‘Essentially, people want the truth’ - says former coroner who presided over Poppi Worthington's inquest

Throughout his career as Cumbria’s most senior coroner, David Roberts repeatedly faced the daunting task of extracting truth from tragedy. He presided over thousands of inquests.

No other role in the English legal system focuses so exclusively on death. David routinely had to sift through evidence – photos, statements, testimony, much of it distressingly graphic.

How did he cope with so much tragedy?

“I could be affected in the moment but for whatever reason I don’t carry the psychological burden of what I’ve seen,” says David, 65, who retired in 2018, after nine years as north and west Cumbria’s most senior coroner.

“My father was often described as a cheerful pessimist. I’m very much like him: I’m able to compartmentalise things - put them out of my mind.

“It happens automatically.

“You have to be completely absorbed by it but at the end of it you have to clear out your brain and your memory banks to make room for the next difficult case. Somehow, in your brain, you’re able to put things in little boxes.”

When you consider some of his cases, you can see why he needed to master the art of detachment.

His Carlisle inquests included numerous drug deaths; the suicides of young people desperate for - but not always able to access - support; and hospital deaths, some after clinical blunders.

In west Cumbria, there were many similar cases – as well as the county’s biggest ever inquest: the month-long hearing into the Derrick Bird shootings.

Born and raised in Seaton, Workington, David attended Workington Grammar School before studying law at Manchester University. He qualified in April, 1980.

“I started work in Whitehaven on March 17, 1980, with HFT Gough & Co,” he recalls. “Adrian Walker was the senior partner and also the coroner for the much smaller jurisdiction of west Cumbria.”

In 1985, he asked David to become his assistant deputy. With his experience of the criminal law courts, being a coroner seemed like a natural progression.

In 2009, when John Taylor retired from being north and west Cumbria coroner, David took on the role, and stayed for just over nine years.

The job was never about him, the coroner, says David.

In essence, inquests attempt – forensically, logically, and clearly – to make sense of deaths which are not from natural causes.

They identify the deceased and seek to answer fundamental questions: when and where a person died; the cause of death; and how they came about their death.

However legalistic the process, nobody escapes the human dimension: the stark reality that for the grieving relatives an inquest is usually their best hope of uncovering the truth.

Few relatives are legally represented so it’s down to the coroner to ensure fairness. Unlike in the criminal courts, the hearing is not about blame.

David says: “That’s not what the coroner’s process is about. Essentially, people want the truth.

“Speak to most people, in the cold light of day, and once they’re over the emotional loss, they’d say they simply don’t want another family to have to go through the same thing.”

Thoughtful, systematic, and naturally moderate in character, David was nevertheless always willing to tackle the most difficult of issues.

Never was this more evident than in the heart-breaking case of south Cumbrian toddler Poppi Worthington. Controversially, he ruled that she was sexually assaulted before she died.

The child’s father Paul Worthington - the alleged abuser, who denies wrongdoing – challenged the ruling at the High Court, saying it was irrelevant to the inquest.

The senior judges disagreed, ruling for the coroner, accepting that the sexual assault issue was part of the tragedy’s “factual matrix”.

The tragedy happened as the 13-month old suffocated in the bed next to her father in what was an “unsafe sleeping environment.”

The other inquest that garnered national attention was, of course, the Derrick Bird shootings of 2010. The cabbie murdered 12 people and injured 11 more before killing himself.

It was during a break in a three-day hospital death inquest that David first heard about it. “It was unbelievable,” he says. “How often do these sort of things happen in this country? We’d had Hungerford, Dunblane and then west Cumbria.

“The feeling was that this sort of thing doesn’t happen it west Cumbria.

“On the day of the shooting, it was well afternoon before they tracked him down. It was a very dynamic and extremely dangerous situation from beginning to end. Clearly, Derrick Bird just lost it.

“He wasn’t a well man by the time this unfolded but he hadn’t hit anybody’s radar.

“The dreadful thing was that in the short space of a few hours so many lives were destroyed – a cross section of Cumbrian society randomly shot; and there were those who survived with serious injuries.”

Organising that inquest was a huge collective effort, says David, clearly relieved it was completed before the tragedy’s first anniversary. He can never forget those who died.

Fathers, mothers, sons… their deaths leaving a huge legacy of grief. Did the inquest leave emotional scars? “You don’t have room for any emotion, to be honest,” answers David.

It is clear that exploring what happened and why was all-consuming while the hearing was happening.

Another hearing, however, did shake him: a Carlisle inquest for two soldiers, killed in Afghanistan. One was the victim of a Taliban bomb, and the other shot while he was on sentry duty.

“I was affected because of the context,” explains David. “They were engaged in military action - on behalf of us all.

“That doesn’t doesn’t diminish anybody’s else’s death but it was a particularly affecting situation: a young man on sentry duty, with some bloke just lying out in the desert till he got a clear shot.

“Just dreadful.

“So yes, one has one’s moments, but you’ve got to detach yourself.”

Has the coroner’s service changed? David recalls inquests in Carlisle years ago, the court improvised in the function room of a Carlisle hotel, its walls still adorned with gaudy Christmas decorations (swiftly removed).

Under his watch, the service modernised, banishing such scenes to history. David also submitted many ‘Regulation 28’ reports, designed to ensure lessons are learned from avoidable tragedies.

Does he miss it all? “Candidly, no,” he replies. He is enjoying retirement with his wife - time in their garden, trips in their restored 1939 Rover, and walks with their basset hounds Tilly and Jasper. They are pleasures he has more than earned.