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Coroners and Justice Bill

I am grateful to the noble Lords, Lord Borrie and Lord Lester. I am also grateful to the noble Lord, Lord Borrie, for going ahead with what he threatened to do at Second Reading; namely, to suggest that this clause should not stand part. I began the day by reading through from Clause 138 to Clause 155, which is 14 pages of new, detailed law. I asked myself in what way it would make society better, safer or more just. It has already been made clear that the likely outcome is two actions per year, but, of course, the outcome is much wider than that because it will have a hugely dampening effect on potential writers, filmmakers and communicators who have a criminal conviction. I should be very grateful if the Minister could confirm that I have understood correctly that this applies to anyone with a conviction above a conditional discharge and not just to someone who has served a prison sentence. I hope that I have understood that correctly but I look forward to the Minister correcting me if I have not. With these 14 pages of law, the potential writer or filmmaker enters a Kafkaesque world of doubt as they might be affected by these provisions but it will be decided on the balance of probabilities. They might be affected if they benefit from any steps taken, or to be taken. It is not clear to me how they can benefit before they have taken the steps but are perhaps just thinking about them. A person reading the measure will face difficulties in deciding whether they will contravene the law. If they are paid a fee for meeting someone to discuss a programme that is never made, does this mean that they have started taking steps? Then they have to reflect on the question of who is being offended. Which members of the general public will be offended? Eventually, the court—if the matter comes to court—must take account of the social, cultural or educational value of what has been done. So the potential writer or filmmaker has an awful lot of thinking to do before deciding to embark on writing related to the events of their past life. What happens if the victim is delighted that the offender who committed a crime against that victim has become a writer? Suppose there is a very happy victim but a very unhappy general public, who will win out? I should declare an interest as a senior research fellow at the International Centre for Prison Studies at King’s College, London, which researches prisons, their nature, function and role in society. Books written by people who have been in prison constitute a huge and indispensable body of literature. On a very superficial check of my bookshelves, I noticed the following books. In 1985, Audrey Peckham wrote A Woman in Custody. She was a deputy headmistress who had a nervous breakdown and her actions led her to be convicted for incitement to murder. The book gave an insight into life in women’s prisons that changed the debate and energised the reform movement. The Bird that Never Flew by Johnny Steele is described as the uncompromising autobiography of one of the most punished prisoners in the history of the penal system. It was published in 1992. This autobiography shows how a terrible childhood leads to crime, and how the system fails at every turn to take the right measures to change the person and divert them from crime, and is just as relevant today. Could he have written this book and left out the details of the crimes he committed? I do not think so. Some noble Lords may remember Inside: One Man’s Experience of Prison by John Hoskison, published in 1994. He was a professional golfer who hit and killed a cyclist while driving home, having had too much to drink. His book was a revelation of how prison seemed to someone with no experience of that world. The book was widely read and widely used as a contribution to the prison debate. Finally, I want to mention John Williams’ Silver Threads published in 1994 by BBC books. One has to ask whether BBC Books, when confronted with such a project would have to go through 14 pages of law and hire expensive lawyers before deciding whether it would be possible to proceed. That book begins: ""In the winter of 1948 I committed the offence of being born. Three months later I was handed into the care of Dr Barnardo’s Village homes in Barkingside"." That was an extraordinarily good, moving book from which there was much to learn for childcare specialists, psychiatrists and all the professionals. As noble Lords have said, there may be exceptional cases where the Proceeds of Crime Act might be used, where it can be established that there is no rehabilitative, artistic, educational or cultural merit—whatever artistic product it is—and it is gratuitously exploitative. But that would be very rare. It is overwhelmingly in the public interest and, therefore, in the interests of all victims of crime, that people with convictions should be able to write and create for their benefit and rehabilitation, and for the benefit of all those who want to learn and understand. I sincerely hope that the Government will have second thoughts about these clauses.