‘It is our suffering’: the fight to end Hillsborough abuse and tragedy chanting

S aturday is 15 April and so for Louise Brookes it will be a time for poignant reflection. She will visit her local cemetery in Bromsgrove before returning home to light a candle and raise a glass, all in memory of her brother Andrew, one of the 97 people who lost their life as a consequence of the Hillsborough disaster exactly 34 years ago.

The anniversary has been this way for Brookes since Anfield stopped hosting an annual memorial service for those who never made it back from Liverpool’s 1989 FA Cup semi-final against Nottingham Forest and she prefers it as such given it means mourning in a quieter, more intimate way a loved one lost far too soon. As Brookes says: “People should be able to remember those who died however they want. And it’s nice to remember them as individuals, because that’s what they were – individual people.”

That much is true and for Brookes, Andrew will for ever be the 26-year-old lover of music and fashion who was strict on her but only because he cared. He was also the spitting image of Bruce Grobbelaar, and Brookes is able to talk about all of that with great warmth and humour. But as is the case for all bereaved family members and survivors of the crush on the Leppings Lane terrace, she also exists in a permanent state of trauma, the events of that fateful day in Sheffield and everything that came after, namely the gruelling fight for justice and total lack of accountability for those responsible, leaving a scar on the heart that will never heal.

And it has only deepened because of what the journalist Tony Evans describes as the “banterfication” of Hillsborough, a growing trend carried out by callous people in the disingenuous guise of football rivalry. And nowhere is it more prevalent and