Policing the West Midlands: When Clarity Gives Way to Process

When accountability is spread across processes and institutions, who actually answers the question?

I have known Simon Foster for some years, or at least known of him in a professional sense. I remember him as a young solicitor working in the housing sector, representing people living in conditions most would not tolerate for a day, let alone a lifetime. He was always polite, always precise, and, above all, always clear about the position he was advancing on behalf of his clients. There was no ambiguity in how he spoke or what he stood for. That clarity was part of his value, and it is the lens through which his current role is best understood.

There is another layer to this. Foster is now operating from an office that has already been marked for abolition. In 2024, he successfully fought off an attempt to transfer West Midlands PCC powers to the Mayor. But that victory now looks temporary. In November 2025, Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood announced that Police and Crime Commissioners will be scrapped, with police governance moving in 2028 to mayors or local council leaders through new structures. That tells you how the role is viewed in Whitehall, fairly or otherwise. But it is not a view I share. Whatever its imperfections, the PCC is at least directly elected, answerable to the public in a way that a mayoral appointee, perhaps styled as a deputy for policing or something equally convenient, simply would not be. There is a difference between democratic accountability and administrative tidiness, and it should not be brushed aside too lightly.

Which makes his current role all the more interesting. Today, Simon Foster is the elected Police and Crime Commissioner for the West Midlands, responsible for holding West Midlands Police to account on behalf of the public. It is a role that demands not just oversight, but clarity, the ability to explain in plain terms what is happening inside a powerful public institution, particularly when that institution is under scrutiny.

A recent exchange raises a simple question. Is that same clarity still there? The questions put to him were not obscure or adversarial. They were straightforward points about accountability: whether any misconduct processes have been started, whether formal notices have been issued, whether officers under investigation can retire before those processes are complete, and who ensures that accountability is not avoided by timing an exit. These are not technical queries. They go directly to whether the system is capable of holding itself together when it is tested.

One of those questions turns on Regulation 17 of the Police Conduct Regulations 2020. Strip away the legal language and it is quite simple. A Regulation 17 notice is the formal step that tells an officer they are under investigation for misconduct or gross misconduct. It sets out the allegation and brings the matter into a structured, accountable process. Without it, there is no formal case. With it, there is a defined route towards an outcome. That is why it matters. It marks the difference between something being noted and something being pursued.

In his reply, Foster makes one important disclosure. He confirms that he personally referred the former Chief Constable to the Independent Office for Police Conduct in January 2026, alongside referrals made by the Acting Chief Constable. That is not a routine step. Referring a Chief Constable, even a former one, signals that concerns have reached a level that requires independent scrutiny at the highest level.

But that is where the clarity ends. There is no explanation of what the concerns relate to, no sense of scope, and no indication of timing. The matter sits with the IOPC, and beyond that, the detail disappears from view. It is important to be precise on the sequence. The former Chief Constable, Craig Guildford, had already announced his intention to retire before this referral was made, and he subsequently left the role. So this is not a case of a last-minute exit to avoid scrutiny. But the absence of explanation remains. If a referral serious enough to involve the national watchdog is made after the event, what exactly is being examined, and what outcome should the public expect? At present, there is no clear answer.

When the questions turn to process, the response becomes more cautious. Rather than addressing whether misconduct proceedings are underway, whether Regulation 17 has been used, or how the system prevents accountability being sidestepped, the reply directs those enquiries back to West Midlands Police itself. Formally, that may be correct. In practice, it sits uneasily with the purpose of the role. The Police and Crime Commissioner exists to hold the force to account. If questions about accountability are simply passed back to the force, then oversight begins to look less like scrutiny and more like signposting.

At this point, the emphasis shifts. The reply highlights Operation Strive, a programme designed to build trust and confidence in policing. Foster says he is holding the force to account through its implementation. That may well be true, but it changes the nature of the answer. The questions asked were about consequences and process. The response moves to trust and perception. Both matter, but they are not the same thing. Trust is built on the belief that the system works. It cannot replace the need to demonstrate that it has worked.

There is a similar shift when parliamentary scrutiny is raised. The issues have already been examined by the Home Affairs Committee, a report has been published, and the government has responded. Any further questions, it is suggested, should be directed back to the Committee. Once again, the answer moves elsewhere. Each step is defensible on its own terms. Taken together, they create a system where responsibility is constantly in motion.

And that is where the concern begins to settle. Because the Simon Foster many would recognise from his earlier career was defined by clarity. He represented people who needed their position set out plainly and argued firmly. There was no benefit in ambiguity then, and no room for it. The question now is whether the role has changed the style. Has the advocate become the custodian of process? Has clarity given way to careful, precise language that reveals less than it appears to say? Is this the same Simon Foster, or has he, in effect, absorbed the habits of the institution he is meant to oversee?

That is not an accusation. It is a question worth asking, and answering. Policing depends on more than structures and procedures. It depends on visible accountability. The public needs to see that when serious questions are raised, they lead to clear explanations and, where necessary, clear consequences. If those explanations are always somewhere else, always within another process, always just out of reach, then accountability may still exist, but it becomes harder to recognise.

And to be fair, Simon Foster has never struck me as someone who shies away from direct or difficult questioning. In interviews, he often leans into it, and more often than not, gives a strong account of himself. So the offer is a simple one. If there is clarity to be given on these points, now is the time to give it. If any of the arguments set out here are misplaced, incomplete, or wrong, then they should be challenged, openly and directly. Because in the end, that is the standard he once applied in representing others, and it is the standard the public is entitled to expect from him now.

There is, however, a wider point sitting just behind all of this. This article itself is a form of accountability. It is a direct question put to an elected individual who can be named, challenged, and, if necessary, removed by the public. That line runs straight, from question to office to ballot box. If that structure changes, as government intends, that line becomes less direct. Responsibility moves into a mayoral system, where policing may sit with a deputy, appointed rather than elected, operating one step further away from public challenge. The titles may sound impressive, the structures may look tidy, but the distance grows.

And distance is rarely the friend of accountability.

So this is not just about whether Simon Foster answers these questions. It is about whether, in a few years’ time, anyone in his position will have to.