spent all my life protecting her. Now she'll be without me, but I know she'll get through it."

Mr Whaley's letter to MPs in full:

Dear Members of Parliament,

By the time you read this, I will be dead.

On Thursday 7th February 2019, I will have taken medication that will end my life, surrounded by my wife, Ann, my children, Alix and Dominic, and a couple of my dearest friends at the Dignitas facility in Switzerland. With their love and support I have been able to fulfil my final wish: to be in control of my end, rather than endure the immense suffering motor neurone disease had in store for me.

I want to impress upon you the anguish me and my family have experienced, not because of this awful illness (though of course this has been incredibly difficult), but because of the law against assisted dying in this country. The blanket ban on assisted dying has not only forced me to spend thousands of pounds and endure months of logistical hurdles in order to secure a peaceful and dignified death overseas, but it has meant that my final weeks of life have been blighted by visits from social services and police.

Since my diagnosis of MND, an incurable, terminal illness, in 2016, I felt as though bombs have been dropping on me. I gradually lost the use of all four limbs. My ability to speak, swallow and breathe began rapidly deteriorating. I knew my death was inevitable and unavoidable, but I remained strong for my family. I am 80 years old and have lived a full life. I did not fear death, but I did fear the journey. I simply wanted to cut this suffering short by a few months. When I eventually got the ‘green light’ from Dignitas, a weight lifted; I was able to get on with living without the constant mental anguish over my death.

But then, as I was saying my final goodbyes and preparing myself for the end, the final, biggest bomb dropped and I could no longer keep it together. This bomb was in fact an anonymous phone call to social services who informed the police of my plans to go to Switzerland. Within hours Ann and I were facing a criminal investigation. The thought that I might not make it to Switzerland, or that, if I did, Ann might be facing 14 years in jail for helping me, was almost too much to bear.

In 52 years of marriage, Ann had not seen me cry. The day we were contacted by the police, I sobbed.

The law in this country robbed me of control over my death. It forced me to seek solace in Switzerland. Then it sought to punish those attempting to help me get there. The hypocrisy and cruelty of this is astounding. Though it is perfectly legal for me make arrangements and travel to Dignitas by myself, the minute anyone else ‘assists’ me in any way – which is essential, due to my condition – they are liable for prosecution.

I had the chance, just over a week before my death, to speak to some MPs and Peers about my experience and my adamant wish that the law should be changed. The overwhelming reaction in the room was one of agreement; however, I am aware that despite huge public support for an assisted dying law, most members of parliament currently oppose it. I spoke to one MP who had voted against the last assisted dying Bill in 2015. The law being proposed was limited to terminally ill, mentally competent adults in their final months, with strict inbuilt safeguards to protect the vulnerable and anyone else who has not made a clear decision of their own volition. When I pressed her on why she felt people like me should be denied a say over our own death and be forced to suffer, she was unable to articulate an answer.

I want MPs to know that change is urgently needed and that it is achievable – over 100 million people in several American and Australian states and across Canada are covered by assisted dying laws which allow choice to dying people and protection to others. No family should ever have to endure the torment we have undergone in recent weeks, but it will be easier to bear knowing that by sharing it we can contribute to future change. I sincerely hope that you will truly listen to our story and see the suffering you are inflicting by upholding the status quo.

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Yours sincerely,

Geoffrey Whaley