Some interesting news for your delectation: Alison Saunders, the beleaguered Director of Public Prosecutions, will not be offered an extension to her five year contract when it expires in October. I wonder why not.
According to Alison, it was her decision to shoulder arms, and any suggestion that the government has had enough of her questionable competence is flatly contradicted by her, but then, it would be wouldn’t it?
Is it only five years since Ms. Saunders was appointed? It sees much longer. In fairness to her, she has done her best with limited intelligence to run an enormous and unwieldy service, and inevitably mistakes were going to be made. But the difference between a leader and an also ran is the ability to sort out the mess, admit mistakes, put them right and move on.
Before the creation of the Clown Prosecution Service in 1986, Plod used to prosecute their own cases on their own patch, they had their own solicitors, and for the most part, their cases were farmed out to local barristers. It was all very cosy and incestuous. If mistakes were made, they were ‘corrected’ in-house, and life went on. By keeping it local, blunders, and worse still, blatant corruption, were swept under the carpet, and the lads stuck together. Corroboration, an important and independent part of the prosecutor’s armoury, consisted of one police officer signing his colleague’s pocket book to signify agreement without even reading it, and putting it before the jury as the cast-iron truth, on my babby’s life!
The worst excesses of local prosecutions came with the signed confession, long before the days of tape recorders, when confessions were faithfully recorded in the interviewing officers’ pocket books well after the confession was made, and usually over a mug of tea in the police canteen. The oft repeated maxim that the notes were made whilst matters were still fresh in the memory was all that was required. It was fertile ground for fabrication and ground that was regularly tilled.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not suggesting that Plod to a man were corrupt, but as they say, all it takes is one bad apple. The idea that a national prosecuting service would bring respectability to the task of bringing the guilty to justice slowly took root, and in 1986, during the reign of the Blessed St. Margaret, a former barrister, the Clown Prosecution Service was born, in the hope that there would be uniform national standards applied to address the criticisms of incompetence and worse still, corruption. It has been better than before, but not without its problems.
But what has been Ms. Saunders’ undoing has been sex, and her pathetic and dangerously complacent response to it. I refer specifically to the recent scandal of sexual complainants lying to Plod and even to the jury when no sexual abuse had taken place. There are all sorts of excuses and explanations, but its root cause is the direction from on high to Plod to believe without question these false allegations. In so doing, they are not properly investigated, if at all, and for the most part, these allegations take place in private, with one person’s word against another’s. This is where independent corroboration, not fabricated, is vital in the pursuit of the truth, and sadly, Ms. Saunders has been found wanting. Worse still, she won’t admit it.
She was an in-house appointment, which was a mistake. Word on the street is that the government has acknowledged that the post of Director of Public Prosecutions is not one for intellectual pygmies, so the search for the next director will cast a wide net. It’s a thankless task, so I cannot see many heavyweight legal luminaries putting their names forward. And before you ask, no, I have no intention of supping from the poisoned chalice.
There is much work to be done, and little time to restore damaged reputations. So my strong advice to Ms. Saunders in the remaining 6 months, say and do as little as possible to preserve your publicly funded and very generous pension.