Lucy Connolly, the Northampton childminder who dared to vent her fury on social media after the horrific Southport stabbings, walked free from HMP Peterborough this morning after serving ten months of a 31-month sentence. That's right, a shocking 31-month sentence for a single ill-judged tweet that she deleted quickly and deeply regretted.
No prior convictions, no history of violence, just a heartbroken woman who lost her son due to the NHS, emotionally lashing out amid national outrage over three little girls murdered at a dance class. And for that, they threw the book at her. She was remanded in custody, sent to prison, and they even denied her day release to see her daughter who was struggling at school, while rapists and paedophiles are granted temporary leave. If this doesn't scream political interference and two-tier justice, I don’t know what does.
We are all thinking it. Lucy should never have pleaded guilty. She was badly advised, held on remand, scared witless in a system that Starmer himself had primed to “throw the book” at anyone even vaguely connected to the riots. Her lawyers argued the judge miscategorised her offence, but the Court of Appeal dismissed it in May, with judges refusing to budge. As Judge Melbourne Inman KC put it at sentencing: “You were well aware of how volatile the situation was” after Southport, and her words could stir up hatred. Volatile? Sure, but since when does a deleted tweet in the heat of the moment warrant more jail time than physical violence?
Contrast that with Ricky Jones, the Labour councillor caught on camera at an ‘anti-racism’ rally making a throat-slitting gesture, directly calling for a crowd of thousands to kill right-wing protestors. He pleaded not guilty to encouraging violent disorder and walked free after a jury cleared him in under an hour. No remand for him, no “full force of the law.” Funny how that works when you're on the “right” side of the political fence.
Then there is Mike Amesbury. The Labour MP who repeatedly punched a constituent to the ground in a late-night street row, pleaded guilty to assault, and walked away with a suspended sentence after a swift appeal. He was free to head home to his family, while Lucy rotted behind bars for months over a deleted tweet. There are so many other examples of criminals committing more serious physical crimes who get far less prison time than Lucy Connolly. The system is unfair and utterly broken.
And who do we have to thank for this farce? Step forward, Sir Keir Starmer, the former Director of Public Prosecutions turned Prime Minister. Back in August 2024, as riots flared, Starmer demanded 24-hour courts, insisted that rioters - including those ‘whipping up action online’ - be held on remand, and vowed they’d “feel the full force of the law.” He showed no empathy, just labelled them all “far-right thugs,” potentially prejudicing trials before they'd even begun. I would argue his heartless, divisive rhetoric made the riots worse.
In another interview he said: “If you’re involved in disorder, within days you’ll be in the criminal justice system.” He openly admitted leaning on the legal system to fast-track prosecutions, drafting in extra police and judges to ensure “substantive sentencing” by week’s end. It's heartless authoritarianism dressed up as law and order, and Lucy was the perfect scapegoat. A working mum with no platform, no power, an easy target.
But Lucy’s not alone in this Orwellian nightmare. Look at Wayne O’Rourke, the “keyboard warrior” from Lincoln. He was jailed for three years for posting misinformation about Southport that “instigated” unrest. Or Peter Lynch, the 61-year-old grandfather sentenced to two years and eight months for violent disorder outside a Rotherham migrant hotel. He was found hanged in his cell at HMP Moorland just two months in.
These aren’t hardened criminals; they’re ordinary Brits pushed to the edge, now branded political prisoners in Two-Tier Keir’s Britain. Keir Starmer wanted to make examples of them, alright. He wanted to scare the public into silence. It’s a shocking and unforgivable abuse of power.
The implications of a politicised two-tier justice system are incredibly serious. If people lose faith in a justice system because it slaps longer sentences on tweeters than on some murderers or child abusers, then what? We've already seen the riots. Trust erodes, and civil unrest bubbles up. Two-tier policing, two-tier courts. One set of rules for the “far-right” (read: anyone questioning mass migration), another for everyone else.
Britain is waking up. The nationwide outpouring of anger is palpable. Trust between the British public and the state has completely broken down. Mothers, grandmothers and children staged “Pink Lady Protests” outside migrant hotels, chanting “Protect Our Women, Protect Our Girls.” They're clearly not jackboot-wearing members of the ‘far-right’; they are not ‘racists’. They are concerned families and locals who are peacefully protesting against illegal migrants, in some cases, sexually abusing our kids.
Nigel Farage posted on X: “Welcome to freedom, Lucy Connolly. You are now a symbol of Keir Starmer’s authoritarian, broken, two-tier Britain.” Robert Jenrick highlighted the hypocrisy: While killers and rapists get early release, Lucy rots in jail for a “reprehensible, but swiftly deleted tweet.” Telegraph journalist Allison Pearson has been a fierce advocate: “They tried to break Lucy Connolly, but the decent people of Britain won’t let them.” She interviewed Lucy from prison, where she called the judges “cruel” and rightly said they should be “ashamed of themselves.” Rupert Lowe has even invited Lucy Connolly to Parliament.
Let me be clear: I personally don’t think anybody should go to jail for hurty words. The sentences dished out for tweets were grotesquely disproportionate and a direct attack on freedom of expression.
Lucy Connolly has become a powerful symbol of Keir Starmer’s authoritarian, broken, two-tier Britain. What they did to her and her family was truly evil, and it's got Keir Starmer’s fingerprints all over it. If the PM thinks he can silence us with fear, he’s sorely mistaken.
Change is coming, I can feel it.