Thirty years on the Met Police is still shamed by Stephen Lawrence’s murder
BACK in the 1990s, following the racist murder of Stephen Lawrence, the Met’s appalling investigation of a crime that had shocked the entire nation led us to conclude that black lives really didn’t matter to the police.
In 2023, despite the oh-so-politically correct backdrop of bended knees, diversity courses and flag-bearing carnivals, the Met is still being shamed by its handling of Stephen’s brutal killing.
The cops just keep blundering on.
A new BBC investigation claims to have done what the police, under former Met Commissioner Dame (Dame!!) Cressida Dick, failed to do — found another suspect 30 years after Stephen’s senseless murder.
After trawling through thousands of hours-worth of documents, witness statements and new evidence, Matthew White has finally been unearthed — and named — as the sixth suspect.
What the unfortunately named Ms Dick would have done to have had investigative Beeb reporter Daniel De Simone on her team back in the day, eh?
Instead, Dick and her incompetent, bungling merrymen missed opportunity after opportunity to nick the vile, racist, murderous men.
Twice White was arrested; twice he was let go.
In 1993, Duwayne Brooks, who was with Stephen on the tragic night of April, 22, 1993, said there were six attackers. His descriptions of the man who led the attack and first struck Stephen, along with other eyewitness accounts, do not match the appearances of the five main suspects.
Yet still this fundamental piece of the puzzle was overlooked.
Two “men” — David Norris and Gary Dobson — were eventually convicted of murder following an independent review a decade ago. But Luke Knight and brothers Neil and Jamie Acourt, suspects for 30 years, who protest their innocence, have never been punished.
White, a man convicted of assaulting a black shop worker three years ago, died from a drug overdose in 2021. If he was guilty in Stephen’s case he will never pay for his crimes.
Just as Cressida Dick, and senior officials leading the “investigations”, will never pay for theirs. Instead, many are still working, collecting lucrative pensions, and generally continuing to rise through the ranks of police mediocrity.
The police let down the salary paying public, they let down Stephen’s family and friends, they let down — and wilfully ignored — the young man’s heartbroken mother, Doreen, and father Neville, who have campaigned tirelessly for justice.
Clive Driscoll, the officer who convicted two of Stephen’s killers, claims Dick told him om 2012 not to bother going after the other suspects.
The “sword of Damocles” was hanging over her team, says Driscoll, presumably suggesting she was too nervous to put another foot wrong.
Learn from mistakes
This is a woman who oversaw a litany of disasters during her time at the helm. From police rapists Wayne Couzens and David Carrick, she was also the boss when a team of officers based around Westminster made repeated “jokes” about rape, domestic violence and violent racism and used homophobic language and derogatory terms for disabled people.
She left office in April, with a lovely £166,000 sweetener (more than the PM’s annual salary) and a giant, giant pension.
When will we stop rewarding incompetence?
Sure, kudos to Dame Cressida for being the first woman to lead Britain’s biggest police force. But she shouldn’t, quite literally, get a medal for it.
Her gender should have nothing to do with legacy. Her legacy now must be to help future generations learn from mistakes of the past.
We need a world-beating police force, not farce.
What a load of rubbish from Glastonbury’s hypocrites
SO the world’s most right-on festival is done for another self-aggrandising year.
Glastonbury: A £500, five-day extravaganza filled with unwashed vegans fuelled by nothing but MDMA, humous and plastic beakers of delicious self-righteousness.
Of course, this should be a celebration of music – and, indeed, much of it was.
After all, who could begrudge Elton and his pudgy little fingers tickling the ivories, giving the performance of a lifetime.
Families swayed in time to home-grown talent like Becky Hill, hungover students monstered cheesy chips at 5am and 200,000 hardy souls braved the Portaloos.
The problem, then, lies with the rampant hypocrisy of many of the thousands of leftie revellers – those who preach about open borders and net zero . . . while happily staying safe within their buffeted little VIP compound and chucking rubbish across the campsite for the little people to pick up after them.
Given the veritable mound of vapes, empty bottles and beer cans, plastic bags, pill packets, laughing gas canisters, half-eaten tofu kebabs, sleeping bags and general detritus left behind yesterday for poor volunteers to wade through, do they not see the irony?
Lesser-known pop stars and performers used their coveted slots to wang on about the Tories – while happily pocketing their lucrative pay cheques and using their newfound fame to climb further up the greasy capitalist pole.
After all, socialism is all well ’n’ good but it doesn’t get you a helicopter out of Worthy Farm now, does it, lads?
Politicians and little-known rockers, meanwhile, rallied against the Government’s refugee stance, effectively calling for anyone and everyone to be let in.
While, er, being protected by a giant watchtower, security detail and sprawling, metal apron surrounding the entire premises – keeping out those free-wheeling plebs trying to get in without a ticket.
Bless ’em.
LEADING nicely on, new research shows more than 40 per cent of Brits have had sex at a festival. And 55 per cent of 18-34 year olds.
Which begs the question, why?
After three days in a field, using a face wipe as a shower, I’d genuinely rather eat my own tent.
Prison break for sid
JUST when you thought celebrity reality TV couldn’t get more dystopian, or sink any lower, it gets more dystopian, and sinks lower.
Out-Black Mirroring Black Mirror*, a cast of characters including EastEnders’ Sid Owen, singer HRVY and tractor-loving ex-MP Neil Parish, were imprisoned for eight days – attended to by real former prison guards – and filmed around the clock for a forthcoming Channel 4 series.
Apparently Matt Hancock was approached but politely declined – presumably fearing his crimes against care homes could see him banged up for real . . .
* For those who haven’t watched any of Charlie Brooker’s brilliant, Netflix series, give it a go – you’re in for a treat.
Rotten apple
APPLE has finally updated its autocorrect.
But it’s still an a***ehole.
Last week I replied to my charity worker friend’s Instagram stories after she posted a heartbreaking video of her animal shelter’s latest rescue endeavours.
In it, she shared a two-minute clip of 20 poor, terrified, abused dogs being caged then killed in barbaric street markets in China.
Alongside a “crying face” emoji, I replied with a simple, succinct “gah”.
Unbeknownst to me, ducking autocorrect changed “gah” to “hahahaha”.
I hit “send”. I never heard back.
It was only upon messaging her a few days late that I realised the sheer HORROR of what I’d done. Kill me.
METEOROLOGISTS would do well to study me.
Every year, without fail, I book a two-week holiday. Every year, without fail, I go away in a heatwave.
Once again, then, I’m just back from a break in Barcelona – where it was seven degrees cooler than the UK, and rained four times.
My unmitigated fury was real – very real.
Pain of Nicola family
SOMETIMES advances in medical science and technology aren’t always a blessing.
Revived heartbreak, then, for the poor family of Nicola Bulley after her inquest revealed she died as a result of drowning and was alive when she fell into the water.
Does this make things better or worse?
Better, perhaps, in the sense she wasn’t harmed, thank God, before falling into the River Wyre . . . but worse in that this really was just a horrific, horrific, all-too-tragic, freak accident.
Either way, the poor family must now grieve afresh.
Devastating.
AN etiquette expert has given her tips for helping women in their 50s and 60s stay looking young.
I.e., less mutton, more lamb.
“Top tips” are basically a long list of hard Nos: No to “pretty prints”, no to dungarees, no to pearl button shirts, no to big sunglasses, no to “smocking” (no idea either), no to high heels. No, no, no, no.
Here’s a radical idea to all those experts out there: Stop pigeon-holing women and let us age disgracefully. And stop saying “no”.