Family hope inquest 'improves treatment of those in mental health crisis'
The family of Thomas Orchard hope his inquest will help prevent further deaths in custody
Last updated 6th Nov 2023
A six week jury-led inquest is due to start later into the death of a church caretaker in Devon, as his family say they've endured "11 tortuous years" since he passed.
Thomas Orchard, 32, who had a history of serious mental illness, died after being restrained in police custody in Exeter in October 2012.
The force has already been fined £230,000 and had two officers cleared of manslaughter by gross negligence.
He suffered a cardiac arrest after being held down, handcuffed and placed in restraints, with a webbing belt wrapped around his face.
He died in hospital seven days after being arrested and taken to Devon and Cornwall Police's Heavitree Road custody unit.
In a statement Mr Orchard's family said: "It has been over 11 tortuous years since Thomas's tragic death and we welcome his inquest as our first opportunity to play a more active role in the proceedings and to finally get some answers.
"We hope that the inquest process will be robust, with all those involved being open and honest, so that, as a family, we can not only have our questions answered, but also ensure that Thomas's death can play its part in improving the treatment of those in mental health crisis and in preventing further deaths in police custody."
Campaign group Inquest said an investigation by the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC), the predecessor to the Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC), began after Mr Orchard's death.
His inquest was suspended by Elizabeth Earland, then HM senior coroner for Exeter and Greater Devon, to allow for criminal proceedings related to his death.
The resumed inquest is being heard before Philip Spinney, senior coroner for Exeter and Greater Devon.
His inquest, being held before a jury, is due to resume on Monday and to last until December 15 at Exeter and Greater Devon Coroner's Court, at County Hall, Exeter.
The chief constable for Devon and Cornwall, a police sergeant, four constables, two detention officers, a nurse, Serco custody services, the IOPC and Devon Partnership NHS Trust are among the interested parties to be represented at the inquest.
Today Mr Orchard's mother Alison read a portrait of him to the jury, which read:
Thomas was born on April 26th 1980 to Ken and me when we were living in the village of
Morchard Bishop in Mid Devon. He had a sister, Jo, who was 18 months older than him and
his younger brother, Jack, was born 2½ years later to complete the family.
Thomas had glue ear as a toddler and his hearing was poor. Consequently, he was slow to
learn to speak and his speech was indistinct for many years. He was always a person of few
words and didn’t find it easy to communicate. Thomas was quite serious and he was a dear,
sweet boy.
When he was 6, we moved to a house just outside the village. Thomas was always very
physically able and active and it was a good place for him to grow up. He had woodland on
the doorstep where he took great pride in climbing to the top of the highest trees and, often
roaming for hours on end, he loved to collect bones, and owl pellets. He was small, but wiry
and fit; an excellent footballer and athlete. He played football for local junior teams until his
mid teens and he supported Exeter City all his life.
School was not easy for Thomas; he had to be dragged out of bed during the week but
managed to get up by 6am at weekends! He went to the local village primary school. He
found literacy difficult to master and was diagnosed with short term memory deficits and
specific learning difficulties (dyslexia) aged 9. With a lot of extra help, his reading became
adequate by 11 and allowed him to really enjoy books, but his writing was always quite
basic. That was hard for a boy with a fascination for religion and different cultures!
Perhaps the worst thing about school for Thomas was the social side: he found friendships
hard to make and maintain; it wasn’t that he was a loner, he desperately wanted to make
friends, but he didn’t seem to have the skills; he was sensitive and was easily hurt. In many
ways he was central in the family - he was the quiet, vulnerable one who we needed, and
wanted, to protect – but he also found it hard to keep up with things in a verbal and sparky
family. He once said that he thought he’d been born into the wrong family; something that
broke our hearts. But Thomas was a loving member of our family and he thought a lot of his
grandparents and his extended family and related well with them. However difficult Thomas
found relationships, he had a close and intuitive kind of bond with all animals, particularly
cats. He adored our cat, Tigger, and we have lots of photos of him cuddling various cats.
Thomas’s school life deteriorated when he went to Chulmleigh secondary school. He
disliked all subjects except PE and RE. He had started truanting by 14/15 and so began a
very difficult period in our lives. At that time Thomas started dabbling in drugs and a couple
of years later that became more serious. He became very withdrawn and uncommunicative
and focused on dark and edgy things; he painted his bedroom black and decorated it with
pictures of skulls and snakes. We attempted to get help but, at this point, most people
advised us that Thomas’s behaviour was in the normal range for teenagers.
He left school after his GCSEs and didn’t want to go to College. He had a number of short
term jobs but had little interest in any of them and, despite showing great promise with
carpentry, he was unable to maintain long term employment.
We moved to Crediton when Thomas was 17. He moved out of the family house when he
was 19, but kept appearing back now and again, often looking thin and unkempt and, by this
time, his behaviour was becoming very worrying; he was occasionally behaving bizarrely. His
was a troubled young soul. At the age of about 18 to 19 years Thomas clearly started to
suffer with mental health issues. As a result of this, we sought help from our family doctor.
However the doctor told us nothing could be done until Thomas attended voluntarily
himself, which was something he was reluctant to do.
When he visited us he was always interested in what was going on in the family but would
rarely talk about himself and what he was doing. It was obvious he was still taking drugs
and, at one point, I accompanied him to see his GP, in order to get help for his addiction
issues.
He had a period of homelessness, preferring to sleep rough than to live with his family and,
when we reported him missing and he was found, we received the message that he no
longer wanted to maintain contact with us. We had the sense that the homeless community
gave him a feeling of belonging which he was unable to find elsewhere. We don’t know
much about those times.
At the age of about 23 to 24 years Thomas came to see me and told me that he was in court the
following day and could be going to prison. He didn’t tell me what it was for but he did
subsequently go to prison for a few months. He would not let me visit him in prison. It was an
experience that scarred him for life, not least of all because his mental health deteriorated
significantly whilst he was in there, and he vowed that he would never go there again.
Thomas didn’t like to be confined. When he came out of prison he was shaking a lot, was
very anxious and was pacing up and down. He was scared, thinking people were after him
and imagining things that were not there.
His sister, Jo, always maintained a good relationship with him. She looked out for him and
had a lot more knowledge of his condition and his activities than his father and I. He
confided in her and she was more aware of his psychotic behaviour. He once phoned her to
tell her that he was thinking of taking his own life.
It was when he turned up on our doorstep on his 24th birthday and his behaviour was clearly
paranoid that we appealed for help from mental health services and Thomas was sectioned
for the first time. He then spent a long period in and out of mental health units, including
one spell of over a year. Thomas was diagnosed with schizophrenia but it was hard for the
psychiatric team to get his medication levels right; he seesawed from ‘positive’ paranoid
symptoms to ‘negative’ withdrawn symptoms. However, it was at this point in his life that
Thomas became a Christian, forming a significant relationship with the hospital chaplain,
David Walford, and his life really began to change for the better.
Eventually, his condition levelled enough for him to move out of hospital to live at Seabrook
House, a supported housing scheme, and he did brilliantly there, thriving in the safe and
supportive environment. He participated in lots of activities and particularly enjoyed
football, fishing and visits to a farm near Okehampton where he did voluntary work. Thomas
began attending St Thomas’ church and ‘changed’ his name from Tom to Thomas. He was
confirmed there.
Religion and the church was very important to Thomas, he was brought up as a Quaker, has
always shown a deep interest in religion and his relationship with God was probably the
most significant relationship he had for the remainder of his life. His room was decorated
with candles, crosses and incense.
His church family was wonderful to him and for him! Thomas started working at St Thomas’
church as a caretaker and cleaner whilst he was at Seabrook House and that, as well as
other really positive steps in his ability to look after himself, led to his move into the
community. Thomas moved into semi-independent accommodation in Regent St in St
Thomas’ in Exeter. He went to church every time there was a service (which was most days)
and was a crucifer and a server (he carried the cross and helped serve out wine and bread at
Communion). He also led prayer meetings on occasions. The church leaders seemed to
really appreciate Thomas’ contribution to their community and he felt very loved by them.
During these last few years of his life Thomas chose not have a lot to do with his family and,
although he was always welcome at home, he usually refused any specific invitations and
often asked us to leave quite soon when we visited him. We were therefore grateful to the
staff at Caraston Hall (the community care provider) who were very good at keeping us
informed on an informal basis. Throughout it all Thomas was much loved, kind of deeply
loved, even though at times he wasn’t easy to be around.
With the medication (as well as a healthy appetite!), Thomas put a lot of weight on during
this period but he then started to go to the gym and he was getting fitter. He walked
everywhere, so, by the time of his death, his lifestyle, ironically, had become healthier than
it had been for years.
Until just a few days before his death everyone thought he was doing brilliantly.
At some point in late September or early October, 2012, we now understand that Thomas
stopped taking his medication and that he told work he wasn’t well (although he still
attended church and took communion). On the morning of 3rd October, Ken received a call
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from Thomas’ mental health care team to say that he had not attended a meeting they had
scheduled with him and, shortly after, two female police constables came to my home to
take me into the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital where Thomas had been admitted. Both
Ken and I joined him there and my immediate impression was that he had already died. He
was formally pronounced dead a week later, on October 10th.
Thomas was a complex person. He was a man of contradictions: soft yet stubborn; caring
yet unconcerned; funny yet serious; on the edge of society yet profoundly conventional;
deep yet superficial. Living with paranoid schizophrenia, Thomas frequently found the world
a scary and incomprehensible place and that could make him behave in ways which were
hard to understand and could appear hostile. Despite this complexity, Thomas was a
genuine person and a man of integrity; we never knew Thomas to lie (not since the age of
about 5 anyway!) and he expected the same standards of honesty from those around him.
He was deeply insightful and had a gift for getting to the core essence of anything and
everything.
We miss him every day.