Have you ever removed an unpaid stamp from an envelope and reused it? If so, the post office has a word for you: scammer.
Royal Mail – which ran the post office until 2012 – warns on its website: “Any person who knowingly reuses stamps for postage is committing fraud.” This is a punishable offense.
But 25 years ago, when the Post Office's computer system began to fail so severely that many sub-postmasters and sub-postmistresses were forced out of business, Royal Mail – so strict as to castigate the slightest infractions by customers – pretty much refused to listen or investigate.
Toby Jones, a defiant sub-postmaster who runs a shop in Llandudno, North Wales, put it in a sharp speech at the start of “Mr. Bates vs. The Post Office” to the point: “You don’t call me a thief.” They wouldn’t dare. They say that somehow money was lost in this branch, which is not the case, and I have to pay it back, which I won't do.'
This major new four-part drama, airing nightly and followed by a documentary on Friday, highlights just three of hundreds of stories
An intimidated young police officer, caught between an angry Alan Bates and an unsympathetic examiner, asked whether a crime had actually been committed.
“Well,” raged the man behind the counter, “Post Office Limited is stealing my livelihood, my business, my job, my home, my savings – and my good name.”
He wasn't alone. Between 2000 and 2014, an average of one subpostmaster per week was prosecuted by the postal service for theft, false accounting and other offenses. Of the 736 total, some were imprisoned, many went bankrupt, all suffered excruciating stress and public shame.
But Royal Mail and its computer partner Horizon – a system developed by Japan's Fujitsu – insisted for years that these were isolated cases. In a time without social media, many of the defendants had no idea that other stores were facing the same problems and assumed the blame must somehow lie with them.
This major new four-part drama, airing nightly and followed by a documentary on Friday, highlights just three of those hundreds of stories. In Hampshire, Jo Hamilton (Monica Dolan) was on the Horizon hotline for hours, patiently following instructions and watching the imaginary discrepancies pile up.
When she called to explain that the computer had expected her to come up with £2,032.67 more than she had taken in the previous week, she re-entered the figures as she was told – and looked up on screen how the shortfall doubled to more than £4,000.
“This will sort itself out,” the voice on the phone told her. But that wasn't the case, and soon Jo had exhausted her savings and maxed out her credit cards to cover the gap. She didn't dare tell her husband or mother until they were faced with remortgaging the house.
In Bridlington, Yorkshire, Lee Castleton (Will Mellor) made the mistake of believing that the £25,858.95 he was accused of embezzling was the result of computer errors when he called in the auditors. Instead, Royal Mail banned him from his own store and sued him for the money. His children were bullied at school and made fun of because their father was a common thief.
“You just have to trust in the British justice system,” Lee said to himself. “Tell the truth and everything will be fine.” However, that was not the case: he lost the trial and was ordered to pay costs of £321,000.
The Chron has waged a long campaign to seek justice for the accused, which has not been acknowledged in this series. What is also not mentioned is that Adam Crozier, CEO of Royal Mail Group between 2003 and 2010, later became CEO of ITV.
However, this script by Gwyneth Hughes conveys the overwhelming fear of a bureaucratic juggernaut that refuses to acknowledge the possibility that it could be wrong about anything. Because Royal Mail had unlimited legal means to silence almost anyone (with the heroic exception of Mr. Bates), Royal Mail was all-powerful, ruthless and heartless.
This inhuman power was symbolized by the convoy of black limousines that rolled up to every rural sub-post office at the start of each exam.
“When I first sought legal advice,” says Mr Bates, “I was warned that even if I won, the Post Office would continue to appeal if I tried to take them to court until I ran out of money .” This is frightening, cruel and all too believable. But the drama also captures the decency of Britain's sub-postmasters and sub-postmistresses, the typical shopkeepers who once formed the core of so many communities.
They are now a rare breed and could soon become extinct, as Royal Mail suggests. If any of them had tampered with the books, it would have seemed shocking and unlikely. Prosecuting 736 defies all rational belief.
Because the victims were such a familiar and well-loved character, the three in this retelling gain our immediate sympathy. After Jo Hamilton is dragged into the dock and pressured into pleading guilty to a crime that wasn't her fault, half the village turns out to cheer her on. The local priest explains from the witness stand: “We all love her.” The people trust her. We trust her and we just can’t believe that this was in any way intentional.”
When we saw that scene with a lump in our throat as the judge released Jo, every Mail reader must have cheered too.