Trial by media: how bad press can influence a jury

This
appetite has never been better exemplified than when Chris Jeffries, a Bristol
landlord, was detained over the murder of Joanna Yeates in 2010. The media
circus surrounding his arrest, and the sordid allegations published about his
character, led to two tabloid newspapers being fined for contempt of court. Fortunately,
Jeffries was released without charge and won substantial damages for
defamation. Yet his case raised uncomfortable questions about the media’s
conduct: Why does crime reporting tend to be so sensational? Could negative pre-trial
publicity have the potential to influence a jury’s verdict?
Gerry Conlon
knows first-hand what it is like to be wrongfully convicted of a serious crime.
Along with three others, he was sentenced to life in 1975 for the IRA Guildford
pub bombings which killed five people. They became known as the Guildford four,
spending 15 years in jail before their convictions were overturned after one of
the gravest miscarriages of justice in British criminal history.
Conlon has campaigned
on behalf of other miscarriage of justice victims ever since. He remains an
angry man, acutely conscious that he represents a figure of hope for those
suffering a similar ordeal, and is unequivocal about the media’s role in
securing his conviction. “We were convicted because of the press,” he protests,
his voice filled with rage.
The case
against The Guildford four centred largely on their initial confessions, which they
subsequently retracted. Though it would later surface that the four had been
victims of police brutality, the media were unaware of this at the time of
their arrest, and the prospect of a trial involving alleged IRA terrorists at
the Old Bailey created all the necessary conditions for tabloid hysteria.
From jail, Conlon
had limited access to newspapers, but he was later able to scrutinise the
coverage of his case as his mother kept all the relevant clippings. He cites examples
of tabloid headlines which he claims consistently insinuated his guilt before
the trial had begun: “I remember the first day of my trial. The headlines in
the paper read: ‘Massive security for IRA bombers.’”
The press
failed to relent once court proceedings were underway. The Sun and the Daily
Express both ran headlines which read “Auntie Annie’s Bomb Factory” – a
reference to allegations made over the course of the Guildford four trial that
Conlon’s aunt, Annie Maguire, had helped to manufacture IRA explosives. Maguire,
who was awaiting a separate trial when these reports were published, was later
wrongly convicted for her part in the bombings.
In 2005 Tony
Blair formally apologised to the Guildford four, but Conlon waits in vain for
any expression of remorse from the tabloid press. He is unconvinced that any significant
lessons were learned from Guildford, and draws parallels between his case and
more modern ones. “Just look at how they treated Chris Jeffries,” he fumes,
“All the stuff about how he was a weirdo and an oddball…almost setting the
scenario to convict him.”
Asked what
he thinks causes the tabloids to behave in this way, he blames their close
relationship with a police force invariably intent on convincing the public of
a suspect’s guilt. “The police use the media as an outlet to establish guilt
before innocence has been taken into account,” he asserts acidly.
One journalist
who agrees that crime reporters can be influenced by the police is Duncan
Campbell. Campbell is a veteran crime reporter who worked for the Guardian for over
20 years, covering some of the most notorious trials in modern history. He
claims the ethical duties of a crime reporter are simple - “to give an accurate
impression of court proceedings and not to bring any foreknowledge you have
into your coverage of it.” Nevertheless, he accepts the various pressures
facing journalists can complicate matters.
Campbell
explains that before an important trial the media are routinely invited by the
police to a press briefing. These sessions serve as an opportunity for the
police to relay their version of a particular crime, including potentially damning
details about the accused person’s criminal history. Campbell admits it can be
difficult for journalists who are exposed to such information to keep an open
mind about a suspect. He concedes that “Inevitably some journalists will take
into the trial with them the knowledge that this person charged with robbery or
rape has committed eight or ten similar crimes beforehand, and that can affect
you.”
Not all
journalists share Campbell’s experiences with the police. One provincial
journalist gives a rather different account, describing how the police she has
dealt with have been consistently unwilling to provide anything other than
basic facts surrounding a case.
Nevertheless, if left unsatisfied by the briefing, she says it is common
for journalists to do their own groundwork, knocking on doors and interviewing
local residents in the hope that something newsworthy will surface.
When it does
it can pay to be cautious. Occasionally newspapers are heavily fined for
contempt of court after publishing reports containing information which could
prejudice a fair trial. However, the law’s interpretation has often been
inconsistent, and there is a widely held perception that public prosecutors
have become increasingly lenient over the years.
Campbell
recalls covering the trial of Rosemary West, who was sentenced to life in 1995
for murdering ten young women together with her husband Fred West. Though
compelling, the evidence against her was largely circumstantial, and the rarity
of a trial involving an alleged female serial killer created a media frenzy. “A
lot of details had come out about the case,” he remembers, “Fred West had
hanged himself before the trial and there were a lot of things revealed about
what he had done and by implication Rosemary West had done.” West’s lawyers
appealed her conviction on the grounds that pre-trial publicity had made a fair
trial impossible. The appeal was dismissed and no action was taken against any
newspapers.
The uninhibited
coverage of the West murders followed a trend in crime reporting which arguably
started with the Guildford four in the 70s, and was subsequently aided by the
introduction of the Contempt of Court Act 1981. Previously - with a few notable
exceptions - the media had observed tighter legal restrictions on what could be
reported before the conclusion of a trial. Conversely, the intention of the new
Act was to relax these restraints and, in the words of Lord Justice Lloyd, “effect
a permanent shift…away from the protection of the administration of justice and
in favour of freedom of speech.”
Newspapers
were granted a further boost in 1994 when Lord Taylor, then Lord Chief Justice,
declared his stance on the risks of prejudicial media publicity: “providing the
judge effectively warns the jury to act only on evidence given in court there
is no reason to suppose they would do otherwise." This remains a controversial
and poorly studied area: In the UK, no research has ever been conducted into
the possible effects of pre-trial publicity on a jury.
Like many
journalists, Campbell favours a self-regulated press over the prospect of tighter
legislation. In his view the problem is not a legal one, but rather stems from
a lack of adequate training: “I don’t think journalists need to be restrained
more but I think they need to be taught more about contempt of court.” This is
an area he feels sure has worsened considerably in recent years. “You used to
spend two and a half years on a local paper, you started out covering the
magistrates’ court,” he recollects nostalgically, “Now a lot of journalists have
no particular training in court reporting or in the law of contempt.”
Mark George
QC, a noted criminal defence barrister, agrees that journalists lack sufficient
training, but contests Campbell’s view that the law needn’t change. “Clearly
self-regulation has failed to work.” he argues, “Unless the government
introduce legislation which is likely to result in editors going to prison…or
papers being fined millions, I don’t feel confident anything much will change.”
George also highlights
the problem of ‘pre-Charge publicity’ - an increasing tendency for the press to
begin defaming a suspect before charges have been brought. He points to the
recent case of Rebecca Leighton, the nurse arrested on suspicion of poisoning
patients at Stepping Hill hospital, adding, “The press seem to think that they
can say what they like until a person is charged…by which time the damage has
already been done.” In George’s
view a large portion of blame belongs to newspaper editors whom he accuses of prioritising
revenue over respect for the law. “Newspapers currently take a calculated
gamble that the extra revenue from sensational reporting will far outweigh any
fines they get from the Attorney General”, he says.
It remains
to be seen whether the law will be amended. What is certain is that the ethics
of pre-trial publicity has never before been so passionately and publically
debated. In November the on-going Leveson inquiry heard from Chris Jeffries who
declared: “The UK press set about what can only be described as a
witch-hunt...and seemed determined to persuade the public of my guilt.” By now
almost everyone is familiar with the narrative of Jeffries’ case and most share
his cynical view of the media’s behaviour towards him.
Furthermore, Dominic Grieve, the current Attorney General, has been far more proactive than his predecessors. Grieve launched three prosecutions against newspapers in 2011 alone, compared to a total of three by previous Attorney Generals in the preceding 10 years. During the Chris Jeffries saga he prosecuted the Sun and the Daily Mirror which resulted in fines of £18,000 and £50,000 respectively. This was especially surprising as it is very unusual for a newspaper to be charged with contempt for a case which never went to trial.
Furthermore, Dominic Grieve, the current Attorney General, has been far more proactive than his predecessors. Grieve launched three prosecutions against newspapers in 2011 alone, compared to a total of three by previous Attorney Generals in the preceding 10 years. During the Chris Jeffries saga he prosecuted the Sun and the Daily Mirror which resulted in fines of £18,000 and £50,000 respectively. This was especially surprising as it is very unusual for a newspaper to be charged with contempt for a case which never went to trial.
In the light
of these developments, editors and crime reporters might be well advised to
behave cautiously in the near future. Of particular interest will be the
coverage of the on-going investigation into Oxford professor Steven Rawling’s
death. Following the discovery of Rawling’s body at another man’s house, the
Daily Mail’s headline initially read: ‘Oxford university professor found dead
at rival lecturer’s home ‘following row over academic matters.’’ The alleged ‘rival’
was arrested a day later, but following comments made by Rawling’s wife it
transpired the two had been best friends for over 30 years, and had written
several books together. The online version of the Mail’s article was soon
amended to omit any mention of rivalry.
Stories
about murder clearly capture the public’s imagination, but it is arguable that accusations
of the nature aimed at Jeffries should only ever be heard in a criminal court,
where a defendant has the opportunity to rebut them. One journalist for a
national paper described the consensus thus: “Highly defamatory allegations should
not be spread merely to salivate the senses of a media audience, even on an
Orwellian Sunday afternoon.”
Comments