Furthermore, in subsequent High Court proceedings in 1993, when six of the bereaved families applied for the inquest verdicts to be set aside, it was considered that Dr Popper’s conduct of the inquest had been unorthodox and that he had failed to comply strictly with Coroners Rules. Yet the High Court rejected the application to dismiss the proceedings and the verdict.
The question about the adequacy of the process was enquired into yet again in 1997, when Lord Justice Stuart-Smith was asked by the incoming Labour government to undertake a review of the residual contentions of the families and other campaigners. Lord Justice Stuart-Smith agreed with the High Court about the unorthodox nature of the original procedures and he also formed the view that, under Dr Popper’s direction, the complexity and enormity of the process had caused the generic hearing to become out of control. Lord Justice Stuart-Smith concluded that, in hindsight, it might have been better for the Coroner to have avoided the need for any generic inquisition into how the ninety-five died by simply adopting the Taylor Inquiry report as his guide. That would have satisfied the bereaved families much more than Dr Popper’s fragmentary process.
Some relatives found, after this whirlwind procedure in a strange town, in which they had felt excluded from the proceedings, that they were still no wiser about how their loved one had died. By contrast, the recent inquest conducted by Lord Justice Goldring has sat for almost 300 days and has tried to put the families at the heart of the process.
Those families that did go to hear the proceedings at the resumed, ‘generic’, inquest back in 1990 also heard a tired and familiar story: that some unruly fans had precipitated the disaster.
‘The police’, as a body, had been represented at the Taylor Inquiry by a single legal team and barrister. By the time of the inquests, ‘the police’ were a more disparate group of separate interests. There were five legal teams at the inquest representing the interests of individual police officers who considered themselves to be at risk in the proceedings. Whilst the arguments adopted by individual counsel are independent of each other, it must have felt, to the families, like a concerted and corporate strategy to defend any criticism of ‘the police’.
Notwithstanding their disappointment about the way the inquest was conducted, by the Coroner and by ‘the police’, the families gathered in Sheffield to learn the verdicts as to the cause of the ninety-five deaths. When the jury were sent out by the Coroner in late March 1991, they had available to them optional verdicts. ‘Unlawful killing’, where death was deemed to have been caused through the gross negligent acts or omissions of persons or organisations, or ‘accidental death’, where a person has died as a result of actions by others that had unintended consequences. There was nothing in between these two verdicts that was permissible in the coronial proceedings of that time. An ‘open verdict’ would also be available, where doubt remained in the minds of the jury as to how the deceased came to their death.
The jury took some days to reach their verdicts. By a majority of nine to two, the jury considered that all ninety-five deceased had met their deaths through accidental causes, as a result of actions or omissions of others that had unintended consequences. We are left to assume that the minority supported an alternative verdict of ‘unlawful killing’ but we can never know what went on behind the jury room door.
The families were outraged. They felt let down by the Coroner, by the jury and by their own collective legal representation, the Hillsborough Steering Committee, which was all that they had been able to afford. How could the newspaper images, which depicted the life ebbing from faces pressed up against the fence in Pen 3 at Hillsborough, be reconciled with a verdict of accidental death? This was another monstrous insult from which the families would never recover.
Reasonably content with Lord Justice Taylor’s version of events from two years previously, the families, and their supporters, were now reeling from two reversals in the space of a few months. No proceedings were to be taken against any individual for any act or omission surrounding the deaths. And now they were being asked to live with the notion that somehow their loved one, who had set off to watch a football match, had had an accident and wouldn’t be coming home. Furthermore, there was at least an insinuation that they were members of a group that was partly responsible for the ‘accident’ that occurred.
The fact that the families could not rest with these conclusions is perfectly understandable. People who only know, vaguely, about a tragic loss of life at a stadium a quarter of a century ago may fail to understand why the bereaved haven’t moved on. This goes to the heart of my earlier ‘Taj Mahal’ point. One can only really understand how it feels if one is affected by it. When faced with what the families consider to be an affront of this magnitude it actually makes the notion of ‘moving on’ even more difficult or impossible.
It was on the steps of the Coroner’s Court in Sheffield in 1991 that the families discovered a shared purpose and a campaigning zeal. It is there that they found the fortitude that would sustain them for twenty more years and enable them to enlist the support of others along the way. They had to fight or give in… But for them there was no second option: they would fight.
In 1993, when six of the bereaved families’ application for the inquest verdicts to be set aside was rejected by the Divisional Court, this may have added further salt to the wounds.
By 1996, the fight for justice was gathering pace, predominantly in Merseyside. The renowned Liverpool dramatist Jimmy McGovern wrote a TV drama called Hillsborough, which was produced by Granada Television and aired on 5 December that year. The film told the story of the disaster through the eyes of three of the bereaved families: the Hicks, the Glovers and the Spearritts. It followed the experiences of the families from the day of the disaster up to the day in 1991 when the inquest verdicts were announced. The McGovern film was a moving account and had a profound effect in raising public consciousness about the families’ struggle. It won the BAFTA award for best drama of 1996 and many other industry plaudits. It has been broadcast since on the twentieth anniversary of the disaster, in 2009; on 15 September 2012, three days after the Hillsborough Panel Report was published; and after the recent inquest verdict of ‘unlawful killing’.
The public outcry that followed the first screening of this film caused Jack Straw, the incoming Home Secretary in a new Labour government, to order a review of Hills borough. There were allegations raised in Mr McGovern’s screenplay which implied that there was evidence that had been withheld or obstructed in the proceedings before Lord Justice Taylor; in the files submitted to the Director of Public Prosecutions and the Attorney General; and in the testimony that was heard by the jury at the Coroner’s Inquest. The Home Secretary appointed Lord Justice Stuart-Smith in June 1997 to enquire into these matters.
Lord Justice Stuart-Smith reported in February 1998 that he had considered all the matters that had been brought to his attention by the families and other parties. He had met or received submissions from thirty-four families. He had also received oral and written submissions from counsel and solicitors representing the families, and from Professor Phil Scraton, who was, at this time, leading the ‘Hillsborough Project’ at Edge Hill University College.
The Hillsborough Project, part funded by Liverpool City Council, was commissioned in 1990 to conduct research into the causes of the disaster and its aftermath. The research would culminate in 1999 with the publication of the book Hillsborough: The Truth written by Professor Scraton. This book, according to the Hillsborough Project website, concluded, a full thirteen years before the publication of the Hillsborough Panel Report, that the Hillsborough disaster represented a serious miscarriage of justice and a cover-up by the police.
The families, and those supporting them, could not comprehend, therefore, why Lord Justice Stuart-Smith had not agreed with this view when he reported to Parliament in 1998.
Lord Justice Stuart-Smith did reach the conclusion that it was not satisfactory for an inquest to inquire int
o the causes of deaths in relation to a major disaster when an inquiry chaired by a High Court Judge had already covered the same ground. The families might have taken some solace from the fact that Lord Justice Stuart-Smith was reinforcing the primacy of the Taylor Inquiry in apportioning cause and blame. They remained stuck, however, with the formal verdict of ‘accidental death’, and that sore would fester for a further eighteen years.
After the decision of the Director of Public Prosecution, in 1990, to not institute proceedings against David Duckenfield or any other person or body in connection with the disaster, the families had been considering their options. In 1998, they began private proceedings against Mr Duckenfield and Bernard Murray, his deputy at Hillsborough on the fateful day. The families were able to contemplate this financially daunting step because of funds raised in support of their cause. A significant source was from the proceeds of the Hillsborough Justice Concert held in 1997 when, once again, Anfield hosted a capacity crowd with all proceeds from the concert going to the Hillsborough Family Support Group. The headline act was the Manic Street Preachers, who later released a recording of their song ‘South Yorkshire Mass Murderers’. The question of whether the concert and the recording might influence the jury became a contentious issue in preparing for the subsequent trial of David Duckenfield and Bernard Murray. Mr Justice Hooper, the trial judge, decided that a jury would be capable of discounting the prejudicial effect of such peripheral matters.
Getting the two officers to court was a tortuous process. The case was begun by laying a formal criminal allegation before a Merseyside Magistrate’s Court thus triggering a private prosecution. It was, ultimately, and after several legal wrangles, adopted as a public prosecution and the case was heard at Leeds Crown Court in June 2000. It is typical of the determination of the families that they overcame all kinds of legal obstacles that were put in their way.
The two faced charges of manslaughter and misconduct in a public office. In the course of the proceedings the trial judge ordered that the misconduct charges be withdrawn leaving the indictments of manslaughter. Having heard all the evidence, the jury in the case deliberated for five days before returning their verdicts. In relation to Bernard Murray, the jury were unanimous that he was not guilty. In respect of David Duckenfield, the jury failed to agree, in either unanimity or majority, whether he was guilty or not guilty of homicide.
This was yet another setback in the families’ long struggle for justice. Furthermore, Mr Duckenfield had retired from the police service in 1990. He had been unable to work due to the effects of stress since the conclusion of the Taylor Inquiry. He retired prematurely, on the grounds of ill health, a year later. He was therefore beyond the reach of any disciplinary proceedings and this gave the families an added grievance. No one has ever lost a day’s pay, let alone their liberty, for any acts and omissions at Hillsborough. Given the stinging rebuke, by Lord Justice Taylor, in relation to the police command and control at Hillsborough, it is hard to argue against the families’ sense of grievance.
After the double disappointment of the Stuart-Smith rejection, and the failed prosecution of the main targets, the families might have been forgiven for giving up. It had been eleven long years of struggle in the face of public complacency beyond Liverpool and closed institutional doors. They have always seemed, however, to draw strength from adversity, and succour from the steadfast support that they have received closer to home. A response posted by the Hillsborough Justice Campaign in the aftermath of the failed prosecution speaks volumes: ‘The bereaved families of the Hillsborough Justice Campaign will continue to fight … with the aim of having the true facts of Hillsborough officially recorded. We know that this will take a long time. We are used to waiting.’
It would be nine more years before there would be a further glimmer of hope for the families. That would appear, fittingly, at the twentieth anniversary memorial service, held at Anfield on 15 April 2009. A panel would be formed to review the whole history of the disaster and its aftermath. Their report would create a spark to ignite the public consciousness and lead, finally, in 2012, to a quashing of the original inquest verdicts and the reinstatement of a new inquest under the direction of the former Senior Presiding Judge for England and Wales. The running sore might be finally healed because of the determination of the families and through the efforts of the Hillsborough Panel.
There would emerge a consequential glimmer too. In the shadow of that reinstated Coroner’s Court at Warrington, an opportunity for conciliation arose.
After David Duckenfield had completed his evidence on Wednesday 18 March 2015, he was met outside by Barry Devonside. Mr Devonside had been at Hillsborough on the day of the disaster with his son Christopher. He returned home alone. Christopher’s was one of the young lives lost on that April day. Mr Devonside has been a constant and articulate driving force for justice for twenty-six years. He had been ever present at the Warrington Inquest and had listened carefully to the testimony given by each of the witnesses, including the evidence over the seven days that David Duckenfield spent in the witness box.
As Mr Duckenfield left the court house after the last day of his evidence, police officers accompanying him readied themselves as Mr Devonside made a beeline for the witness. They were there to give Mr Duckenfield unhindered passage into and out of the court. They had no need to be anxious for his safety, however, for something remarkable occurred.
Barry Devonside had been waiting twenty-six years to hear an expression of contrition delivered by David Duckenfield. It seemed as though he wanted to tell the man, who had owed him a significant debt for a long time, that his evidence at Warrington had been a step in the right direction. It is sad that Anne Williams, Eddie Spearritt and countless other bereaved family members did not live long enough to witness that day for themselves.
CHAPTER 6
IN MY LIVERPOOL HOME
11 October 1998 – November 2004
‘What’s the definition of rock hard?’
‘I don’t know. What is the definition of rock hard?’
‘It’s a copper from South Yorkshire who becomes the Chief of Merseyside, and he’s with us in the studio.’
This gentle banter ushered in the happiest and most fulfilling six years of my policing career. The exchange took place between Billy Butler and Wally Scott on a Radio City live broadcast. Radio City FM is the commercial radio station for the Liverpool City region. Alongside its BBC equivalent, Radio Merseyside, City FM is a much-loved source of news and entertainment throughout Liverpool and beyond.
Of all the places where I have lived, including many towns and cities across South and West Yorkshire and also in London and Hampshire, Liverpool is the place where localism and the spirit of community have felt most tangible and real. It might have something to do with the Irish Sea. If anyone goes to Liverpool, then they can’t go any further without a swimming costume or a ferry ticket. You have, as the sat nav says, reached your destination. It is a city, the sixth largest in terms of population, but it feels like a village or, to be more precise, a series of villages creating a single homogeneous community.
The Liverpool Echo, the local daily newspaper, has always prided itself on having the biggest readership of any local paper outside of London. I remember claims, during my time there, of a daily readership of 250,000-plus, which must have assumed multiple readers of the copies sold. Merseysiders, as a general rule, take a passionate interest in local news and events. The football, local crime, politics and the ‘family announcements’ section of the paper are all more topical and talked about, in my experience, than elsewhere in the country. The local newspapers are well read and the local radio well listened to.
Because of a furore around my appointment to the post of Chief Constable in Merseyside, in October 1998, I asked the Merseyside Police Press Office to arrange a round of media interviews to coincide with my first days in the job. I gave more than twenty interviews over two days. Inspector Ray Galloway, who was the head of th
e press office, told me there were three, key, local touchstones. The Echo of course; The Roger Phillips Show on BBC Radio Merseyside – aka ‘The Voice of Merseyside’; and The Billy and Wally Show on Radio City. He had lined me up for all three, and many more besides. Billy and Wally were to be first up.
I felt some trepidation as I walked into the Radio City studio. It was my first opportunity to speak directly with the people of Merseyside. This would make a change from having had lots said about me in the local media in the five weeks since the announcement of my appointment.
Billy and Wally were the Ant and Dec of Merseyside entertainment. Physically distinct, but that wasn’t obvious on radio. They were inseparable and had spent years sparking off each other on the airwaves and in the local theatres and clubs. Was it Billy who asked Wally for the definition of rock hard or was it the other way around? Whatever the case, it was a good interview: welcoming and positive. I found myself talking about the future and not just the past, trying to engage in the joshing that was the hallmark of The Billy and Wally Show. Although another lesson that I quickly learned as I settled in to Liverpool life is to never try to have the last word with a Scouser. Naturally quick-witted, with acerbic humour and a lyrical grasp of the spoken word, they, as a general rule, will out-josh all comers. Just smile and take it in good part – there is rarely any offence intended.
I had arrived. It seemed like touch and go for a week or two but now, here I was, in the home of the Beatles. A city which boasts the finest architecture outside London and the most extensive range of cultural opportunities. Whilst a resident of the city, I would often go to a gallery opening in the morning, watch premiership football in the afternoon and hear the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra in the evening. This was going to be my kind of town.
Hillsborough Untold: Aftermath of a disaster Page 12
