I beg to move, That the Bill be now read a Second time.
Before I come to the Bill, I put on record in this House my own tribute to the police, to the first responders and in particular to the heroic actions of the driver and members of staff on board the Doncaster to London train, where such a vile and horrific attack took place this weekend. We all share in the revulsion at this shocking incident, but there is no doubt that their collective action—their brave action—saved countless lives. I know that the whole country is grateful for that.
Thirty-six years ago, 97 men, women and children went to a Liverpool football match in Sheffield—it was an FA cup semi-final, an occasion of joy—and they never came home to their families. I invite the House just to reflect on that simple statement of fact and what that might feel like.
Nearly 15 years ago, when I was the Director of Public Prosecutions, I met many of the Hillsborough families during the independent panel led by Bishop James Jones. I will never forget what they told me in their testimony—painful to tell, painful to hear. It included the testimony of Jenni Hicks, who told me how she and her husband drove their two teenage girls to the game that day. They had to drive back later with an empty back seat. Every single story, every single experience is painful to the core—unimaginable to the core.
So before I come to the contents of the Bill, I want to begin this debate with a simple acknowledgment, long overdue, that the British state failed the families and victims of Hillsborough to an almost inhuman level. But those victims and their families—their strength, their courage, their refusal to give up; and their determination, no matter what was thrown at them, to fight for people they will never know or meet, to make sure that they never go through something like this again—they are the reason why we stand here today with this Bill, they are the reason why it will be known as the Hillsborough law, and they are the reason why we say clearly again what should have been said immediately: that their loved ones were unlawfully killed and that they never bore any responsibility for what happened in Sheffield that day, and we say it from this Dispatch Box today because the entire country knows what happened next.
We often call Hillsborough a tragedy, but it is more than a tragedy, because the disaster was not down to chance—it was not an accident; it was an injustice. And then further injustice was piled on top when the state subjected those families to enduring, from the police, lies and smears against their loved ones, while the central state, the Government, aided and abetted them for years and years and years. It was a cover-up by the very institutions that are supposed to protect and to serve, and it is nothing less than a stain on the modern history of this country.
And yet, can we truly say that Hillsborough was an isolated example? No, because there are also the Horizon scandal, Grenfell Tower, infected blood, the grooming gangs, Windrush, and more besides. We should also be blunt about the fact that there is a pattern common to all these scandals: time and again, the British state struggles to recognise injustice because of who the victims are—because they are working class, because they are black, because they are women and girls. That is the injustice that this Bill seeks to correct, and I hope that it commands the support of the whole House.