THE Slovakian town of Banska Bystrica sits on the edge of the Hron River, surrounded by mountain ranges and with a history that stretches back to 2000 BC.

It has a particularly pretty town square. Námestie SNP square – also known as “National Uprising Square” – is lined with multicoloured buildings, said to be best viewed from its leaning clock tower, built in 1552 as part of the town prison and complete with basement torture room.

The town’s modern prison is five minutes’ drive away.

There’s no torture room, of course. Instead within its modern exterior, in a cell with a radio, with regular meals and the right to at least eight hours of undisturbed sleep per night – plus a 5kg parcel of food and personal items delivered every three months – sits rapist and murderer Marek Harcar.

He’s been there for several months, apparently a less harsh jail then the one he arrived in back in November 2016 following a move from prison in Scotland to be closer to his family.

Once a month – if they choose – they can spend time with him.

Of course, that’s a privilege denied to the family of Moira Jones.

His despicable act on the night of May 28, 2008, robbed them of another precious moment with their loved one.

Moira Jones killer to serve rest of his sentence in native homeland

And while 1,600 miles now separate Harcar from the Glasgow park where he took Moira’s life, the awful fallout from his cruel deed is felt just as keenly today as it was 10 years ago.

According to those closest to her, Moira was a delightful force of nature. “Moira was full of fun and loved life. She loved to socialise,” is how she is described by The Moira Fund, launched by her grieving family to help support others struck numb by the agony of such a brutal loss.

“Her personality and ability shone through with equal brilliance.”

Hardworking, caring and with so much to live for.

And at the other end of the spectrum prowled Harcar.

He arrived in the UK in 2007 having already notched up 13 convictions, including a seven-month sentence in Slovakia for crimes of violence and four further convictions there and in the Czech Republic – again, involving violence.

In Liverpool, he skulked among the eastern European immigrants, taking low paid, low-skilled work in factories.

Within 10 days of arriving in Glasgow, following a day spent boozing on beer and vodka, he would leave a dreadful scar on one of the city’s dear green places.

Moira, 40, had spent the evening with boyfriend Paul Thompson at the Gazelle pub in Finnieston before returning to his nearby flat to eat cheese on toast and drink Irn Bru.

She was meant to stay the night, he told the High Court trial in a heart-breaking testimony that touched on the terrible impact Moira’s murder had had on him and her family.

“I cannot imagine anything worse happening to anyone and it’s not just about what I’m going through,” he said at the time. “It’s what Hugh and Beatrice and Grant (Moira’s parents and brother) are going through and what Moira went through.”

Moira left after a lovers’ tiff. She was parking her Toyota 4x4 just 100 yards from her Queen’s Park flat when Harcar pounced and led her into the nearby park.

“Your conduct that night reflects a level of wickedness very rarely encountered,” said Lord Bracadale at the end of a 19-day High Court trial which had forced Moira’s devastated family to endure minute detail of her final moments.

The 148 acres of Queen’s Park had been a green haven on the Southside, where mothers pushed toddlers in pushchairs, joggers racked up the miles and on a clear day Ben Lomond is visible in the distance.

Near its main walkway is an oak tree planted by Belgian refugees in the wake of the First World War, and a beech tree commemorates the 20th anniversary of the founding of the United Nations in 1945.

The pond attracts swans, coots and ducks, while a circle of stones is thought to be the remnants of a military encampment linked to the 16th century Battle of Langside.

A park ranger found Moira’s battered and lifeless body the following day. Suddenly the park lost its charm, and Moira’s family was plunged into utter hell.

Cowardly Harcar fled for Slovakia within days, but he left behind vital DNA evidence that would convict him.

Chillingly, he took with him Moira’s camera; either a desperate attempt to conceal evidence, something to sell or a sick trophy to remind him of his crime.

Harcar was jailed for life after being found guilty for the rape and murder of Moira. He was ordered to serve at least 25 years.

But behind bars he spent months appealing his conviction. Eventually he switched his focus to plotting a move home to Slovakia.

Experts at the State Hospital at Carstairs had already said they could not treat him, and his move was allowed under the Council of European Convention on the Transfer of Sentenced Prisoners. He is expected to serve at least a further 15 years.

Not that Moira’s grieving mother Bea allows him to occupy her thoughts.

“I don’t feel anger, I don’t feel anything about him,” she says, speaking from her home in England.

“I don’t know where he is, I don’t care where he is and I don’t want to know.

“As far as I’m concerned, there isn’t room for him in my head. It’s full of what happened to Moira.”

The tenth anniversary of her daughter’s loss has been yet another emotional challenge to suffer. “It has been very difficult for us,” she adds.

“It doesn’t feel like 10 years, more like 10 weeks.”

Running The Moira Fund and campaigning to for a tightening of criminal background checks on European immigrants – frustrating as that’s proved to be– keep her going, she says.

While last month’s announcement of £1.2m of fresh funding to Victim Support Scotland for work that will include providing murder victims’ families with a dedicated case worker, has brought some comfort.

“That was wonderful and so positive,” she says. “We wanted that to happen for a very long time. It means that families will get help, not just from us but from other sources too.”

In October she will return to Queen’s Park with her close family, just as they have in previous years to watch hundreds take part in a 5km race in Moira’s honour and to raise vital money for The Moira Fund.

Their support – and, indeed, says Mrs Jones, the ongoing support of the community and the care they’ve felt from across the city – has helped bring comfort to the family.

“It is always very, very emotional,” says Mrs Jones. “I feel a big connection with all of those taking part.

“It’s hard to keep up the momentum with fundraising and the people who run for us help so much. The people in Glasgow have been wonderful, we feel their support.”