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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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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