Why Men Accused Of Sex Attacks Should NOT Be Named

By SARAH VINE: Jimmy Tarbuck choked back tears as he told ITV’s Loose Women about his experience of being arrested by 14 policeman - 14 to nick an elderly comedian! - over allegations of assault of a child in the Sixties.

Now exonerated, Tarbuck, 75, is trying to rebuild his life. As is the DJ Paul Gambaccini, who last week gave an impassioned account of his own arrest and subsequent year of hell on police bail as part of Operation Yewtree.

Both men reminded me of a genial old gent I used to know, Alistair McAlpine, one time adviser to Margaret Thatcher.

He was a kind, intelligent man who had hoped to spend his retirement running a guest house in Southern Italy with his glamorous young wife, Athena.

Instead, at the age of 70, he found himself thrust into the public eye in the cruellest of circumstances.

He was accused on Twitter and elsewhere of being involved in claims of historic sex abuse at a children’s home in North Wales.

A witness in the case later explained that they had mistaken him for someone else. But not before various malicious elements, including Sally Bercow, the wife of the Commons Speaker, had plunged him into a Kafka-esque nightmare by bandying his name around on Twitter.

Despite ill-health, McAlpine came out fighting, vehemently denying the claims and successfully suing his detractors.
He died a year later — an appalling tragedy.

Of course, no two cases are ever the same. But what all three men have in common is this: they were victims of the new feminist ‘there’s no smoke without fire’ style of justice.

And they’re not the only ones. In no particular order: William Roache, 83, Jim Davidson, 61, Sir Cliff Richard, 74, the late Conservative Prime Minister, Ted Heath, top soldier Lord Bramall, now 91, the late Leon Brittan, former heads of MI5 and MI6 and former Tory MP Harvey Proctor, 68.

All, one way or another, were accused of the foullest of crimes by anonymous ‘victims’, whose veracity sometimes appears to have been subject to about as much scrutiny as a participant on the Jeremy Kyle show.

It’s all because of Jimmy Savile, of course. Having failed spectacularly — along with the BBC — to deal with one genuine pervert, the authorities are now engaged in a frantic game of catch-up. But however misguided these arrests may or may not be, the real problem here is not the police; it’s the question of anonymity which, at the moment, is automatically granted to the accuser — but not the accused.

Right now, there is nothing to stop me walking into a police station and accusing pretty much anyone of sexual assault.

It could be utterly bogus — or malicious — and the police would not only have an obligation to protect my identity, but also a duty to investigate my claim.

And, as Scotland Yard admitted in a statement this week, ‘we start from a position of believing the victim’.

Moreover, in the absence of any physical evidence — for example, in the case of historical accusations — the likelihood is that the name of my alleged attacker would be made public in order to encourage any other victims to come forward.

That’s what happened to Tarby and Cliff — and you can’t help wondering: who’s the real victim here? The one hiding behind the protection of the law; or the poor man having his reputation and a lifetime’s work trashed?

Anonymity before charge in cases of sexual assault ought to be as much a basic human right as the protection of the identity of sex attack victims.

Otherwise we’re living in a world where, through spite or malice or for political gain, innocent lives can be ruined.

That might pass for justice on Twitter, but it’s not the mark of a civilised society.

Edited by AGA
 

Source