Late August 2024
1PM
The service had ended, and the church car park was slowly emptying.
Sola sat beside Peter as they drove home with the children in the back seat. A few cars behind them, Bayode followed with his two boys.
It was the second day of Bayode’s visits.
His wife, a nurse, was already at work. She was on shift, so Bayode had brought the boys with him.
When they arrived at the house, the children ran ahead.
Sola smiled.
“Everybody inside. Food is ready.”
She had cooked earlier that morning.
Within minutes, the dining table was full.
Jollof rice came out of the warmer. Chicken followed. The children settled down quickly, suddenly less interested in their games and more interested in food.
There was laughter around the table.
Bayode asked Peter about church.
Sola asked about Bayode’s wife.
The children talked over one another.
For a while, there was nothing serious about the afternoon.
It was simply two families having Sunday lunch.
When they finished eating, the four boys disappeared upstairs.
The PlayStation came on.
Within seconds, the shouting started.
“I scored!”
“You cheated!”
“No, I didn’t!”
The adults laughed.
Bayode shook his head.
“They have started again.”
Sola cleared the last plates and joined Peter and Bayode in the sitting room.
The door was left slightly open.
The sound of the children playing drifted downstairs.
Peter sat back.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he looked at Bayode.
“Can I ask you something?”
Bayode smiled.
“You always ask something.”
Peter laughed.
“This one has been bothering me.”
Sola looked at him.
“What?”
Peter looked at Bayode.
“If asylum costs the country this much money, why can’t they just stop it?”
Bayode was quiet.
“Stop asylum?”
“Yes.”
Peter shook his head.
“I keep hearing about billions being spent. Hotels. Accommodation. Support. Then you hear people saying the whole thing is out of control.”
He paused.
“So why not just scrap the whole system?”
Bayode leaned back.
“Because asylum isn’t simply a government scheme that can be switched off.”
“Why?”
“Because Britain has obligations to people who may genuinely face persecution or serious harm if they are returned.”
Peter nodded.
“But surely not everyone who claims asylum is genuine.”
“No.”
“So shouldn’t they investigate everybody?”
“They do.”
Peter looked surprised.
“They do?”
“Yes.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Bayode paused.
“The problem is that investigating a claim and removing someone are not the same thing.”
Peter listened.
“Someone can make a claim. The Home Office can consider it. The claim can be refused. There can be an appeal. There can be legal issues around removal. There can be questions about whether another country can safely receive the person.”
Peter nodded slowly.
“So even if someone is refused, they may not leave immediately.”
“Correct.”
“That costs money.”
“Yes.”
Sola looked at Bayode.
“But if the person has no right to stay, why can’t they just be removed?”
“Sometimes they can.”
“And sometimes?”
“Sometimes removal is difficult.”
“Why?”
“It can depend on the person’s circumstances, documentation, the country they are being returned to, legal challenges and whether removal is lawful.”
Peter sat quietly.
Then he remembered something.
“What about people who come here legally?”
Bayode looked at him.
“Students.”
“Yes.”
“Skilled workers.”
“Yes.”
“They come here legally. They study. They work. Then some of them claim asylum.”
Bayode nodded.
“That happens.”
Peter frowned.
“But why would they be allowed to do that?”
“Because having entered legally does not mean someone loses the right to seek protection if their circumstances change.”
Peter looked confused.
“So someone can come here on a student visa and later claim asylum?”
“Yes.”
“And a skilled worker can do the same?”
“Yes.”
“Even if they came here because they had permission to study or work?”
“Yes.”
Peter leaned back.
“That sounds strange.”
“It may sound strange, but the law looks at the protection claim.”
Sola joined in.
“So what happens to the original visa?”
“If they make an asylum claim, their case moves into the asylum process.”
Peter shook his head.
“So there are two different systems.”
“Yes.”
“And somebody can move from one to the other.”
“Yes.”
“Then surely their immigration history should matter.”
“It does.”
“How?”
“It forms part of the information considered.”
Peter nodded.
“But it doesn’t automatically prove the asylum claim is false.”
“No.”
Sola looked at Bayode.
“So if someone came here as a student, then later said they could not safely return home, the government has to look at why.”
“Exactly.”
Peter was silent.
Then another thought came.
“What about someone who comes through the Channel?”
Bayode looked at him.
“What about them?”
“Is their case different?”
“The way they arrived is part of their history. But the asylum claim still has to be considered on its merits.”
Peter nodded.
“So the system isn’t simply about how somebody entered.”
“No.”
“It’s about why they say they cannot go back.”
“Yes.”
Peter looked towards the stairs.
The children screamed again.
“Goal!”
Bayode smiled.
Then Peter turned back.
“What about Rwanda?”
The smile disappeared from Bayode’s face.
“That was different.”
“How?”
“The government wanted to send certain people who arrived in the UK through irregular routes to Rwanda, where their claims could be processed.”
Peter nodded.
“So why didn’t it happen?”
“Legal challenges stopped the flights from taking place.”
“And Britain still paid Rwanda?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“By the end of March 2024, £240 million had been paid.”
Peter stared at him.
“Two hundred and forty million?”
“Yes.”
“And how many people were sent?”
“None.”
Peter was silent.
Sola looked at Bayode.
“So where did the money go?”
“Under the agreement, payments had already been made to Rwanda.”
“And it wasn’t returned?”
“No.”
Peter frowned.
“Not even after the policy ended?”
“No.”
“When did it end?”
“Last month, July 2024.”
Peter shook his head.
“So the policy ended, but the money already paid stayed with Rwanda.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the money already paid under the arrangement was not recoverable under the treaty.”
Peter sat back.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he asked:
“So what was Britain buying for £240 million?”
Bayode looked at him.
“That is the question.”
Sola looked at Bayode.
“Was it buying flights?”
“Not exactly.”
“Accommodation?”
“Partly the arrangement involved preparing capacity and infrastructure in Rwanda.”
“And nobody went.”
“Correct.”
Peter looked puzzled.
“So the government spent £240 million preparing for something that never happened.”
Bayode nodded.
“That is one way of describing the outcome.”
Peter rubbed his chin.
“And Rwanda didn’t have to return it?”
“Not under the terms that applied to those payments.”
Peter was quiet.
Then he asked:
“So who benefits from asylum?”
Bayode smiled slightly.
“That depends on what you mean by benefits.”
“I mean money.”
Sola looked at Peter.
Bayode nodded.
“Then there are several layers.”
“Go on.”
“People who provide accommodation can receive money.”
“Hotels?”
“Hotels can.”
“Property owners?”
“Yes.”
“Companies providing services?”
“Yes.”
“Transport?”
“Yes.”
“Food?”
“Yes.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“Maintenance?”
“Yes.”
Peter nodded.
“And the companies managing the system?”
“Yes.”
Sola looked at Bayode.
“So asylum creates an economy around it.”
Bayode considered his words.
“Any large government system creates an economy around it.”
Peter looked at him.
“So there are people who benefit financially because the system exists.”
“Yes.”
“Is that wrong?”
“No.”
Peter looked surprised.
“No?”
“No. If a company provides a legitimate service, being paid for it is not wrongdoing.”
“Then what is the concern?”
Bayode leaned forward.
“The concern is whether the government is getting what it paid for at a reasonable cost.”
Sola nodded.
“So the question isn’t whether somebody made money.”
“Correct.”
“It is whether the public money was spent properly.”
“Yes.”
Peter looked towards the stairs again.
Then back at Bayode.
“But if asylum numbers rise, doesn’t that mean more money enters that economy?”
Bayode nodded.
“Potentially.”
“So more people need accommodation.”
“Yes.”
“More rooms.”
“Yes.”
“More transport.”
“Yes.”
“More services.”
“Yes.”
Peter paused.
“So the bigger the system becomes, the bigger the market around it can become.”
Bayode looked at him.
“Yes.”
Sola asked quietly:
“And who decides how that market works?”
Bayode smiled.
“Now you are getting into the difficult part.”
Peter laughed.
“I am just asking.”
“I know.”
Bayode leaned back.
“The government creates the policy. It decides how the system should operate. It awards contracts. Companies deliver services. Other companies may provide services to those companies.”
Peter nodded.
“And somewhere in that chain, money is changing hands.”
“Yes.”
“And the taxpayer pays for it.”
“Yes.”
Peter sat quietly.
The sound of the PlayStation came from upstairs.
Then he asked:
“So if the government wanted to reduce the cost, what would it have to do?”
Bayode looked at him.
“Reduce the number of people entering the asylum system.”
“How?”
“That is where politics begins.”
Peter smiled.
“Meaning?”
“Border controls. Visa rules. Returns. Processing times. International agreements. Safe routes. Decisions about who can come here and under what conditions.”
Sola looked at him.
“And asylum itself?”
Bayode shook his head.
“You can change the way the system operates. You can change immigration rules. You can change returns policy. You can change how claims are processed.”
He paused.
“But you cannot simply remove the principle that someone who genuinely faces persecution may seek protection.”
Peter nodded slowly.
“So Britain is trapped between two things.”
Bayode looked at him.
“Which two?”
“Stopping people who shouldn’t be here…”
He paused.
“…without refusing protection to people who genuinely need it.”
Bayode smiled.
“That is the difficult balance.”
Peter looked thoughtful.
Then he asked:
“And where does the ordinary taxpayer fit into that balance?”
Bayode looked at him.
“Everywhere.”
“How?”
“They pay for the system.”
Peter nodded.
“And if the system becomes too expensive?”
“Then government has to find a way to make it work more efficiently.”
Peter smiled.
“That sounds easier than it is.”
Bayode laughed.
“It is much easier to say than to do.”
Another scream came from upstairs.
“Daddy!”
Bayode stood up.
“What happened?”
“Come and see!”
Bayode laughed.
“I knew it.”
He walked towards the stairs.
Peter remained seated.
Sola looked at him.
Peter smiled.
“You see why I keep asking?”
Sola laughed.
“You ask too many questions.”
Peter looked towards the stairs.
“I just don’t understand why something that costs so much is so difficult to stop.”
Sola was quiet.
Neither of them had an answer.
Upstairs, Bayode’s boys were still arguing over the game.
Downstairs, the question remained.
If the country spends billions on asylum, protects people who genuinely need protection, struggles to remove those whose claims fail, pays companies to provide services, pays other countries under agreements, and changes policies from one government to another…
who really benefits from the system?
Peter did not know.
But for the first time, he understood that the answer was not going to be as simple as a hotel bill.
THE TRAP CONTINUES…
