'You'll
Never Walk Alone'
Reflections on the verdicts of the Hillsborough
Inquest jury, April 26th, 2016
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Truth, Justice, Accountability
I cried today. I wasn`t physically in pain, nobody close to
me had died, had become seriously ill or had gone missing.
Like many thousands of people around Merseyside and the
whole country, I watched the televised broadcast of the
Hillsborough Inquest verdicts. I cried in relief that those
brave families who had defended the honour of their
children, brothers, husbands, fathers and friends, had been
vindicated. Their loved ones, as good people everywhere
already knew, were not responsible for their own deaths,
they had been Unlawfully Killed.
I am a Liverpool fan and unless I was away at sea I would go
to as many games as I could. By the time of Hillsborough
that had long since stopped as I had a family and other
things to distract me, but I still took an interest. That
Saturday, 27 years ago I listened and watched in horror and
disbelief as the tragedy unfolded. But that was just the
start of it and the families of the 96 have had to endure
the lies about their deaths for these past 27 years. What
the people responsible for the cover-up and lies did to the
Hillsborough families and friends is beyond contempt, it was
evil. The families knew, friends knew and good honest people
everywhere knew, that there was a concerted effort to
protect the guilty and blame the innocent. It wasn`t just a
few individuals, it was a large section of the
establishment, who concocted stories and fed them to an
eager press which was looking for a convenient victim.
Victims make good scapegoats and what better victim could
there be than a "drunken" football supporter; after all they
were only from Liverpool and they were only football
supporters. Who would miss them and who would care? But the
brave families cared and fought long and hard for justice.
Invented stories in the press were obviously lies but some
people were more than willing to believe them: after all if
it is in the papers it must be true. One paper in particular
(I refuse to use its name but for those who cannot remember,
it is called after the bright object in the sky about which
the earth orbits) willing printed the lies given to them by
the local police authority. Lies intended to protect the
reputations of the officers who had so callously let down
the fans at the game. It took 25 years for the senior
officer in charge to acknowledge his responsibility, by
which time some people who had lost loved-ones at the game
had gone to rejoin them. In those 25 years the bad-mouthing
of the Liverpool fans continued as the responsible parties
held on to the belief that they could protect themselves. In
that aim it seems that they still could find sections of the
media to defend their corner, but it was a eroding defence
and one which has now been washed away. They were and are
guilty.
Certain parties who acknowledged some guilt after the report
of the Hillsborough Independent Panel swiftly withdrew it
and put the families through many more months of agony at
the second inquest. That was wicked and immoral but, I
suppose that it was to be expected of the sort of people who
cared only for themselves, their careers and their next
promotion. There are lots of people like that about; they
are in many walks of life but the worst seem to be in those
professions which we, as children, were brought up to trust;
I won`t name them but I am sure that you can guess who they
might be. These are the people who profess to have honour,
morals and integrity, but who would sell their own
grandmother if it meant a step up the ladder. Some people
will do anything to hide their own incompetence and will
readily blame others. You can always find some willing
section of the media to take your side, especially if you
leak a story before the other side is able to put its case.
However, as time goes on the lies get harder to defend,
particularly when those who have been kicked and abused
begin to find the truth. And especially when you have people
as strong as the Hillsborough Families Support Group. The
truth will out. That is what it is all about: Truth.
From Truth comes Justice and from Justice comes
Accountability.
Denis Griffiths
Tuesday,April 26th, 2016
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Liverpool Morning
After Hillsborough
On this grey Liverpool morning the suburbs are empty:
The early church-goers are already behind closed doors with
God.
But the Anfield streets are filling with streams of people
Converging on the high cramped bulk of the stadium that has
become a place of pilgrimage.
Already the line stretches back out of sight.
All manner of folk come now to stand here, their differences
unnoticed and unimportant.
They clutch flowers, or bear mementos of past glories:
Offerings to lay at this shrine.
The indifferent walls of this football fortress rise above
streets
Strewn with wet litter and festooned with tributes.
Here graffiti is transformed into homage
On walls where old enemies have inscribed the end of ancient
hostilities.
Now even ‘Mancs’ felt-tip their sorrow on red brick:
Scrawled scripture of reconciliation and hope.
And the line shuffles on endlessly,
Round new corners, down narrow boarded streets in the dull
morning,
To pause briefly before the iron gates.
Here is the first centre of the feeling.
The verses on cards, ink running down torn paper;
The sentiments misspelt and trite yet tragically heartfelt.
The simple outpourings of thousands for whom football is
their faith.
To these Shanks waits at the gates of heaven to receive his
own;
A tribal hero set in their eyes only a little lower than the
angels.
Here believers have honoured the trampled dead
With long-cherished tokens, given up in their memory
That here at least they may never walk alone.
But we are borne forward on the tide at last
Into the holiest of holies.
No pictures could prepare for this:
The stadium lies open, its hallowed turf transformed and
diminished.
The stands rise silently behind and to each side;
But below the far terraces the goal is drowned in a wave of
living flowers
And flowers, fashioned into all manner of shapes
And in a host of bright and beautiful colours
Have flooded almost half of the field.
As the lines move slowly on over the laid tarpaulin
Their offerings are taken and laid down in new rows
On the living altar of this cathedral of flowers.
It is silent here, but for subdued murmurings.
The Kop has never been so still.
Its terraces are hung with scarves and trophies, flags and
banners,
Peopled with the memories of its dead.
There are no songs today, and few words.
They sit on scattered seats to think or pray
Or just to be a part of what is happening here:
The lying in state of a way of life.
And the crowds are marshalled relentlessly on and out
Into the untidy shuttered Sunday streets.
Tonight the gates will close upon a week of history
And soon life will flow back.
But today, for faithful and agnostic alike, this is the
place to be.
At this focal point of pilgrimage all belong together
And uncertainty is stilled.
Outside there will be questions to ask, hard answers to be
given
And truths to be faced in the end.
But despite doubts and misgivings, on this day it is surely
fitting to be here.
This unforgettable place, sanctified now by remembered
suffering
Unites all who have obeyed their instinct to follow a
million others.
Tomorrow will be another day
But today belongs to Liverpool and its dead.
Chris
Price
Anfield Football Stadium: 23 April 1989
This poem was written following a visit to Anfield soon
after the tragic events at Hillsborough, to pay respects and
wonder at the great outpouring of tributes and flowers
during that unforgettable week of mourning. My son had been
at that fateful match, and I spent anxious hours until he
was able to phone home and reassure us. Visiting what was in
every sense a shrine, we could never have guessed how long
it would be before the hard answers would at last be given.
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