Not so much straws as haystacks in the wind

The holiday season is traditionally the time of whodunnits. Normally they come in the form of an Agatha Christie movie on the telly, but this year the country has indulged itself in a real-life political mystery. Our Legal Affairs Correspondent looks at the chain of media clues that pointed to the identity of that Cabinet minister.

The British love a good mystery. Yesterday the denouement of the thriller "Who was the Cabinet minister whose son (allegedly) sold drugs to a reporter?" finally arrived, though not before the country's ramshackle media laws once more began to look farcical. A week after the story broke, it seemed that the entire planet except for the people who voted in the Labour government last May knew the solution to the riddle.

Yesterday, a High Court judge put the British public out of its misery and lifted the ban on naming Mr Straw's son. This was followed by a press conference at which the Home Secretary spoke of his "shock and concern" as a parent.

Yet there have been hints enough over those seven days for newspaper readers to solve the puzzle. Some clues have been cunningly disguised, designed only for the cognoscenti to pick up on. In others, the hints have been so blatant one has half expected to find a giant arrow over a photograph of Jack Straw with the caption "it's him, folks!".

One of the broadest hints came in the Mirror itself, the newspaper which broke the story on Christmas Eve, and which was condemned by some parts of the chattering classes simply for doing its job of investigative journalism. Aggrieved that Dawn Alford, one of its two reporters present in the pub with Master Straw, had been arrested in connection with possession, it led its front page on Tuesday with the headline: "Is it fair, Mr Straw?"

The reason for such a tell-tale - but understandable - heading was that the paper was writing to the Home Secretary "as head of law and order", asking him to investigate the matter. Just in case no one got the message, two photographs of the minister were also included.

Never noted for its subtlety, the Sun (smarting over its rival's scoop) ran a column on Tuesday by William Langley in which he revealed that the minister concerned had played a central role in the Government's policies against drugs and on parental responsibility. This was as clear a reference to the Home Secretary's policies as you could get.

But just to be sure, Mr Langley ended his article by suggesting that instead of setting an example, by appearing to hide behind the anonymity of the law, the minister concerned was open to charges of an "I'm all right, Jack" attitude.

One of the clearest signs possible came from a front page story in the Independent On Sunday last weekend, which in the middle of discussing the issue suddenly declared that the Home Secretary had turned down a "formal approach" for an interview by the newspaper. With no other context, the reference could have no other meaning than revealing the minister's identity.

Meanwhile, other newspapers continued to pepper reports of the affair with mentions and photographs of Jack Straw (qua Home Secretary) and law- and-order policy, and even some television broadcasts appeared to be playing the spot-the-clue game. In one news broadcast on New Year's Day, Sky TV used footage of the Cabinet which lingered tellingly on Mr Straw.

But perhaps the cheekiest clue came from yesterday's London Evening Standard, in whose Diary there was a "good news" story of how Mr Straw's teenage son William had succeeded in winning a place to read Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Oxford University. An "insider" was quoted as saying he would have no problems with his A-levels "providing nothing else distracts him".

It ended: "If only all politicians' children could set such a shining academic example."

All this is good fun on one level, of course, except that by the time the Standard was reduced to that ploy, all the world knew, or could know, of the minister's identity except for the majority of people in England and Wales.

For some observers, there is something rather dismal about the British media being reduced to such sad subterfuges to tell their readers something the rest of the world has known for days.

Scottish newspapers, which yesterday named Mr Straw, just completed the circle of publications which took up camp around the legal fortress of England. Irish newspapers and broadcasters had got in on the act, as had France-Soir, a French newspaper available in this country, and assorted press and media from all around the globe. Indeed, by yesterday afternoon, the Associated Press news service was running the name in this country.

There was, however, a class of Britons who were in on the secret - the media and political establishments who informed themselves within hours of the Mirror's initial publication. This privileged information was quickly spread among families and friends, with the words "It's Jack Straw" replacing the usual "Happy Christmas" greetings when journalists visited their relatives on 25 December.

Even some Metropolitan Police officers - the force which arrested William Straw - were phoning their media contacts to discover the inside track, while one journalist revealed the mystery man's name to fellow diners at a packed London restaurant as midnight chimed on New Year's Eve.

There was one more group of people in the know within days of the story breaking; Britain's growing band of Internet users. If ever there was a good example of how the Net can be used to undermine media controls, this was it - but usually those people who extol this virtue are referring to Third World dictatorships, not to a country which is poised to incorporate the European Convention on Human Rights into its domestic law.

The Net discussion sites were buzzing as early as Christmas Eve, speculating furiously over the mystery minister. By Christmas Day enterprising netties had published full lists of male members of the Cabinet who had children, and by a process of elimination Jack Straw, who lived in the right area and has a teenage son, was singled out. The clincher for some was the obscure - and unconfirmed - piece of information that Alastair Campbell, the Prime Minister's press secretary, had been spotted at a bus stop outside Mr Straw's south London house the night before the story broke on Christmas Eve.

But while the netties' sleuthing is to be applauded, they still represent a minority - 6 million users - of the population, leaving the great majority of ordinary voters who do not have media and political contacts in the dark.

And the Cabinet minister's name did and does matter. Mr Straw is, after all, the Home Secretary who has strongly opposed the legalisation of cannabis while highlighting the central importance of parental responsibility in controlling the behaviour of young people. This culminated in many of the provisions of his recently published Crime and Disorder Bill, including those calling for parenting lessons, and which will probably become law later this year. Yesterday he insisted his tough stance against drugs and specifically the legalisation of cannabis would continue.

Since the episode began, Mr Straw, an astute and honest politician, has explicitly recognised the likely public interest in the affair and before taking William to Kennington police station to talk to officers he prepared a press statement to explain his position. It was only on later legal advice that he did not go public. Since then he has stressed, first through "sources" and then directly, that he wanted to go public but was constrained by the law.

In hindsight, Mr Straw may regret this decision to hold fire, which led to the saga which developed over the following days - a process described by Sir Brian Mawhinney as a "slow torture" for the minister's family.

The decision of the Sun last Tuesday to publish the name was greeted with an injunction obtained by the Attorney General, John Morris QC, under the laws of contempt (not under the 1933 Children and Young Persons Act). Although this was an honourable attempt by the Attorney General to protect a young person's identity, it both dismayed some who claim the law of contempt was not intended to cover this specific area, and gave the appearance of a Government cover-up. The same applied to the decision by police - on advice from the Crown Prosecution Service - to arrest Ms Alford.

Given that early last year, under the last Government, the Home Office had said they were considering a change in the law to clear up this grey area where a juvenile is arrested but is not yet in court proceedings, some believe it may have been better had Mr Straw's department announced a review of the law and then allowed publication of the identity.

Of course there are good reasons to protect juveniles facing criminal allegations. As Paul Cavadino, principal officer of the National Association for the Care and Rehabilitation of Offenders says, the anonymity rule is there to protect juvenile defendants "not their parents from embarrassment". He adds: "Media publicity can seriously hinder the rehabilitation of offenders." The naming of Master Straw will undoubtedly colour his reception at Oxford University, though fellow undergraduates not aware of his "background" would probably have been in the minority.

Yet it is a simple fact that in cases of teenagers accused of similar offences as William Straw, and named by the media, Government law officers have not stepped in and sought protective injunctions. Many would argue that a Cabinet minister's son should not have more protection than "ordinary" children. This suggests the best course now is clarification of the law.

In fact the Government has already considered this, albeit in a broader context. The White Paper on Youth Justice, published by Jack Straw last year, called for "more openness" in youth court proceedings.

In any case, where a senior Government minister's son is involved in allegations which touch directly on his father's policy, common sense surely dictates that the public have a right to know of the fact, a reality that the law should allow.

Otherwise the law, as it has done in the last week, descends into that other great British institution - a farce. It may be a bit rich for a French newspaper, as France-Soir did, to lecture the British establishment on "typical hypocrisy" for stopping publication of the identity, given France's stringent privacy laws.

However, few observers here have found the last few days' events satisfactory, be it from the point of view of William, his parents, or British democracy and journalism. At least, though, they provided some rare entertainment over a quiet Christmas.