By Kachi Okezie, Esq.
The Thomas Partey case has done more than put a Ghanaian footballer in the dock. It has also put British society right there, alongside him. Not for the crimes he is accused of, the five counts of rape and one of sexual assault, which are now before the Crown Court and must be tested by evidence. But for the casual way much of the public has already convicted him. From social media pile-ons to the now-viral snub by Djed Spence when Partey offered the FIFA-mandated handshake, we are watching a country that wrote the rulebook on fair trials forget the first page.
Only Spence can explain why he refused the handshake. Until he does, speculation is pointless and unfair. But the wider reaction demands comment. Thousands of fans, pundits, and casual commentators have treated the charge sheet as a conviction. They have called for bans, booing, and exclusion. They have decided guilt based on accusation. That isn’t passion. That is ignorance. And it is ignorance of the most basic principle English law exists to protect.
So what is the settled law on presumption of innocence, in clear and simple terms? It is this: Every person accused of a crime is innocent until the prosecution proves guilt beyond reasonable doubt in a court of law. Not after arrest. Not after being charged. Not after the BBC names you. After a jury or magistrates deliver a verdict of guilty. Until that moment, the accused is legally innocent. Full stop.
This isn’t custom. It isn’t courtesy. It’s statute, case law, common law, and human rights law combined. Article 6(2) of the European Convention on Human Rights, incorporated into UK law by the Human Rights Act 1998, says: “Everyone charged with a criminal offence shall be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law.” Our courts have repeated it for centuries. In Woolmington v DPP, Viscount Sankey called it the “golden thread” running through English criminal law: the prosecution must prove the case; the defendant does not prove innocence. More recently, R v DPP, ex parte Kebilene reaffirmed that the presumption is fundamental and can only be displaced by clear statutory language, which is rare.[1935][1999]
Does that rule bind state authorities, public officials, and the media?
Yes. Absolutely. Public authorities must not make statements or take actions that prejudice a defendant’s right to a fair trial. The Contempt of Court Act 1981 makes it a criminal offence to publish anything that creates a “substantial risk” of serious prejudice to active proceedings. Police and prosecutors are trained not to imply guilt. The College of Policing’s Media Relations guidance says suspects should not be named before charge unless there is a clear policing purpose, precisely to avoid stigmatising the innocent. The courts have repeatedly warned ministers and MPs that commentary suggesting guilt risks collapse of trials.
Does it include how suspects are presented to the public?
Yes. The presumption of innocence covers presentation as well as words. That’s why police generally stopped “perp walks” in the UK. It’s why defendants sit in the dock without shackles unless there’s a specific security risk. In Allenet de Ribemont v France, the European Court of Human Rights found that a senior police officer violated Article 6(2) by declaring a suspect guilty at a press conference. The principle is simple: the state cannot brand you a criminal before it proves you are one. The media, while free to report, must avoid commentary that assumes guilt once proceedings are active. Calling an accused person a “rapist” before conviction isn’t reporting. It’s prejudice, and it can amount to contempt.[1995]
Which brings us back to Partey, Spence, and the crowd. An accusation is not a verdict. A charge is a question put to a court, not an answer. FIFA’s pre-match handshake is a ritual of respect between competitors. It needs to decide what the rule should be. If it’s to be optional, then make it optional. But if it’s to be mandatory, then it must be enforced. But what we cannot have is a system where a player is publicly shunned by peers because of charges, then pretend we still believe in fair trials. Spence may have personal reasons totally unrelated to the case. He may not. But the glee with which many fans treated the snub as “justice” shows how thin the public’s grasp of due process has become.
This is the bugbear: a vast swath of English commentary now treats the presumption of innocence as a mere technicality for lawyers, not a rule for citizens. That is dangerous. The principle exists because history taught us the cost of getting it wrong. Sir William Blackstone, the most influential English jurist, put it in words every schoolchild should know: “It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer.” In modern terms, better that 1000 guilty go free than one innocent goes down. Why? Because once the state can punish on accusation, no one is safe. You don’t have to like Partey. You don’t have to believe him. You just have to accept that his guilt must be proved in court, not on X.
Yet surveys keep telling us the public doesn’t. The 2023 Legal Services Board study found only 43% of UK adults could correctly identify basic legal rights. Half couldn’t name the presumption of innocence. A 2019 YouGov poll found 61% thought “being arrested means you’ve likely done it”. This is a civic literacy crisis. We teach kids trigonometry but not the one legal rule that stands between them and a mob. The result is visible every time a high-profile case trends. Trial by timeline replaces trial by jury.
The law is clear, but the culture is not. State authorities are prohibited from treating Partey as guilty. Public officials cannot prejudice his trial. The media cannot mount a campaign that assumes conviction. And the public? We aren’t in court, so we can have opinions. But a free society depends on citizens who know the difference between opinion and verdict, between allegation and proof. Right now, too many don’t.
Thomas Partey may be convicted. He may be acquitted. The court will decide. But until then, he is innocent. That isn’t activism. That isn’t “defending” him. That is English law. If Britain no longer remembers that, then the real offence isn’t on the charge sheet. It’s in our schools, our discourse, and our failure to teach the one rule that keeps power honest.
Innocent until proven guilty isn’t a favour we grant to popular people. It’s a shield we all live under. Break it for him, and you’ve already broken it for yourself.
Kachi Okezie, Esq, LL.B BL MBA (Wales)
The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.
