Release of Murderers and a Kick in the Teeth

 It hasn't featured much in the media, but there is a new bill at the report stage in Parliament. It is called the Victims and Courts Bill and began its progress through the House of Commons in May. As regular readers of this blog know, I have been writing about  mental health patients who commit unprovoked murders for a number of years. I have written about their crimes, the impact on their victims' families and the fact that many of these individuals "respond to treatment" and are released after several years, often to kill again.

One change postulated in the new bill, of particular concern to myself and many others, is a change in the law relating to the early release of these killers. As LBC note, the bill proposes:

"... removing the statutory right for victims to be informed about decisions concerning an offender’s detention, leave, or discharge.
Instead, such discretion would be left to hospital managers and probation services, with no legal obligation to inform, consult, or allow appeals from victims or families".

One such killer would be Valdo Calocane, who murdered the three innocent people seen in the pictures above:  Barnaby Webber, 19,  Grace O’Malley-Kumar, 19, and Ian Coates, 65. Emma Webber, mother of  Barnaby, has described the putative change as "utterly outrageous". I totally concur in this, and share Ms Webber's view that it is all part of a wider failure to support victims and their families. As she goes on to say: 

“So egregious are the failings by every single agency involved in every aspect of our tragedy that a statutory public inquiry is under way. A significant part of the inquiry will focus on the failings of ‘hospital managers’ and ‘clinicians’ who failed to do their jobs properly. Resulting in the monster who killed my beautiful child be allowed to roam the streets and hide in plain sight.”

I have no doubt that the relatives of other innocent victims are feeling the same way. One such relative, and campaigner on this issue, is Julian Hendy, who, along with other campaigners, has called on victims minister, Alex Davies-Jones, to amend the Bill to ensure victims are consulted, informed, and given the right to appeal when denied information.

“This isn’t just a loophole—it’s a kick in the teeth,” Mr Hendy said. We are talking about offenders who have been convicted of the most serious of crimes, which cause extreme concern amongst the public. This is not about punishment. It’s about basic fairness, compassion, and transparency. Victims and their families should not be shut out of decisions that affect their personal safety and recovery".

Now, I have written about this matter for a long time. I have come to see that for our media, and for a great number of people, this is not a major issue. After all, what does the murder of one, or several, people compare to the slaughter in Gaza, Russian war crimes in Ukraine or starvation in Africa? That has never been stated explicitly to me, but it's difficult to avoid assuming this question is being postulated as a valid query. If this question is being asked, though, there is a very simple answer.

The answer, of course, is that any one of us, or any one of our friends and relatives, could fall victim to these murderous mental health patients. We could be peaceably going about our business and suddenly, randomly, attacked and killed, for no good reason. I have written about these incidents often enough to be familiar with the details of these killings; many more can be read about on Julian Hendy's "100 families" website.

My concern about the proposed change to the law is that of the victims' family members, as expressed by Emma Webber and Julian Hendy, but there is another angle. One example of the early release of a mental health killer (there are many others) is that of a man long forgotten by the media: Robert Ashman. This man, in 2000, attacked Nigel Jones, MP (now Lord Jones) in his constituency office with a samurai sword. Jones was injured, but a local councillor, Andrew Pennington, who went to help Jones, was killed. Incredibly, Ashman was released in 2008. Unlike others of his ilk that have been released, Ashman does not seem to have reoffended.

Now, Ashman's release was known to the public, and, presumably, to his victims' families - not that it would make matters any easier for them to know this killer was free to walk the streets.

 But I ask the reader to imagine, if one of your relatives was killed by a murderous mental health patient and, after a relatively short period of incarceration, their murderer was released without your knowledge, how would you feel when you found out? You could find out indirectly, or you could be walking in the park, shopping in the supermarket, enjoying a pint in the pub, on the bus or train, etc, and unexpectedly encounter this individual. He or she would be rebuilding their lives, after taking the life of your family member. Horrible to contemplate, but it could happen. It would certainly, to quote Julian Hendy, feel like a kick in the teeth, however you found out - especially so, if the released murderer went on to kill again. 

I hope the Victims and Courts Bill makes very slow progress through Parliament.

Looking back on the 7/7 Bombings - 20 Years on

 

Like so many other Londoners, all with differing memories of the event, I have never forgotten the 7/7 bombings of almost exactly 20 years ago. While I cannot believe how quickly the time has gone, I can still piece together how I, and my colleagues, learned of the attack. The first memory I have is of our headteacher advising us to go straight home after school, as there appeared to have been an attack on the Tube system that morning. At lunchtime, I had to phone my mother up in Southport to get a clearer idea of what was going on. Anyway, I can't recall any problems getting home that day, and the extensive TV coverage explained everything.

Next morning, I left the house as usual and began walking to Hounslow East tube station. As I walked, I began sulkily to wonder if the Tube system was disrupted and, oh blimey! - how long would it take to get to work? Well, I've told this story before, but I shall tell it again:

 Almost immediately, I felt a wave of self-reproach sweep over me. I scolded myself for selfishly wondering about how long my journey would take when so many fellow Tube travellers were lying injured in hospital, or at home - 770 of them, according to the BBC now. And, of course, for 52 victims, there would be no more tube journeys ever again. All of them, I realised, would have loved to change places with me. Having thus chastened myself, I caught the Tube to Acton Town, and from there journeyed to Alperton Station, seen above. To my surprise, the journey was as normal, except for one thing. Both trains were almost empty, and there was an eerie atmosphere of being in a city at war.

Well, I arrived safely at Alperton, feeling somewhat shamefaced. I had faced no danger, nor had I been delayed. Over the next few days, the idea for a poem to remember the victims came to me. I have posted it before, and post it here again. To me, it remains fresh. It carries something of my self-reproach and, hopefully, still serves as a tribute to all the victims, those who have gone, and those who live on with their injuries and memories.

ON ALPERTON STATION

(July 8^th, 2005)

 

I stood on Alperton Station,

“Uncertain and afraid”***

Of sudden, unseen terror –

My train was undelayed.

 

I left the silent platform

To start my working day,

When, on the darkened staircase,

A young girl barred my way.

 

She shimmered like the summer dawn.

“Please stay, my friend”, she said.

Her face was bright with metal shards

That garlanded her head.

 

“For you still have the working day,

The breakfast and the train,

The coffee break, the journey home

That I won’t make again.

 

My laughter lit the London skies;

I loved, and I was loved.

I filled a hole in many hearts

Till Hate had me removed.

 

If you’re in town at Christmas –

A time that I won’t see –

Please find my favourite wine bar

And raise one glass for me”.

 

Before I spoke – she vanished.

I slumped against a wall,

Shivered like a windblown leaf

And hoped I’d dreamed it all.

 

I walked from Alperton Station

And wondered what was real –

So glad for hands that trembled,

So glad for nerves that feel.

 ***Line taken from “September, 1939”, by W.H.Auden.