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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Lucy Mangan

The Accused: National Treasures on Trial review – a slight analysis of celebs’ Operation Yewtree distress

Sir Cliff Richard.
Targeted by Operation Yewtree … Sir Cliff Richard. Photograph: Shutterstock

Ah, 2012! Do you remember? The Olympic Games in London – that amazing opening ceremony reminding us, as the Queen jumped out of a plane with James Bond, of all that was good and right about our daft and glorious little country. And then, I think, there were some sporting events afterwards. The diamond jubilee celebrations and Prince Charles calling Her Maj “Mummy” so that we all went: “Aww!” It was even the wettest summer in 100 years, which didn’t seem like something to celebrate at the time, but, in drought-stricken retrospect looks like the planet’s last, dying gift to us.

And, it was the year of “paedo bingo” for the tabloids, as the ex-editor of the Daily Star Dawn Neesom puts it. There really was something for everyone. For 2012 was also the beginning of Operation Yewtree, the investigation led by the Metropolitan police into Jimmy Savile that rapidly expanded to include other sexual abuse cases involving celebrities. According to this documentary, by the end of it, three years later, 26 men were charged and 10 of them convicted – including high-profile names such as Gary Glitter, Rolf Harris, Dave Lee Travis and Max Clifford.

The Accused: National Treasures on Trial (Channel 4) is an hour-long documentary focusing on three men, who, years later, are willing to talk about being caught up in what one of them calls “a witch-hunt”. Radio 1 mainstay Paul Gambaccini was arrested on suspicion of sexual offences and released on bail for almost a year before it was announced that he would not be charged. Sir Cliff Richard had his Berkshire home searched after an allegation was made against him, which the BBC covered live, due to an apparent tip-off by the South Yorkshire police, but was never arrested or charged. Radio DJ and former Pop Idol judge Neil Fox was arrested and charged with offences against several women, some of whom were underage at the time. He pleaded not guilty at his trial before a magistrates’ court and was acquitted.

At the heart of the show is the question of whether the names of people accused of crimes should be made public before they are charged. On the one hand, the fallout from mere association with wrongdoing – and especially with crimes such as those within Operation Yewtree’s remit – can be terrible. Perhaps particularly so for high-profile people who will be hounded by the press and face endless public speculation, with all the extra strains on their mental health, relationships and employment that this brings. It does seem, as Gambaccini notes, to fly in the face of the fundamental legal tenet that an individual is innocent until proven guilty. On the other hand, as is pointed out by the news journalist Lucy Manning, it was and is the case that further witnesses/victims only come forward when they become aware that a perpetrator is under investigation, thereby enabling potential corroboration and the prosecution of the guilty who might otherwise go free.

It is an interesting question. Whether it is examined fully enough to disperse the growing sense of queasiness at the sight of three men, however wronged, being given an hour to air their grievances a number of years on at a time when we know that sexual assault is endemic, rape convictions are at an all-time low and women’s rights are under attack on ever more fronts, I’m not sure.

This is particularly the case when Fox appears on screen. Gambaccini and Richard talk freely, with passion and vulnerability about their cases and experiences. Fox is notably guarded. When asked by the interviewer if they can talk about what he was accused of, Fox replies: “No. I’ve moved on.” At one point, the interviewer, as Fox demands, quotes a part of the judges’ summary that seems to require comment from him: “We heard evidence of about 10 allegations from six women. We believed each of the complainants. The question we must ask is whether we are sure of the facts alleged, sure of the context in which they occurred and sure that they amount to criminal offences.” What is your take, Fox is asked. “His [the magistrate’s] take, obviously, is that he didn’t believe any of them were criminal offences. That I’d done nothing wrong. Otherwise he wouldn’t have acquitted me.”

The underlying question here – which should have been asked more directly – is whether Fox feels he did anything wrong, given that the judge says he believes the complainants, even if it did not amount to criminal behaviour. If you are going to make a documentary on such a subject, in such an era, you need to extract better answers than an opinion of an opinion. It is a chance to examine what is surely a great part of how we measure the success, or not, of the entire #MeToo movement. Do the individuals accused – and do men in general – gain insight from the experience and the process (by proxy), or does defensiveness merely grow and positions become further entrenched? Time may tell, but documentarians could speed it up.

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