I wanted to face my niece’s killer – he was too cowardly

I stressed how, for our family, hope, happiness, and faith in humanity died with her (Picture: Farah Naz)

In December 2022, I stood in court and read a statement about someone I loved: my niece, Zara Aleena. 

While I was told by the Crown Prosecution Service not to mention what had been done to her – how she’d been sexually assaulted and murdered six months prior – or to direct any words to her killer, nor to express anything too personal, I still stood and spoke. 

I told the court about our loss. About how Zara had lost the future she worked so hard for, to live the dream of buying her own house and building the life she deserved.

I also spoke about Zara’s brilliant mind, her charitable nature, and the way her sweet voice – like birdsong – lit up our lives with warmth, laughter, and compassion. Mostly, I stressed how, for our family, hope, happiness, and faith in humanity died with her.

Yet the man who took her life didn’t hear a word of what I said because he chose not to attend his own sentencing. 

Apparently, it was too distressing for him to be reminded of his crime (Picture: Farah Naz)

Apparently, it was too distressing for him to be reminded of his crime. 

He didn’t want to ‘relive’ what he did, even though we relive it every day. 

His absence, that silence, still speaks volumes about what our justice system has, at times, allowed to go unheard. 

That’s why I support the government’s proposal to require convicted offenders in England and Wales to attend their sentencing hearings, threatening them with more jail time or a loss of prison privileges if they refuse. 

It’s not a perfect solution, but it moves us closer to what sentencing should be: a moment of reckoning, of visibility, of truth. 

A moment that shifts the balance of power away from the person who caused harm and returns it to the law – and to the people that law is meant to protect. 

When someone has caused deep harm or taken a life, appearing in court to hear the consequences is part of accountability (Picture: Farah Naz)

The change comes after a number of high-profile incidents of criminals, including murderers, refused to attend sentencing. 

That must be stopped. 

When someone has caused deep harm or taken a life, appearing in court to hear the consequences is part of accountability. Opting out of that moment undermines the process entirely. 

For me, the sight of an empty dock was not just haunting, but enraging.

I remember standing there, watching the judge speak into the space where the man responsible should have been.

To hear sentencing delivered to no one, just into the void, made the whole thing feel like a performance without its most vital audience. 

So, like many others, we’ve been left speaking into silence, waiting for a reckoning that didn’t, and hasn’t, fully arrived (Picture: Miguel Andrade)

That absence was more than physical though; it robbed the process of its weight. It made accountability feel optional, and closure for those of us left behind feel out of reach.

It meant the person who caused such irreversible harm to our family wasn’t there to see the consequences play out, wasn’t there to face the people whose lives he’d changed forever.

So, like many others, we’ve been left speaking into silence, waiting for a reckoning that didn’t, and hasn’t, fully arrived. 

Even though his refusal to attend did not deny us a full and severe sentence – we had retribution through the judge’s strong, clear words and the life sentence handed down – the basic human need to feel the balance of power reset remains unmet.

By ensuring offenders hear the voices of those they’ve harmed, they encounter the human cost of their actions (Picture: Farah Naz)

Justice was done, but not fully felt.

So, though they are not a cure-all, I welcome the proposed penalties – including additional prison time or withdrawal of privileges like time outdoors or gym access – as they send a strong message.

That skipping sentencing is not an option. That there are consequences.

There’s also a longer-term impact to consider: sentencing attendance might help deter future offences. 

When someone is forced to stand in court and confront the emotional consequences of what they’ve done, it may leave a deeper, more lasting imprint than a custodial sentence alone. 

And by ensuring offenders hear the voices of those they’ve harmed, they encounter the human cost of their actions which could stir reflection, maybe even remorse. 

Justice becomes visible again (Picture: Farah Naz)

Of course, implementation matters. This must not mean dragging people into court against their will – justice isn’t a performance, it should uphold dignity, not erode it.

But we must be clear: standing in court is a non-negotiable part of a just system. It is not for the convicted to decide when and how they participate in it. 

When someone refuses to face the court, it can feel as if the scales have tipped away from fairness, away from the people most affected. 

But when sentencing is mandatory, that balance begins to shift back.

Justice becomes visible again. And faith in the system – long shaken – can start to be restored. 

This reform is one part of a much broader change we need. We still need early intervention, properly resourced support services, and a system that actively challenges violence – especially against women.

But making sentencing mandatory for offenders is a step in the right direction. It tells victims and their families that their voices matter. It helps restore faith in justice. 

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