Arrested for filming a public council meeting

Have Carmarthenshire Council and Dyfed Powys Police acted illiberally?

The blogger and campaigner Jacqui Thompson was last week arrested, handcuffed, marched to a police car, and then detained at a police station for two hours. All she had done was to film a public meeting of Carmarthenshire Council on her camera-phone.

One would expect that transparency of public council meetings would now be the norm, not a police matter. Indeed, in a letter dated 23 February 2011, the coalition government set out guidance for English councils on filming. Included in the guidance is the following statement:

There are recent stories about people being ejected from council meetings for blogging, tweeting or filming. This potentially is at odds with the fundamentals of democracy and I want to encourage all councils to take a welcoming approach to those who want to bring local news stories to a wider audience. The public should rightly expect that elected representatives who have put themselves up for public office be prepared for their decisions to be as transparent as possible and welcome a direct line of communication to their electorate. I do hope that you and your colleagues will do your utmost to maximise the transparency and openness of your council.

While it seems this guidance does not extend to Wales -- local government is a "devolved" matter -- it is clearly an articulation of good practice in a democracy. Indeed, one would hope that councils would not need such guidance.

But it appears Carmarthenshire Council is different. The following statements set out a narrative what happened that day when Jacqui Thompson was arrested and detained.

We can start with the council's general press statement about the incident:

Ms Thompson refused repeated requests to stop filming proceedings in the Chamber which is not allowed. She then refused repeated requests to leave the public gallery. The Chair was left with no other option other than to call the police to remove her from the gallery so that County Council business could proceed.

Jacqui Thompson:

Clearly my presence was noted when I entered the Public Gallery and when the row commenced over the Day Club, I started filming with my phone, (not terribly well I know but better than nothing) I was asked to leave by the Chairman and [Chief Executive] Mark James, I said that I was not doing anything wrong, it is not against the law nor even in their standing orders (rules for meetings), neither was I disturbing the meeting in any shape or form.

Alexander Smith of the Carmarthen Journal:

Councillor Pam Palmer halted the meeting part-way through when she spotted a member of the public had a camera-phone.

Recognising the blogger, who has been in trouble for filming meetings before, chief executive Mark James said: "Mrs Thompson, you have been asked time and time again not to film."

Mrs Thompson said she was doing nothing wrong, to which Mr James replied: "I hope you've got a good picture for your website.

"Clearly Mrs Thompson doesn't want to put the camera down.

"Can we ask for the police to come and remove her from the chamber?"

Chairman Ivor Jackson said: "I am going to suspend the meeting to remove that lady from the chamber."

The meeting then broke up with the councillors loudly complaining and talking among themselves.

The footage of the council meeting in the minutes up to the adjournment is now on YouTube.

And so back to Jacqui Thompson:

As I didn't leave, Mr James and the Chair called the police and then adjourned the meeting. . . it only took ten minutes today for two police cars and four police officers to appear in the Gallery.

I asked the council on what legal basis they thought filming of public meetings was not allowed:

The law requires the Council to allow public access to its meetings, but it does not require Council to allow the public to film them. There is no Welsh Government Assembly guidance requiring this and in fact they also do not allow individual members of the public to record their proceedings. Neither does Parliament. As owner of the building the Council is entitled to regulate what happens on their premises.

I also asked the council on what legal basis she was asked to leave the public gallery:

The Council's standing orders provide that if a meetings is being disrupted by a person in the public gallery, the Chair should ask for that person to be removed. If he or she refuses to leave when requested, the Chair can adjourn the meeting to enable this to happen and for order to be restored.

The police were called. They later issued this formal police statement:

At approximately 10:20 on the 8th of June 2011 officers were asked to attend at County Hall, Carmarthen to deal with an incident involving a woman in the public gallery. On arrival, officers spoke to a 49 year old woman but she refused to co-operate and she was then arrested to prevent a further breach of the peace. She was later released with no further action.

Note to editor

Police responded to the call as filming in the public gallery is prohibited under council regulations (as reported by the Council.)

However, the council Standing Orders (not regulations) do not prohibit filming. Instead rule 22.1 provides:

Removal of member of the public

If a member of the public interrupts proceedings, the Chair will warn the person concerned. If they continue to interrupt, the Chair will order their removal from the meeting room.

Interruptions may lead to the removal of a member of the public, but not photography or filming -- and there is no evidence that Jacqui Thompson was being disruptive. The "Note to Editor" rather suggests that either the council or the police (or both) misdirected themselves as to the meaning and legal force of the Standing Orders.

I asked the council whether the chair asked the police to arrest Ms Thompson or whether it was left as a matter for the police:

The person in the gallery had been asked to stop filming and to leave the gallery on a previous occasion. When an officer asked her to do this she accused that officer of assaulting her. That has been investigated by the Police and the officer completely exonerated. Because of this background there was no alternative but to ask the Police to deal with the person concerned. The way in which the police officers dealt with the matter was entirely a matter for them.

Jacqui Thompson:

I tried to argue my point but was then arrested in the Public Gallery for 'breaching the peace'.

From the Blackstone's Police Operational Handbook 2011:

Meaning of breach of the peace

A breach of the peace may occur where harm is done or is likely to be done to a person, or to their property in their presence, or they are in fear of being harmed through assault, affray, riot, or other disturbance (R v Howell [1982] QB 416, QBD).

I asked the council if it supported the decision to have Jacqui Thompson arrested:

The Council have had no influence over whether Mrs Thompson was arrested or not and no view on the fact that she was arrested. Their only reason for calling the Police was to restore order in the Council chamber to enable the democratic process to proceed.

I asked the police in what possible way was filming a public council meeting a breach of the peace? Dyfed Powys Police are hoping to provide an answer on this later this week (I asked on Friday). However, one would have thought they would have known the answer to this before they went and arrested someone.

I also asked the Dyfed Powys Police to confirm that filming a public council meeting was not actually an arrestable offence. Again, Dyfed Powys Police are hoping to provide an answer to this later this week. And again, one would have expected Dyfed Powys Police to be able to answer this one straightaway. Any police force should know its powers of arrest.

Jacqui Thompson:

I was taken outside the door, handcuffed, searched, my phone taken and marched out to the waiting police cars.

Alexander Smith of the Carmarthen Journal has blogged what happened next:

We can't have been on the steps longer than five minutes when four police officers led Mrs Thompson, in cuffs, round the side of the building, perhaps wanting to avoid the attention of the front steps?

They didn't see me coming, but I only managed to take one photo before the blonde officer [pictured, right] grabbed my arm and tried to take the camera. I wriggled free and explained I was from the Journal.

After showing my press pass I asked them what the arrest was for. One of the male officers replied: "That's none of your business."

Jacqui Thompson:

I was then taken 30 miles to Llanelli police station where I remained handcuffed for another hour before being 'processed', and put in a cell for another two hours.

Jacqui Thompson had been ejected from the public council meeting. But why was she then taken to a police station and detained? And why was she then kept several hours at the police station?

Dyfed Powys Police were not able to answer my questions, but they hope to get back to me later this week.

According to Jacqui Thompson:

By this time I was very disorientated, worried about my young daughter who needed picking up from school, I was cold (the police had taken my jacket and shoes and socks) and distressed. Without a solicitor present, I was then threatened by three police officers who said that if I didn't sign an 'undertaking' not to film/record any more meetings I would be kept in overnight, I am not sure now whether they could even keep me that long. I was then, eventually, released.

So I asked the police why was she threatened with court if she did not sign an "undertaking": And what possible offence was the police threatening with charging her? Do the police realise that this is a free expression issue? Will the police now apologise to Ms Thompson?

Dyfed Powys Police do not currently have any answers to these questions, but they do hope to be able tell me later this week.

It appears to me that Ms Thompson was not in breach of any council Standing Order or committing (or threatening to commit) any breach of the peace. Accordingly, there seems to be no good basis whatsoever for her arrest. There is also no good reason why she was taken to a police station and required, on pain of further detention, to sign an undertaking.

In my view, Carmarthenshire Council and Dyfed Powys Police have simply acted in an altogether hapless, illiberal, and alarming manner. A person, surely, should not be arrested and detained just for filming a public council meeting, and a council should not be able to prevent someone from doing so in this manner. In my opinion, all the councillors, officials, and police officers involved in this sad sequence of events really should be ashamed of themselves.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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A year in my life as a Brexit bargaining chip

After Brexit, like many other EU citizens in Britain, I spent a year not knowing what my future held. Here's what that was like.

I moved back to the UK in January 2016. I like to say “move back”, because that’s how it feels – I loved living in London so much during my Erasmus year that I always intended to come work here after graduation. 

I am French, and a journalist, and live in north London. I refer to the UK as “home”. By all appearances, in January 2016 I am part of what budding Brexiteers call the “liberal elite”, even though I rent a single room and my most expensive possession after my laptop is a teapot.

But by June, I have been given a new label. I am now one of the 3 million “EU citizens in the UK”. As Britain heads toward turbulent negotiations to leave the European Union, following a referendum in which I did not have a vote, I have become a “bargaining chip”. 

This is my account of that year.

April 2016

Moving back includes chores such as getting a UK phone number, a National Insurance number and opening a bank account – three tasks that go even smoother that I thought they would. For the bank account, I have been advised to go to Lloyds Bank, which makes it “easy for Europeans”. (A thread on Twitter recently proved it also is more inclined to help refugees than other banks.)

I also eagerly register to vote – another right of mine in the UK under EU rules, for local and European elections. And I am excited: I will have a vote in the London mayoral election.

I closely follow the referendum campaign. “Vote Remain” signs and stickers are omnipresent in my  neighbourhood.  I feel reassured. So do the other EU nationals quietly passing me in the street. “I don't recall seeing any Leave Campaign. It made me think it would be an easy win,” echoes Tiago Gomes, 27, a Portuguese musician.

In the pub, I get into a testy exchange with an acquaintance who holds French and British passports and is proudly campaigning for Leave. I struggle to understand why. Maybe, just like Ukip leader Nigel Farage, he knows he has a way out, if it all goes to shit.

Worried that people could wrongly see me as a Brexiteer because of my Union Jack Converses, I put a “I’m IN” sticker on each roundel.

May 2016

I vote in the London mayoral election. I have voted many times in France, but this is different – I am almost a Brit! I even take a happy selfie with my polling card, like a proud 18 year-old.

This turns out to be the only UK election I will ever have a vote in, as a friend will note a few months later.

June 2016

Jo Cox MP is murdered on the streets of her constituency. I report on the murder all afternoon and when I get the tube home, I feel shaken. A Leave supporter enters the tube carriage with an England flag. I want to ask him: "Do you even know what happened?" But I say nothing.

The violent turn taken by the campaign is felt in London, too. Samir Dwesar, a 27-year-old parliamentary assistant, remembers the abuse he suffered while campaigning for Remain: “I was called a p**i, and told to go back to ‘your f’ing country'.” Samir is British and has lived all his life in Croydon, South London.

Yet I am hopeful on 23 June 2016. I blow up “I’m IN” balloons, taste EU referendum cupcakes from my local bakery. I’m living history.

And it is history. I doubt anyone in Britain, and especially the country’s EU citizens, will forget the nightmarish morning of 24 June 2016. My heart sinks as I read the BBC news alert informing me I am no longer home – not really. On my wall, a poster of the Private Eye cover “What Britain will look like after Brexit”, which I found hilarious in April, looks like a doomed omen.

The mood is low among all Europeans. For Nassia Matsa, 27, a Greek woman from Athens who has lived in London for 9 years, it is even worse: 24 June marks her birthday. “Nigel and Boris ruined my birthday,” she says.

At least in London we are not alone. I discover many Brits identify as European. When I finally leave my house, my neighbourhood is still plastered IN signs and EU flags. “I found myself offering support to my British friends,” says Matsa. “Were talking about Brexit with an Italian, Swiss, Croatian, French and me, and all of us Europeans were comforting a Londoner who was ready to cry.”

July-August 2016

I go to France for a summer holiday. Everyone keeps asking what my situation will be in the UK after Brexit. My answer is always the same, and still hasn’t changed: I have no idea. My dad spends months repeating that Brexit will not happen: “They’ll realise it’s a mistake.” (They don’t.)

Bad adverts with Brexit puns bloom on the Tube. "We're Out," proclaims one for a city lifestyle app. I don’t laugh. But at least I don't have any Facebook friend boasting about Brexit. Mikael David Levin, a 24-year-old Italian who has lived in London for 16 years, does. "Their statuses frustrate and irritate me," he says. "They do not know how 'lucky' they are to be born in the UK."

After David Cameron’s resignation, the Tory leadership election and Theresa May’s premiership, the discussion focuses on when to pull the trigger, and what to do with people like us in the meantime. We are now, officially, bargaining chips.

September 2016

I start flying with my passport when I visit my family in France, even though I know my French ID is still valid until Britain officially leaves. At Stansted airport, the limited life expectancy of the “EU only” line makes me gloomy. Alex Roszkowski, a 27-year-old Polish-American who has lived in London for a year and a half, tells me he may now carry both his passports on every trip, as well as “copies of [his] lease, numerous old envelopes with [his] name and address, [his] business card".

Those EU citizens arriving in the UK have surreal experiences too. Joseph Sotinel, 28, who moved to London from Paris in September, encounters a bank official, who tells him: “Thanks for coming to the UK, you are still welcome no matter what.”

“It was as if I had done something heroic,” he says. “It was absurd.”

October 2016

Registering all EU citizens in the UK could take 140 years, according to a cheery statistic.

We are seeking an early deal to secure the rights of EU citizens, says the British government. Companies employing EU workers must provide a list of their employees, says the British government. Companies employing EU workers won’t have to provide a list of their employees, says the British government. EU citizens will need a “form of ID” in post-Brexit UK, says the British government.  EU citizens must be prepared to leave, says the British government.

Literally no one knows what will happen to EU citizens.

November- December 2016

EU nationals who have decided to apply to permanent residency or British citizenship start receiving letters urging them to leave the country. I fear mine could follow and think about it every time I get post. I read an article advising EU citizens to collect proof of living in the UK. As I am a lodger currently working freelance, I start keeping every single one of my shopping receipts in a box, and consider asking British friends for reference letters.

Matt Bock [unrelated to this journalist], a German freelance renewable energy project manager, worries about how to provide documentation showing he was living in the UK before Brexit too: “I don’t have an employer, I am outside the UK for a large amount of time for work, I am a freelancer largely paid by my own German company, I don’t have private health insurance, I am not married and I haven’t even been here for the prerequisite 5 years.”" He has chosen not to apply to right to remain because his chances of success are "remote", and says he is "ready to leave if need be."

As I, like Matt and many EU citizens, start thinking about moving back home, others rush to move to the UK. Alexandra Ibrová, 26, a Czech PhD student, moves to London on 28 December, worried she could not get a National Insurance number after 15 March. “I was trying to get the appointment before that date because it is actually the only official document that proves that you have been living here before the cut off date,” she says.

January- February 2017

Gina Miller’s legal challenge forces the government’s Brexit bill to go to a vote in Parliament. I am hopeful, for about five minutes, that the Labour MP Harriet Harman’s amendment to secure my rights has got a chance. It doesn’t. I complain about Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn’s three-line whip to my local Labour councillors during their Sunday canvassing. “As a traditionally left-wing voter, I'm more angry with Corbyn's Labour than with the Tories,” echoes Marta Maria Casetti, 39, from Italy, in London since 2006.

March 2017

The day before the triggering or Article 50, the Haringey LibDems send me a letter in “support” of EU nationals. I am now a bargaining chip and a stat on a micro-targeting list.

On 29 March, Theresa May officially begins the Brexit negotiations, even though 2017 is the worst possible time to leave the EU. It has almost been a year that 3 million people living in the UK have been left in limbo.

I don’t own a house or have children at school in the UK. Many EU citizens do – they have built their family life in this country, and now fear they may lose it all overnight.

Adriana Bruni, 44, an Italian who married an Englishman and has lived in Chelmsford for six years, says her family would not exist without the European Union: “From today [29 March], a family like mine will never be formed in the same way again.” Bianca Ford Epskamp, a Dutch national and school governor who has lived Dorset since 2001, adds: “Both my children are born here, go to school here, have made friends. I've always been employed, contributed, paid taxes, do voluntary things. Morally, it’s draining.”

Elena Paolini, 51, an Italian translator married to Brit who has lived in London for 27 years, says she doesn’t believe EU nationals will be deported, but she is concerned about her access to the NHS, pensions or bank accounts. She asks out loud the question that has been floating in all our minds for months: “Will I be considered a second rate citizen?”

As for me, I used to say I wanted to be British. I don't say that any more.

Update on 23 June 2017

Last night, Theresa May told EU leaders in Brussels the UK government would offer the same rights as Britons to EU citizens who arrived "lawfully" before Brexit. I can't help but think that it took a year to guarantee rights me, and the other 3 million, already had and took for granted up until 23 June last year.

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