Colour-Blind Justice? The Ricky Reel Case and the Cost of Being South Asian in Britain

This conversation is not about the past.
It is about a present that refuses to confront its own patterns.

At the centre is the death of Lakhvinder “Ricky” Reel, a 20-year-old British South Asian student who disappeared in October 1997 after a racially charged attack in Kingston upon Thames. His body was found a week later in the River Thames. Police ruled it an accident. The family disagreed and was made to pay for that disagreement for decades.

What Sukhdev Reel, mother of Ricky Reel, exposes in this conversation is not a single failure, but a chain of neglect that mirrors how Britain has historically treated racialised families seeking justice: delay, dismissal, deflection, and silence, followed, when silence fails, by surveillance.

From the outset, racism shaped the response. Despite credible accounts of a racist attack, visible injuries, and witness testimony, urgency was absent. CCTV footage was not secured in time. Forensic opportunities were missed. Clothing was returned without testing. Lines of inquiry were quietly closed. The family was forced into the role of investigators while repeatedly being told that resources were limited.

Limited for whom?

Instead of treating Ricky as a victim of racial violence, police narratives drifted towards stereotype: insinuations about culture, sexuality, and family dynamics replaced evidence-based investigation. This was not colour-blind policing. It was policing through assumption.

And when the family refused to accept a narrative that did not add up, the system escalated, not towards accountability, but towards control.

In 2014, the Reels discovered they had been spied on for years. Sukhdev Reel appeared in multiple undercover police reports. Her movements, meetings, health, and private life were documented. Not because she posed a threat, but because she demanded answers.

This raises one of the most disturbing questions of all: How does a state claim it lacks the capacity to investigate a young man’s death, yet find the resources to surveil his grieving mother?

The spying was not incidental. It was systematic. Routed through Special Branch channels typically associated with extremism and national security, the surveillance treated a family’s pursuit of justice as a problem to be managed. The implication is chilling: when marginalised communities organise, the state watches, not to listen, but to contain.

The conversation also turns an unflinching lens on political representation. Britain today has more South Asian MPs than ever before. Visibility has increased. Yet Sukhdev Reel speaks to a painful reality: representation without action is theatre.

Over the years, MPs attended events, offered sympathetic words, posed for photographs, and then disappeared. When pressure was required, when institutions needed to be challenged, when political capital had to be spent, silence returned. The uncomfortable truth surfaces: symbolic inclusion does not guarantee protection, advocacy, or justice.

So what does colour-blind justice look like in practice?

It looks like a system that claims neutrality while disproportionately failing racialised families. It looks like official conclusions were reached quickly for some deaths, and endlessly revisited for others. It looks like inquiries that acknowledge “mistakes” without consequences. It looks like reform without redress.

Yes, the Reel family’s fight led to changes in missing persons procedures and policing guidelines. Those reforms matter. But reform is not justice. Accountability is.

Nearly three decades on, no one has been held responsible for Ricky Reel’s death. The case remains unresolved. The family remains vigilant. And the burden of memory rests not with the state, but with those it failed.

This conversation is not asking for sympathy. It is asking something far more difficult: honesty.

If Britain claims to be a society governed by equal justice, why does that equality fracture so predictably along racial lines? If representation has increased, why does protection still feel conditional? And if silence is so often demanded of the bereaved, who does that silence really serve?

Sukhdev Reel’s message is stark and unambiguous: silence is not neutrality. It is complicity.

And until that is acknowledged, justice in Britain will remain selectively applied, visible in rhetoric, absent in reality.

*Disclaimer: The perspectives expressed by the guest are their own and do not necessarily reflect those of our platform. This discussion is intended solely for knowledge-sharing and should not be interpreted as endorsement.

Produced by Global Indian Series for the Global Indian Network.

Script by Rajan Nazran
original idea: Rajan Nazran

Introduction music: (https://freesound.org/people/SilverIllusionist)