A surprise twist and happy ending to an Inquest experience

Jane is a social worker, who specialises in providing psychological and social support following trauma and bereavement in the UK and overseas. In the UK Jane has worked for not-for-profit and other organisations including Freedom from Torture, the Open University, Clarity Stress and Trauma, and the Ministry of Justice. Countries she has worked in overseas include Somaliland, Rwanda, Bosnia, Sudan, Kosovo and Sierra Leone. She has developed peer support programmes and training for people working in war zones, for those bereaved by drugs and alcohol, and for those working with people affected by major incidents such as terrorist attacks and the Grenfell Fire. She is the author of publications on human rights issues. 

The eight month (2018-2019) journey from my partner’s death to the Inquest was long, painful, frustrating, upsetting and riddled with a stunning lack of communication and information from the Coroner’s Office, including not even receiving the reports that were to be presented at the Inquest; in despair I’d finally managed to directly contact the Coroner just days before the Inquest, and she personally arranged for them to be sent to me.

I have never felt further from the heart of the process than I did in the long, tortuous lead up to the Inquest – apart from the fantastic help, advice and support from the Coroners’ Courts Support Service (CCSS) – until shortly before and at the actual Inquest itself: this was exemplary, a dignified process, a fantastic Coroner, and extremely helpful and empathic staff at court, principally the Coroner’s Office manager. 

But the surprising twist in the tale came about 3 years later, when I was invited to be a participant for this research, the Voicing Loss project: I was so happy to finally have a chance to describe what had happened, and the impact the Coronial process had on me at the time, reeling as I already was following the death of my partner. I’d written after the inquest to thank the Coroner and the court staff, and had always intended to write to the Coroner’s Office a full account of the incredibly poor experience I’d had in the lead up. But I’d never quite found the energy to do so. The research gave me the opportunity to finally pull together and put on record what had happened. 

It was such a helpful process and interview, that I was finally spurred on to write and give feedback to the Coroner’s Office manager I’d met at the Inquest – both about how professional and helpful I’d found the Coroner and the actual Inquest, but also to give detail of everything else that had gone so wrong prior to the Inquest.

Imagine my surprise when his reply told me of the many changes and improvements that had been implemented since my experience. For example, very significantly, they’d since embedded the Coroners’ Courts Support Service into the Coroner’s Office. And not only that, but the very person from CCSS who’d been so helpful prior to the Inquest, and attended on the day, had been appointed as a Coroner’s Officer. Even though there had been many incredibly positive changes, in his full, considered and empathic reply he also said that he was sharing my feedback with various personnel in order that the service could continue to improve. 

What a result! What progress indeed! What a surprising, totally unexpected and truly welcome outcome for me from the Voicing Loss research! Finally, after being interviewed by you, I’d given feedback to the Coroner’s Office, and learnt in return of the positive changes that had been made since my experience. I felt so heartened, as I’m sure this will have made the whole process so much more helpful, empathic and meaningful for those bereaved people who followed after me.

One other significant thing – being a professional in the field of psychological trauma, where I support others affected by traumatic incidents including violent, sudden bereavements – did that make any difference to my own journey through the bereavement and coronial process? No! It didn’t! When I was personally affected and blown sideways myself, although I could understand what was happening, that knowledge really didn’t help: and although I rationally knew I was unlikely to be at the ‘heart of the process’ I was utterly stunned to find I was hardly part of the process at all. Everything was a struggle. Perhaps the only thing that did help was at least knowing where to go for information and support, such as the CCSS, even though it took me months to even think of that. And knowing that I’d have to be really determined, steadfast, and prepared to fight to get my voice heard and for some kind of justice. I simply don’t know how I’d have done it without the unwavering, brilliant support of friends and family, whilst the actual Coronial process was doing just about nothing to help.