On October 23, 2025, the national inquiry into grooming gangs in the United Kingdom faced a dramatic turning point. Four survivors, including prominent advocate Ellie-Ann Reynolds, resigned from the inquiry’s liaison panel, joined by an expert soon after. Their departure, marked by frustration and disappointment, has thrown the government’s efforts to address one of Britain’s most harrowing institutional failures into fresh turmoil.
For Reynolds and her fellow survivors, the decision to walk away was not made lightly. In a public letter and subsequent interviews, Reynolds described the experience as emotionally and physically draining, stating, “It has been an emotionally and physically draining time. As a survivor, I knew it was morally right to speak publicly about my experiences at the hands of grooming gangs.” According to Metro, Reynolds and others felt that the inquiry—intended to finally shine a light on decades of abuse—was instead repeating old patterns of silencing and control.
At the heart of the controversy sits Safeguarding Minister Jess Phillips. Once hailed for her advocacy for victims of abuse, Phillips found herself accused of betrayal by the very survivors the inquiry was meant to support. The immediate spark came after Phillips publicly dismissed concerns about the inquiry’s direction as “misinformation,” a move survivors said implied they were lying. “Phillips said that it was ‘misinformation’ to suggest that the scope of the inquiry could be widened, and ‘set the record straight’ – in the process insinuating that myself and other survivors had lied – something we challenged in our recent public letter,” Reynolds wrote, as reported by Metro.
The survivors’ grievances ran deeper than public statements. Their resignation letter detailed concerns over the proposed leadership of the inquiry. The two suggested chairs—a social worker and a police officer—were, in the eyes of the survivors, emblematic of the very institutions that had failed them in the past. Both candidates ultimately stepped down, but the damage to trust was done. As The Lead reported, “For survivors failed by those very authorities, their understandable suspicion is more memory than paranoia.”
But it wasn’t just about who would lead the inquiry. Survivors described an environment where they were unable to speak freely. According to Reynolds, “Survivors were told we were not allowed to reach out to our usual support networks. When it came to potential chairs – survivors theoretically interviewed the candidates, but our questions, and our answers to follow-ups from candidates, were scripted by the Home Office.” Such restrictions extended to media contact—any approach from journalists had to be reported directly to the NWG charity and the Home Office. Even discussions about the ethnicity and religious background of abusers, a topic often at the center of public debate, were discouraged. “It was like constantly walking on eggshells. It was an environment that was impossible for me to feel safe in,” Reynolds explained.
Further compounding their sense of isolation, survivors were reportedly gagged, forced to sign confidentiality agreements, and banned from even speaking to each other about their experiences. The Lead highlighted the chilling effect this had, noting, “For any woman who has had her voice shut down by the system, this is how it starts: management is exactly what survivors have had too much of.”
All of this unfolded against a backdrop of intense political scrutiny. The inquiry, once seen as a symbol of the Labour government’s commitment to halving violence against women and girls within a decade, has become a political football. Right-wing politicians have seized on the turmoil. As The Lead observed, “Kemi Badenoch has already turned the inquiry into a soundbite about Labour failure. Nigel Farage continues to claim the biggest threat to women is immigrants. For the right, survivors’ trauma is political ammunition: a culture war about who cares more for ‘our women’, laced with dog-whistle racism and misogyny.”
Labour, for its part, finds itself caught between survivors’ justified mistrust and the political weaponization of their pain. The government’s good intentions are not in doubt—Phillips herself spent years at Women’s Aid before entering politics and has been a vocal campaigner for victims. Yet, as The Lead’s Westminster Editor Zoë Grünewald points out, “Good intentions don’t erase the decades of pain, neglect and mistrust that now shape how every move is read.”
There are, to be sure, pockets of progress. Labour MP Alex McIntyre’s “safe leave” amendment, guaranteeing paid leave for domestic abuse survivors, stands as a beacon of practical, humane policy. MPs like Stella Creasy and Sarah Champion continue to push for safer public spaces and greater accountability in grooming scandals. But these advances are overshadowed by decisions that have eroded trust. The continued use of the outdated DASH domestic violence risk assessment tool, the controversial appointment of Peter Mandelson as UK ambassador to Washington despite his ties to Jeffrey Epstein, and the persistent problems in the family courts all serve as reminders that systemic change remains elusive.
For survivors like Reynolds, the inquiry’s failures are not just bureaucratic missteps—they are personal betrayals. “All I ever wanted from it was justice, and I don’t feel like I’m going to get it from this panel, this minister, and this government,” she said. The sense of being silenced, of having their truths managed rather than heard, is a recurring theme. “Myself and the other survivors have been silenced for years, but we found our voices because we wanted to protect the future and to be able to get to the truth.”
Yet, the issue remains urgent. Reynolds and others stress that grooming gangs are still active across the country. “We need to acknowledge that what happened to me, and to the other survivors, is still going on. Rape gangs are active and operating all over the country, and for that to change, we have to stand united,” Reynolds warned. The cost of failure is measured not just in broken trust, but in continued harm to vulnerable children and communities.
The government now faces a stark choice. Will it listen with genuine empathy and act with moral courage, or will it retreat behind bureaucratic management and political caution? As The Lead cautioned, “Good intentions are not enough if it can’t learn to listen with an understanding of the decades of hurt that shape this landscape. Without that, its promises to women will end the way so many stories of violence do: in silence.”
As the dust settles, the survivors’ walkout stands as both a warning and a call to action. The inquiry’s future is uncertain, but the need for truth, justice, and real accountability has never been clearer.
