News Search Search this site or the web powered by FreeFind Site search Web search Story archive		26-4-2002 Scotsman The senseless murder of a smiling schoolboy that shamed a nation By Gethin Chamberlain SKIPPING from stone to stone in his silver jacket, Damilola Taylor appeared to be a boy lost in a happy world. With his arms stretched out to aid his balance, he was playing some sort of private game, the rules known only to him. Then, there he was there again, running through a nearby square, and again, this time walking, outside Peckham library. The last time we saw him he was alone, waiting in a lift, apparently smiling. Maybe it was that CCTV footage that did it, turning his death into a source of national shame, the pictures so reminiscent of the last shots of little James Bulger, neither boy aware that his life was about to end so prematurely and brutally. Perhaps it was the photograph that was released of a smiling ten-year-old clearly with everything to live for, or the memory of how the murder of another black youngster, Stephen Lawrence, on the streets of London had gone unpunished. Maybe it was the knowledge that Oluwadamilola, his full name, had come to Britain from Nigeria full of optimism and was an ambitious boy, a keen student, only to end up alone in the stairwell of a modern slum as his blood drained from a jagged wound on his leg. There are more than 170 murders a year in London alone, but there was something about the death of Damilola Taylor, more than just his age, which lifted it above the ordinary. And Britain felt ashamed. The question was asked: How could a young boy who dreamed of changing the world, and whose family had believed in Britain so much that they moved 3000 miles to live here, have been let down so badly just three months after he arrived in the heart of one of the most prosperous and advanced cities of the world? It remained unanswered last night. His family was well-off and educated, and Damilola - whose full name means "gift of God" or "beautiful boy" - lived with them in a three-bedroom house in Isashi, a western suburb of Lagos, in Nigeria. They owned two cars, and Damilola went to a private primary school, where he was popular with pupils and teachers. English, maths and literature were his favourite subjects. He was a keen footballer with aspirations to become a doctor. His father Richard, 56, had studied in London and married Damilola's mother, Gloria, now 50, in Britain in 1977. The boy's sister Gbemi, 23, and brother Tunde, 21, were born in Britain. Back in Nigeria, Mr Taylor worked as a civil servant at the Ministry of Defence, and Mrs Taylor worked at the Union bank, one of Nigeria's biggest. The family was happy. But Damilola's elder sister, Gbemi, suffered from severe epilepsy. Nigeria was unable to provide the treatment she needed, and they resolved to make the journey to Britain. Mr Taylor initially remained in Nigeria to work and earn money, and for the next couple of years the family scrimped and saved to fund their move to England. They sold their cars and borrowed to raise the £5,000 they needed. Having lived in Middlesex for ten years in the 1970s and 1980s, Mr and Mrs Taylor felt safe moving their children to this country, but when the family arrived on 4 August 2000, it was to a life they had scarcely expected. To begin with, they stayed with friends in Brentford, but it became clear that they would have to move to south London for Gbemi to receive treatment at Kings College Hospital. They moved in with Mrs Taylor's sister-in-law, Dorcas Fayemi, and her son Jordan, 29, at St Briavel's Court, on the notorious North Peckham estate. Damilola's brother, Tunde, 22, who had been studying for a degree in politics and economics in Nigeria, went to work in a sports shop in Oxford Street. Jordan worked for the Department of Social Security and his niece, Victoria, was a website designer. They were in cramped conditions. A bed had to be put in the living room. Outside, the four flights of stairs to the flat stank of rubbish and urine. Gangs prowled the lawless ground between the estate's run-down buildings and regularly mugged residents on the poorly lit landings. In Nigeria, poverty had encouraged people to band together, but the Taylors found that, in Britain, poverty led to children preying on each other. Damilola was enrolled at the 600-pupil Oliver Goldsmith School, a few minutes' walk from his home. He immediately impressed his teachers with his "lovely, boisterous" character and he made very good progress. They said he always seemed to be smiling and was never disrespectful. But it was tough for the new boy. He suffered name-calling. One time, he arrived home to ask his mother why children had been calling him "gay" and what the word meant. But the real danger was the older teenagers who bullied youngsters and stole from them. The week before his death, Damilola told his mother he had been attacked. She said later: "I asked, 'Did you fight with them?' And he said, 'No, I did not fight with them'. He said he was in pain." But Damilola was naturally optimistic. Aside from his mother's worries over bullying, he made friends. He seemed to be settling in. His favourite films were The Sound of Music and James Bond adventures. He played football, followed Manchester United and went to Sunday school. He was also determined to do well, making full use of the access to computers which he had not had in Nigeria. It was on his way home from an after-school computer class at Peckham Library that he died. That Monday, 27 November, 2000, his mother had walked him to school and was expecting him home at 5pm. When he failed to turn up, she went looking for him. At his school, the headmaster told her not to worry, but as she headed home, she saw police had cordoned off the road. She said: "I met the police and they told me a child was stabbed. I did not realise it was my child. Then I went to the hospital. It was Damilola." Police established that Damilola had walked 100 yards into Diamond Street, and then turned first left into Blakes Road, at the back of the North Peckham estate. It was dark, the street lighting was bad, and there were few people about. It was a carpenter, Bill Casal, who found him and dialled 999. Blood was pouring from his leg, and although six people tried to stem the flow, it was too late. Paramedics worked on him all the way to the hospital and doctors did everything they could, but there was nothing that could be done to save him. It was the first such major test for the Metropolitan Police since the bungled inquiry into the murder of Stephen Lawrence. He was 18, an ambitious student, when he was slain at a bus stop in Eltham, south London, in 1993. Five suspects slipped through the prosecution net, partly because police had been deemed to be institutionally racist and had failed to investigate the case properly. But there were problems from the outset. There were no witnesses, and the only clue to what had happened was a trail of blood leading from the stairwell to a spot 100 yards away. Even the release of the CCTV footage failed to trigger a response. No-one was talking. Detectives were to rely on the evidence of a volatile 14-year-old girl, code-named Bromley, who came forward two months after the killing, claiming to be an eye-witness. Police noted inconsistencies in her story, but they insisted the thrust of her story remained the same. But the defence accused police of manufacturing her as an eyewitness. The judge highlighted "inducements" made to Bromley in questioning, and dismissed her evidence. Without it, the prosecution case was effectively scuppered. Damilola had dreamed of changing the world and helping other people. Perhaps, in a way, he succeeded. In the days after his death, Jack Straw, then Home Secretary, spoke out against the "walk-on-by society". He said what had happened was a wake-up call to remind Britons they must never allow lawlessness to go unchallenged. Mr Taylor also noted a change. A year later, he recalled: "When Damilola was killed my life was devastated. I blamed everyone - my country, this country, everyone. But his death made the authorities sit up and take notice, it forced those who make the laws to face realities. "But most of all, I believe, it made parents and communities more aware of their responsibilities towards young people."
		................................................................................................................. Copyright ©2004 Gethin Chamberlain. All rights reserved.