Rolan Adams & Stephen Lawrence

20th anniversary march for Rolan Adams in February, 2011.

"It's been a long time in coming but we still have a long way to go, and so at this moment in time, all I can think about is Stephen. Perhaps somewhere down the line we will finally get justice for him, because everything has just been a long time for us to get to this position." Doreen Lawrence, May 18, 2011

These pic's come from the Thamesmead Housing Estate, south east London (where parts of one my all time favourite movies A Clockwork Orange was filmed). I first visited in 1997 when a friend lived there and I will always remember it as a bleak and desolate place. It was bad back then and it is bad now, one of the poorest parts of London.

On a grey February day, along with fellow photographer David Hoffman, I attended the 20th anniversary memorial to the little-publicised racist murder of Rolan Adams, 15, which happened only a stone's throw away from these pictures.

I had arrived a bit early for the job and had time to wander around the estate again for the first time in nearly 14 years since my first (and only) visit.

People at the memorial told me about their stories from 20 years ago, how the racist BNP had moved in and how scared they were. Nobody of colour could visit the pub - if you did it was a gamble with your own life, and Rolan's peers all had a story to tell on how, once, perhaps to watch a football match, or simply try to have a drink with a friend, they bravely ventured to the pub only to be chased away by white youths wielding knives, bats and chains.

In Rolan's case it was to be fatal, just like Stephen Lawrence, 18, two miles away and two years later.

On the day before Rolan's murder, anti-racist organiser Dev Barrah, still active in the community, said on Thames TV that it was 'only a matter of time before someone got murdered'. His ominous prediction proved true within 24 hours. Rolan was outnumbered by 15 white youths and slashed in the throat, as he and his brother walked home from a youth club.

If you have the stomach, read this 1991 Guardian article by Jocelyn Targett via London Street Gangs. Its colourful language at first, but nevertheless a good read.

Rolan's murderer, Mark Thornburrow, has recently been freed but Stephen's killers never served time in the first place. There has been trials before, but the amount of injustice in his case is unbelievable. When an institutionally racist police force handles a racially motivated murder, this is what happens.

Today though, there were at last some good news: two men are to be tried for Stephen's murder which happened 18 years ago. Justice for dead young black men in this country turns slowly.

Rolan would have been 35, Stephen would have been 36. Rest in peace.

Being shouted at and crying in the same day

Another month of work has gone by and we are now in September, my favourite month! Its got nothing (much) to do with it being my birthday towards the end of it, but more to do with the fresh air coming in and the last-days-of-a-dying-summer feeling; although to be fair, in the UK, the summer never really sprung to life this year. But this is where September usually comes in and rescues things with some amazingly beautiful days of warm sunshine. Seasons aside, this was the day:

My first job was down at Brixton prison where fire departments from three different stations had been called out to. Six fire engines were standing around doing nothing. I chatted to a friendly fireman when I got there and he said it was just a suspect device that they were checking out inside the prison, probably nothing, the number of trucks was just standard procedure, etc.

I then went over to the cordon - which anybody can walk up to - and took a couple of snaps and was then approached by a jobsworth fireman. He politely asked me to 'get the fuck out' despite all the regular office workers being allowed to stand next to me and look (at a scene where nothing was going on, I might add).

When I asked him why he said it was his managers orders. Sadly, this upstanding fireman 'wasn't in a position to reveal his managers name', or to get said manager to come down and say it in person to me, and then he promptly said the POLICE will come if I don't move. I said that is fine, you can bring the police if you want, and you'll see that they cant move me either, unless you first extend your cordon and remove these 'civilians' as well.

In the end I just said 'I'll move' and did so after getting my frames, but why, oh why, are people in uniform hellbent on telling trained members of the press what to do, while at the same time letting people stand around with their camera phones and not moving them? Some battles are not worth fighting, and this was one of them, but dang, I thought firemen were professionals as well? Next time I'll just bring my (future tense) P6000.

Two minutes later the firemen were given the all clear and they rolled back home to their stations...

The place to get the latest on these developments is, as always, on photographer Marc Vallee's blog. Interesting to see how we have moved on since the 90's.

The last job of the day was a vigil for a murder victim who died in Camberwell in September last year*. Quite a large group of friends and family had come, including the victims mother. As always on these occasions, it takes a lot longer than planned, but it doesn't matter.

A priest led the prayers after which people were invited to say what they felt. A Rastafarian friend of the victim sung an amazing hymn on the spur of the moment, dedicated to his family, and then people, one after the other, voiced their love for this man.

In 2007, I'd been at this very place to photograph the crime scene. Tonight I couldn't see through my viewfinder as I was overcome by emotion, tears were going down my face. My thoughts go out with all of the people present.

*He will remain nameless out of respect and because of an ongoing trial, but for the record, we were the only media invited by the family and the only media present.



© Magnus Andersson



© Magnus Andersson



© Magnus Andersson

And the correct answer is...

© Magnus Andersson

...UK prime minister Gordon Brown.

I put up a little quiz a few days ago, and the response was overwhelming, NOT! I got one reply, from a person that went to the same class as me. Cheating - I believe I mentioned it - will not be tolerated! That someone owes me a drink.


cutting from today's Guardian. © Magnus Andersson

Today has been a day of endless frustration though. I was supposed to have the morning off and not start until 12.30 but got a call at 10am from my editor. I was needed to photograph the parents of yet another teenage murder victim.

OK, I'll try and be there for 11.15. Turned up on time but couldn't find any parking for the next 20 minutes, saw our crime reporter knocking on the door as I went past trying alternative roads, found a spot and knocked on the door myself. Spoke to one of their relatives and apparently there had been a misunderstanding. They had NOT agreed to a photo in the end, so my morning of lie-in-turned-exclusive-photo-opportunity had become an early start on a day when I'm supposed to be working late.

I managed to get back to the office for a few minutes to download the jobs from the day before, but didn't have time to edit them in Photoshop. Had to go off to the remaining three jobs and after that got home to download, at 19.30.

Earlier in the week I'd ordered some new RAM for my computer at home and tried installing it when I got home. Bad mistake.

The computer broke. Damn machine! As soon as I turned it on again it started beeping every second and wouldn't go through the boot routine. It got stuck on a 'PCI Device Listing' screen and did nothing else. In the end I gave up and downloaded my jobs on my girlfriends laptop instead, which doesn't have the Nikon software that I use for captioning, and its damn slow, so it meant a lot more work.

While waiting for the download I googled my PC's condition and after much re-starting and fiddling, I managed to get it to work on one of the RAM sticks, but not both. So this post is brought to you on 50% RAM capacity, not 100%. I wasted 4 hours getting here, but hopefully I've only wasted a minute or so of your time.

Apologies.

The last pic is from today, of some kids whose life is a lot worse than for most of us. Yet they still achieve. More on this later perhaps. I'm not complaining anymore.


© Magnus Andersson

Back to work

© Magnus Andersson

Yesterday was my last day off and as always when you've gotten used to doing nothing for so long it was impossible to sleep. Why, oh why must the brain worry about it? I was actually looking forward to it, but not my brain. Maybe time to see a shrink?

I was knackered before I even got in the car this morning, and when I finally had done the last job for the day - or so I thought - I was looking forward to the sofa. Instead I got a call from the office with a job I had to go to right away. No sofa for me.

Another day, another murder in south London, this time a 15-year old girl stabbed several times in a lift. The picture above is of the forensic guys about to go in and examine the scene. She's the 16th teenager to be killed this year, which means it will be a new record again. The total tally last year was 27, and the halfway mark has already been passed at the beginning of June.

Walking away from your baby

There's nothing good to say about this. A mother touches and kisses the mural left to her (then) 15-year old son, Billy Cox. He was found dying from gun shot wounds by his younger sister in their home, only yards away from his where his mural is placed. Billy was murdered and one year on, nobody has been convicted of his killing. Billy's father watched from a distance as Billy's mum lit the candles according to her Thai tradition.