On a brisk September morning in 2025, a bus carrying survivors and relatives of the Hillsborough disaster made its way through the winding Snake Pass towards Sheffield. For some, it was the first return to the city since that fateful day in 1989 when 97 Liverpool supporters lost their lives in Britain’s deadliest sporting tragedy. As the bus broke down in the Peak District, the sense of fate was palpable—one passenger, a 57-year-old survivor, felt the echoes of history and trauma, a reminder that the pain of Hillsborough never truly fades. According to Anfield Index, these journeys, organized by the Hillsborough Survivors Support Alliance (HSA) and led by Peter Scarfe, are part of ongoing efforts to help survivors find closure. Scarfe notes that sometimes the visits involve just one person, encouraged by therapy to face the site that changed their life forever. The lesson is clear: Hillsborough is not simply a chapter in history books; it is an ever-present reality for those affected.
This enduring pain and relentless campaigning have culminated in a landmark moment: the introduction of the Public Office (Accountability) Bill, widely known as the Hillsborough Law. Announced in mid-September 2025, the legislation aims to transform how public bodies respond to major disasters, ensuring that the truth is told and that families are no longer left to battle the state alone. As reported by Premier Christian News, the law imposes a legal duty of candour on public officials—compelling honesty during investigations—and introduces criminal penalties for those who breach this duty. Perhaps most significantly, it guarantees publicly funded legal representation for bereaved families, leveling the playing field at inquests and inquiries that have historically favored the state.
For campaigners, these measures are long overdue. The fight for justice has stretched across 35 years, through collapsed trials, unanswered questions, and a system that too often seemed designed to protect institutions rather than people. The 2016 inquests finally confirmed that the Hillsborough victims were “unlawfully killed,” yet only one individual—a club secretary—was ever convicted, and only for a health and safety offence. For many, this was not justice, but a stark reminder of how the system could fail the very people it was meant to serve.
The timing of the Hillsborough Law’s introduction is politically charged. Earlier in 2025, there were growing fears among campaigners that the Labour government, led by Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer, might soften its commitment to the legislation. As another anniversary of the disaster passed without progress, Liverpool MP Ian Byrne confronted Starmer in Westminster, warning that “failure to introduce a law worthy of the name will be seen as a continuation of the betrayal of families and survivors of Hillsborough and all those affected by state cover-ups.” With Labour’s annual party conference returning to Liverpool later this month, the stakes could hardly have been higher. The government’s announcement, then, is both a relief and a response to mounting pressure—not just from Merseyside, but from across the country where trust in public institutions remains fragile.
The law’s significance extends well beyond football. Deputy Prime Minister David Lammy drew direct parallels to other national scandals, including the Grenfell Tower fire, the infected blood crisis, and the Post Office Horizon scandal. As Lammy wrote, these were all cases where those affected “escaped justice,” and the lessons of Hillsborough are now being applied to a broader context. The government has made it clear that the law is designed to “end the culture of cover-ups” and “change the balance of power in Britain so the state can never hide from the people it is supposed to serve,” according to Sir Keir Starmer.
The legislation’s core provisions are straightforward but powerful. The “duty of candour” requires public officials to tell the truth during investigations, with criminal penalties for those who attempt to hide or distort the facts. The law also promises “parity of arms” at inquests, meaning that grieving families will have public funding to match the legal resources of the state. As Lord David Alton of Liverpool, a leading Christian peer and chair of the Joint Committee on Human Rights, told Premier Christian News, he “strongly welcomes the Prime Minister’s intervention” and pledged that his committee “will continue to press the Government to honour and keep its word.” Former MP Alistair Burt, who campaigned during the infected blood scandal, echoed this sentiment: “We’ve all felt that there was something wrong with the system which allowed situations to go on for so long when there was blatantly a case to be answered. It’s right that this had to change.”
The announcement was met with both celebration and caution. On Good Morning Britain, presenter Susanna Reid broke the news live as families of the victims entered Number 10 Downing Street to meet with Prime Minister Starmer. Margaret Aspinall, whose 18-year-old son James died at Hillsborough, described it as “a moment for celebration,” telling ITV, “We have done things that are monumental, it’s history making. We still have a lot of work to do, there’s more to be put to it, but that can go on as the process goes ahead.” Reid noted that while the law is a victory for campaigners, it will apply only to future inquiries—no one has yet been held legally accountable for the 1989 tragedy. Nevertheless, the government has promised that the bill “will not be watered down” as it moves through Parliament.
For Liverpool supporters and the broader community of survivors, the Hillsborough Law represents more than legal reform; it is about dignity, accountability, and restoring public faith in institutions. The decades-long campaign—marked by chants of “Justice for the 97,” vigils, and tireless advocacy—has always been about ensuring that no family has to endure the same ordeal again. As Peter Scarfe of the HSA put it, “We cannot change what happened in 1989, but we can change what happens to others in the future.”
Yet, campaigners remain wary. After so many years of disappointment, there is a determination to see the law delivered in full, without dilution or delay. The real test, they say, lies in whether Parliament will pass the bill with all its vital protections intact. Survivors and families have seen too many false dawns to celebrate too soon, but this moment feels different—a genuine opportunity to break the cycle of cover-ups and neglect that has haunted British public life for too long.
The Hillsborough disaster will always be a scar on the nation’s conscience, but the introduction of this law offers a measure of hope. If it succeeds, it will be a victory not just for Liverpool, but for every community that has suffered injustice at the hands of unaccountable power. The memory of the 97 will endure, not simply as victims, but as catalysts for lasting change.
