No one can accuse David Cameron of rushing too quickly into setting up the Leveson Inquiry. He knew of all the potential problems. He knew that with a major police investigation already under way, there was a danger that a public inquiry would jeopardise its outcome.
So when he faced the House of Commons last July, amid increasingly loud calls for action, Mr Cameron made clear that he intended to take his time, to ensure he got it right. His initial instinct was that something might be possible, but he asked for time to consult and consider, since, as he put it: “All too often these inquiries can be set up too quickly without thinking through what actually needs to be done.”
We can be sure, therefore, that when the Leveson Inquiry was announced a week later, the Prime Minister had received all the advice he needed, from the Attorney General among others. So there is no excuse for the spectacular failure that occurred last week, one that was a direct result of the faulty arrangements put in place for examining the phone-hacking saga.
We have now had, over the past year, two extensive select committee inquiries; Leveson itself; a number of parliamentary debates and statements; and a continuing police investigation, which has produced 30 arrests. Normally, our system protects those who are suspects in criminal investigations reasonably well. It allows them to maintain their silence until there is either a trial, in which all the facts can be put before a jury, or a decision that there is no case to answer. In return, it restricts the circulation of facts, comment and speculation about their guilt or innocence.
Last week, that did not happen – and it has not happened for much of the past nine months. Witnesses have been summoned before both Parliament and the Leveson Inquiry. While those under police investigation have been permitted to maintain their silence on issues central to that process, others have been questioned with few restrictions. As a result, much prejudicial material has come into the public domain.
Last autumn, Paul McMullan was allowed by the Leveson Inquiry to accuse my client, Rebekah Brooks, of being the “criminal-in-chief”. This was received uncritically. Mrs Brooks had been denied permission to be a core participant in the inquiry, so no one was there on her behalf to challenge the evidence. There was no cross-examination of Mr McMullan, his credibility or his motives.
This is just one example of what has become a pattern. Last Monday, Sue Akers, the deputy assistant commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, responded to an invitation to “provide a statement about the investigation into police corruption providing as much detail as possible, without naming individuals, as is compatible with the ongoing police investigation”.
DAC Akers took full advantage of that opportunity, alleging that there had been a culture at The Sun of illegal payments to a network of public officials. She said that systems had been created to facilitate such payments, which were authorised “at a very senior level”. She might not have mentioned names, but it did not take much to fill in the gaps. Nor was she alone. Brian Paddick and Jacqui Hames, both former police officers, went on to make their own allegations, going further than DAC Akers and naming names. Understandably, the press reported this extensively. Instantly, stories appeared about various individuals who had been arrested as part of the inquiry. The publicity was huge, dramatic and sensational.
The Attorney General is now considering whether this reporting amounts to contempt of court. Quite separately, the judge will be bound to consider – if there is ever a prosecution – whether a fair trial is possible. Those of us representing the current and former journalists, particularly at The Sun, who bore the brunt of the prejudicial comments, will inevitably make the point that publicity of this kind does not fade from the memory.
None of this should be seen as a criticism of the Leveson Inquiry. It has been coping with a structural weakness that goes back to the basis on which it was set up by David Cameron. It was to have two parts: the first would examine the culture, practices and ethics of the press, and make recommendations as to its future regulation and behaviour. The second would look at the specifics of what had gone wrong in the past.
The intention was to leave until Part Two the specific examination of who did what to whom, following the police investigation and any court case. But Lord Justice Leveson found that he could not decide whether the current system had failed without obtaining “a narrative of events”. So the inquiry has heard evidence from victims, journalists, police and regulators, from which that “narrative” will be drawn. There has not been a criminal trial, and so none of the safeguards expected at a trial has been present.
Lord Justice Leveson’s inquiry, and the other bodies investigating these events, have each been doing their job, and should not be criticised. But what is left is a deep sense of unease. There are a number of individuals out there whose reputations have been traduced. Few people know the impact of such publicity on their lives, and the depth of stress and worry they have had to bear. But each of us knows enough to question whether the public interest and the legal premise of “innocent until proven guilty” have been served by what we have seen and heard.
Stephen Parkinson is head of criminal litigation at Kingsley Napley and solicitor for Rebekah Brooks
This is just one example of what has become a pattern. Last Monday, Sue Akers, the deputy assistant commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, responded to an invitation to “provide a statement about the investigation into police corruption providing as much detail as possible, without naming individuals, as is compatible with the ongoing police investigation”.
DAC Akers took full advantage of that opportunity, alleging that there had been a culture at The Sun of illegal payments to a network of public officials. She said that systems had been created to facilitate such payments, which were authorised “at a very senior level”. She might not have mentioned names, but it did not take much to fill in the gaps. Nor was she alone. Brian Paddick and Jacqui Hames, both former police officers, went on to make their own allegations, going further than DAC Akers and naming names. Understandably, the press reported this extensively. Instantly, stories appeared about various individuals who had been arrested as part of the inquiry. The publicity was huge, dramatic and sensational.
The Attorney General is now considering whether this reporting amounts to contempt of court. Quite separately, the judge will be bound to consider – if there is ever a prosecution – whether a fair trial is possible. Those of us representing the current and former journalists, particularly at The Sun, who bore the brunt of the prejudicial comments, will inevitably make the point that publicity of this kind does not fade from the memory.
None of this should be seen as a criticism of the Leveson Inquiry. It has been coping with a structural weakness that goes back to the basis on which it was set up by David Cameron. It was to have two parts: the first would examine the culture, practices and ethics of the press, and make recommendations as to its future regulation and behaviour. The second would look at the specifics of what had gone wrong in the past.
The intention was to leave until Part Two the specific examination of who did what to whom, following the police investigation and any court case. But Lord Justice Leveson found that he could not decide whether the current system had failed without obtaining “a narrative of events”. So the inquiry has heard evidence from victims, journalists, police and regulators, from which that “narrative” will be drawn. There has not been a criminal trial, and so none of the safeguards expected at a trial has been present.
Lord Justice Leveson’s inquiry, and the other bodies investigating these events, have each been doing their job, and should not be criticised. But what is left is a deep sense of unease. There are a number of individuals out there whose reputations have been traduced. Few people know the impact of such publicity on their lives, and the depth of stress and worry they have had to bear. But each of us knows enough to question whether the public interest and the legal premise of “innocent until proven guilty” have been served by what we have seen and heard.
Stephen Parkinson is head of criminal litigation at Kingsley Napley and solicitor for Rebekah Brooks
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/phone-hacking/9131338/Phone-hacking-can-these-journalists-really-get-a-fair-trial.html
