Sir Philip Rutman, the Madeleine McCann case and Operation Grange

The main news of the past 24 hours has been the dramatic resignation of the Home Office's chief civil servant, Sir Philip Rutman.

He says that he and his staff have been bullied by Priti Patel, the Home Secretary, and that she has orchestrated a vicious smear campaign against him. The truth or otherwise of these claims may be aired at an Employment Tribunal, as Sir Philip is going to claim 'constructive dismissal', which in law means that he will have to prove that Priti Patel's conduct was so outrageous that it left him with no alternative but to resign. In other words, he will allege that Priti Patel broke his employment contract by her behaviour towards him. 

One thing we should remember is that Sir Philip has been the man to authorise a succession of very large payments from the taxpayer to fund Operation Grange, which has now been in existence for nearly NINE years (2011-2020).

Every time the Head of Operation Grange begs for more money, he is the person who says 'Yes' - because Operation Grange's funds come from the Home Office, not the Metropolitan Police.

We may hazard a guess that back in early 2011, when the whole idea of Operation Grange was cooked up, he was approached and asked: "Can you find £2.5 million to fund a couple of years' work on the Madeleine McCann case?"

To which he said: "Yes".

That's always assuming he was in that post back in 2011.

I wonder when he got his knighthood?

Should he be included in our 'Rogue's Gallery'?

If he has agreed to squander millions of pounds on an obviously fake investigation that serves to cover up the death of a 3 year old child and whatever other crimes are behind this, then yes, he has most definitely earned his place in our rogues gallery.

Tony Bennett wrote:I wonder when he got his knighthood?

Should he be included in our 'Rogue's Gallery'?

And what he got it for, and who nominated him for it.

We haven't had a Rogue for quite some time...

If the Home Office agrees to the next lot of funding I suppose we can assume it's not just Sir Philip who's orchestrating the cover-up.

wikipedia

Civil Servants are only muppets puppets in the hands of the puppeteers. Paperwork for a transaction that requires official authorisation is passed from one office to another to be rubber stamped - I doubt any one decision could ever be pinned on one person. It's the head that takes the buck, in this case the Home Secretary. She or he has total responsibility for any one government department - it's his or her head that will roll.

Dickens called it 'the office of circumlocution'

That aside, looking at Sir Philips career path, I can't see any reason to suspect him of anything untoward. Apart perhaps from being politician!

PeterMac wrote:

Brilliant.

Yes Minister was almost like a documentary,

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/my-week-priti-patel-8xp9grjnh?shareToken=5cd67affa1bd9eac547be51312accd4f

My Week: Priti Patel*

Saturday February 29 2020, The Times
 
Monday
A man from MI5 has come to see me in the Home Office. Quivering with rage, I order him to tell me it’s not true that the security services don’t trust me or respect my abilities.
“It’s not true,” he says, obediently.
“Good,” I say.
Then the man from MI5 says that’s just him obeying orders, though. And I say, “Who from?” and he says, “You” and I say, “When?” and he says, “Just then” and I can feel myself growing a bit confused and quite cross.
“Just tell me,” I say, “that this isn’t still because of that time I had to resign over failing to tell the prime minister that I’d been secretly meeting the Israeli government.”
The man from MI5 asks if that’s an order, too.
“Yes!” I shout, furiously.
“Then it isn’t because of that at all,” he says.
Tuesday
There are a lot of problems with the Home Office, but the main one is the way it’s full of people who are trying to undermine me. I’ve got a list.
The trouble is, I keep telling other people to sack them, and they refuse, and so that means they have to go on the list, too. So it’s getting quite long.
“I’m sick of being called a bully!” I scream at the only civil servant I still speak to, whose job it is to speak to all the other civil servants that I’ve stopped speaking to.
The civil servant sighs. Then he says it probably doesn’t help that I have a reputation for being a hardliner who wants to do things like execute criminals.
“Actually,” I tell him. “I’m now completely against the death penalty.”
“Oh, thank God,” he says, looking relieved.
“Except for people who work here,” I clarify.
Wednesday
Today I’m addressing the annual conference of police chiefs. And I’m telling them that my big plan as home secretary is that they ought to fight crime.
“Wow,” one chief constable says afterwards. “Such vision.”
“Thank you,” I say, smugly.
“Although it might help,” the policeman adds, “if you could be a little more specific?”
“Murders,” I explain. “And burglaries. And assaults.”
The chief constable says that he’s been a policeman for 35 years and actually he knew what crime was already.
“Then I’m not sure I understand your question,” I say, sweeping off.
Thursday
Into Downing Street to see Dominic Cummings, who is wearing hessian culottes and a netball tabard, and the PM, who is just wearing a suit. And I ask them if they’ve given any more thought to my big problem.
“Ability?” frowns Cummings.
“Or fundamental personality?” suggests the PM.
“Er,” I say. “No. The civil service thing. The way they’re all rebelling against me and telling the papers I’m creating a climate of fear.”
“Oh, that,” says Cummings.
There are briefings against me every day, I tell them, furiously. It’s open warfare! I’m getting nothing done! And it’s all creating a heightened sense of crisis which distracts attention both from the Brexit talks and the government’s handling of the coronavirus!
“Wow,” says the PM. “You were right. She’s perfect for the job.”
“See?” says Cummings.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling flattered but a little confused.
Friday
I’ve stopped speaking to the only civil servant I was still speaking to. I make no apology for asserting my authority in the face of prolonged insubordination. But I am now a bit lonely.
Fortunately I’ve got a meeting this morning with the guy from MI5. I ask him if there are any sensitive state secrets he wants me to know about.
“Nope,” he says.
“I don’t believe you,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
The MI5 guy says that his answer was entirely honest. If quite precise.
“Why don’t you trust me?” I shout.
“Oh, we do,” he says. “Basically. Calm down. It’s not like we have a camera behind your bathroom mirror, recording you when you spend ten minutes standing in front of it every morning pretending to be Margaret Thatcher!”
“But how else could you possibly know I even did that?” I gasp.
“I swear,” says the MI5 guy. “It was just a guess.”

*according to Hugo Rifkind