Managing to meet the Minister

Justicequilt-92I met Simon Hughes, Minister of Justice, today. Eventually.

I got to the House of Commons with a few mins to spare before the 2.45-3.15pm appointment and found a great (really great) wedgy of lecturers queuing to get through security to lobby their MPs over college cuts.  I watched Big Ben eat up 10 minutes of meeting time in the static queue, took a deep breath and asked the people immediately in front of me if they minded if I pushed in to get to the last 15 minutes of my meeting.

“Go for it”, they chorused and I pinged down to the front of the queue, feeling like one of those bastard cars that refuses to get into one lane early on and barges in at the front. Unfortunately I got a bit off track once inside and ended up standing in the Lobby, greeting the lecturers, as they pitched up, handed over green cards and went. By now it was 3.05pm. I was clearly in the wrong place.

I took a photo of the clock. Feeling stressed/distressed/frustrated at missing my slot.

“Most people take photos of the ‘no photos allowed’ sign,” said a cheerful policeman, who then filled me in on some Lobby history.

Just before 3.15pm, I was ‘found’ and shepherded along to Simon Hughes’ office. We launched straight into a no nonsense discussion about inquests. His aide (?) reminded him he had to leave almost straightaway. They had a quick convo about ringing his next gig and explaining he was slightly delayed but would be there by 3.45pm.

The call was unanswered.

‘The Secretary of State? He’s just upstairs. You could nip up and tell him I’ll be along be along shortly. He’ll understand.’

Oh my blinky blonky blimey, I chuckled to myself. Was that scripted? Was that a genuine exchange? Really??

I don’t care. On the eve of #107steps to justice, the Minister of Justice demonstrated interest, respect and a genuine commitment to improving the experience for families in the coronial process. That’s pretty cool.

A business pretending to care

The update from Sloven on their staff disciplinary actions has weighed heavily since we received it.

I sit in the Justice Shed surrounded by LB ‘stuff’. He’s woven through the fabric of our home, hearts and lives in ways that are both visible (in bus and related memorabilia (is that the right word?) and through the memories/thoughts and laughter we (and this space) constantly evoke. I’ve said recently how much he’d expect and enjoy many aspects of the #JusticeforLB campaign. The buses and lorry named after him. The police and HSE involvement. The human rights legal team. The inquest process and Divine Comedy tweet. Norman Lamb talking about ‘Connor’s law’ at the Lib Dem Spring conference.

His death has captured so much of his imagined future. A future we never really imagined.

He would be enraged by Sloven actions though. They would upset his view of the world. Of the people and organisations you can trust and rely on. Police are good/burglars bad categorisations.

When we told him, that terrible day two years ago tomorrow, that he was going to hospital, he was fairly chilled about the idea. He’d enjoyed visiting his grandad weeks before at the JR. He loved the attention paramedics gave him when he’d had seizures. The NHS was in his good column. When we turned left at the crossroads instead of right, and ended up outside a crappy bungalow where we were almost not allowed in, he became less keen. But it was an NHS hospital (we thought). And even though a few hours later he was subject to violent and extended restraint and then drugging, we thought they must know what they were doing. [I know].

Since the whole foul tale of the Sloven acquisition of the Ridgeway has unfolded (see Chris Hatton’s latest forensic analysis here), Sloven have consistently proved themselves to be at best crap. They really ain’t worthy of the public service label. That’s probably what we’d have said to LB in the end. ‘They ain’t really NHS mate. Just a business pretending to care’.