Whilst Mr Couzens’ crimes fell outside the list of offences that would normally qualify for a whole life order, Lord Justice Fulford stated that it is not a closed list and subsequently expounded on his sentencing decision. All the elements of kidnap, rape and murder were taken into account but particular emphasis was placed on Mr Couzens’ abuse of his position as a police officer. Lord Justice Fulford concluded that alongside other aggravating features, his misuse of his position and his undermining of public trust were deserving of lifelong imprisonment.
The easy option would be to not question locking away those who kidnap, rape and murder. Such sentencing seems the obvious solution. But it is important to consider the function of imprisonment and to ask whether it truly achieves what we expect it to - the creation of a safer and fairer society.
Public Protection
One function of imprisonment is public protection. When a violent crime is committed, we naturally want to prevent it from happening again. We can lock away those who pose a risk to society through their violence. Mr Couzens will never again drive a hire car down a South London street. By imprisoning him until he dies, we can take some comfort in knowing that he will never do to anyone else what he did to Sarah.
There is a risk of reoffending at any age, but the risk of recidivism drops in older age - for certain types of crime at least. How do we know that Mr Couzens’ risk of reoffending will remain unacceptably high once twenty-five, thirty or forty years have passed? It also raises the question of whether lifelong imprisonment truly makes our streets safer. Coming just a couple of weeks before Mr Couzens was sentenced, the murder of yet another young female Londoner - this time 28-year-old primary school teacher Sabina Nessa - reminded us that the problem of violence against women was never going to be solved by locking away one man for the rest of his life.
What more can be done to create a safer, more just society?
Punishment
My gut response to Mr Couzens’ actions was that he must be punished and punished severely. Directly and indirectly, he has caused unthinkable harm: he inflicted sadistic, fatal harm on Sarah; and he carved agonising wounds into the hearts of her family and friends. He also damaged British society’s trust in the police. He may have pleaded guilty but so far has neither displayed regret nor expressed remorse.
In the old days he would have been in line for physically brutal punishment; as a supposedly forward-thinking, civilised society today we shudder at the thought of those historic punishments, characterised by public displays of physical violence and humiliation. Our modern-day punishments - locking people away for decades or even life - seem far more palatable. Offenders are hidden away behind heavy doors, removed from our public conscience.
But lifelong imprisonment is an immensely heavy punishment. To be deprived of your liberty and enclosed in a cell for the majority of your waking hours (often 23 hours or more per day, as he is a prisoner of notoriety and so will likely need to be segregated for his own protection) with no hope of release is a desolate place in which to be. Whilst we may not be punishing his body directly, as was once the custom, such incarceration will take its physical toll indirectly. Certainly it will be punishing his mind. And the same punishment extends its reach beyond a sentenced individual. Often there is a family left behind. Children, wives and mothers can all become branded by the same hopelessness.
Clearly Mr Couzens’ actions were unacceptable and cannot be ignored. My own initial thirst for punishment came not from a longing for justice but out of a desire for vengeance. What do we seek from his punishment? What motivates us to punish any other human being who has erred? We must ask ourselves whether a just society is ever right to condemn an individual to an unending punishment. We must protect ourselves from the tyranny of becoming cruel and vindictive, whether as individuals or collectively as a society. Regardless of what someone has done, we must treat one another humanely. To repay darkness with darkness will in no way bring healing.
Deterrent
In addition to public protection and punishment, many view heavy sentencing as an effective deterrent to reduce further incidences of violent crime.
The relationship between sentencing length and crime rates has been long studied and there is much detailed research on the topic that is beyond the scope of these ponderings. The United States of America has 2 million people locked up - that’s a 500% increase over the course of just one generation. Whilst crime rates have fallen, it is widely agreed that this cannot be solely attributed to mass incarceration and that the increase in imprisonment plays only a small part. Similarly, UK prisoner numbers are expected to rise by 25% (that’s approximately 20,000 people) over the next five years as the government looks to pass and implement the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts (PCSC) Bill, which will deploy more police officers and expand the prison system.
It is most telling that this bill’s own impact assessment reveals a lack of evidence for the measures deterring offenders or reduce crime rates. The threat of punishment is not an effective deterrent.
Rehabilitation
The final role of prison is rehabilitation, helping prisoners to process their actions and to receive support as they return to society. In the USA this is referred to as ‘correction’.
A whole life order implies that a prisoner is beyond redemption or rehabilitation. The sentence says, ‘You will never be fit to return to society’. At the time of his sentencing, Mr Couzens had offered no form of apology. Some people never reach a point of rehabilitation in which they seek repentance and genuinely wish for inner change. For others it does happen - but very slowly. A whole life sentence removes any incentive for repentance and reconciliation. Moreover, there is nothing to lose so bad behaviour in prison cannot be sanctioned much beyond the removal of privileges and intermittent stays in segregation. After all, what is worse than a whole life order? Nothing that the UK’s criminal justice system offers, that’s for sure.
To leave someone in prison for the rest of their life with no expectation of any apology or positive change seems tragically futile. To me, the impossibility of rehabilitation implies that the main focus of a whole life order is pure and simple punishment.
We must also wrestle with the question of whether there is ever a role for forgiveness in cases of abhorrent wrongdoing. To forgive is not to forget, condone or minimise what has been done. These actions have inflicted deep wounds on a family and, to a lesser extent, wider British society. These wounds will leave permanent, painful scars. Sarah’s loved ones, and society in general, may neither be able to forgive Mr Couzens nor feel that it is appropriate to consider doing so. Yet we must be wary of the destructive nature of resentment and bitterness. In order to bring more justice and peace to this world, we must each be the caretaker of our own heart.
Could anything else suffice?
The question of whole life imprisonment is a weighty one with no easy answers. The process of reflecting upon these issues has been somewhat distressing for me, and perhaps you have found this an upsetting read. Regardless of our society’s myriad opinions on these matters, surely we can all agree that even the severest sentence imposed upon an offender can never make up for the loss of his victim’s life. That equation just will not balance.
Yes, there must be a response to injustice. No, we should not tolerate violent crime in others. Still, for ourselves, let us seek to live justly and compassionately in our day-to-day thoughts, words and deeds.
Dr Elinor Webb is one of our Health & Justice Fellows
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