Care goes on
A global village
the police trawl the innocent
Do you care
to go to jail?
goes on trial
the BBC did not tell us
ON MONDAY 25 January 1999, immediately
after Newsnight, BBC2 broadcast a documentary, A Place of
Safety, about sexual and physical abuse in children’s homes in North
Wales. Many who saw it found it one of the most harrowing programmes about
abuse they had ever watched.
As the North Wales Tribunal, the
longest and most costly public inquiry in British legal history, gets
nearer to publishing its report, the BBC had lined up a succession of
witnesses who were prepared to speak about the years and years of child
abuse they said they had experienced. All of them were adults. Almost all
of them were men. With one exception they spoke full-face to the camera
and allowed their names to appear on screen. They spoke of beatings and of
bullying by the staff who were employed to care for them, of habitual
sexual assaults and of cruelty and neglect on a scale that, ten years ago,
would have been beyond belief.
As the programme went on, it became
clear why North Wales has now become almost a synonym for abuse. Sir
William Utting, chairman of the National Institute of Social Work, said on
the programme: ‘I think this is one of the names that will continue to
resonate through childcare over the coming decades because it establishes
a kind of benchmark for the combination of things that can go wrong in
residential childcare . . . It will be the name that’s used to terrify
future generations of childcare workers.’
This is now the received
view of North Wales, held alike by journalists, social workers and
politicians. But there is a problem with the story of North Wales. It is a
problem that the BBC programme illustrated repeatedly and disturbingly.
The first witness to appear on the programme was Brian Roberts. He
had been sent to Bryn Estyn, the home said to have been at the centre of a
web of abuse, in 1970 when it was still an approved school. Standing in
front of the buildings he said: ‘It was just like something out of a
horror movie, the beatings, the abuse, the sexual abuse. It was
disgusting.’ As atmospheric music played and the camera cut to a shot of
crows perching on nearby tree-tops, Roberts went on to say that a man
(whom he did not name) had taken him into the gym and attempted to bugger
What the BBC did not tell us was that Brian Roberts only made
his allegation of sexual abuse after watching a television programme about
Bryn Estyn in 1997. This programme, which dealt with the setting up of the
North Wales Tribunal, had mentioned the conviction of Peter Howarth, the
deputy head of Bryn Estyn, for sexually abusing adolescents in his care.
(It did not mention that Howarth, now dead, always protested his
innocence, or that some of his former colleagues still believe he was
Roberts immediately contacted the tribunal and
told them that he, too, had been sexually abused by Howarth. He then made
a formal statement to this effect. At this stage it was pointed out to him
that Howarth had not begun working at the school until November 1973,
three years after he had left. Far from being sexually abused by Howarth,
Roberts had never met him.
The next witnesses to appear on the
programme were Keith and Tony Gregory. Tony described a regime where
physical abuse was commonplace. He said: ‘You’d let it happen to you.
You’d let the staff punch you in the face, or in the stomach, or throw
things at you.’ He went on to make even more serious claims, including
that he had seen Peter Howarth sexually abusing one of the residents.
What the BBC did not tell us was that Tony Gregory had also given
evidence to the North Wales Tribunal. One of the allegations he had made
concerned a Mr Clutton who, he said, had thrown a leather football at his
face so hard that it had almost broken his nose. During cross-examination
it was pointed out that, although there had been a Mr Clutton on the staff
of Bryn Estyn, he had left in 1974, three years before Tony Gregory had
The next witness to appear on the programme was Steven
Messham. He said that on one occasion, when he had been in the sick-bay
with blood pouring from his mouth, he had been buggered by Howarth as he
lay in bed. He said that on another occasion he was asked to take a hamper
of food to Howarth’s flat, where he was buggered by Howarth over the
What the BBC did not tell us was that Messham
claims he was sexually abused by no less than 49 different people. He also
says he has been physically abused by 26 people. In 1994 the Crown
Prosecution Service declined to bring his allegations against Howarth to
court. None of his allegations has ever resulted in a conviction. In 1995
one of his most serious sexual allegations was rejected by a jury after
barristers argued that it was a transparent fabrication.
witness was Andrew Teague. Teague said he had been beaten and sexually
abused by one unnamed member of staff and that he had also been sexually
abused by Howarth.
What the BBC did not tell us was that, although
Teague had at one point agreed to appear as a witness at the North Wales
Tribunal, he changed his mind at the last moment. The tribunal declined to
use its powers to subpoena him. Counsel to the tribunal, however, did read
out a statement which Teague had made to the North Wales police in 1992.
In this statement he made allegations of physical abuse but clearly said:
‘I never experienced any sort of sexual abuse by the staff.’ His main
allegation was of serious and repeated physical abuse by a care worker,
Fred Rutter. It was later pointed out to the tribunal that Teague was at
Bryn Estyn between 1977 and 1978. Rutter, however, did not start working
there until 1982.
The next witness to appear was Andrew Treanor.
He said that he had been abused at Ty’r Felin in Gwynedd, when a member of
the care staff had punched him in the face.
What the BBC did not
tell us was that in 1992 the North Wales police took a statement about a
similar incident from a young woman who had been in care with Treanor. In
her statement she recalled that Treanor had been arguing with a member of
staff: ‘Following the argument Treanor came to join us by the steps to the
loft. He had a bruise on his face from an earlier incident . . . We were
talking about it and Andrew decided to start hitting himself on his face
by this bruise to cause a more serious injury. He then said he would make
a false allegation against the ex-army member of staff to get him
dismissed. We all agreed to go along with his story, although we all knew
Andrew had not been assaulted at all.’
The next witness did not
appear under his real name, and was filmed in shadow. He told of how, some
ten years ago, he had been sexually abused by Stephen Norris, the officer
in charge of Cartrefle children’s home. His testimony was detailed and
convincing. There is a wealth of evidence to indicate that the sexual
abuse he described (and which he complained of at the time) did indeed
happen. Norris, who had previously worked at Bryn Estyn, subsequently
pleaded guilty to offences against boys in his care and has served two
Partly because of Norris’s conviction there can
be no question at all that some sexual abuse and some physical abusedid
take place in care homes in North Wales during the 1970s and 1980s. But
equally, after all the evidence which has now emerged, there should be no
doubt that a substantial number of false allegations have also been made.
If the selection of witnesses who appeared on A Place of Safety is
in any way representative, then the programme itself would seem to
indicate that the proportion of false allegations may be startlingly high.
By far the most disturbing feature of the programme, however, was
that the journalists who worked on it failed utterly to discharge the most
basic duty of all journalists - the duty to investigate.
question raised by the programme is not whether every detail of the
complaints made in it was true or false. It is whether the witnesses it
featured should have been relied on by responsible journalists. At least
five of the first seven witnesses who appeared had in the past made
serious allegations of abuse that were demonstrably false. In some cases
they had tried to uphold their allegations even when the details of their
complaints had been shown to be impossible. Brian Roberts, for example,
after having learnt that he could not have been abused by Peter Howarth,
said that he had mistaken the identity of the staff member involved. The
trouble, he said, was that ‘we never knew the staff directly by their
names, it was either Sir or Miss’. According to those who knew Bryn Estyn
at the time, Roberts’ account of an institution whose staff had no names
bears no relationship to reality.
In most cases the amount of
research needed to uncover the unreliability of the witnesses who appeared
on A Place of Safety was minimal. In the cases of Roberts, Gregory
and Teague, for example, all the BBC needed to do was consult the relevant
portions of the transcript of the North Wales Tribunal. Yet even this
piece of elementary journalistic research, which would have taken hours
rather than days, appears to have been too much for them. The result was a
programme that undoubtedly shocked many who saw it but which is actually
far more shocking as an example of the low level to which some television
journalism has fallen.
The low standards of this BBC programme are
all the more worrying in view of the planned publication, later this year,
of the report of the North Wales Tribunal. This report was referred to in
the programme. Steven Messham, the man who claims he has been abused by
more than 70 different people (and who also frequently appears on
Channel 4 News), spoke of the promise made by Gerard Elias QC that
the tribunal would ‘leave no stone unturned in its search for the truth’.
Messham went on to suggest that this was not so because the tribunal had
failed to give proper consideration to the idea that a paedophile ring had
organised a network of abuse in North Wales care homes.
BBC did not tell us was that other observers have criticised the tribunal
from a quite different point of view. In particular they point out that,
although considerable doubt surrounds the conviction of Peter Howarth, the
tribunal has explicitly declined to consider this question. The tribunal
says that it is bound by the doctrine of res judicata, which
prevents it from investigating matters that have already been brought
before the courts. This may well have been a legally correct decision. But
the effect of the ruling is to prevent Howarth’s barristers from
challenging the soundness of his conviction.
In other words, one
stone must remain unturned. And since the stone in question is nothing
less than the foundation stone on which the entire North Wales story has
been built, there are those who hold the view that the tribunal has not
been able to conduct a proper inquiry at all.
The North Wales
Tribunal has cost the taxpayer an estimated £15 million, but if this
expenditure is unprecedented, so too is the difficulty of the task it
faces. No amount of money can buy access to the truth and we must hope
that the tribunal will not end by wholly or partly endorsing a received
view of the story of North Wales that is fundamentally false.
in view of the doubts that surround the story of North Wales - doubts that
A Place of Safety, by its choice of witnesses, inadvertently
illustrated - it is extremely important that the report, when it
eventually appears, is thoroughly examined. For that to happen it is
essential that the report is scrutinised by journalists who have
themselves researched the story in depth, and whose appetite for sex,
sensation and scurrility does not overpower their capacity to judge
between what is true and what is false.
On this front, the only
reassuring news to have emerged since the broadcast of A Place of
Safety is that the tribunal report is now unlikely to appear until the
summer. This gives journalists both in the BBC and in other media
throughout Britain at least three more months to research the story
thoroughly themselves. If we are to judge by the quality of journalism
apparent in the BBC’s A Place of Safety, they will need all this
time and more.
This article first appeared in the New
Statesman, 19 February 1999
© Richard Webster, 2002