Imran Khan KC talks racism, Stephen Lawrence and legal aid

I got the Stephen Lawerence case three days after the murder. I went to see the family on a Sunday. You could tell immediately there was a problem, from how the police liaison officers were speaking to the family. I was hired the next day. Later, I was told it was because I was the only lawyer who didn’t immediately ask how the case would be funded – it didn’t cross my mind.

If I’d known what the case would become, I would’ve been terrified. But at the time, it was just a continuation of the work I’d been doing since I was 18 – another case of racist violence, police doing nothing and structural and institutional racism.

Everyone looks at the Lawrence case now as a legal case, but it wasn’t. That’s not how cases were run. There was no legal handbook for dealing with victims of racist murders. The reason I was doing the work was because I was giving advice to people who weren’t eligible for legal funding or solicitor advice

I was only able to take on the case because of legal aid. It wouldn’t be possible anymore. We get countless enquiries and there’s bound to be a Stephen Lawrence case amongst them, but you have to say no. I’ve become the lawyer I never wanted to be: I never saw law as business. I’m not jaded but I’m tired – the system is at breaking point, if not beyond that.

My parents came over from Pakistan in 1968. We settled in East London, where I grew up and went to primary school. None of it was a happy experience. I was subjected to racism every single day. I think that’s why I ended up with my nose always in a book. I’d read Dickens, the Brontës and even War and Peace by the time I was 13.

My dad was a bus conductor who later worked at Ford Motor Company in Dagenham. He hated his job and who can blame him? It was backbreaking. He never spoke of the racism he experienced, although I’m sure he had it much worse than me. It was only later in life I realised the sacrifices my parents made for me and my four siblings.

It's a bit of a cliché with immigrant parents but mine put a huge focus on education. I don’t think they were educated to any degree, but they saw it as a way out. My school had very low expectations. There wasn’t much tuition to speak of and we did CSEs, which were not as advanced as O-levels. Home was the opposite: my dad firmly believed in grammar and multiplication.

I was destined to be the first doctor in the family. But as I was growing up and getting more involved in the community, I realised there were people campaigning against police harassment and racial violence. I had a political awakening in a sense. So, I ditched the medical degree plan and went to Northeast London Polytechnic to study law.

I don’t think I was a particularly good student: I was a bit of a troublemaker. I was absolutely desperate to get out and do the work, volunteering wherever I could, giving free advice sessions. I’m not recommending it, but I would bunk off so much they threatened to stop my grant. I just didn’t enjoy reading about tax avoidance and business tax – none of that was of any interest to me

I was known as the legal aid lawyer. Everyone questioned why I wanted to do something for nothing. It didn’t compute for those around me: they all wanted to try and do corporate law in a Magic Circle firm. But my advice is always not to follow the money. Do the work and the money will come later.

One thing I got from my law degree was how to analyse judgments. A lecturer taught me that you have to read them in the context they were given, not as legal analysis. You have to read between the lines. The idea that the law and those judgments can completely transform society in one swoop really resonated with me.

After I finished articles, I joined a practice in Ealing where I was asked to set up the criminal defence department. I was so excited to start something from scratch. But I told them I could only do it as long as I could continue my community work, which included the Stephen Lawrence case. They told me as long as I make three times my salary, I could do what I want.

My advice to aspiring solicitors is that it is going to be tough. I was single-minded and passionate and I think that’s the most important thing. I worked seven days a week for 20 years, but I never thought it was work.

We need more lawyers who are passionate, work hard and want to do good by society. I hope I always think with the bright-eyed, rose-tinted spectacles that I wore in youth, thinking the law could make a difference. If that’s what lawyers do, then it can only be good that there are more of us.

As a kid, the book that had an impact on me was To Kill a Mockingbird. That’s probably such a cliché. I didn’t think it turned me to law, but maybe it did. When you look at what’s happening in society, in the back of your mind, you’re making that connection. Growing up the way I did must have had an impact, because I still remember it to this day.