麻豆约拍

Martin Wild was 29 when he travelled with friends from Stockport to Sheffield to watch Liverpool play in the 1989 FA Cup semi-final. What should have been a blue-ribbon event in the sporting calendar turned into tragedy after just six minutes of play.

Martin was one of the 96 who died that afternoon; his friends survived.

But unlike the other 95 victims, no family members came forward to engage with the new inquests, possibly because Martin has no living relatives, or they could not be traced. He was the only Liverpool supporter not legally represented at the hearings.

This could have meant that, when the evidence focussed on his journey through the ground, the public gallery cleared and jurors sat opposite empty seats. Instead, knowing there were no family members to represent Martin in court, other bereaved relatives turned out in greater than usual numbers. Why? To show he wasn’t forgotten or alone. To support him when there was no one else to show support.

That’s just one insight into the way the Hillsborough families work, which I’ve witnessed while reporting the inquests.

I arrived in Liverpool as a trainee newspaper reporter in January, 2008. I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I knew next to nothing about Hillsborough, the lives lost, claims of a cover-up and campaign for justice.

But one of the first things I heard about the bereaved families was how dignified they had been. They had conducted themselves, I was told, with dignity despite their grief, undoubted anger and the cruel length of their struggle. It was only when I began covering the new inquests each day, however, that I began to comprehend what that meant. What they do for Martin is just part of what people mean when they say dignity.

Day in, day out, families have turned up at the coroner’s court. Each footstep another towards painful detail, disputed testimony and seemingly unending footage of their loved ones’ final moments. These aren’t families stiff-lipped with stoicism. Their 300-plus days at court passed, much like the rest of their campaign, with a determination to find answers, humility and, when required, even a dash of humour.

As the 麻豆约拍’s dedicated Hillsborough Inquests reporter, I’ve had the privilege not only to report on what the inquests have heard, but also to chart part of those families’ remarkable journey.

Three news organisations decided to devote journalists to reporting the inquests: the Liverpool Echo, ITV Granada and 麻豆约拍 Radio Merseyside.

The Echo has been rightly praised for live-blogging the entire proceedings almost minute-by-minute. When witnesses giving evidence were asked if they had been keeping up with the proceedings, some of them replied they’d been ‘reading the blog’.

Radio Merseyside created my role for two different reasons: first the editor, Sue Owen, recognised the importance of the story to our audience and wanted every twist and turn properly covered; and second, that a story of this complexity and sensitivity needed a full-time presence. Being embedded at the hearings has also meant I’ve been able to write daily updates for News Online, cover the story for regional and national TV, as well help colleagues in network news keep in touch with the hearings.

For the vast majority of the inquests, Radio Merseyside carried nightly reports about each day’s evidence.

There may be those who’d argue that was just too much coverage; but in our patch, our listeners appear to disagree. I met a group of them at a forum recently and they applauded the decision to stick with the story. The appetite for information about the story is testament to how many lives were affected by a disaster the former Bishop of Liverpool describes as a ‘wound’ across the city.

The listeners also posed a question I’m often asked: has it been difficult to get the tone right? Did I find myself becoming too close to the story, too emotionally involved? It would have been impossible not to be struck by the ongoing pain that Hillsborough has caused.

The hearings began with ‘pen portraits’ of those who died, delivered by tearful relatives. Countless witnesses from across the board broke down while giving evidence. And then there was the video footage showing the match descending from carnival into chaos.

It’s for others to decide if our reports stayed on the right side of the line; I certainly hope they did. My back-to-basics approach was to stick to the facts and let the stories tell themselves. The audience didn’t need anything more from me to grasp the full horror of what went on 27 years ago.

But journalists aren’t unfeeling robots, sent to scenes of tragedy to parrot back information; we let stories under our skin and we empathise so that we can better understand.

I’m not the first to have done so, but I have let Hillsborough under my skin. After two years of reporting on it, I fear it may remain there for some time to come. But along with the grief and the pain, I will also remember and admire the dignity.

Ben Schofield is a reporter for 麻豆约拍 Radio Merseyside and the 麻豆约拍’s dedicated Hillsborough Inquests reporter