Ryan St George

WE live in such a judgmental world where everything has to be so black and white: there are good people, and bad people, and not much in between.

Everybody has their flaws and challenges but newspapers love to underline the division.

In the tragic case of Ryan St George, our tabloids instantly labelled him as a “junkie” and the “lag” that fell out of his prison bed.

Such shorthand belittled what had happened to him when really we should all be angry about it.

Ryan, who died this month at 53, had spent the last 25 years of his life unable to speak or do anything for himself. His case is regarded as one of the worst examples of brain damage the UK has ever seen and experts were often baffled how he was even alive.

It almost certainly could have been prevented on the night his life was ruined in November 1997.

He had hardly committed the worst crime in the world: he stole some batteries from a shop. A judge believed he should spend some weeks in prison, when others might have wondered whether a custodial sentence was really warranted.

If the idea was to help him break up his drug use, then this should have come with extra support when he reached Brixton prison.

Mr St George, who was then living in Gresse Street, near Tottenham Court Road, told staff that he was prone to seizures but he was later assigned a top bunk in his cell.

Ryan before his life-changing fall

When he then suffered one, he fell six feet onto the hard surface floor, cracking his head. His airways became blocked and he was starved of oxygen.

Unforgivably, it took nearly 40 minutes to call an ambulance and when it did arrive there were hold-ups at the gate. His body was slowly shutting down and he was even given the “last rites”.

To pay for 24-hour care needs, his family then spent 13 years on a court case.

The home office was obstructive at every turn, fighting the case and leaving Mr St George’s elderly aunt, Margaret, as his full-time carer.

Now 90, she essentially devoted her life to looking after him.

In the end, an order close to £5million – paid in installments – was set by Mr Justice Mackay, who described at least one member of staff at the prison as “arrogant”.

His father David, the former Old Bailey correspondent, said there had been a “couldn’t care less attitude”.

It’s the same strain of thought that dismisses everybody who goes to prison, however minor their offence, as a “lag” or a “junkie”.

And when you see headlines about people “winning” negligence cases and those stories that read as if those winners are all now off to the St Tropez boat club for a happy old life, take a second look.

Ryan didn’t “win”.

He wouldn’t have even been aware there was a case.

His life had effectively drained away that night in an institution which should have taken much more care.

Now relatives, who gathered for his funeral on Wednesday, have a new set of questions and are seeking to find out what happened on the day he died.

They have been told he had choked at his specially adapted flat in Kentish Town but understandably want more details.