What I learned from Winston Silcott

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I was a little taken aback when I heard today that the Metropolitan Police have charged a man with the murder of PC Keith Blakelock, who was killed during riots in north London in 1985.

Alison Saunders of the CPS said the new charge came “following a thorough investigation by the Metropolitan Police Service”.

Well, a ”thorough investigation” is more than the police managed in 1985. Pretty much the sole purpose of the first investigation was to pin it on Winston Silcott come what may. He ended up being wrongly convicted of the murder on the flimsiest (fabricated) evidence.

I got to know Winston Silcott and his family very well in the 1990s. I used to visit him in prison. His wonderful mum Mary would make us the most tasty swordfish cakes to eat on the train journey up to Leicestershire. Winston was no angel and neither did he pretend to be one, but he was a million miles from the beast portrayed in the tabloid press.

And no one deserves to be framed for murder. The injustice of that sucked for Winston but it ultimately sucked for the family of Keith Blakelock, too. They deserved the right people to go to prison. And then there’s Cynthia Jarrett, whose death during a police raid sparked the riot in which Blakelock was killed.

Just the widespread heartache of it all.

I was a student at the time. Getting to know Winston and learning about his case taught me many things. Firstly, it showed me what strength and dignity are. I witnessed heaps of both in Winston and his family. Talk about a wake-up call for me and my teenage woes.

It also taught me that, once people begin lying about someone, very quickly things get out of control and lots of people get hurt. Crucially, I realised when someone is widely despised and vilified, those emotions can be based on fundamental misunderstandings, and therefore misplaced and unhelpful.

Winston was released from prison 10 years ago. We all moved on. But what an eye-opener it had been.

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