Whose head should roll?

YOU could barely even begin to recreate the story of Paul Burrell's last two years without stretching credibility. Here's the farce that has it all: the wronged, loyal butler; the conspiratorial courtiers; the accursed family; the treacherous associates; the deceitful constabulary - and the final, overdue absolution, granted by a righteous, if forgetful, monarch.

A comedy of errors this may be, but it was real life with real consequences. For Mr Burrell, it was all too real. If the police and the Crown Prosecution Service had had their way, Diana's butler would now be heading for a long stay at Her Majesty's pleasure, convicted not merely of theft but of what, to him, would be the most heinous crime of all: betrayal.

Yet not only do we now know that Mr Burrell was innocent; we also know that at least some of those who were most closely involved in the decisions which led to his trial must have known that he was innocent. Mr Burrell's prosecution was only made possible as a result of a potent mix of malice and quite astonishing incompetence. Put simply, there were people who seem to have been hell bent on putting Mr Burrell behind bars. What we now need to know is: who and why - and why did no one stop them sooner?

First of all, we need an explanation from the police of their behaviour.

The ramifications of their failure go far beyond the grievance by Mr Burrell.

How can we trust the competence and probity of Scotland Yard when it has been found wanting at such a high level? And how are we to take police arguments about lack of resources when they played a large part in this groundless legal caper that cost well over pounds 1 million of taxpayers' money. The confidence that has been shaken will not be easily restored.

THE entire case was built upon the idea that Mr Burrell was flogging the Princess of Wales's possessions in the US. This was entirely untrue - and, it seems, the police were well aware that there was not a shred of evidence to support the allegation. But not only did they continue their investigation, despite being unable to find any evidence; it emerged in court that Detective Chief Inspector Maxine de Brunner went to quite extraordinary lengths to obscure this lack of evidence.

Interviewing Prince Charles at Highgrove, she told him that the police did indeed have proof that Mr Burrell was engaged in selling off the Princess of Wales's belongings. The supposition was, as she admitted under crossexamination, grossly misleading.

Ms de Brunner claims that she told the prince this "incorrectly but in good faith". This will not do - or as she might put it, is grossly unacceptable.

At no stage in the investigation did she inform the Prince of Wales, or his solicitor, of her "mistake". The claim that Mr Burrell was selling memorabilia in the US was the foundation on which the entire case was built.

Only two explanations of her behaviour are possible. Either she knew that she was lying to Prince Charles, or she was so grotesquely incompetent that she is plainly not fit to issue parking tickets, let alone be a member of Scotland Yard's highflying Special Inquiry Unit.

What of the Special Inquiry Unit itself? Led by Commander John Yates, this lot are, supposedly, la crme de la crme of the Met. Commander Yates is apparently still regarded within Scotland Yard as a man destined for the very top. To the rest of us, he seems more like a real life Inspector Clouseau, presiding over a bungling team who hoped their errors would not come to light.

This case, and the handling of it by some of the Met's most senior officers, has done potentially catastrophic damage to the police's reputation for even the most basic level of competence.

Here was a once-in-a-generation case, the sort of high profile prosecution which defines the reputation of the police for years to come. And they have blown it quite spectacularly.

The issue here is clear. The police cannot be allowed the usual British trick of wriggling out of their responsibility. Individual mistakes were made, and individuals have to pay the price for their errors. High-profile mistakes must have high-profile consequences. It would be all too typical if these supposed high flyers carried on high flying without paying any price for their errors. Natural justice - and common sense - dictates that we need a full and unsparing independent inquiry into this whole farrago. That also applies to the Crown Prosecution Service, which is ultimately responsible for the decision to proceed with all prosecutions. Either the CPS was gravely misled by the police in its distortions of the evidence, or it simply did not exercise due diligence in carrying out its duties.

Neither explanation is satisfactory. We need not only to discover what went wrong with the police - and why - but also how the CPS failed to spot the gaping holes in the evidence.

For all the fiascos revealed, however, those are in some ways the easy questions. Inquiries can, relatively easily, pinpoint what went wrong, and who was to blame. But there is also a deeper problem. For it stretches credibility to accept that so many people involved in this case failed so badly, and so repeatedly, in doing their jobs. There was, surely, another factor at work. Cock-up is almost always a more likely explanation than conspiracy, but cock-up will not do this time. It is plain that someone, or some group, wanted to see Paul Burrell behind bars for reasons that are still unclear.

Were it not for the judge, Mrs Justice Rafferty, none of this would have emerged, and Mr Burrell might still be on his way to prison. The prosecution was informed last Monday of Mr Burrell's pivotal audience with the Queen, in which he told her he had various items in safe keeping. But they did not disclose it to the defence until forced to by the judge at the end of the week. Why not?

NOW we know that the Queen's staff were approached by the police. What is far from clear, however, is how many details did the police pass on to the royal staff, and did her staff pass that on to the Queen?

This was a trial which should never have happened. There was no crime, and no victim - apart from Mr Burrell himself. But there is, it is clear, real guilt.

The guilty parties, who were so determined to put Mr Burrell in prison that they were prepared to distort the truth, must be identified and punished. This is a case with implications which go far beyond a butler's lonely trauma. It is about the very functioning of the institutions that carry out the law. The way we deal with it could determine the status of British justice for years to come.

Copyright 2002
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