Richard Webster

A look back at the “The Secret of Bryn Estyn – the making of a Modern Witch Hunt” by Richard Webster (Orwell Press 2005) (Paperback 2009

by John Molloy

The death of Richard Webster in July 2011 was marked by a number of obituaries in the British Media and on websites. They drew a picture of a very sincere, conscientious scholarly man who scrupulously attempted to expose one of the great injustices of our time – an alleged witch hunt that resulted in the imprisonment of many innocent social care workers. Although I was familiar with some of the press coverage at the time of the North Wales investigations in the 1990’s and with Ty Mawr in particular I was not aware of the publication of “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” until Richard’s death, earlier this year. The warmth expressed in the obituaries and the strength of support for his work left me feeling slightly uncomfortable. My understanding was that he had exposed a witch hunt, and that arising from “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” this “witch hunt” theory that all the upper echelons of society, (the press, police, courts, and government itself) were conspiring against social care workers, believing them to be paedophiles, child abusers, paedophile rings or whatever. With this in mind I set myself the task of finding out what the secret of Bryn Estyn was. I read the book.

Trawling through the obituaries I was struck by one comment in Mark Smith’s tribute to Richard Webster that he “couldn’t help but think that there is something quintessentially English about his life.” I think this comment helped me understand some of where Richard Webster’s passion, zeal, and commitment came from in undertaking such a detailed comprehensive review of the facts. It also helped me understand where some of his arguments led him astray.

The Waterhouse Tribunal was set up in 1996 arising from a decision made by John Major, the British Prime Minister, following the outcry in the British media about the allegations coming out of North Wales and Gwent. It is important to place this in the context of the culture of the time. Richard Webster chose not to do this in his book. John Major had replaced Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister in 1990. In her time as Prime Minister, Thatcher through her Chief Press Secretary Sir Bernard Ingham often used the media to influence the public through leaks and briefings, using misinformation as a tactic. This was designed to cause public outrage, demonising and defaming anyone who dared defy Thatcherism. This in turn influenced the courts and gave licence to the police to operate heavy handed tactics. Without this tactic we might not have seen the brutality of the police in dealing with the N.U.M. at the behest of John McGregor and the National Coal Board, the brutality of police in dealing with the press workers because of the move to Wapping, the vilification of Liverpool fans at the Hillsborough Tragedy, the operation of a “Shoot to Kill Policy” in Belfast and indeed Gibraltar, not to mention the wrongful convictions of Annie Maguire, The Guildford Four, and the Birmingham Six through the manufacturing of evidence. These stand out as some of the most extreme examples. I could easily add many more. By the time of the emergence of the scandal in North Wales, the press (especially the tabloid press) had almost assumed a role of being another arm of Government. While the circumstances of children’s homes in Wales was something new and unique in their own right, this trial by media, and resultant unsafe convictions through the courts, following corrupt police investigations, was not new.

It was in this context that a strong left wing anti-authoritarian, anti-police, atmosphere grew up particularly amongst some of the more extreme members of the Labour Party. These were branded in the media as “The Looney Left”. One of the more infamous areas where this thrived was in the Merseyside area, where Labour leader Derek Hatton stood out as an infamous example. By coincidence Merseyside and nearby Chesire experienced more police trawling investigations than any other area outside of London. This was the context in which the North Wales Children’s Homes scandals emerged. I think it is a mistake to look at the “Secret of Bryn Estyn” without looking at this wider context. With this in mind if we accepted Richard Webster’s assertion that there was a witch hunt, it would have to be in the context of saying that this was just one more witch hunt in an ocean of others.

When describing Peter Howarth’s shock at being convicted Richard Webster wrote:

“One dimension of British Society which is not always understood by those who observe the workings of our judicial system is the intensity and dept of the faith which most ordinary people have in British justice.” (p 372)

Earlier he had described how Peter Howarth had chosen to rely on a duty solicitor to defend him because of his mistaken belief that because he was innocent he would not be convicted. The fact that Howarth, among others, had left themselves open to allegations being made against them by their professional practice, in particular by insisting on the wearing of a pyjamas with no underwear by residents while visiting his flat, did not help. The fact that three other adults who had worked for the same or related organisations were charged with and later convicted of similar offences did not help either. On the one hand the actions taken by Peter Howarth did not just express a deep faith in English justice. It was the action of an extremely naive man. “The secret of Bryn Estyn” goes some way towards attempting to correct the miscarriage of justice suffered by Peter Howarth. Unfortunately, Peter Howarth had died in Prison before Richard’s book was published.

The facts as Richard Webster presents them, that led up to his conviction and apparently subsequent death in prison are more frightening than any theory around witch hunts. In summary, one disgruntled former manager who lost her job because of her record of poor performance, made a number of third party allegations. The police investigating them found her allegations to be untrue. She enlisted the help of a former resident from a children’s home, who, acting as her acolyte, sought to involve others. The former manager met with a journalist, who when facing a tight deadline, for whatever reason stated, did not do the correct research. This same woman met with two anti-police labour councillors. From the interactions of these five people, and their different individual motivations, ten years of trauma, trawling, interrogation, convictions, deaths, and suicides emerged.

Initially, that quintessential intensity and debt of faith in British justice seemed well justified. The police were very appropriate in how they investigated the early complaints. As the allegations changed, and the press began to talk of a police cover up, the reactions of the police became very defensive. It was this that changed the entire climate. Although Richard Webster presents the facts in great detail, I found it frustrating that his constant referring to a witch hunt, took him away from stating that at some point, the police acted as if Social Care Workers were just collateral damage. The goal of the police was to deal with the rumours that “had circulated that the force was riddled by freemasonry and that this, together with the participation of its own officers in an alleged paedophile ring, had been one of the principle motives for an alleged cover up.” (p 436)

In order to clear their name, the police had to be seen to be investigating the allegations and had to get convictions. “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” is a very detailed account of how they went about this, deviating from all previous accepted practice, perverting the course of justice, regardless of the implications for others of their actions.

What Alison Taylor and her acolyte Ryan Tanner had begun, was now out of their hands. Thanks to the salacious journalism of Dean Nelson, and the interference of Labour counsellors Malcolm King and Dennis Parry, a police trawl began, taking on a life of its own.

Richard Webster stated when talking of the Waterhouse Tribunal that:

“The North Wales police were acutely conscious that one of the main reasons the Tribunal had been called into being was that allegations had been made against them.” (p 436)

Having read his account of how the North West Police went about the trawling for allegations, in order to clear their own name, Richard Webster has made a very strong and compelling argument that the methods used were inappropriate, unjust, and corrupt. I don’t believe he used these words, but in every detail he recorded how allegations were sought, how they were edited, and in Chapters 66 and 67 how information was either withheld or disregarded if it damaged the case for prosecution.

“Careful study of the ‘unused evidence’ made it quite clear that the case presented in the trial had been arrived at through careful editing. For obvious reasons the prosecution had discarded the more blatant fabrications.” (p 486)

The account given implies either that the defence legal teams were all inept or else there were major breaches of the appropriate disclosure protocols. What is described in the book must surely represent a major corruption of the justice system on the part of the investigating police.

Rather than look at the witch hunt theory, it could be argued that if the Waterhouse Tribunal was not aware of the inappropriate investigation practices, then some of their rulings would be reasonable, rather than be part of a conspiracy or witch hunt.

For example in “note 516” it is stated by the Tribunal that:

“Our approach has been that, in the absence of a successful appeal, the convictions are evidence that the offences were committed and that it has not been within our jurisdiction to question the correctness of those convictions, unless possibly fresh evidence were to be tendered going to the root of the convictions.” (p 668)

I believe this to be a sensible argument given that if the Tribunal was not to take on the role of an Appeal Court, which it was never designed to be, then it had no other choice than to accept the legitimacy of the convictions, given its implicit trust in the integrity of the police investigation. Whereas Richard Webster writes that the Tribunal Chairperson, Sir Ronald Waterhouse dismissed the undertaking of a detailed examination of each specific allegation as being “impracticable and wastefully expensive”, Richard goes on to say “that a fundamental principle of justice was ignored” (p423). The predisposition to accept the police investigation’s evidence without proper scrutiny is understandable if we look at Richard Webster’s comments quoted earlier on the deep faith British people had in the justice system. One of the most striking examples of this was seen earlier in an unrelated rejection of an appeal by the Birmingham Six in 1979. Lord Denning, in his ruling rejecting the appeal stated:

“If they won, it would mean that the police were guilty of perjury; that they were guilty of violence and threats; that the confessions were involuntary and improperly admitted into evidence; and that the convictions were erroneous…. That was such an appalling vista that every sensible person would say, ‘it cannot be right that these actions should go any further’.” Lord Alfred Denning (from the Appeals Court Transcript 1979.)

When we look at the comments made in 1999 in “You told me you loved me” – a booklet published by three police forces in the Merseyside, Cheshire and Liverpool areas explaining the process and guidelines for Police Trawling in cases of institutional child abuse it is stated that:

“ Critics have pointed out that these operational methods represent a departure from normal police practice. This may be true but the methods have been scrutinised by the judiciary in trials without criticism to date.” (p 492)

If Richard Webster’s assertion that evidence had been altered, edited, or omitted in order to secure convictions then any scrutiny “by the judiciary in trials” was bound to end “without criticism to date.” The fact that this document recognised criticism of their techniques may well have reflected a growing unease within the police forces involved. However, it was not until 2000 with the collapse of the prosecution of David Jones, a well known football manager that a serious discrediting of the process took place.

It is difficult to fathom how the trawling experience took on a life of its own. What started out as a normal investigation became contaminated by allegations of a police cover-up and then in their desperation to accumulate quantities of allegations, it was further contaminated by police forces and local authorities talking of compensation.

Be it greed, revenge, selling newspapers, or making political gain; none of this seemed to matter anymore. The corrupt trawling process became a monster that could not be stopped. That deep faith that people had in the justice system was ill-founded.

I believe that in trying to make the argument that there was a witch hunt, Richard Webster does not join the dots up. Instead by using emotive words like “witch hunt”, he distracts the reader from the much more real worry about the power of the police to corrupt the justice system to meet their own ends.

This was one aspect of the book that I found frustrating to read. “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” is a very significant review of how the investigations were mishandled, and gives a real explanation as to how so many allegations were made against social care workers, not just across Britain but in many other countries as well. We owe Richard Webster a dept of gratitude for the immensity of the task he achieved in completing this review. My frustration with the book is that from time to time, he slips into a type of pamphleteering with highly emotive or unfounded comments. By extrapolating his findings from his British experiences he seems to assume that all other police trawls were as equally unreliable. I was astonished at his claim that:

“In the English speaking world alone, the number of false allegations of sexual abuse made in all contexts in the last thirty years must certainly be numbered in hundreds of thousands and has already reached millions.” (p 550)

It is difficult to see how he could have reached such figures other than by just guessing. Such a comment takes from the credibility of his research and leaves him open to a counter charge, to the one he makes of the police in their publication “You told me you loved me” (1999) that “at no point is the problem of false allegations even discussed”. It would be easy to criticise “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” for the scant and at times patronising acceptance that some allegations were true. One comment he makes in the chapter “Fragments of a Witch Hunt” stands out:

“Once again it must immediately be acknowledged that some of the allegations which have been made against Roman Catholic Priests – possibly the majority of the early ones – are genuine. Others, including a number based on bizarre recovered memories are quite evidently false.” (p 542)

Such a comment leaves me gasping in wonder at how anyone would have the resources to be able to carry out the research that could lead to such a conclusion! Surely the older convictions, because of the length of time elapsed would be the least convincing? The Cloyne Report 2011, which included a review of previously withheld records of abuse by Catholic Priests in the Diocese of Cloyne (Ireland) included many recent cases of abuse that the Diocese had tried to cover up. These were generally not the subject of police trawling or promises of compensation.

I am very mindful of the fact that “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” is a colossal work that goes some way to explaining what emerged from North Wales and damaged the image of Social Care Workers throughout Britain. I would argue that despite the great detail and comprehensive research, trying to prove the existence of a witch hunt takes from the real strength of this story. It is a very clear depiction of Social Care Workers being used as collateral to clear the reputation of the police. It is also a clear depiction of the discovery that the faith that ordinary people had in their justice system was ill founded.

In saying this I am reminded of the old sit-com character in “Till death do us part”, Alf Garnett, and his great sense of National pride and loyalty to the Royal family. I always found it ironic that some of those who are so praising of the institutions of state are often those most excluded by them. While it is really important that Social Care Workers should not see themselves as victims of witch hunts, I was moved by one section in particular when Richard summarised what might well be the real “Secret of Bryn Estyn” or even Social Care in general when he talks of this episode as constituting “one of the most terrible instances of collective ingratitude in our recent history” He goes on to explain:

“For decade after decade, we expected that one of the most poorly regarded and poorly paid groups of workers in our society would look after some of the most difficult and disruptive children with conscientiousness and care. To an astonishing extent this is what tens of thousands of dedicated workers actually did. They worked in obscurity, often with immense patience and generosity, to give such children a second chance. (p 574)

It was their altruism, idealism and “the sense of service they owed to society” that made them so vulnerable. They were easy prey for a police force wanting to save their reputation. They were not the victims of a witch hunt. Five people with their own individual agenda started the process. It then took on a life of its own. Ten years of trauma ensued. Aspects of it still go on today. No one gets over wrongful convictions. Families grieve those who died. Those who lied still have to face their Maker.

Finally, let me finish with an often used quote attributed to Sir Bernard Ingham, Thatcher’s Chief Press Secretary, when talking of the media. He said:

“Many journalists have fallen for the conspiracy theory of Government. I assure you that they would produce more accurate work if they adhered to the cock-up theory.”

Richard Webster’s “Secret of Bryn Estyn” is a very important book. Social Care Managers, in particular, should read it carefully. It is hard to understand how the dismissal of one person could have such devastating consequences. There are lessons to be learned from almost every chapter. We owe Richard Webster a debt of gratitude for the time, the dedication, and the passion he brought to this work. His death brought his work back into the limelight again. May he rest in peace.

Mark Smith writes I returned from holiday earlier this month to an e-mail telling me that Richard Webster had died. I had never met Richard but had three or four telephone conversations with him and felt I knew him. He was a warm and open man whose curious and probing mind was all too evident even at the other end of a phone. Yet, although I felt I knew Richard, on hearing of his death I realised that I actually knew nothing about him, other than the rather stark biography offered on his website richardwebster.net, telling that ‘Richard Webster was born in 1950 and studied English literature at the University of East Anglia’.Bob Woffinden’s obituary in The Guardian, www.guardian.co.uk/society/2011/jul/31/richard-webster-obituary was, in that sense, very welcome in giving a bit more detail on Richard. I can’t help thinking that there is something quintessentially English about his life. The village postmaster, turned bookshop owner cum writer, writing, in Woffinden’s words, not for profit, ‘but to set down a scrupulously accurate record.’In his quest for this scrupulously accurate record, he exposed what is one of the great injustices of our time – the witch-hunt that has resulted in thousands of care workers and former care workers being investigated for abuse and the questionable convictions of perhaps hundreds of these. This story is set out in Webster’s magisterial book ‘The Secret of Bryn Estyn’ (2005), which delves into the child abuse allegations and inquiries that erupted in North Wales over the late 1990s. The real secret of Bryn Estyn, as Woffinden says, ‘was that there was no secret at all; it was just an ordinary community home where staff did their best to look after difficult adolescents.’ One of the attractions for me in Richard’s writing was its reassuring solidity. When he committed any contentious argument to print you could be sure that he had at least a couple of lever arch files to substantiate what he was saying. And when he calls what has happened in respect of investigations against former care workers a witch-hunt, you can be sure that the use of the term is not a throwaway line, but is rooted in his deep understanding of cultural history. The strength of argument in ‘Bryn Estyn’ and Richard’s other writing is compelling. While many may not like what he has to say, because it deconstructs and destabilises received accounts of abuse in residential child care, I have not come across anyone who has been able to contest his evidence. What is missing from Bob Woffinden’s obituary is any reference to Richard’s role in the unraveling of the Haut De La Garenne episode in Jersey. As events there were beginning to break, Richard phoned me to ask what I thought of it. I put my neck out and suggested that no bodies or unexplained human remnants would be found. He agreed and hung up saying he would need to go over to Jersey. The result of that visit and some fairly elementary detective work uncovered the fact that the finding purported to be a piece of human skull was in fact a piece of wood or coconut shell. The issue of historical abuse is, I believe, one on which the very future of residential child care rests. We need to be able to come to an understanding of our past that is based upon the kind of reasoned and balanced evidence that Webster provides. For that reason,I consider ‘The Secret of Bryn Estyn’ to be one of the most important books to have been written on residential child care, although its scope extends to offer fascinating insights into the human condition more generally. Professor Jean La Fontaine, who was instrumental in dismissing earlier satanic ritual abuse scares calls ‘Bryn Estyn’‘an extraordinary book … gripping and coherent ... a major achievement ... Webster has admirably succeeded in what the police … and two successive [inquiries] failed to do: discover what really happened.’ Evening Standard. Christian Wolmar, the journalist who wrote an earlier book on abuse in children’s homes, is also a somewhat grudging convert, noting that ‘It is unarguable that Webster has a powerful case. The book will make uncomfortable reading for all those involved in investigating these cases, from police and lawyers to journalists and judges. Webster's forensic skill ... could well have been used by all of them, too. . . [His] detailed exposition of how the "scandal" unfolded, despite scant hard evidence, should be required reading for newsdesks.' ?This last point becomes all the more salient in light of what we now know was going on at ‘The News of the World’. One can only wonder about the role of networks involving journalists, police and those alleging to have been abused in care in constructing a particular version of residential child care’s past. Richard’s work provides an important antidote to such accounts. Hopefully, it will receive the attention it deserves after his death. Mark Smith's review of Richard Webster's book "The Secret of Bryn Estyn" can be accessed at http://www.goodenoughcaring.com/JournalArticle.aspx?cpid=143 Comments John Molloy  writes "I am reluctant to make any comment on the death of Richard Webster because I know nothing of the man or his writings. Having read all the positive comments about him, I intend to get a copy of “The Secret of Bryn Estyn” and to read it carefully. Mark Smith’s obituary, and the contributions that have followed, have raised a number of interesting issues for me that leave me feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I was horrified when I first read of the allegations of satanic abuse in the Orkney Islands. Equally, I was shocked by the out-of-control ‘crusade’ nature of what happened at Cleveland. These two scandals in particular helped to influence my thinking in dealing with issues that emerged in a centre where I worked where a number of sexual abuse allegations against two male staff emerged. The British experience helped to “keep me honest” in how I approached my situation. That said, my reading of the numerous enquiries into sexual abuse in Britain did little to prepare me for what I was experiencing in Ireland. I read aspects of every report published around that time, or at least the commentaries on the reports. That was because, with the exception of the Hughes Report into allegations about Kincora, there were no reports available in Ireland at that time. It was not until the mid- 1990’s that the first emerged. The issues raised in the Ryan Report, the two separate Murphy Reports (swimming coaches and clergy), Madonna House, Kilkenny, etc had not as yet surfaced. "The salacious interest in ritual satanic abuse here did not manifest itself in the Irish media in the same way as in Britain. There was nothing salacious for the media to frenzy-feed on here, given that catholic priests and brothers, and indeed nuns were a dominant grouping in the abuse of children in Ireland. There is a well perpetuated myth in Ireland that no one knew of what was going on. It is self-evident that this is not true. Apart from the abusers and the abused, there were those who knew of the culture that existed in Ireland throughout the nineteen forties, fifties and sixties in particular. Even in our National schools, the stories told and experienced by those of us who went to Christian Brother Schools of sadism, brutality and “being interfered with” were widespread. Everyone knew. Nobody cared. As school boys in the nineteen sixties we even joked in school about why we had to sit on Brother O C’s knee to have our homework corrected! "The media were gutless, as were the authorities, be they in education, policing, or care. The culture of Catholic control did not allow for stories to be published, and even worse, I would argue, that in Irish Society, there were many who assumed that a good education made it acceptable. "While there seemed a crusade at times in Britain that went over the top in trying to 'out' all kinds of child abuse, I believe the Irish experience to have been a far more insidious and dangerous scenario. "There are few things worse than allegations being made about a person. Regardless of the facts, there are usually two immediate camps formed. One represents those who can believe no bad about the person, the other represents those who believe no good about the person. Usually the person involved falls between both in isolation, lost in a limbo of having lost their reputation regardless of how good all their previous work was. Where the allegations are false this isolation and devastation takes on a much greater significance. "My experiences, in Ireland, are that there is no great malevolence in what happens – just a total lack of awareness of the impact of what that devastation and isolation is like. Social Work investigations are carried out in a slow dragged out manner where the powers that be show a reluctance to bring the matter to closure ‘just in case’….  It often takes threats of legal action to get the matter sorted. "I read the comments about people being 'regarded as guilty until proven innocent.'  I do not find such language useful in this area. While the expression 'innocent until proven guilty' is a legal phrase used widely in every day use, we need to remind ourselves that it is a phrase that only has relevance in the context of justice dealt out by the Courts. It is a fact that a number of high profile cases of inappropriate sexual activity, allegations of abuse, and use of child pornography have gone to court in Ireland where cases have collapsed on technicalities. We have to say that in these cases the person has not been proved guilty. In legal language they are therefore innocent; innocent 'in the eyes of the law'. While I do not know how the British legal systems work, (I dare not mention Birmingham or Guildford) I am aware that in Ireland it is very difficult for any one of middle class back-ground who can afford good legal council to be convicted, unless they prove really inept in the defence of their abuse, or carrying out of their abuse. "I stated some of the comments made in respect of the death of Richard Webster made me uncomfortable. Most were made in a British context with which I am not familiar. Over my thirty five years in this line of work allegations were made against me. One of these was a very serious allegation and caused me great distress. I fought to have my name cleared and did so successfully. When I consider what some of the young people in my care have experienced at the hands of staff members I have worked alongside, I have no doubt that the balance of justice still hangs in favour of the perpetrators. My distress is a price I was more than willing to accept. While we may talk of the hundreds who have been falsely accused, our real energy should be devoted to building robust systems that protect both young people and staff." Mark Smith  responds " I agree absolutely about the feigned surprise at what was or wasn't going on, especially in Ireland. This is the one point I would maybe depart from Richard Webster - I think he should perhaps have considered that there was what we would now call physical abuse (which was probably in the past thought of as discipline). The divide between abuse and 'normal' upbringing is one that interests me. It raises a whole load of other questions about assumed effects of such abuse or treatment - one of my worries is that we risk constructing 'victims' and then not being able to offer them the promised 'release' or whatever it is a therapeutic discourse promises ."

Noel Howard  writes about 'the death of Richard Webster', " We all accept the truism that there are two sides to every story. Saddened by the death of Richard Webster it strikes me that he was someone who critically saw that there are often many sides to every story.

"I read The Secret of Bryn Estynin the summer of 2009 and alternated that with reading extracts from the voluminous Ryan Report which had been published in May of that year.All I will say is that it was a disconcerting, challenging and uncomfortable experience reading both. With the benefit of hindsight I can say it was an extremely worthwhile experience. It has crystallised for me much of what I believe to be necessary in creating a culture where natural justice has a part to play when allegations of sexual abuse against those who work with children are made. Indeed, and this perhaps does need to be said ad nauseam, it is perhaps the only highly significant area where the accused is guilty until proven innocent contrary to one of the fundamental principles of  our system of justice. Unfortunately, and this has also to be said over and over again, any genuine, critical questioning of particular abuse allegations can leave one very much on the margins in an atmosphere and climate (particularly in Ireland for obvious reasons) where so much has emerged in recent years around the institutional and clerical abuse of children. Indeed, we have not seen the last of such reports in Ireland, though they do not all have to do with children in care.

"But back to Richard. Of course anyone involved in working with children should read The Secret of Bryn Estyn. It’s a real page turner and I believe anyone who has read it must have paused on many occasions and asked “how could this have happened?” Richard was far from an apologist for child abusers – he simply contested that, yes, child abuse does take place, it takes place in society at large and in some residential units. In subtitling the book on Bryn Estyn The making of a modern witch hunt he clearly saw how bureaucratic self justification, innuendo, half truths, downright lies and the suggestion of compensation led to the lives of innocent caring adults being shattered. The bungled efforts to find  and convict the abusers dragged those innocent of any wrongdoing into a nightmare that has to be read about to be believed.

"The UK legal system, as with Ireland, is  there to convict the guilty and exonerate the innocent. In relation to child abuse allegations those innocents become victims of another kind – good people falsely accused or forever guilty by association who must often question what naïve, altruistic motive made them become part of a profession in the first place that just might change the miserable, blighted lives of children in care. After years perhaps of doing just that and doing it well, the merest hint of suspicion can bring them and those close to them down, never to recover. Some such idealists appear in Richard’s book on Bryn Estyn.

"Others also appear. In the light of recent revelations around News International in the UK we can appreciate a little more the lengths to which “respected” individuals in various “respected” walks of life will go to facilitate others in getting  and making a story that satisfies the whetted, prurient appetites of those who believe that there is much more wrong with human nature than right.

In his forensic, patient analysis, Richard has much to say about how the characters and lives of good people can be shredded when suspect agendas are set, often masquerading as a search for the truth. His detailed study  of the Waterhouse tribunal and report is fascinating and all in all, The Secret of Bryn Estyn classically shows how those at the highest level in their respective professions sometimes just cannot see the wood for the trees.

"I was fortunate to have had the privilege of exchanging a few emails with Richard. He referred to the twelve years he had spent, unintentionally in the first place, researching the Bryn Estyn story. He felt he had had enough after all those years and said “I am also, I have to confess, battle weary, and sometimes feel that I have been engaged in a war which cannot be won – not at least by conventional means.”

"He elaborated on his battle weariness in an email to a colleague in Europe to which I am privy. It’s really a beautifully haunting line considering all he had done. It goes “Sometimes you just want to take your tin hat off and get back to tilling the soil in the fields you left before you went off to war.”

Like so many others who do good things and fight their own private wars Richard probably felt he never won the war he engaged in. Yet, somehow I feel he did. For those who have faced false allegations Richard’s victory was not a pyrrhic one. In his outstanding study of what really happened around Bryn Estyn and other care homes at the heart of his research, he succeeded in finding what two high powered enquiries and the police did not - the truth of what really happened. For that we should be eternally grateful.

"Interestingly, he said his real study was human nature and he certainly unearthed the very best and worst of that in the Secret of Bryn Estyn.

Only the actions of the just, Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. (James Shirley 1596-1666)."

Cynthia Cross comments, "I went to the launch of Richard Websters book, 'The Secret of Bryn Estyn' at Portcullis House Westminster on 10/03/2005.
"To most people it must seem a long time after the closing of New Barns in 1992, due to a child protection inquiry, and the subsequent acquiting of all 7 defendents in February 1996 after 3 months in Bristol Crown Court; but some things never go away.  New Barns was a unique therapeutic community for children, practicing shared responsibility between adults and children. Nearly all adults lived in as the job was seen as living with children, and using every situation that occurred in daily life as therapeutically as possible.  All workers were part of the therapeutic team and whether they were primarily teacher or child care orientated they were paid on the same pay scale .... I could go on.
"The work of Richard Webster was extremely important to us; he was someone who was not only prepared to challenge the validity of some of the attacks on residential care,(When some people were implying and sometimes openly saying that all residential child care workers were suspect) but also put in the research work to prove his point. He was therefore heard and respected by a number of important people. The book launch hosted by Claire Curtis-Thomas was an example of this.
It is sad that he died so young, we have lost a valuable ally."

Max Smart comments, "Such sad news to read of Richard Webster's death, and I am grateful for this highly illuminating and reflective obituary by Mark. My take on Bryn Estyn affair is similarly controversial. My gut reaction to the issues of historical abuse is not to deny that some abuse took place and that victims of these abuses have been scarred and traumatised.However, some context has to be placed on accounts, such as time and culture of society at the time. If no such context is placed then the lens in which abuse is viewed and measured is from the luxurious position of hindsight, where care practice and culture is different than the time it was taking place. If the time and context of the culture is not taken into account, then if our care practices are viewed 40 years down the line, it may look as if our practices were like the "Spanish Inquisition". Secondly I'm concerned that current methods of investigating historical abuse seem to turn "natural justice" upon its head. Natural justice would assume innocence until proven guilty. Historical abuse appears to view alleged perpetrators as guilty until proven innocent.Thirdly, I always assumed that police on receiving a report of a crime being committed, investigate it, attain evidence as to alleged guilt or innocence and proceed to the judicial stage on this evidence if it is required. This seems markedly different in the way that enquiries are handled when it comes to investigating historical abuse, where police appear to contact people to seek out a crime. When this is combined with the apparent incentive of "compensation" it can become a significant source for concern about whether the ends of justice are met. Finally, it concerns me, that just like the "Ryan Report" in Ireland, and likely the "Time to be Heard" report due in Scotland, it seems that the great financial beneficiaries here are lawyer who have made miilions. So I have many mixed feelings about the way that historical abuse has been considered. There is not a shadow of a doubt that the abuse of children and young people, whether it be in residential care or foster care, is unacceptable and is to be utterly condemned, and those who commit it should be accountable, and those who suffered should have justice. However, the unintended consequence of the hysteria created in some of these scandals, is to discourage males going into care work and at times to create sterile care environments where people are afraid to touch a child for fear of allegation".

Nigel Hinks comments, "I am ashamed to confess to not knowing the name of Richard Webster. Having read both obituaries I felt moved by his portrayal, and also another premature passing. There is a counter view that should perhaps be distanced from any response to any individual's pursuit of justice and balance, or anything perceived as directly challenging such tributes to Richard Webster. There has to be due recognition of how unbalanced and prejudicial media reporting has whipped up frenzy, and methodical evidential reporting is crucial in challenging this form of journalism.Yet we also know that abusers sought out these settings for their systematic criminality. To condemn all on the basis of irresponsible enquiry, designed for headlines alone, is equal to indifference.
 "My position, as a young social worker in the early 70's, seeking to intervene in the damaged lives of children and young people, is tinged with the regret and guilt of unwittingly delivering them to the doors of such institutions (in North Wales) and to (some of) those hiding behind their labels of 'specialist carers'."

Bob Forrest comments, "I was sorry to hear about Richard Webster and pleased that Mark mentioned his contribution to the debunking of the Jersey farce.It's such a pity that Webster's work is relatively unknown to the general populace.I of course mentioned The Secret of Bryn Estyn to Eddie Frizzell, who chaired the Scottish government's investigation into the Kerelaw affair and I am still trying to get my copy of it back from my MSP. It is sad that so many people in influential positions still refuse to allow facts to influence their opinions.
"A couple of years ago I sat in on an employment tribunal considering the sacking of 2 Kerelaw teachers. A witness for Glasgow Cuty Council,one of the education directors, was asked by the teachers' lawyer why he believed the one witness who said "black" as opposed to the seven witnesses who said "white".He replied that he believed the seven were in collusion. When asked whom he would have believed if seventy witnesses had said "white", he said that he would still believe the one who said "black" because the others were in collusion!!As you could imagine there was an audible gasp from the public gallery! I immediately emailed Frizzell to suggest that he and his team would benefit from a visit to the employment tribunal to gain some insight into Glasgow City Council's thought processes but in the event Glasgow threw in the towel the very next day and accepted that the teachers had been wrongfully dismissed!!
"The sad thing is that no lessons ever seem to get learned from the Bryn Estyn,Shelburne,Kerelaw experiences nor indeed from Orkney,Cleveland and goodness knows how many others."

Jeremy Millar comments, "There is certainly a fear factor present in challenging the establishment orthodoxy. My instinct tells me that rampant abuse was never an issue but that small pockets of abusive practice probably did exist either in the shape of a ‘charismatic leader’ or a rogue individual able to charm and dupe residents and colleagues. My take on the whole issue is more structural in relation to the way anglo american society views children and oppresses them in adult dominated settings. The answer is to empower children to challenge abusive adults and expose their practice to scrutiny. Social pedagogic approaches work in this way and promote inclusiveness for children. It will come as no surprise that I practised this position as a young person. A teacher at the school was persecuting a sister of my best mate because of my mate’s dislike of his attitude. We organised a rota whereby 2-3 of us would follow this teacher everywhere he went in the school at 5 paces behind. We would meet him coming out of the staff room and follow him to class and so on. He tried to address us but we totally blanked him. He quickly laid off the sister but couldn’t take any measures against us as it would have been humiliation in front of his colleagues.

"Once you have been empowered through direct action it never leaves you and I believe that adult society is subconsciously scared of offering this option to children. Instead we promote procedural approaches to conflict resolution that don’t deliver and develop apathy and cynicism. The young people who take direct action outwith the procedures are pathologised and come into care where their legitimate rage is held up as their problem. We drug them, lock them up and gently browbeat them into accepting their lot and their potential seeps away bit by bit as they drift in the system."

This article first appeared on August 3rd, 2011 on the home page of the goodenoughcaring website at

http://www.goodenoughcaring.com/Home.aspx?cpid=1