Hopefully, Robert Buckland would agree. If he didn’t call for a reconsideration of the decision, I’d have to launch a judicial review immediately – and argue for a stay of release (i.e. for Simms to stay in prison) until it had been heard. So, my legal advisers now focused all their attention on that – asking the Parole Board for the full decision summary and the dossier containing all the information on Simms over the years.
Journalists were still asking for interviews and now that I had a plan of action, I was happy to grant them.
‘It cannot be right that a killer who shows no remorse and refuses to reveal where the body of his victim is, can be deemed fit for release,’ I told them. ‘I am begging the Minister for Justice, Robert Buckland, to intervene for my sake and the public’s sake. Before my daughter’s murder, Simms openly boasted of being able to kill and hide a body so well it would never be found. This may not have been his first murder – which makes him a dangerous person.
‘I feel very vulnerable that this man who has threatened me and my family will be free to carry out his threats. And I do believe he will do so. He may wait a while until the authorities aren’t watching him so carefully.
‘I am putting my faith in the justice system that the Government will do the right thing and overturn this decision.’
Victims campaigner Harry Fletcher joined in furiously. ‘Simms’ refusal to say where the deceased can be found, violent behaviour in prison, refusal to show any remorse, which means he has not taken part in programmes of rehabilitation . . . these are just some of the many reasons why he should not be granted freedom,’ he said in a statement.
At lunchtime, on Tuesday, 10 December, two days before the General Election, we heard that Robert Buckland had asked for a reconsideration on the grounds that it was irrational.
I punched the air with delight. ‘Thank God!’ I cried. Simms would remain in prison until a decision either way. He wouldn’t be released for Christmas.
The story got huge pick-up in the papers. ‘Helen’s Law Killer: Release Bid Halted . . . Justice Chief Steps in to Demand Review,’ said the Mirror’s headline.
On the eve of the General Election came more good news at the British Journalism Awards in London: Fiona Duffy and Louie Smith won Campaign of the Year for their work on Helen’s Law. She sent me a photo of the two of them proudly holding the award aloft. I was so chuffed for them.
‘Well done, you deserve it,’ I told them.
In presenting the award, the judges said: ‘This was campaigning journalism at its best. Fiona Duffy stuck with this story like a limpet over many years and has achieved a result.’
On election night, I heaved a sigh of relief as Conor McGinn was voted back in for St Helens North and Robert Buckland regained his seat in South Swindon. That was one less thing to worry about.
A week later, just six days before Christmas, I tuned in to the Queen’s Speech in Parliament. Just two months after her last one this was lower-key with very little pomp and ceremony, but all that mattered to me was Helen’s Law being re-included.
By now, I had come down with a sore throat, hacking cough and streaming cold. But I perked up with a jolt when I heard Her Majesty say, in her inimitable voice: ‘My Government is committed to a fair justice system that keeps people safe [...] Legislation will be brought forward to support victims of crime and their families.’
Again, I logged into the briefing notes to check it was there, then emailed Robert Buckland and Home Secretary Priti Patel urging them to introduce Helen’s Law as soon as possible when Parliament resumed.
Meanwhile, a vigorous game of ping pong was being played between my legal team – who wanted all the paperwork relating to Simms – and the Parole Board who didn’t want to release it. Requests and rejections flew back and forth.
‘The whole Parole system is biased towards the perpetrator and not the families of the victims,’ stormed Harry Fletcher. ‘It’s a complete imbalance of power. They have all the reports and experts at their disposal, including defence reports. The families of murder victims have nothing.
‘The Parole system has to change to make it fairer and more accessible to victims than it is at the moment.
‘For the McCourt family to still be suffering this torment, almost thirty-two years after losing Helen, is appalling. It’s a tragic situation to be in.’
I thanked God that I had such brilliant lawyers and supporters fighting my corner. There was no way I could have done this on my own.
Meanwhile, we had a big decision to make: we were just days away from our annual trip to India.
‘Should we cancel?’ I asked John for the umpteenth time.
It was the worst possible time to go away, but we were exhausted. Running on empty. Without recharging our drained batteries how could we possibly see this through? Plus, our widowed friend, Christine, was coming too – we couldn’t let her down.
On 23 December, I was in the garden cutting some sprigs of holly to decorate Helen’s marble seat when the phone rang.
Coughing, I dashed inside, clutching my secateurs. It was Robert Buckland, assuring me that Helen’s Law would be reintroduced to Parliament as soon as MPs returned on 7 January 2020 and he would be pushing for it to be passed.
‘Thank you, Robert. That’s the best Christmas present, ever,’ I said.
I was touched that he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to ring me and thanked him for his intervention in asking for reconsideration.
‘There are other families just like me with killers due before the Parole Board. We need this on the statute books as soon as possible.
‘For the Parole Board to accept that he had killed my daughter, was never going to tell me where he had hidden her, but was still fit for release is ludicrous.’
He listened as I explained all about the system in Australia, then urged me to enjoy Christmas and to go on holiday, as planned. ‘Nothing will happen,’ he assured me. Fiona, Michael and other family members agreed, insisting they’d look after everything.
So, on 30 December, we left the UK for Goa – it was a decision we would rue.
* * *
In India, my health plummeted. John spent his time nursing me, visiting countless chemists for remedies and spending a fortune in internet cafés printing off reams of legal documents for me to approve. Even though we were still waiting for a decision on the reconsideration, the paperwork for a judicial review needed to be in order so we could act quickly if we needed to.
I’d sit in the shade, shivering feverishly and coughing violently, urging my foggy brain to make sense of the words.
We were five and a half hours ahead so completely out of synch with what was going on, back home. At times, we’d find Wi-Fi and log on to find they were waiting for me to return something vital yesterday.
My phone refused to work, which was a blessing in one sense but a disaster in another – I felt like I’d lost a limb.
‘We shouldn’t have come away,’ I sighed.
Poor Winnie Johnson was also playing on my mind. Tears welled behind my dark sunglasses whenever I thought of her and her tragic fate. The thought of following in her footsteps broke my heart.
On Monday, 6 January 2020, Michael rang.
‘They’re releasing their decision one day this week, Mum,’ he said. ‘I’ll ring you as soon as I know.’
Simms would be informed first (no surprises there), then my victim liaison officer had thirty minutes to contact Michael before it was released to the press. (Again, the hurry to tell the world news that affected me so deeply, baffled me.)
I gathered that out of forty-seven reconsideration requests made, since the previous October, only three had resulted in a new hearing. Not great odds, granted, but we lived in hope.
I was like a stuck record asking John to check if his phone was charged, switched on, working . . . On Wednesday afternoon, I’d just dozed off in the shade, after another sleepless night, when his mobile rang. Michael’s name flashed up on the caller d
isplay – this was it.
John and Christine hovered anxiously as I answered; they saw my head drop and my shoulders slump. The Parole Board was standing by its decision. Afterwards, I ranted, ‘Of course, they’re going to back each other up, aren’t they? What a ridiculous system!’
Again, the legal team urged caution and patience. The most important thing, now, was finding out a date for Simms’ release.
We were also still hoping that there was a small chance that Robert Buckland would launch his own judicial review into the decision. After all, he’d believed it was irrational while asking for the reconsideration.
In the meantime, journalists were contacting Fiona and Michael for my reaction. We’d prepared two statements – one joyful, one miserable. Sadly, the miserable one was released.
I am devastated, but more determined than ever to take this to the highest court in the land to get justice for families in this situation.
I was assured that Helen’s Law would be introduced to the statute book as soon as possible. For the killer of my daughter, the very person who has inspired this campaign, to be released before then would be such an insult.
I have instructed my legal team to prepare for a judicial review at the Royal Courts of Justice in London, with immediate effect, and I look forward to challenging this appalling decision.
Ironically, the news came on the very day that Helen’s Law was presented to Parliament for the third time.
Once again, messages of support flooded in. Conor McGinn tweeted: ‘This is appalling and will devastate Marie McCourt and her family. It is hard to believe that the Parole Board could make such a flawed decision again. It is perverse and heartbreaking that this has happened on the very day that the Helen’s Law Bill is presented in Parliament.’
The story was set to be the front-page lead in the Daily Mirror. We lost out to Prince Harry and Meghan Markle stepping back from royal life. But a picture of Helen still made it onto a front-page corner under the headline: ‘Helen’s Killer Free in Weeks’ exclusive and a link to the story inside.
Fiona had been emailing Harry Fletcher for a couple of days now and was puzzled not to hear back. He normally responded to messages straight away. Sadly, the next morning, we heard the sad news: Harry had died of a heart attack.
We were left reeling. We’d only worked with him for a few short weeks, but with his knowledge and fighting spirit, he had quickly become an invaluable member of the team. We had never needed someone like him more on our side and now he was gone. I wept, not just for the loss of a great man, but at the enormity of what I was taking on.
Questions whirled around my head. If l launched legal action would they keep Simms in prison until then, or would he be released and recalled if I won?
And, dear God, how much would this cost me? I’d wake in the early hours in a cold sweat, thinking: I could lose my home – the house that Helen loved . . . my grandchildren’s money . . . Then, in an instant, I’d be arguing with myself: Some things are more important than bricks and mortar, we have to highlight this.
By the time John woke, I’d be defiant and determined.
‘To hell with the house, to hell with everything,’ I’d say, ‘this is more important.’ He’d look a bit alarmed at the thought of losing the roof over our head, but he understood completely that this was our last chance when it came to getting the information we so desperately needed from Simms. We had to do this, even if it could cost us everything.
* * *
My legal team suggested we revamp my GoFundMe appeal to reflect that I was bringing this action in the public interest.
‘Being able to bury a murdered loved one is a basic human right – and I am taking this stand in the interest of the public,’ read the new wording. ‘I truly believe that justice can only be served when families of missing murder victims are treated with respect and compassion and the public are protected from dangerous killers who refuse to show remorse for their actions. We need to acknowledge and prevent the significant anguish that innocent families of murder victims continue to experience. I am also calling for greater transparency and victim participation in parole proceedings.
‘Money raised would go towards legal costs I might incur as a result of court action,’ I explained. ‘And any unused money would be placed into a fund to support future legal action by other families of missing murder victims.’
I finished with a poignant, ‘This is my last chance to bring Helen home.’
More forms and statements were arriving daily for me to complete and email back. I was stunned to learn that my claim form for the judicial review, which asked for my address, telephone number and email address, would be shown to Simms. This man who had killed my daughter, hidden her body and threatened justice on his release would get full access to my personal details.
He already had my address from sending his letter, back in 1992. But what if I’d moved? What then? Advised by my legal team, I left the email and phone number blank.
I scanned the page and took in the words: There it was, for the first time, in black and white: ‘The claimant challenges the decision of the Parole Board to release a prisoner, Ian Simms, on licence, and the subsequent refusal to reconsider that decision.
‘I am seeking permission to proceed with my claim for judicial review . . . seeking the following interim remedies.’
It then listed my short-term requests: an order staying Simms’ release, an order for disclosure (of the information we’d been asking for) and a cost-capping order – to limit the costs I’d incur if I lost.
And my long-term requests: an order quashing the decision to release Simms and, if appropriate (i.e. if the decision went in my favour), declarations concerning a) victim participation in parole proceedings, and b) the principles which the board should apply when determining whether to release a prisoner who not only denies his or her guilt but refuses to reveal information as to the whereabouts of a victim’s body.
This is why I am putting myself through this, I thought.
I had never been so sure of anything in my life.
I picked up a pen and with a sense of satisfaction, signed my name with a flourish. John scanned the forms and emailed them back – it was done.
Meanwhile, we were keeping a close eye on the Bill’s progress. We already had great support in the Commons and hoped for similar in the Lords. Back at home, Fiona was busily arranging a date for me to visit Parliament in the spring to present my campaign to members.
* * *
On 29 January, the day of our flight home, we had just sat down to breakfast when John clicked on his emails. My cup of tea was halfway to my lips when I realised the colour had drained from his face.
‘Oh, God! What?’ I asked.
Unable to speak, he passed his phone silently to me: Robert Buckland would not be launching a judicial review. Simms was being prepared for released.
My cup clattered into its saucer; I was stunned. Urgently, I skimmed the rest of the message: ‘It is my view that we have little option but to lodge an urgent judicial review today,’ James Thacker had written.
I glanced up to see tears running down our friend Christine’s face.
‘Oh, love, don’t – or you’ll start me off,’ I said.
‘You’re like that Emily Pankhurst,’ she sniffed, wiping her eyes.
In spite of my tears, I found myself smiling weakly. Wasn’t it Emmeline? ‘No, I’m not,’ I sighed. ‘She was totally different, she was fighting for women’s votes.’
Christine shook her head. ‘Yes, but she wouldn’t give up. You are doing exactly the same thing.’
She was right – I wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.
* * *
Hours later, Fiona picked us up from the airport (the first thing she noticed was my weight loss) and put us on the phone to the legal team.
With Simms set to be released in as little as five days’ time, the Royal Courts of Justice had been put on notice that we would be lodging an urgen
t claim – both to apply for a judicial review of the decision and block Simms’ release – and asking for a response within twenty-four hours.
James Thacker served the papers in person just before 1pm the following day: we were now in the system. If the court did grant a judicial review, our legal team asked that it be dealt with no later than 28 February – ‘So at least we won’t have to wait too long,’ I said to John.
It was 30 January, the very day that the World Health Organization (WHO) declared a Public Health Emergency of International Concern regarding the outbreak of a certain coronavirus in Wuhan, China.
We had no idea what was about to hit us . . .
In the meantime, the more I discovered about the parole process, the more furious I became. I learned that the date of Simms’ parole hearing had been sent to the Secretary of State on 1 August 2019. So why hadn’t I been notified in writing before 14 October – the day of the Queen’s Speech – when the hearing was just three weeks away?
‘It was the Secretary of State’s responsibility, under the Victims’ Code, to notify your client of the hearing,’ said the Parole Board in one of its letters to my legal team.
More issues were bothering me. My representations to Robert Buckland hadn’t featured at all in his application for reconsideration. There had also been a representative from his department present at the parole hearing. Why didn’t this person argue the case at the time? Why wait until after the decision had been made to argue it was irrational?
My legal team had also asked me, on a number of occasions, if I’d ever been told that I could provide information regarding my concerns over Simms’ risk.
‘No,’ I replied, frowning. ‘I was simply told to write how the crime had affected me.’
I was furious to discover that, according to the Victims’ Code, I could have done just that – making submissions either to my victim liaison officer or the probation service. However, it seems that there is no obligation for anyone to tell victims about this . . . yet another area where victims and their families are forgotten.
Justice for Helen Page 32
