Precious lost lives deserve solace of truth

IN the aftermath of the fire, as my friends and I gazed at those precious lost lives, their images now adorned on placards and posters, we recognised their joy, aspiration and better tomorrows.

We knew their fate could have visited any of us. In those days, it was not unusual to attend two or three house parties in one night.

From the start, we believed the police didn’t conduct the investigation with the utmost professionalism and urgency.

They claimed that the fire was ignited from inside. They neglected to follow up leads of an arson attack by white racist perpetrators.

At the Black People’s Day of Action on March 2, 1981, to protest against the indifferent police inquiry and the lack of empathy from civic authorities, I cannot remember a single MP marching with us.

It was a remarkably peaceful march until we neared Blackfriars Bridge when the police tried to separate us.

A day later, The Sun screamed “The Day The Blacks Ran Riot in London”. I have never forgiven them.

Relations between the black community and the police hit an all-time low and resulted in the 1981 Brixton uprising.

Forty years later, families are still grieving and wondering who caused their sons, daughters, brothers and sisters to die in that dreadful inferno.

For many of us the New Cross Massacre, as dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson describes it, is a reference point to how little value British institutions placed on black young lives.

If anybody wants to trace the roots of Black Lives Matter, January 18, 1981, should be written bold. Thirteen dead, nothing said. Alex Wheatle is the author of the Crongton Series, Cane Warriors and The Humiliations of Welton Blake.