I wrote a piece for the iPaper on the important campaign by Gina Martin to introduce a law specifically addressing “upskirting”. The article is available here.
A quick one to start the week. I was asked about this last night, and rather hoped that it was obvious on its face that this tale has more to it than the headlines in the local press would have the reader believe. However some of the nationals are now this morning plugging the story of the “child sex gang leader released from prison 17 years early”, so a brief explainer might help.
The story started smouldering last Wednesday at Prime Minister’s Questions, when MP for Telford, Lucy Allan, raised the case in the House of Commons. And in fairness to Ms Allan, her primary concern, entirely properly, was that the victims of serious sexual offending did not appear to have been informed of the perpetrator’s release on licence and his impending return to the local area.
But the story has quickly become, certainly in the national media, another tale of Barmy Soft Sentences, helpfully allied in The Independent to the recently-announced statistics on Attorney General’s References of Unduly Lenient Sentences (see my tweets here for more on this topic). The Shropshire Star yesterday reported, under the headline “Telford sex gang ringleader Mubarek Ali set to be freed early”, that “Telford sex gang ringleader Mubarak Ali was today…preparing to be released just five years into a 22-year jail sentence.” A petition, naturally, has now been launched to “make Ali serve his full sentence”.
Ali, aged 29, was one a number of men convicted in 2012 of offences of child trafficking in the UK and controlling child prostitution in the Telford area. The facts, briefly, relate to the sexual exploitation of four girls aged as young as 13. When sentenced alongside his brother, Ali, then aged 29, was told by the judge that he was “cold hearted and cynical”, presented “significant danger to the public”, and had shown “no remorse or regret”. The total term reportedly handed down was 22 years.
Yet, only 5 years on, Ali is reportedly set to be released.
So what has gone on?
Was 22 years’ imprisonment imposed?
This is the first question to ask – what sentence was actually passed on Ali? The Mirror and The Independent both reported, with no further explanation, that Ali was “sentenced to 22 years in prison”. Which on its face, would appear to make a shocking story. However, had the nationals bothered to read The Shropshire Star’s article before hoovering it up and spitting it out as their own scoop, they would have discovered the all-important context:
“Mubarek Ali, 34, known as Max, was given 22 years, 14 years’ immediate custody and eight years on licence, for seven offences – four of controlling child prostitution and two offences of trafficking in the UK for the purpose of prostitution…Both [Ali and a co-defendant] were made the subject of lifelong Sexual Offences Prevention Orders.”
This is confirmed in the Court of Appeal judgment dismissing Ali’s appeal against conviction in 2014 (H/T James Turner Q.C.) Ali was convicted at Stafford Crown Court on 8 August 2012 of four charges of controlling child prostitution, two charges of trafficking in the UK for sexual exploitation and a charge of causing child prostitution. He was sentenced on 5 October 2012. And the key in the above paragraph is that the total sentence passed was not 22 years’ imprisonment, but what is known as an extended sentence of imprisonment. Where an offender is convicted of a serious violent or sexual offence and is assessed by the court as “dangerous” – the legal test for which is that they present a significant risk of serious harm to the public – one of the sentences available is an extended sentence. This is a sentence made of two parts – it carries the usual custodial term that would be passed, plus an extended period of licence, of up to 8 years (or 5 years in cases of non-sexual violence). The rationale is that this extended licence period gives the Probation Service a lengthier hold over the offender, to ensure he stays on the straight and narrow upon release. If he breaches the terms of his licence, he can be recalled to serve the rest of his sentence, including the licence period. So Ali’s sentence was an extended sentence which totalled 22 years, but, critically, the custodial term is 14 years, not 22 years. If Ali behaves himself, he will never serve the 8-year licence period in custody. This vital context has been entirely omitted from the national reports.
Ok, so it’s 14 years. Why is he out after only 5?
Under the Criminal Justice Act 2003, all offenders sentenced to a standard determinate sentence (e.g. 5 years’ imprisonment) are automatically released at the halfway stage of their sentence. The reason is, again, that it gives the authorities power over defendants and assists reintegration into normal life. It also, on a practical level, acts as a pressure valve to release people from our hideously overcrowded prisons. You may disagree with this approach- a lot of people do – but it is the law that applies to everyone; there’s no special treatment going on.
With extended sentences, it is more complicated. The scheme of “extended sentences” is changed every few years, tweaked by governments and Parliaments vying to show how tough they are on criminals, resulting in a morass of confusing and overlapping laws, with different release provisions applying to different offenders serving effectively the same sentences. As with sentencing in general, it’s a complete legislative mess. But the bottom line is that, at the time that Ali was sentenced in October 2012, his type of extended sentence meant that he was also eligible for automatic release at the halfway stage of his custodial term – so after 7 years. By comparison, had he been sentenced to an actual determinate 22 years’ imprisonment, he would be automatically released at the 11-year mark.
Ok, so it’s 7 years. Why is he out after 5?
As ever, the facts are regrettably not fully reported, but reading between the lines, this was a complicated investigation that took a long time to prosecute and bring to trial. The offences occurred between March 2008 and December 2009. We’ve already seen that Ali was not sentenced until October 2012. It is not clear when he was charged, but there was an initial, aborted trial in September 2011. Cases of this type take at least 6 months, and usually longer, to come to trial.
Why does this matter? Because, buried in the Shropshire Star’s report (and at the end of the Court of Appeal judgment), is a hint that Ali was remanded in custody prior to his trial. And time spent by a defendant in custody awaiting trial counts towards the overall sentence. (This is now automatic; in 2012, the judge would have had to have made an order that the time on remand counted towards sentence, but there appears no reason in this case why the judge would not have done so.) And so, putting our figures together, if there was over a year between the aborted trial in 2011 and the sentence in 2012, and a period of between 6 months and a year between being charged and the first trial in 2011, and Ali was remanded for that entire period, that would give us the roughly 2-years to count towards the 7 year custodial term and bring us down, in effect, to 5 years post-sentence.
So what next?
For those upset that dangerous sex offenders can be released automatically halfway into their sentence, it’s worth noting that the law has since 2012 changed significantly. If Ali were being sentenced to an extended sentence today, he would not be automatically released at any stage. Instead, once he had served two thirds of the custodial term – i.e. just short of 10 years – his case would be referred to the Parole Board, who would have to be satisfied that it was no longer necessary for the protection of the public that he be confined before they directed his release.
For the media, a salutary, but no doubt entirely disregarded, lesson to verify the context of legal stories, either with the lawyers employed in your offices to check these things, or even by approaching some of us grubby legal hacks lurking in the social media gutter. If a story on sentencing appears too ludicrous to be true, it almost certainly is.
As a postscript, the Ministry of Justice has thus far refused to comment. I hope this changes. When misleading reports about criminal justice are bandied about as fact, and when 17,500 members of the public believe that petitions can and should influence independent judicial processes, it should not be left to bloggers to provide a correction.
In March 2017, Harriet Harman proposed a legislative amendment to section 41 of the Youth Justice and Criminal Evidence Act 1999, which would have the effect of prohibiting at criminal trials any questioning or evidence concerning the previous sexual behaviour of a complainant alleging a sexual offence. This week, Ms Harman reportedly confirmed that she was pursuing this amendment, and I provided my thoughts on why this is a dangerous and ill-thought out idea here.
Back in March, criminal silk Simon Myerson Q.C. took the time to correspond with his MP, Anna Turley, over the planned amendment. He has very kindly permitted me to republish his note, in which he addresses the flaws in Harman’s Law, and offers his own proposal on how perceived shortcomings in the prosecution of sexual offences involving the issue of consent might be addressed. I understand that Anna Turley MP has yet to respond.
Rape and Section 41 YJCEA 1999
S41 Youth Justice and Criminal Evidence Act 1999:
- Re consent, no cross-examination about Complainant’s (C’s) sexual behaviour without court’s permission.
- Permission only if:
- A conviction would otherwise be unsafe; and
- Relates to behaviour at same time or is so similar that it cannot be explained as a coincidence; and
- Must relate to a specific incident or incidents.
To ban such evidence in all circumstances.
The Result of the Amendment
Necessarily, to ban evidence which might prevent an unsafe conviction. There is no way around this conclusion.
To remove from the judiciary the freedom to determine what makes a trial safe and to replace that freedom with a direction from the legislature that unsafe convictions are acceptable in rape cases.
This should be self-evident. But it would create the additional problem that, in cases in which cross-examination would currently be allowed, were this amendment passed, the Judge would still be entitled to stop the case on the basis that the accused cannot have a fair trial. The Court has an inherent jurisdiction to do so, but is also constrained by Art 6 ECHR, which provides the right to a fair trial. The refusal to admit evidence that may mean the prosecution cannot prove its case is patently unfair.
There are essentially 4 types of rape for these purposes:
- Genuine ‘stranger rape’ where a woman is violently assaulted. Very rare and almost always result in conviction because consent rarely the issue.
- Semi-stranger/friend rape. Typical scenario – meet on night out. Woman gives good evidence of not consenting. Again, relatively few problems in obtaining conviction.
- As above but everyone drunk. See below.
- Marital/relationship rape. Has difficulties but not really the focus because lack of consent proved by other factors – fighting, separation, confiding in family etc.
The real issue is the drunken night out. Can we leave aside political considerations here please? I have 4 daughters and I most assuredly tell them that rapists cause rape. I also tell them that the best way to avoid rape entirely is to take personal responsibility for themselves by staying relatively sober, texting regularly (family or friends), not leaving without telling someone and saying who with and not having sex unless they know the person.
What typically happens is that a group go out together. They all get drunk – so drunk that the next day they cannot remember what happened with any clarity. Frequently, one girl gets detached from the group. They do not know where she is and often do not look. She goes off with a man, consensually. That can be seen on CCTV. They go somewhere together and he has sex with her. The next day she is appalled. She may very well not have consented. She says she didn’t. She also says he tricked her into coming with him/has no idea who he was/didn’t want to be anywhere near him. The CCTV shows that at least some of that is wrong. She is cross-examined on the basis that a) she wants to get him into trouble to excuse her own shame and) she can’t remember anything, including giving consent. He says that she consented.
Another scenario: the group leave together with a group of lads, or some new lads they’ve met that evening. They go back to someone’s flat. Some kissing happens. Then a lad takes a girl into a bedroom. Same thing as above. The friends all remember the kissing. No one knows the rest of it, or they are so wasted they can’t remember.
That is the depressing reality. Of course, drunken consent is not consent. But the prosecution must make the jury sure that the man did not reasonably believe in the consent. He says he asked and she was all for it. If he is disbelieved, he is convicted. But it is terribly difficult for a jury to disbelieve him when the woman herself does not remember what happened. Q: “Is it possible that after a good evening, you may have said to him that you wanted sex, even though in the morning you would not have said yes?” If the answer is yes, it’s an acquittal. If the answer is no but the jury don’t believe it, it’s an acquittal.
S41 is nothing to do with this at all. S41 arises in a very small number of cases and is granted in even fewer. There is what purports to be as study carried out by a group appointed by Vera Baird. I’ve read those cases. There are 15 – a tiny fraction of rape cases and far too small to be anything more than an anecdotal collection. Of those 15 only 3 involved S41 applications. I would only have granted 1. S41 is not the problem.
S41 is important because it guards an accused – who we remind ourselves is an innocent man until convicted (I always find it helps to think of him as my father) – who describes behaviour that is so exceptional that the evidence of C that she did not consent, should properly be assessed against the evidence that she indulged in the same behaviour on an occasion when she did consent. The argument is that if she consented on that occasion, isn’t that evidence that she consented on this occasion. It is an argument, no more. The jury can reject it. But the evidence is admitted if the Judge decides they could accept it and that, in those circumstances, if they did not know about it, they may not be making a fair decision.
In the Evans case, the evidence was admissible because a) it was an account from 2 people on separate occasions each other and the accused that C was capable of having sex when very drunk; and b) that she was an active participant using the v precise words and positions described by the accused. That went both to the issue of whether this was non-consensual at all (C had never said so – merely that she did not remember), and whether the accused might reasonably have believed in consent if so.
Without that evidence Evans was convicted. With it, he was acquitted. What Harriet Harman seeks to do is to preserve the position where someone is convicted, even though the evidence might lead to acquittal. She wishes to do that by preventing the jury even hearing that evidence, because she has decided it is wrong to let them do so. That is neither her job, nor remotely appropriate.
The Bad Arguments
Why should the current position be changed? There is no evidence that it results in unfairness on the current law as it stands. Research shows that juries do understand the evidence they hear and the directions the judge provides.
Thus the arguments should focus on the law. Is the offence of rape sufficient to include occasions where a lack of consent cannot be proved, but the way in which the man has behaved plainly takes advantage of the woman’s position at the time?
However, Harriet Harman’s argument does not focus on the law. It focuses on manipulating the current procedure so as to alter the result. Once we permit politicians to prevent the admission of evidence because the evidence produces the ‘wrong’ result, we will not be able to resist it happening again. Ask yourself, what would Farage do with such a provision and alleged Islamic terrorism? Should we refuse to permit juries to hear evidence that bankers had seen senior figures doing the same things as had led them to be charged with dishonesty, and had thus concluded it was not dishonest? Evidence such as this is not a defence unless the jury accepts it. If it is rejected the conviction is fair. But a conviction that does not allow a jury to hear that evidence is unfair.
Moreover, the basis of the argument rests on the belief that jury verdicts are regularly ‘wrong’ and the procedure should thus be tampered with, to achieve the ‘right’ result. That is neither healthy nor proved. We assume that once delivered, jury verdicts are correct, unless the summing up is wrong. The jury’s deliberations are sacrosanct. How on earth is it possible to assume they are wrong?
And, if they are wrong, then the logical answer is to have trial without jury. Fiddling with the procedure, if juries do not get it right, is hardly a courageous answer. Rather, it is a fudge, which imperils rape victims because it still leaves them open to injustice, and everyone else – either for the same reason or because it encourages executive action to restrict the evidence a jury can hear.
A Possible Solution
In reality, juries probably get these decisions right. The difficulty is that we have a crime in relation to which the prosecution must prove the negative – that the accused did not reasonably believe C consented.
A further difficulty may be that sentences for rape are very high. Many lawyers believe (admittedly on no very good evidence) that this makes juries even more reluctant to convict. Or, perhaps, it means they take being ‘sure’ very seriously.
An answer is an offence that takes consent away.
Taking sexual advantage is a possible offence in this way:
A man (M) commits an offence if he penetrates another person (using the existing language of the Sexual Offences Act 2003) in circumstances in which, whether that other person has indicated consent or not, a reasonable observer would conclude that M could not be sure that consent was either voluntary or informed, and that M took no reasonable steps to ascertain the real position.
I do not pretend this is necessarily flameproof as it stands, and it certainly needs further thought. But it represents a real attempt to transfer the risk of drunken stupidity to the penetrator not the penetratee. It would be mitigation that the man had believed the woman had appeared to consent but it would not be a defence unless M was sure that there was consent having taken reasonable steps to check. If the woman can’t say yes, or says yes because of drink, or isn’t sure what happened, that would all be sufficient to convict. The sentence would, necessarily, be less. The conviction rate would, I believe, soar.
Simon Myerson Q.C. practises from St Paul’s Chambers, Leeds and Byrom Street, Manchester, and specialises in Civil and Criminal Law. He is currently representing 40,000 Kenyans in their claim against the Foreign Office relating to events during the Mau Mau Emergency in the 1950s. Simon tweets at @SCynic1.
And so, as a Durham University student acquitted of rape provides easy meat for indolent editorials in the broadsheets, so renews the now-ritual exhumation of the debate on anonymity in sex cases. Round and round the usual participants go, like those rotisserie chickens at Tesco, only even more bird-brained.
In the red corner, the below-the-line lobotomees who parade every acquittal as proof positive that all women are just waiting for an opportunity to spring a false rape accusation, which is why we should probably name, shame and prosecute all complainants just in case. In the blue corner, the defenders of the status quo, vigorous in impressing that, notwithstanding that another high profile innocent’s reputation has been coated in the stickiest of mud, we resist anonymity for defendants in such cases.
The illusions of the red corner are easily disabused. Anyone who believes an acquittal equates to a factual finding that a complainant has lied only has to read the judgment in the Neil “Doctor” Fox trial to see the number of shades of grey on the sexual offences palette. These clowns can be pwned with a rudimentary refresher in the burden and standard of proof and a cursory thwack around the head with Rook and Ward.
Rather it’s the blue corner, fortified by a curious coalition of defence lawyers, prosecution agencies and political activists, where ingrained attitudes are more complex. To the point where, frankly, I struggle to understand the arguments advanced.
The case in favour of restoring the pre-1988 position, restricting publication of a defendant’s identity up until the point of conviction, is straightforward: it preserves the presumption of innocence, and the liberty of the acquitted, by protecting them from the unique stigma of a sexual allegation until it is proven. The public cannot un-learn, and, as Google demonstrates, do not forget, accusation of sexual offences. Time does not bleach the stain.
Pragmatically, rampant publicity degrades the power of the independence of multiple complainants in a case; it places media and political pressure on the prosecuting authorities to make popular, rather than sensible, decisions on charging in high-profile cases; it feeds the perception that allegations may be made spuriously to defame; and it foments lazy prosecuting when the authorities know they can advertise for complainants to bolster a weak case.
Straightforward points, I’d suggest. By contrast, the reasoning of the anti-anonymity cause betrays it as a political position in search of a justification.
Justice should be open, is invariably where it starts. To which we say yes, but this a qualified rather than absolute principle. The courts impose reporting restrictions in various situations, whether due to the age of participants or the nature of the allegation – for example with complainants in sex cases.
Well it’s a slippery slope, comes the rejoinder. Anonymity will have to be granted to all defendants in all cases. Except of course, it won’t. That’s silly. Just as we haven’t extended automatic anonymity to complainants in non-sex cases, so it will be within the wit of Parliament not to accidentally legislate to give all suspected speeders anonymity for life.
Why then should those accused of sexual offences get special treatment? Because, (in a weary voice) sex is a special case. This is accepted fact, for all the socio-cultural reasons pertaining to taboo, stigma, shame and so forth that inform the raft of procedural and legislative distinction between sex trials and any other. Automatic special measures; section 41 restricting questions on past sexual history; the prohibition on defendants cross-examining complainants in person; Sexual Harm Prevention Orders; notification requirements; and, of course, restrictions on publicly identifying complainants.
But publicising the name of an accused encourages other victims to come forward. And here we strike the true rationale. Prosecutorial expediency. Rather than address the reasons why some complainants don’t feel they can come forward without corroboration, the case is reduced to this: To increase the conviction rate, we’re happy to sound a clarion soliciting public accusations, in the hope that something sticks.
But even accepting this cynical, lazy justification, what objection can there be to conferring anonymity on defendants, but providing a judicial mechanism in cases where a defendant ought properly be named? Just as section 3 of the Sexual Offences (Amendment) Act 1992 provides for limited circumstances in which complainant anonymity can be disapplied, why not a presumption of defendant anonymity, up to conviction, which a Judge upon application can rescind if the interests of justice require?
The only honest answer is the one buried under the mound of disingenuous diversions – that, in the unpopular cases that upset us the most, we are prepared to sacrifice the presumption of innocence, and the dignity of thousands, on the altar of prosecutorial convenience.
This article first appeared in Solicitors Journal
As Robert Duvall didn’t quite say, I love the smell of an acquittal in the morning. Nothing else in the world smells like that. Granted, I’ve only enjoyed the olfactory pleasure vicariously, but as a barrister there are few feelings as gratifying as taking the fight to the state on behalf of a client and walking out of court with the prosecution’s nads dangling from your triumphantly raised fist.
While his acquittal came late on a Monday afternoon, there’s no doubt that DJ Neil “Dr” Fox knows what I mean. I say there’s no doubt because he has told us as much. In the vogue du jour, no sooner was the case concluded and the not guilty verdicts entered than Fantastic Dr Fox was perching on the court steps and addressing the awaiting press pack.
The usual sentiments were all there. Pleased and relieved. Thank you to my legal team. Friends and family who stood by me. Yada yada yada. And then he went one further. And said this:
“I strenuously denied all the allegations. I have been vindicated”. He followed this up with what might be interpreted as a gossamer-veiled threat: “A lot has been said and written about me that needs to be addressed and rectified.”
You’ll have heard all this before; we’ve seen it repeatedly over the past few years where celebs of yore have been acquitted of serious sexual allegations. The trajectory is the same – the CPS is roundly booed for its Salem/McCarthyite proclivities by the acquitted sleb, Paul Gambaccini is wheeled out on the radio to deplore the gullibility of the prosecution agencies and, finally, social media gets involved to hail the acquittal as calcified proof that the complainants were malicious, lying, celeb-baiting, compo-hunting fantasists of the very worst kind.
Well let’s pause there.
Because what is unusual in this case is that, due to Mr Fox having elected to be tried in the magistrates’ court, rather than the Crown Court by a jury, we have a full written judgment in which the bench, chaired by the Chief Magistrate Howard Riddle, explain in detail their findings.
And if I were Dr Fox’s media advisor, I’d suggest he perhaps temper his public declaration of vindication before he ends up looking about as clever as when he was persuaded to draw a genetic equivalence between paedophiles and shellfish.
Because while there is reason to question the vim and vigour with which the police and CPS pursue certain types of allegations – the manner in which the Exaro saga has unfolded is a particularly unedifying case in point – as far as Dr Fox is concerned, it is plain that the allegations against him were anything other than malicious. Far from it – the court took the time to emphasise, repeatedly, their belief in the accounts of the complainants, and concluded that, in respect of a number of the charges, they were sure that Neil Fox had acted in the way alleged. The acquittals arose largely because, given the passage of time, the court could not be sure of the precise context of the acts, and therefore whether they amounted to “indecent” or “sexual” within the meaning of the relevant legislation.
I shan’t rehearse the judgment in full. But I would urge that you read it. The reasoning is in places somewhat tortuous, but this is not a case where, on any of the charges, the complainant was disbelieved. The converse in in fact was true – on most charges the court rejected Neil Fox’s evidence that the incidents never happened, on one of the charges stating that they were “sure that Mr Fox has lied to us”.
“We heard evidence about 10 allegations from six women. We believed each of the complainants. The question we must ask is whether we are sure of the facts alleged, sure of the context in which they occurred, and sure that they amount to criminal offences.
In the case of the most recent allegation, we are sure it happened but are not sure that it amounts to the criminal offence of sexual touching. In the other cases, we either cannot be sure the incident occurred as described, or we cannot be sure that in the context it was a criminal offence, namely indecent assault, or in one case sexual touching.
This is not to go back on our original assessment that we believed the witnesses and accept that they had attended to tell us the truth as they remember it. Nor should this verdict be taken as a criticism of the decision to bring this prosecution. It was a strong case and one that needed to be brought to the court for determination.”
In short, the court was sure “that his behaviour on some occasions crossed the line of acceptable behaviour”. On charge 3, the court was sure that he had grabbed the complainant’s breasts, causing pain and distress, albeit the motivation may have been “a joke in poor taste” or “bullying” rather than sexual. On charge 5, he simulated sex with a female co-worker, causing her to feel distressed, belittled and humiliated. Ditto charge 7. On charge 8 he kissed the complainant against her will. It was just that, for the reasons set out at length, the court was not sure that these acts in context were sufficient to found convictions for indecent or sexual assaults.
So remember this when Foxy declares: “I have been vindicated”, because it’s a peculiar kind of vindication. A sort of, “The court was sure that the allegation that I denied on oath was true. BUT it couldn’t be sure that my grabbing the boob of that lady was “indecent” within the meaning of s.14(1) and Schedule 2 of the Sexual Offence Act 1956. So there, suckers. Pure, sweet vindication.”
I don’t seek to rain on Dr Fox’s chips. He has been acquitted of sexual offences, and no doubt that, to him, is the top and bottom line. But we have here, unlike in inscrutable jury trials, the benefit of a nuanced judgment setting out the findings of fact. And if the Doctor is to embark upon a series of media interviews in which these acquittals are used as sticks to beat the CPS or to suggest that the complainants were liars, I shall be here, quietly beating my drum to remind whoever will listen that, while Mr Fox is not guilty, a criminal court found beyond reasonable doubt that he had touched a series of women, without their consent, in a way that caused them some considerable distress. And that, most importantly, this was a case that, as the court itself held, it was entirely proper to bring.