We are mourning the recent, unexpected death of our fellow custody visitor, Sefton Campbell, in February 2026.

Since his death, we have reflected on the values he embodied, how these informed his approach to custody visiting and how these in turn inspired us all. Among the words that our small custody visiting group have used to describe his approach – comfort, community, confidence, human, humour, warmth, generosity. We want to share with others what a valued role Sefton played, and in this way hope what we all learnt from him might be able to inspire others.

It was always clear to us that Sefton brought unique skills and experience to custody visiting. He once told the story of the interaction that set in motion his journey to become custody visitor. Sefton had noticed the police arresting some young guys near where he lived and felt they were treating them roughly. Rather than let this go, he went up to the police and told him what he thought, saying something along the lines of “if this is how you treat people on the street, in public view, I can’t imagine how you treat them once they’re in the cells”. One of the police officers apparently suggested he should come and see for himself. The details are a bit vague, but we think Sefton shared his phone number which made its way to the custody visitors, who months later gave him a call and started the process that ended in him becoming a member of the Lewisham panel. No-one, including Sefton, could quite work out how long he’d been custody visiting but we suspect it was over 15 years.

On visits Sefton had a unique ability to bring comfort to those he spoke with, reassuring them in his calming way so that they felt more confident that they would be taken care of by an often hostile-seeming system. He always spoke with respect and showed that he cared. Most of all he cared that people should be treated fairly. He reminded people of the importance of their rights, such as the time when he insisted to a man with a brain injury who was confused and felt unfairly treated that he think very seriously about his plan to waive his right to legal representation.

He could build easy rapport with the many children we meet in custody who are often clearly terrified but not wanting to admit as much. Sefton would find a way of giving them certainty about things that were making them anxious, but with the responsibility not to build false hope. Above all, he was someone who reminded us that talking and listening to each other can help, however stressful the situation one is in. But he also knew when it was time to stop a conversation, if someone was being rude or disrespectful.

He also brought much-needed humour, or a carefully deployed twinkle in his eye to defuse any tensions. In situations where custody visitors are trying to ensure they perform their scrutiny role and officers are focussed on minimising risks this quality could be particularly important; on one memorable occasion giving a cheeky little wind-up that showed his ability to understand both sets of perspectives without giving up our independence.

This perspective came at least in part from his day job as a security guard. He was well known in this role, having worked in many key Lewisham services: at the library, the housing office and most recently at Lewisham Hospital where he’d be stationed in A&E or maternity services and where he was asked to work at the start of the pandemic, a role he took on willingly and without protest. It was exhausting work, but the way he described his role showed he brought deep understanding of people and moments of high stress, and his ability to calm rather than escalate tensions. Working 12-hour long shifts as a security guard didn’t stop his dedication to custody visiting, and so for a typical visit one of us would meet him at the police station at 7.30am just after he’d finished his night shift. He once explained there was a crucial change he had to make between the two: taking off his security guard’s “fed boots” the sight of which would make it hard for people to believe he wasn’t in with the police.

Sefton was generous with his time, widely recognised as bringing compassion and humanity to these difficult moments in people’s lives. A community-driven man who was appreciated far and wide. Hundreds came to celebrate him at his Nine Nights, and we were among them. We will miss him on our future visits. Rest in peace, Sefton.