Thursday 22 April 1993 should have been like any other day for black London teenager Stephen Lawrence. The popular extrovert had everything to live for. The events of that day would not only devastate his family, friends and community, they would change policing and the law forever.
While making his way home with good friend Duwayne Brooks from an evening with his uncle, he was jumped by a gang of five or six youths who forced him to the ground and brutally stabbed him to death.
The police response and investigation into this racist murder was pitiful, with police corruption very seriously looked at as a factor. Suspects were identified within three days of the murder but no arrests were made for weeks, as the senior investigating officer did not believe he had the grounds to detain them earlier. Two, Neil Acourt and Luke Knight, were charged but the Crown Prosecution Service discontinued proceedings citing insufficient evidence and the charges were dropped.
The Metropolitan Police reviewed the case and resubmitted it to the CPS who, just days before the first anniversary of the killing, once again announced there was insufficient evidence. Almost immediately, Stephen’s family initiated a private prosecution against the two originally charged, together with three others: Neil Acourt’s brother Jamie, Gary Dobson and David Norris. Before the case came to court, the charges against Jamie Acourt and David Norris were dropped and, at the trial, the remaining three defendants were acquitted.
In the public inquiry that followed, Sir William Macpherson made seventy recommendations. These were far-reaching and one, which sat outside policing, was specifically included given the real worry that should more evidence be found against any of those acquitted at the private prosecution, justice could still not be delivered. Recommendation 38 asked that ‘consideration should be given to the Court of Appeal being given power to permit prosecution after acquittal where fresh and viable evidence is presented.’
This relatively short sentence proposed, in specific and serious cases, to sweep away 800 years of the common law principle of autrefois acquit, meaning that no acquitted person could be tried for the same crime twice.
The Stephen Lawrence murder had, quite rightly, the highest of profiles. But the campaign to change the law to allow double jeopardy had already begun long before Sir William Macpherson made his ground-breaking recommendation. He just thrust it onto the political agenda. The Fellows and Hadaway families had been tirelessly campaigning behind the scenes for this for years and describe working closely with the Lawrence family once the recommendation was published. Other cases provided momentum.
Following two trials in 1991 for the murder of twenty-two-year-old Julie Hogg, both resulting in a hung jury – where a decision cannot be reached – the judge formally acquitted William Dunlop. However, while serving a term of imprisonment for an unconnected assault, he admitted the killing to a prison officer, gloating that the law could not touch him. This enraged Julie’s parents but, in the only step that could be taken, he was jailed for six years for his perjurous evidence at the trial. This was not good enough for Julie’s mum and dad, so they too campaigned for a change in the law.
It is impossible for a government to ignore the findings of its own public inquiry. Certainly not one with such a high a profile as the one into Stephen Lawrence’s death. That, together with the families’ campaign to change the law, led to the Law Commission, the independent body which researches and consults on proposed systematic changes, consulting on a change to the law which would allow defendants to be retried despite their previous acquittals, but only in murder cases.
A parallel report on modernizing the criminal justice system felt that the Law Commission was being unduly cautious and sought to open the possibility of retrials following acquittals in other very serious cases.
Section 75 of the Criminal Justice Act 2003 was born. It allowed for a reinvestigation and possible retrial where there was compelling new evidence indicating an acquitted person may well be guilty. Examples of new evidence might include DNA, fingerprint tests or new witnesses to the offence coming forward. The types of cases to trigger this, as well as murder, would include those at the top of the scale such as rape, kidnap and arson.
Cross-party support meant that this historic change in the legislation took effect in April 2005. To prevent miscarriages of justice, the process to trigger this new provision was made deliberately long and intricate, requiring various personal authorizations from senior police officers and the Director of Public Prosecutions to even start an investigation.
Therefore, against these labyrinthine rules, it was with relative haste that it only took until November 2005 for William Dunlop’s acquittal for the murder of Julie Hogg to be quashed by the Court of Appeal and a further ten months for him to be the first person convicted under these new arrangements. He had no choice but to admit the offence, as he had six years previously to his prison officer. He received the mandatory sentence of life imprisonment with a recommendation that he serve at least seventeen years.
The cases put back before the courts in this way are few and far between but over the years more and more were presented, with juries feeling confident to convict on the wall of evidence before them. In 2012 Gary Dobson and David Norris were finally convicted of Stephen Lawrence’s murder. They are now serving life imprisonment.
Following the change in the law, Karen and Nicola’s families eagerly anticipated an announcement by Sussex Police that they would be able to apply to the DPP for permission to reopen the case.
Four days after the new Act became law, the families called for a private prosecution if Sussex Police could not reach the required threshold. Given the role of the DPP and CPS in the new process, this would not have been possible. Their authority over these new proceedings meant that there was no short cut to reach the phenomenally high bar set for a retrial. However, the families’ demands did show their determination and that of the Brighton public to see Bishop back in the dock. Over the years, with great dignity, they would consistently lobby to reopen the case. The once-only provision of the new law, however, meant that the police could not risk triggering it too early.
While not required, most new cases relied on fresh developments in scientific evidence and this had not yet reached the sophistication to convince prosecutors they had enough. In one secret meeting, in 2006, scientists explained the ins and outs of the forensic opportunities to Nicola’s cousin Lorna, a biology graduate. This satisfied her that then was not the time but provided hope for the future.
The same act also allowed evidence of defendants’, and sometimes witnesses’, bad character to be heard. This included previous convictions or anything that might have suggested they were prone to behave in a certain manner, such as outbursts of temper, using certain unusual phrases or hiding evidence in a particular way. This could relate to any time, including since any conviction. There were thresholds and safeguards built in but it meant juries could be privy to all sorts of relevant wrongdoing previously kept from them.
The announcement a whole city was waiting for was not to come for years. In the meantime, the police were constantly reassessing the forensic and other evidence to consider whether new scientific breakthroughs, emerging technologies or new witnesses would enable a rerun of the 1987 trial.
By 2005 I had risen to become detective chief inspector and the head of Brighton and Hove CID, a position once held by Detective Superintendent Bernie Wells. The force structure had changed though and now all murders and major crime were the remit of the newly formed Major Crime Team, based at headquarters. As a result, I watched the work on the Babes in the Wood case from the sidelines.
The police and the CPS had to judge the right time to strike and to fully make use of their one chance. Too soon and they might not reach the threshold. Too late and the court may decide they could have brought the application sooner, and rule this as an abuse of process. In either case that would be their one chance lost. Unhelpfully, alongside all of this hope, was the fear that Bishop might be released from his life sentence. His fourteen-year minimum tariff had expired in 2004, so he was eligible for parole at any time.
When I eventually became divisional commander for Brighton and Hove, I heard and read the rumours, repeated in the press, that he might be freed and return to Brighton. I was privy to secret briefings which reassured me this was highly unlikely. I still had to plan though, in case we were all wrong. We needed to be certain that we were prepared for any retribution should he be released. We were convinced any licence would not allow him near the city but, as ever, we all hoped for the best and planned for the worst.
I retired in 2013 before any real progress was made to recharge Bishop under the new laws but the abolition of double-jeopardy safeguards and the admissibility of bad character evidence would take on great importance in the future and create significant problems for the defence and prosecution alike.