It is now 31 years since the death of my son Stephen. Thirty-one years during which I have witnessed countless young people being knifed and shot on Britain's streets, and seen the devastation that has been wrought on the families of those sons and daughters murdered in their youth.
From the outset, it was evident that the police were less interested in identifying my son's killers and securing a conviction than they were in positioning Stephen and his friend as potential criminals.
My eventual decision to relocate to Jamaica for most of the year was driven by the pain of loss and by feeling unable to freely walk the streets of the city where my son was slaughtered.
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