End of August 2024
Sola opened the front door with two bags of groceries in her hands.
She had just returned from Aldi.
The children were in the backyard, kicking a football between them, completely unaware that their mother had arrived.
Peter was sitting in the living room, watching television.
Sola put the groceries down and looked towards him.
“Bayode is on his way.”
Peter looked at her.
“When?”
“He said he was coming now.”
Peter picked up the remote and turned down the television.
He already knew Bayode.
Bayode headed the church welfare unit and also worked with the Home Office asylum unit. Through him, Sola had learned more about how the asylum system operated. They often talked about what was happening, particularly the cases that eventually found their way to the church for help.
Peter had known that.
What he did not know was how deep the system went.
David had started the questions, but the questions were no longer only about David.
Peter wanted to understand what happened after someone entered the asylum system.
Where did they live?
Who arranged it?
Who paid for it?
And where did the money actually go?
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Sola opened it.
“Bayode.”
“Good evening.”
“Come in.”
Bayode greeted Sola and Peter before looking towards the backyard.
“The boys are still playing?”
“They have been playing since I left,” Sola said.
Bayode smiled.
“That is children for you.”
They walked into the living room.
Peter switched off the television.
“Bayode, I want to ask you something.”
Bayode sat down.
“Go ahead.”
“I understand the beginning now. Someone comes into the country, something changes, they lose their lawful route, and eventually they may make an asylum claim.”
Bayode nodded.
“But what happens after that?” Peter asked.
Bayode paused.
“That is where another system begins.”
Sola looked at him.
“What do you mean by another system?”
Bayode turned towards her.
“When someone claims asylum and is eligible for support, the government has to provide accommodation and basic support while their claim is being dealt with.”
Sola nodded slowly.
“I know that part. We see people who are being supported.”
“But who actually provides the accommodation?” Peter asked.
“That depends,” Bayode said. “The Home Office does not simply own houses everywhere and put people in them. Much of the accommodation is provided through contracts with private providers.”
Peter leaned forward.
“So private companies are involved?”
“Yes.”
“And what happens when people are placed in hotels?” Sola asked.
Bayode looked at her.
“Hotels became a major part of the system because the government needed accommodation quickly.”
Sola frowned.
“But hotels are expensive.”
“They are.”
Peter immediately picked up on it.
“How expensive?”
Bayode gave him a brief look.
“That is the question you should be asking.”
Peter waited.
Bayode continued.
Peter was quiet for a moment.
“Three point one billion?”
“Expected hotel spending,” Bayode said. “Yes.”
Sola shook her head.
“That is a lot of money for accommodation.”
“It is.”
“But if the money is that large,” Sola asked, “why do people still come to the church asking for help?”
Bayode did not answer immediately.
Peter looked at Sola.
It was the first question that changed the direction of the conversation.
Bayode finally spoke.
“Because the money spent by the government is not the same thing as money handed directly to an asylum seeker.”
Sola nodded.
“So where does it go?”
“Different places. Accommodation providers. Hotels. Transport companies. Support services. Contractors. It depends on what part of the system you are looking at.”
Peter leaned back.
“Who are the accommodation providers?”
Bayode thought for a moment.
“The Home Office has used major private providers to manage asylum accommodation in different parts of the country.”
“Names?”
Bayode looked at him.
“Clearsprings Ready Homes. Mears. Serco.”
Sola looked at Peter.
“So the government pays companies to provide the accommodation?”
“Yes.”
“And those companies can make money from the contracts?”
“Yes, but you have to be careful with that.”
Peter raised an eyebrow.
“Careful how?”
“Getting a government contract does not automatically mean somebody has done something wrong. Companies are paid to provide a service. The question is what they are paid, what the contract requires, what it costs them to deliver the service, and whether the government is getting value for money.”
Peter nodded slowly.
“That sounds like procurement.”
Bayode smiled.
“It is.”
The room became quiet.
Peter looked down at his phone.
“So asylum accommodation is not just a welfare system.”
Bayode nodded.
“It is also a procurement system.”
Sola looked from one man to the other.
“Then who checks whether the government is getting value for the money?”
Bayode looked at her.
“That is where it gets interesting.”
Peter raised his eyes from the phone.
“What do you mean?”
“Government contracts have rules. Providers have responsibilities. There are performance requirements. There are also mechanisms for monitoring the contracts.”
Bayode paused.
“But when you are dealing with billions of pounds and thousands of people, the real question is not simply whether a contract exists.”
He looked at Peter.
“The question is whether the public is getting value for money.”
Peter wrote that down.
Sola was not finished.
“And how do you know?”
Bayode looked at her.
“You follow the money.”
Peter looked up.
“From where?”
“Start with the Home Office.”
Bayode continued.
“The government allocates the money. Contracts are awarded. Providers manage accommodation. Hotels and other suppliers become part of the chain. Money moves from one part of the system to another.”
Peter nodded.
“And the public sees the total bill.”
“Sometimes,” Bayode said. “But the total figure does not tell you everything.”
“What doesn’t it tell you?” Sola asked.
“Who received what. What service they were paid to provide. What the contract required. What it actually cost. Whether the price changed. Whether there were deductions for poor performance. And whether there were cheaper alternatives.”
Peter looked at Sola.
Now they were asking the same question from different directions.
David had brought Peter to the asylum system.
But the asylum system had brought them somewhere else.
Into contracts.
Into accommodation.
Into hotels.
And into billions of pounds of public money.
Peter looked back at Bayode.
“So how did we get here?”
Bayode smiled slightly.
“That is the part you need to investigate.”
Peter picked up his phone again.
This time, he was no longer looking at David’s immigration history.
He was looking at the machinery around asylum.
And somewhere inside that machinery was the money.
Who received it?
For what service?
Under what contract?
How much did it actually cost?
And was the public getting value for money?
Peter stared at the screen.
The questions were no longer about one man.
They were about a system.
A system with contracts.
A system with suppliers.
A system with billions moving through it.
And if there was a story buried inside that system, Peter intended to find it.
THE TRAP CONTINUES…
