Mother of Manchester Arena victim welcomes royal assent for Martyn's Law
The mother of a man who was killed in the Manchester Arena attack, who campaigned for tougher anti-terror legislation, said knowing people's lives will be saved is a 'big thing' after it became law.
Martyn's Law, officially the Terrorism (Protection of Premises) Act 2025, requires UK venues hosting 200 or more people to prepare for a terror attack, after receiving royal assent on Thursday.
Larger venues expecting 800 or more must also take steps such as using CCTV, bag checks or vehicle inspections.
Figen Murray, who campaigned for the law change in memory of her 29-year-old son Martyn Hett, met Sir Keir Starmer at Downing Street and said she is 'absolutely over the moon'.
Ms Murray told the BBC's North West Tonight: 'Somebody earlier was saying, 'is it eight years? It feels like yesterday'.
'And to me, it always feels like yesterday. I remember everything so vividly, of course, and it will stay with me forever.
'But having the campaign come to this kind of end is really massive.'
She later said: 'We lost our child and I can't bring Martyn back, but to know that people's lives will be saved is a big thing.'
Mr Hett and 21 other people were killed in the bombing at the end of an Ariana Grande concert in May 2017.
Ms Murray completed a 200-mile walk from Manchester Arena to Downing Street and delivered a letter to then-prime minister Rishi Sunak in May last year as part of her campaign.
The Bill was laid before Parliament in September.
Sir Keir told the BBC: 'I would like to think I had the wherewithal to do what Figen has done.
'I'm not sure in my heart of hearts I would be able to pick myself up as she has done after the most awful of circumstances, to then campaign and to bring that change on behalf of other people, to make sure they never go through what she has been through and what her family has been through.
'I find that incredible.'
The Prime Minister labelled Martyn's Law a 'landmark moment' in improving safety at public events across the UK.
Home Secretary Yvette Cooper said: 'Martyn's Law will significantly strengthen public safety across our country. I'd like to thank Figen Murray for her tireless work to make this law a reality.
'This Government is securing Britain's future through the plan for change and, as the eighth anniversary of the attack approaches, this new law delivers upon the lessons from the Manchester Arena Inquiry to keep people safe.'
The Security Industry Authority (SIA) will take on the role of regulator for the legislation, the Home Office said.
The Act will not come into force for at least two years to allow the SIA's new function to be established and give those responsible sufficient time to understand their new obligations and plan ahead.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
South Wales Argus
4 hours ago
- South Wales Argus
Concern over proposed decriminalisation of killing unborn children
How? By removing 'all legal protection' from the unborn child via 'the Crime and Policing Bill' going through Parliament, by tabling extreme amendments to this Bill that would decriminalise the killing of unborn children (up to birth) by removing the little legal protection they still have. We must write and ask our MPs to vote "no" against these extreme amendments to this Bill - New Clause 1 by Tonia Antoiazzi MP and New Clause 20 by Stella Creasy MP if we value human life, especially the unborn child, who has no voice but ours. Write to your MP at House of Commons, London SW1A OAA. Norman Plaisted, Newport
Spectator
6 hours ago
- Spectator
I've lost control of the kitchen
Looking back, I can pinpoint my fatal blunder. It was lunch. It was like the West allowing Vladimir Putin to help himself to the Crimean peninsula without a peep, basically. This is how it happened. My husband had invited two families to stay over the May bank holiday which bled into half term. For four days. 'Don't worry,' he said, in light tones, ahead of their arrival. 'I've told them they're bringing all the food and doing all the cooking.' As if I'd welcome this wonderful idea, when in fact what he'd suggested was the domestic equivalent of handing over the nuclear football and the codes behind my back. The guests are delightful and I couldn't wait to have them all (five adults and five children), but guests handling the catering was never going to happen under my roof, as my husband ought to have known. One, I am a fast and capable cook. I came second to Ed Balls in the final of the BBC's Celebrity Best Home Cook series (and maintain that he won because he made a pirate cake with full sails out of chocolate and he blubbed). Two, if an Englishman's home is his castle, the female equivalent of the White House Situation Room is a woman's kitchen. The last thing I needed, in other words, was several other bossy middle-class parents occupying my catering HQ on Exmoor. Plus, I'd already ordered a van-busting home delivery from Sainsbury's. On the Art of War principle that 'supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemies' resistance without fighting', I replied: 'Oh no, don't worry! But maybe they can do lunches?' Category error on my part. Perhaps I'm late to the party here but, as it turned out, the families didn't really have a concept of 'lunch' as a separate meal, after breakfast and before supper. They simply prepared and ate fare whenever they or their children were hungry, which was, of course, all the time. In more civilised places than the Johnson compound, i.e. Provence or Tuscany, when you have 12 people for four days it's understood that one of the 'main' meals will be 'out', i.e. at a restaurant to spare mine hosts, and the convention is that the guests stump for this. But the farm is two miles from Tarmac. It's an hour round trip for a pint of milk. A two-hour round trip to a pub. All meals are eaten in and none are 'opt'. The last thing I needed was several other bossy middle-class parents occupying my catering HQ on Exmoor On day one, everyone arrived at teatime after extended drives on the M4 and M5. We had tea and cake, and a late-ish supper. So far, so good. Two meals down! Day two was different. When provisioning, I'd texted my husband's nephew to ask what his three heavenly girls ate for breakfast. 'Bacon eggs toast juice fruit yoghurts porridge etc,' came the detailed reply. I therefore rose at 8 a.m. to slam the first tray of bacon in, yet there were people refilling the coffee jug and boiling eggs and stirring porridge at elevenses. Still, the guests did a fine clear-up and cleared off with the kids to a local beauty spot while I made scones for tea. Everyone returned from Tarr Steps at 1 p.m., making noises about their lunch duty, and invaded the kitchen. For hours. With what I felt was superhuman restraint – I can make an apple crumble in five minutes flat, and on Best Home Cook I made crab ravioli on a bed of fennel with a citrus jus from scratch starting with flour and water for the homemade pasta in 35 minutes – I only said 'But how long does it actually take to boil rice?' loudly around three times. At 3 p.m. (!) there was a simple lunch of delicious dahl (brought from London in Tupperware) and the rice on the table. As I shovelled it in, I worked out that at this rate, there would be half an hour until tea; tea would run straight into children's supper; and then adult supper. I had an awful vision of us all mealing non-stop till bedtime. I therefore put my fork and foot down and made an announcement. First, there would be a 'breakfast window' of an hour. As it was already past 3.30, I went on, we would have the scones for pudding. This went down well. So I went to the kitchen to fetch the scones. It was then that I discovered a full tray of chicken pieces in the Aga bubbling in their juices. Genuinely panicked, I returned laden with the scones, Rodda's and jams. 'And what meal is all the chicken in the Aga for?' I queried, brokenly. The table fell silent. 'Oh I put them in, just in case the children were hungry… later,' one perfect guest replied as a dozen arms shot out to grab the scones as if they'd been deliberately starved by colonial aggressors for months. I sank to my chair and applied golden, crusted Rodda's thickly to my scone. It was clear there'd still be a whole other meal 'later', i.e. between now and children's supper and, after that, two more days of culinary occupation. On day three the dishwasher flooded. On day four, the Aga went out as if in protest and could not be relit. Looking back, yes – it was lunch. Lose lunch, and you'll be out-generalled in your own kitchen by a chicken traybake.
Spectator
6 hours ago
- Spectator
The BBC's Israel problem
Intrepidly, the BBC dared recently to visit Dover, Delaware – source, it implied, of starvation in Gaza. I listened carefully as its State Department correspondent, Tom Bateman, hunted down the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation in the state which, he explained, is 'a corporate haven for those who like privacy'. Brave Tom did not find much, but that only proved to him that 'The main ingredients of this aid are its politics'. The foundation's chairman says he is a Christian Zionist which, for the BBC, is almost as bad as saying you are a neo-Nazi. The portentousness aside, it is reasonable to ask tricky questions of the American/Israeli organisation which claims it can solve aid in Gaza. The BBC's problem is that it would never, ever apply its investigative zeal to the cartel currently responsible for the aid that seems not to get through. When has it ever doorstepped the UNWRA operatives who moonlight for Hamas? When has it ever challenged the political 'ingredients' of UN agencies as they heap abuse on Israel and stay respectfully silent about Hamas? When has it complained that Hamas does not answer its calls? Perhaps Hamas does answer, welcoming the BBC's trusting approach. The Office of Rail and Road has noticed that our railway system comes down too hard on the innocent. Yes. The weekend before last, about to return from Newcastle, I found I had lost my ticket. I went to the ticket office, bearing my complete receipt, which even included my seat reservation. The man was pleasant, but said there was no way I could have a free new ticket or even an eventual refund. So I had to pay £133 (nearly £50 more than I had already paid) to travel. Approaching the train, I noticed that the barrier was open. Boarding, I found the computer seat reservations had all gone down. Alighting at King's Cross, I realised that no guard had checked my ticket on the journey and that the barriers were open and unmanned. So if I had 'cheated', I would have been unmolested but because I had owned up, I was out of pocket. Obviously this all started with my carelessness, but why can rail companies treat one as guilty until proven innocent though English law says the opposite? I spoke twice in Oxford last week to highly intelligent, mainly undergraduate audiences. The atmosphere reminded me of 1980s secret meetings of dissidents behind the Iron Curtain arranged by British intellectuals, such as Roger Scruton, who were smuggled in. One encountered young people who feared discovery but showed a touching belief in the life of the mind as they thirsted for freedom in the desert of enforced conformity. For the sake of their careers, I shall not reveal who my audiences were. From one attendee, I learnt that in Mods, the first half of the Oxford four-year Classics degree, one no longer studies Virgil or Homer. Instead, the only compulsory texts are Terence and Plautus. This is like reading theology without studying the Old or New Testaments (which, come to think of it, is probably now commonplace). Are there any subjects, outside the liberal arts, in which each generation is encouraged to know less than the previous one? Are there physics degrees which drop quantum theory, or maths ones without calculus? We have contrived a culture in which universities grow, yet knowledge shrinks. As a graduate of Cambridge, I am depressed by my university's decision to open up the Chancellorship to all of us. We always felt smug about Oxford's beauty contest between superannuated politicians. Ours was uncontested. Now we have to endure a dingier version of the Oxford rhodomontade. The Chancellor of Cambridge should not strike attitudes or take sides, as a vote compels. He or she should be unspeakably grand/rich/disinterested. For many years, the late Duke of Edinburgh held the post, faction-free, because he was married to the then Queen, had a mind of his own and had never been to a university. After Prince Philip, our Chancellor was Lord Sainsbury of Turville, a blamelessly benevolent prince of commerce. Now there are ten candidates, all with 'statements' staking their claims. Gina Miller, the eurofanatic, wishes to 'affirm Cambridge's commitment to modernity and equality'. Sandi Toksvig, the television personality, says she speaks up for 'equity, inclusion, rewilding, sustainability and tackling online bias'. We don't want someone who speaks up. Why can't we have the present Duke of Edinburgh, alumnus of Jesus College, who gives diligent public service and will therefore remain silent? There are a great many stories about ransomware and the damage it causes. Presumably these attacks happen mainly because the businesses attacked pay the ransom. One never reads about this, or how criminals get away with the money. If a business pays, is it acting legally? If a public limited company pays a ransom, could shareholders sue? If, on the contrary, it is argued that paying the ransom is good for shareholders, could they sue a company that refused to pay? Friends tell me – and I believe them – that Chloe Dalton's new book Raising Hare is excellent. It does not automatically follow that she is right to call for a new law to impose a close season on hare-culling. The patchy shortage of hares (in some places, the fields are teeming with them) is not attributable to shooting but to habitat loss, vermin and European Brown Hare Syndrome. Besides, as is so often the case when people itch to legislate, there is a relevant law already. Under the Hares Preservation Act 1892, it is an offence to sell, or expose for sale, any hare or leveret between the months of March and July inclusive. Hares may only be sold if shot between 1 August and the last day of February. There is therefore no commercial incentive to orphan a hare in the breeding season.
