Axel Rudakubana’s Court Appearances by Video Link: A Question Of Justice in Court !

The ongoing case of Axel Rudakubana, the 18-year-old accused of carrying out a horrific knife attack in Southport that took the lives of three young children, raises significant questions about justice, transparency, and the rights of both victims and the accused. Rudakubana has thus far appeared only by video link from Belmarsh prison, his face partially obscured, declining to engage with the court in any way beyond his physical presence onscreen. The handling of his appearances has sparked debate, both for what it symbolizes and for the practical implications it has on the trial process.

Video link appearances were originally introduced into the justice system to facilitate smoother, more compassionate proceedings—especially for vulnerable victims or witnesses who may feel threatened or traumatized by physical presence in a courtroom. For some defendants, the option also serves practical purposes, such as avoiding unnecessary transport or minimizing security risks. But the purpose of these accommodations was never to allow defendants to pick and choose their level of engagement with the court. If the accused chooses to remain absent, unseen, and unheard in high-profile, deeply impactful cases, it brings to light the question of whether this technology could be abused to avoid the scrutiny and accountability that an in-person presence naturally demands.

The controversy surrounding Rudakubana’s limited and obscured appearances via video link brings forward a philosophical concern. Justice systems are founded on the belief that court proceedings are inherently public, a process where all involved parties—the judge, lawyers, witnesses, the jury, the media, and the public gallery, including the victims’ families—can observe and, by extension, hold accountable everyone who plays a part in the proceedings. The court setting demands a level of transparency and engagement; it is not merely procedural but symbolic, reflecting the seriousness and gravitas of the justice process. By appearing via video, Rudakubana removes himself to a certain degree from the immediacy and intensity of the courtroom, arguably diluting the psychological and emotional impact that an in-person presence might have on the jury and observers alike. In many ways, it is as if he has taken shelter behind a screen, leaving others to face the realities of the trial while he remains detached.

There are many questions which will need to be settled one way or another. For example, there could be a question about equal access to video link services in court. Current applications are often limited by practicalities and not always available to every defendant. If they were, some would argue it might encourage defendants to stay remote and disengaged, to “attend” court while bypassing the exposure that being in person entails. This creates the potential for a perceived—or even real—double standard, sparking a need for guidelines around when and for whom video appearances are appropriate. Whatever outcome is chosen, courts are likely to fight hard to uphold standards of justice and avoid allowing defendants to escape accountability for their actions.

Compounding this issue with visible open justice is Rudakubana’s choice to hide much of his face with his sweatshirt, a gesture that has resulted in court sketches depicting only the visible upper portion of his face. It is the only adult image the public has of him, and the obscurity has fueled public frustrations, even conspiracy theories. Some speculate the coverage is a deliberate choice, a refusal to offer the public and the families of the victims a full view of the accused. This constant concealment prevents people from fully seeing him, a visual metaphor perhaps, for a figure who resists engagement and scrutiny.

Adding to the mystery is Rudakubana’s silence. Despite being prompted by the judge to respond, he has refrained from speaking, even to confirm his identity or acknowledge instructions. The judge had to proceed without his confirmation, noting only that the prison officer verified he could hear the instructions. This lack of interaction raises questions about his psychological state and his motives. Some may interpret his silence as a form of defiance or resistance, a refusal to participate in the very system holding him accountable. Others might view it as an indication of inner turmoil, of someone perhaps struggling with the psychological weight of his actions, the isolation of incarceration, or the inevitability of judgment.

While psychological analysis in this case can only be speculative, the combination of face-covering and silence suggests possible theories rooted in the psyche. Rudakubana’s shielding of his face could be a subconscious attempt to dissociate from the gravity of the charges he faces or perhaps a desire to protect his identity from those whose lives he irrevocably altered. Concealing one’s face is often a response to shame, fear, or anxiety—a way to hide from the judgment in others’ eyes. His silence could stem from a similar motivation, a reluctance to speak because words would confirm reality or perhaps reveal vulnerability.

Axel’s decision not to show his face in court raises questions about his approach to this case. While some might interpret such actions as reluctance to confront the consequences, they could also suggest an attempt to maintain control over how he is perceived. If he felt genuine remorse, he could choose to plead guilty and express regret directly. Instead, his choice to remain hidden may indicate a preference for distancing himself from full accountability, though his intentions remain open to interpretation.

As this trial moves toward its January proceedings, for now the public will likely continue to wrestle with the unease of of the accused so far remaining semi-visible and eerily silent. This case has shocked the nation, not only due to the devastating loss of young lives but also for the opaque way in which it is unfolding. Axel Rudakubana’s physical and vocal withdrawal from the courtroom, combined with his literal self-concealment, make it hard for the public to process his alleged actions fully. His face may be hidden, and his voice unheard, but these gestures speak volumes, leaving us to question whether justice—both seen and felt—can truly be served through a screen.

Well, that’s all for now. But until our next article, please stay tuned, stay informed, but most of all stay safe, and I’ll see you then.