Justice for Helen

by Marie McCourt

  First, however, he needed information. And lots of it. We pored over files – from transcripts of the court case and witness statements to Simms’ hobbies and interests and vital evidence.

  Once Peter had absorbed every detail, he came to visit – along with Fiona and Louie. He agreed with our basic instincts that the area around Rixton – where the spade had been found – was key.

  On two separate occasions, we spent days exploring possible burial sites – clambering over rough ground, being savaged by giant mosquitoes and getting drenched in torrential downpours.

  The advancing years had caught up with John and I and we found it long, hard, exhausting work. Poor John, still prone to falls, suffered backache for a week after a spectacular tumble down a muddy slope. At times, Peter insisted we rest in the car. Otherwise, we fetched and carried tools, while he worked like a Trojan.

  And at times our hopes soared sky-high. I trembled when Peter delicately unearthed a buried length of electric wire. Then I peered eagerly into the soil only to find it was an old-fashioned twisted flex rather than the plastic-coated type Simms had used to strangle Helen.

  Another time, Peter’s spade revealed a corner of thick, clear plastic. My heart froze in my chest. Had Helen been wrapped in it? But it was garden sacking that had somehow ended up being buried.

  Peter is still very involved and preparing for his next visit to try and find Helen – as soon as his busy schedule allows. We will never, ever be able to thank him – and those who so willingly give access to their land. Such consideration really does keep us going.

  Meanwhile, the nightmare that was Brexit continued to dominate politics, overshadowing everything else. Leave dates were extended, the new prime minister Boris Johnson took over the helm, Parliament was prorogued, then reinstalled. It was infuriating.

  * * *

  At the end of September came a phone call which left me reeling. A date had been set for Simms’ next parole hearing: 7 November.

  My stomach lurched. ‘Surely they’ll have to wait until Helen’s Law has been passed?’ I asked desperately.

  Apparently not.

  I rang Conor McGinn and started to write a letter to Secretary of State for Justice Robert Buckland, imploring him to intervene. To my astonishment, he agreed to see me on Monday, 14 October – the day of the Queen’s Speech. I printed off my letter, begging him for his help.

  ‘We can deliver the letter in person,’ I told John.

  Just as the train was at its noisiest – rattling through tunnel after tunnel – the probation office called. I couldn’t hear a thing.

  ‘We’ll send an email,’ they said, before we lost the connection.

  In Robert Buckland’s office, I handed over the letter – and threw myself on his mercy. ‘When will Helen’s Law go through?’ I asked.

  He turned to his team. Someone said ‘Next spring’ and I gasped in horror.

  ‘That’s too late!’ I cried. ‘It needs to be now.’

  Robert nodded. ‘Could we have it for the end of the year?’ he asked someone.

  I turned to John in despair, then back to Robert. ‘That’s still too late,’ I insisted. ‘My daughter’s killer might be up for parole in three weeks. Time is something I don’t have.

  ‘David Gauke said it could be two to three months when I met him in May. That was five months ago!’

  Robert assured me that he had immense sympathy and would introduce the Bill as soon as possible.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  He was trying his best – and these delays weren’t his fault either.

  * * *

  Back at home, we opened an email from probation. It was official – the parole hearing was scheduled for 7 and 8 November, just over three weeks away.

  ‘Well, that’s that,’ I sighed.

  To cheer me up, John played the Queen’s Speech that he’d recorded earlier that day. ‘Let’s see if a certain Bill has been included,’ he said.

  I held my breath waiting for her to reach the crucial words in her own inimitable style:

  My Government is committed to addressing violent crime, and to strengthening public confidence in the criminal justice system. [...]

  Laws will be introduced to ensure that the parole system recognises the pain to victims and their families caused by offenders refusing to disclose information relating to their crimes.

  And there it was. The Queen herself had mentioned my law.

  It had to go through now, surely?

  I googled the Bill – now titled the Prisoners (Disclosure of Information About Victims) Bill – and read it out to John, highlighting the strongest words:

  The purpose of the Bill is to ensure that where an offender who has been convicted of murder, manslaughter or taking indecent photographs of children refuses to disclose certain details about their offences, that is considered by the Parole Board as part of their assessment as to whether that offender should be released.

  The main benefits of the Bill would be: ‘Putting in statute, and therefore beyond doubt, the Parole Board’s established practice of considering a failure by an offender to disclose specific information in these cases.’

  And ‘Making this established Parole Board practice a legal obligation so families and victims will know that such issues must be taken into account as part of the Parole Board release process.

  ‘The main elements of the Bill are: Amending the life sentence and the extended determinate sentence release test to direct the Parole Board to take into account circumstances where an offender, who has been convicted of murder or manslaughter, has not disclosed the location of a victim’s remains.’

  ‘Oh, and listen to this,’ I continued. ‘Underneath, there’s a section entitled Key Facts which says: “The first measure of this Bill is a version of ‘Helen’s Law’, which has been the subject of a campaign by Marie McCourt. Her daughter, Helen, was murdered by Ian Simms in 1988 and her body has never been found.

  ‘“The Parole Board already has internal guidance which advises panel members to consider any failure or refusal by an offender to disclose the whereabouts of a victim’s remains information when assessing release. The Bill makes this a statutory requirement.”’

  I sat back, proudly. Well, it certainly sounded good.

  By now, the Bill had been widened to also include cases where offenders refuse to disclose the identity of children in abusive images they have taken or made. I had no problem with this. Helen adored children – she would be proud to think that she was making a difference in such horrendous cases.

  The Bill was presented to Parliament the very next day. That was something at least. Maybe by some miracle, it could whizz through in three weeks?

  In the meantime, Fiona suggested we try to secure legal advice. Professor Yardley reached out to 9 Gough Chambers in London and I was choked when top barrister James Thacker agreed to represent me on a pro bono basis.

  I can’t even begin to tell you how many hours James and his dedicated team spent with me over the next twelve months. They went above and beyond the call of duty and I will never, ever be able to repay them.

  Just the day before our first meeting in London, two separate murder convictions without a body were returned by two separate juries on the very same afternoon. One was a recent case, the other was twenty years old. They were Sarah Wellgreen, forty-six, a mum of five who vanished in October 2018, and mum of three Debbie Griggs, thirty-four, who was pregnant when she disappeared in 1999. Both victims were mothers – killed and hidden by the very men who should have loved them. My heart went out to their families. And their children.

  Helen’s Law had never been so needed.

  There was no way of delaying the parole hearing, James explained, but he would support me during the process. We would start by asking the Parole Board to release the ‘dossier’ on Simms (a folder of information relating to his time in prison) so we could ensure that it was accurate and complete – and relevant to my concerns about risk. We would al
so ask for a legal representative to accompany me to the hearing. I immediately felt calmer.

  On the way back from our meeting in London, a billboard for the Evening Standard stopped me in my tracks: ‘Oh, dear God!’ I said. The Commons had just voted for a General Election on 12 December.

  Parliament was falling once again . . .

  I felt jinxed. Doomed. What else could go wrong? Once again, everything ground to a halt.

  The only saving grace this time was that the Bill had been presented to Parliament and included in the Queen’s Speech. But there was no way it would pass in time. And what if Conor McGinn or Robert Buckland – my champions – lost their seats? I was a nervous wreck.

  On Thursday, 7 November – the day after Parliament had officially been dissolved, John, Michael and I nervously arrived at the Parole Board head office in Canary Wharf.

  This was it.

  The Parole Board had refused to release the dossier – and only granted permission for my legal representative to attend less than one hour before the hearing. It was a mad rush for them to get there.

  Michael, John and I each read our statements. No matter how many times you do this, it’s always an ordeal, fracturing your heart into even more tiny pieces as you relive the horror of the murder all over again. But, at the same time, you know that those words only ever reveal a tiny fraction of your true pain.

  How can you sum up thirty-two years of torture on a few flimsy pages of A4?

  I was thrown when, towards the end of the hearing, the Parole Judge said: ‘I would like you to know that I have read Helen’s Law.’

  I blinked; I had absolutely no idea what to say. I wasn’t even sure if this was a test, and a pass or fail for me – or Simms – would depend on my response.

  Could asking ‘and what do you think?’ or ‘do you agree?’ put me on shaky ground?

  I just nodded and said: ‘Oh, thank you.’

  Downstairs, Fiona led us out to waiting journalists and photographers for interviews. Once again, I held up my precious framed photo of Helen and spoke from the heart: ‘I hope and pray the parole judges will listen to my plea and that of my son, Michael, and make the right decision for us.

  ‘And I urge Ian Simms, please, please do the right thing. End this torture and tell us where Helen’s remains can be recovered. Then you also can look forward to a day of being released.’

  Two weeks later, I was heading into my Pilates class when my mobile rang. My stomach lurched at the number on caller display: victim liaison officer.

  ‘Oh God!’ I whispered, as I shakily pressed ‘reply’.

  Once again, with three familiar words, my world came crashing around my ears.

  ‘I’m sorry, Marie . . . ’

  He was being released.

  Chapter 19

  A race against time

  T

  he words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I leaned against the gym wall, my stomach churning as if on a fast spin.

  It felt as if I was underwater – sounds were distorted and muffled. I desperately wanted to rewind my life to a few moments ago where I was walking into my Pilates class, happily chatting. I’d keep my finger on the rewind button. See images speed up faster and faster as I whirled back through the last horrible thirty-two years . . . Back through the exhumation, countless parole hearings, the awful court case.

  I’d stop on the morning of 9 February 1988, press ‘delete’ and start again. I’d see myself hurrying down the stairs, tying my dressing gown, to catch Helen before she left for work. I’d tell her I loved her and that I’d pick her up from work that night. She’d go on her date, as planned. Shopping trips, holidays, parties, her wedding day, her babies, her thirtieth, fortieth, fiftieth birthdays would all unfold.

  The life I should have had with her.

  Simms had stolen all of that from me – and more. Not only had he taken my daughter’s life, he had taken her body. Hidden it. For more than thirty years he refused to say what he’d done with her.

  And now. Now. Despite all of that they were letting him free.

  My fingers trembled as I clumsily jabbed numbers for Michael, John and Fiona. I uttered three words: ‘They’re releasing him.’

  Trembling like a leaf, I drove home. Within minutes, the story had broken online. My phone rang non-stop. James Thacker and his team were all in hearings but sent messages, urging calm.

  We had two options. Following the John Worboys scandal, the Government had, just that summer, introduced a Parole Board Reconsideration Mechanism. It meant that for the first time, the Secretary of State for Justice (and the prisoner, of course, but not the victim or the victim’s family) could ask for a decision to be reconsidered if they could show it was irrational or procedurally unfair.

  A fresh judge would then examine the case and decide if a new parole hearing should be held.

  I could also apply for a judicial review into the decision at the High Court – which is what victims of John Worboys successfully did in 2018.

  We had three weeks to lodge an appeal for Robert Buckland to apply for a reconsideration – and three months to lodge a claim for a judicial review.

  ‘Right, so we’re not rushing into anything,’ I agreed. Instead, we issued a simple statement reflecting my anger at the decision reached – for journalists and social media accounts.

  ‘I am stunned, horrified, furious and absolutely devastated to find out that Simms could be released from prison before Christmas.

  ‘Helen’s Law is written and ready to go on the statute book. After my meeting with the Justice Secretary it was introduced to Parliament the very next day. It was also presented in the Queen’s Speech but now, due to the election, it is on hold.

  ‘After almost four years of fighting to get this law it is a disgrace that the Parole Board has chosen this time to release him.

  ‘Six hundred thousand people signed this petition and hopefully the public will continue to support us in keeping killers like Simms in prison until they disclose where their victims’ remains are.

  ‘My greatest fear is that, once he has gained his freedom, he will never give us the information that we so dearly wish to have.’

  For a few moments all was calm. Then a cacophony of ringing tones, notification beeps and email pings erupted.

  ‘Sickened’, ‘horrified’, ‘disgusted’, ‘disgraceful’ were just a few of the words that leapt out from screens. You could sense the anger, the disbelief, the horror, unfurling on my behalf.

  The release summary left me shaking my head in disbelief. The panel had concluded: ‘There is no prospect of Mr Simms ever disclosing the whereabouts of his victim even if he were kept in prison until he died’.

  What, so we may as well let him go? I thought, incredulously.

  They also acknowledged he had not completed any accredited offending behaviour programmes because of the denial. However, factors including ‘the progress he had made’ and ‘the considerable change in his behaviour’ meant he had ‘met the test for release’.

  An appalled Conor McGinn requested an urgent meeting with Robert Buckland. I also wrote directly to Mr Buckland, informing him that I was considering requesting a judicial review. However, with an election campaign underway, we were in purdah – a bizarre No Man’s Land. Parliament had been dissolved, there was no Government in place – no one I could turn to.

  Supporters like Professor Yardley, Claire Waxman from Voice4Victims and Dr Keri Nixon, the forensic psychologist who had supported our original campaign, all rallied.

  Dr Nixon put me in touch with Harry Fletcher – a prominent victims’ campaigner and Government adviser who took up our cause with gusto and ran with it. He was a whirlwind of action and a fount of legal knowledge.

  We’d already considered launching a crowdfunding appeal to cover potential legal action; now it was time. Within two hours of our Justice for Helen McCourt appeal going live on GoFundMe, we’d raised £5,000. Within three days, we were at £20,000.

  The
comments had me reaching for tissues – former colleagues and commuters who remembered Helen well, a retired police officer who had worked on the case, and one message which simply said, ‘Marie was there for me. I want to be there for her.’

  Many said they were sorry they weren’t able to donate more, which made me cry even more. So many expressed their anger and fury on my behalf. And others sent me strength and love and urged me never, ever to give up fighting for justice.

  ‘Thank you for trying to keep other people safe,’ one message said.

  It worked. Their encouragement, their backing, their belief in me was fuel for my tank.

  On 2 December, Robert Buckland replied. He said: ‘I recognise the deep distress which the Board’s decision has caused you, the more so as Simms continues to deny responsibility for murdering your beloved and much-missed daughter Helen and refuses to disclose what he did with her body.’

  He understood my wish to apply for a judicial review but said he was considering asking for a reconsideration of the decision – which would save me embarking on legal action. He would let me know before the deadline on 12 December. However, he warned that if his application was rejected, the provisional decision to release would become final and legally binding: ‘[...] I must comply with the direction of the Board, and officials will finalise preparations for Simms’ release.’

  But it wouldn’t come to that. Would it?

  * * *

  So, with Robert Buckland asking for a reconsideration, I needed to get my arguments to him. My legal team compiled written representations from myself (all the grounds for our belief that the decision was irrational and procedurally unfair).

  Even to me, who had lived every moment of this nightmare, my submission made shocking reading. It included the threatening letter he had sent to me, evidence of his violence, both before and in prison, newspaper coverage of how he had threatened to kill and hide a body so well it would never be found, his macabre painting of Helen, his refusal to meet with police and co-operate in helping them find Helen’s body, his continued denial of the offence and the appeal in which he argued that manslaughter should have been given to the jury as an option to murder (thereby admitting he had taken Helen’s life).