The 42-year-old former leader of the English Defence League (EDL) faced a single charge under Schedule 7 of the Terrorism Act 2000: wilfully failing to comply with a duty to provide access to electronic devices. Conviction could have carried up to three months’ imprisonment and a £2,500 fine. Instead, after a two-day trial in October and three weeks of deliberation, Judge Goozee found the prosecution’s case fatally undermined by procedural flaws and apparent bias.
“I cannot put out of my mind that it was actually what you stood for and your political beliefs that acted as the principal reason for this stop,” the judge stated in open court. “I cannot convict you.” Cheers erupted from Robinson’s supporters in the public gallery as he was formally cleared.
The Incident: A Luxury SUV and a Wall of Silence
The drama began on 28 July 2024 at the Channel Tunnel terminal in Folkestone, Kent. Robinson, driving a friend’s silver Bentley Bentayga SUV worth over £150,000, was en route to the Spanish resort of Benidorm for what he described as a family holiday. Officers from Kent Police’s Counter-Terrorism Border Policing Unit flagged the vehicle for a random Schedule 7 examination – a power that requires no reasonable suspicion and affects roughly one in every 2,000 port travellers.
Prosecutor Hannah Morris told the October trial that PC Mitchell Thorogood grew “concerned” within minutes. Robinson, recognised instantly, offered “vague replies” about his itinerary, avoided eye contact, and carried £13,240 in sterling plus €1,900 in cash. He had booked Eurotunnel tickets only that morning. When asked to surrender his iPhone for forensic download, Robinson declared: “It’s my work, I’m a journalist.” He warned the device held “information about vulnerable girls” – a reference to his long-running campaigns alleging institutional cover-ups of child sexual exploitation.
Escorted to a detention suite, Robinson attempted to livestream his arrest. Told to “relax,” he was read his obligations: hand over the PIN or face criminal charges. His reply – captured on body-worn video – was defiant: “Not a chance, bruv … you look like c***s, so you ain’t having it.” Officers seized the phone anyway but never gained access.
Defence: A “Fishing Expedition” Built on Prejudice
Alisdair Williamson KC, instructed pro bono and funded – Robinson later revealed – by Elon Musk, dismantled the stop in forensic detail. He argued that PC Thorogood’s own notes betrayed the true motive: “Oh look, it’s Tommy Robinson.” No intelligence from MI5 or Counter-Terrorism Command suggested Robinson posed a terrorist risk. The officer could not recall specific questions asked during the 40-minute examination, and the mandatory “selection sheet” justifying the stop was either incomplete or never filled out.
Williamson invoked Section 149 of the Equality Act 2010, claiming discrimination on grounds of “protected philosophical belief.” Judge Goozee accepted – without exhaustive Grainger analysis – that Robinson’s anti-Islam and anti-immigration views qualified. Because those beliefs appeared the “predominant influence” on the stop, the entire examination fell outside the “statutory purpose” of Schedule 7: determining involvement in the “commission, preparation or instigation of acts of terrorism.”
The judgment, published hours later on the judiciary website, criticised police record-keeping as “fundamentally unclear” and the examination as “arbitrary.” Goozee concluded: “The impression given is of an arbitrary decision based on who you are.”
Schedule 7: The Most Intrusive Port Power in British Law
Enacted in February 2000 and expanded after 9/11, Schedule 7 allows examining officers to detain travellers for up to six hours, copy data from devices, and compel biometric samples – all without suspicion. Refusal to answer questions or unlock devices is a criminal offence. In 2023–24, 18,000 people were examined; only 3% required detention beyond an hour. Critics, including Liberty and the former Independent Reviewer of Terrorism Legislation David Anderson KC, have long branded it a “digital strip-search” prone to racial and political profiling.
Robinson’s acquittal is only the second known case in which a Schedule 7 stop has been ruled unlawful at trial. Human-rights barrister Adam Wagner KC noted on X that while police evidence was “pretty unsatisfactory,” the judge’s blanket acceptance of political beliefs as “protected characteristics” skipped vital case law. “Not all political beliefs meet the Grainger criteria,” Wagner wrote, citing precedents where far-right ideologies failed the test.
Elon Musk’s Shadow
Outside court, Robinson – flanked by supporters waving St George’s flags – reserved his warmest praise for the Tesla billionaire. “Elon Musk, I am forever grateful,” he told reporters. “If you didn’t step in and fund my legal fight, I’d probably be in jail.” Musk, who has amplified Robinson’s posts to his 200 million followers and called for his release from previous contempt sentences, retweeted the verdict within minutes, adding a single raised-fist emoji.
The intervention has fuelled accusations of foreign interference. Labour MP Jess Phillips called it “deeply concerning that a Silicon Valley billionaire is bankrolling British legal cases to advance a far-right agenda.” Reform UK leader Nigel Farage, previously dismissive of Robinson, stayed silent on Tuesday evening.
Robinson’s History: From Football Terraces to Global Stage
Born Stephen Yaxley in 1982, he adopted the pseudonym Tommy Robinson from a notorious Luton Town hooligan. He founded the EDL in 2009, mobilising thousands against what he called “Islamic extremism.” Multiple convictions followed: mortgage fraud (18 months, 2014), assaulting a police officer, passport offences, and contempt of court (nine months in 2019, 18 months in 2024 for breaching an injunction against repeating libel). Yet each prison term has burnished his martyr status among online nationalists.
His latest documentary, Silenced, viewed 40 million times before YouTube removed it, alleges a state conspiracy to suppress grooming-gang scandals. Robinson insists the phone seized in Folkestone contained raw footage that would have corroborated his claims.
Broader Implications: A Chilling Effect Reversed?
Civil-liberties groups hailed the verdict. “Schedule 7 has been used to intimidate journalists and activists for too long,” said Liberty director Akiko Hart. “Today’s ruling sends a clear message: political beliefs alone cannot justify digital strip-searches.”
Kent Police issued a terse statement: “We note the court’s decision and will review our procedures.” The force has 28 days to appeal.
For Robinson, vindication was immediate. On X, he posted a 90-second clip filmed outside court: “They targeted me because of my beliefs. The judge saw through it. Thank you, Britain – the fight for free speech goes on.” The post garnered 1.2 million views in six hours.
Yet questions linger. Will the Crown Prosecution Service retry the case on narrower grounds? Could Robinson now sue for unlawful detention? And might the judgment embolden challenges to thousands of past Schedule 7 examinations?
As dusk fell over Westminster, Robinson climbed into a black cab, phone finally returned – still locked. “Not a chance, bruv,” he laughed, echoing his words from July. For once, the state had blinked first.
