22 Years On, Strides Toward Justice for the 96 Hillsborough Disaster Victims

On April 15, 1989, a legion of excited Liverpool F.C. fans, clad in the red kits of the club they loved, gathered outside Hillsborough Stadium in anticipation of watching the Reds take on Nottingham Forest in an FA Cup semifinal.

96 of those fans never came home. A 97th casualty happened more recently, when 50-year-old Stephen Whittle of Bolton ended his life several months ago, having never fully overcome the guilt of selling his FA Cup semifinal ticket to a friend who was killed in the disaster. 

For those unfamiliar with the events of that day, a quick summary:

Liverpool supporters had been allocated to the Leppings Lane End of the Stadium, a smaller area than the Forest supporters despite the expectation the Reds would bring more traveling fans.

Before the match started, a massive buildup of fans amassed outside the small entrance of the Leppings Lane End, with more than 20,000 fans trying to get through only 23 turnstiles.

Although a lack of police organization was named as the official cause of the crush in the Taylor Report—the first official inquiry into the disaster—the blame had in conversation often fell on the fans, and drunk and disorderly behavior.

Reports in the British tabloids, most notably The Sun, exacerbated these associations as Liverpool supporters were accused of pickpocketing victims, beating up police trying to give the "kiss of life" and worse, all which later were found to be untrue.

Even after the Taylor Report, there was still much speculation and a lack of transparency regarding the events of that terrible day. 

Now 22 years later, the calls of "Justice for the 96" that have echoed through Anfield and beyond are being answered.

Following a debate in the House of Commons of the British Parliament, all 40,000 documents produced by the government relating to Hillsborough stadium disaster will be released, hopefully bringing with them closure for fans and families. 

Member of Parliament and former Liverpool Lord Mayor Steve Rotheram, whose constituency includes the Anfield neighborhood and who himself was present at the tragic match, led the debates and has since received praise for his impassioned, articulate speeches.

Here are a pair of selections from Rotheram's stirring opening statement (potential trigger warning for those with ties to the tragedy):

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"It was a day when I helplessly watched frantic scenes – as people that had travelled to see a football match, some, mere children, lay injured and dying as they were pulled from the terraces.

I was one of the lucky ones that day – and all of my close friends (and members of my family) returned home, although for one (our Lisa), it was touch and go whether she would survive. Thankfully she did.

This unfortunately was not the case for 96 men, women and children who were killed – and for hundreds of others injured and left permanently traumatised. The loss of 96 innocent lives was bad enough Mr Speaker, but the tragic nature of their deaths was exacerbated by what happened next. Instead of those at fault taking responsibility for their actions, a coordinated campaign began - to shift the blame – and look for scapegoats."

"I am proud to be a Liverpudlian, Mr. Speaker. In the 22 years that the families have fought their dignified campaign, I, and the rest of Britain have watched as my great city has come together.

Out of the darkness of the Hillsborough tragedy, an eternal flame of unity has emerged to mean that Liverpool is now synonymous with a unique kind of solidarity; whether red or blue, we are scousers all.

But, Mr. Speaker, to those that attempt to perpetrate the myth that it was the fault of the fans, I will never tire of reminding them that it was the ordinary fans that were the real heroe’s on the day, not the villains. They reacted, whilst those in authority froze.

Mr. Speaker, my granddad used to regal me with vivid accounts of the two World Wars he had fought in – and whilst he never glorified in war itself, he would explain to us his sense of loss for fallen comrades NEARLY half a century later. I didn’t really understand that when I was growing up – but I do now. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, we will never stop fighting for justice for the 96.

A botched inquest, a flawed enquiry, a farcical review of evidence and a system that worked against, instead of for, the families has left a bitter taste."

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In his speech, Rotheram worked to dismantle the many myths surrounding fan behavior and blame within the tragedy.

Perhaps the most shocking revelation was his discussion about how authorities tested the blood-alcohol levels of every victim, including Jon-Paul Gilhooley, the cousin of current Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard, who was only 10 years old when he was killed.

Listen to Rotheram's speech, including the names of all 96 individuals killed that day, in its entirety here to get the full effect. 

Although Rotheram led the charge, he wasn't the only member of Parliament to give a deeply-moving speech calling for justice for the 96.

Among those joining him were Wirral South MP Alison McGovern—who delivered her account of watching the match at home that day with tears in her eyes (watch in full here)—MP Andy Burnham of Leigh, Greater Manchester, (watch in full here) and Liverpool MP Luciana Berger who revealed she had gone to school with two of the victims, teenage sisters Sarah and Victoria Hicks.

The MP's who spurred the debate in the House of Commons received acknowledgement and support from the top officials in the British government—among them Prime Minister David Cameron, Deputy PM Nick Clegg and Home Secretary Theresa May—who said the families of the victims should be treated with "dignity and respect," and that she resolves to "do everything in my power to ensure the families and the public get the truth."

And comedian Jason Manford had this to say via his Facebook page, which perhaps best sums up the general consensus about Hillsborough and the day's events:

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"Remember it's not just a Liverpool FC tragedy, it's not even a footballing tragedy, it's a human tragedy."

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Fans who have traveled to, or lived in Liverpool know how ingrained Hillsborough is in the city's consciousness—how the outrage and grief still lingers.

Graffiti calling for "Justice For the 96" can be found everywhere, as can stickers on newsstands and telephone poles imploring people to refrain from buying The Sun.

During my last weekend living in Liverpool, a "Don't Buy The Sun" benefit concert was held in aid of Fazakerley9, a charity organization set up to help fight local poverty, and established in memory of recently-deceased young Liverpool fan James "Jay" McVey.

Among the performers were former members of The Clash and the Manic Street Preachers—two luminaries of popular music in the UK, and sizable names attached to the cause. 

Around the same time as the "Don't Buy The Sun" concert, a petition was being circulated around the Internet urging the British government to release the 40,000 documents produced relating to the Hillsborough disaster.

In my own circle of English football fan friends, I received messages asking to sign the petition from supporters of rival clubs alongside the loyal Reds.

Never before had I seen that kind of consensus; fans putting aside the usual differences and jabs at each other to unite in the name of transparency, justice and closure for families and community members still struggling to understand what happened that day. 

139,815 people signed that petition according to MP Andy Burnham.

Fans, families, community members and well-wishing supporters across the United Kingdom kept the conversation going even as critics wondered why the issue wouldn't just go away, and it seems their calls have finally been answered.

It just goes to show you: never underestimate the power and passion of a committed few. That number has the potential to grow, and even include some allies one might not expect, from Manchester United-supporting pals to the Prime Minister.

A follow-up petition is now being circulated demanding The Sun release its sources and documents used in reporting on the disaster.

Liverpool fans have implored former editor Kelvin McKenzie to apologize numerous times—and he did once in 1993 in front of the House of Commons, saying he regretted the publication and called the Hillsborough headline "a fundamental mistake."

The Sun itself ran a full-page apology in 2004, but was met with rather cynical response. He later recanted this apology, claiming it had only run at the behest of Rupert Murdoch, and that he "wasn't sorry then and I'm not sorry now." This reignited the ire of fans across Merseyside, and contributed to a larger pattern of broken trust between the media and its readers.

We live in different times now.

As several fans pointed out on Twitter during the debates, nowadays, with the prevalence of citizen journalism and the ability to record video from our smartphones and post to Facebook or YouTube almost instantly, if a Hillsborough-like tragedy were to happen again (and we hope it never, ever will, to any club), there would be first-hand evidence available from multiple perspectives within minutes, making the dissemination of information and subsequent course of actions a whole lot easier.

And on the subject of modern media, Kelvin McKenzie's name was among the trending topics for the United Kingdom on Twitter. Whenever anyone said something favorable about the editor (not necessarily relating to this particular situation), Liverpool supporters would respond with attempts to educate the Twitter user on the events of Hillsborough and The Sun's coverage.

The fact that the very name of this individual invokes such an impassioned, urgent sense of outrage from Liverpool fans is worth noting, and should continue to serve as a reminder to those who engage in media dialogue as reporters, citizen journalists or fans just how important that public trust is.

Regardless of the resources available, a serious breakage of that trust could potentially lead to irreparable damage for a whole lot of people. Of course, this is true in all things, not just football or the media. 

But perhaps the greatest lesson of Hillsborough came in how the tragedy, even through the most horrifying of circumstances, changed the manner in which football fans were perceived.

Alison McGovern touched on this in her speech, as did Michael White in The Guardian:

Hillsborough came at a time, on the heels of other horrifying stadium tragedies like Luzhniki in Russia and Heysel in Belgium, when there was a very specific stigma associated with football fans; one steeped in hooliganism and perhaps, as White explains, with a disdain for the working class.

Football in the Thatcherite 1980s was a far-more blue-collar game than it is now with its corporate-sponsored stadiums and pricey tickets.

Police, therefore, took it as an issue of hooliganism, and handled the situation with crowd-control in mind as opposed to improving the logistics. In the days that followed, and even still now, the tragedy was framed with the alcohol-and-hooligans angle.

The tragedy began a dialogue and dismantling of that stigma, and in its wake, the human face of football fandom emerged; one not so easily or readily vilified. 

Jon-Paul Gilhooley, and Sarah and Victoria Hicks were certainly not hooligans or thugs, nor were those affected that day the textbook examples of the evils of football the game's critics searched for.

The same goes for the supporters of crosstown rivals Everton who laid scarves and wreaths in solidarity, and the AC Milan fans who sang "You'll Never Walk Alone" in tribute at the European Cup final that year. Beautiful gestures of solidarity and tribute all over the footballing world have continued over the years, and will into the future. 

Here's hoping the families and friends of those affected by the events of April 15, 1989 find the peace and closure they seek, and that football fans all over the world, regardless of allegiance, will continue to look out for one another and make sure nobody ever walks alone.