The Huw Edwards saga has no winners, us included

Somewhere in a psychiatric hospital, the man who delivered the report to the world that Queen Elizabeth II was dead, and who went on to lead the BBC’s coverage of her funeral, is receiving treatment.

When he comes out, Huw Edwards will find, if he does not know already, that his reputation is shot. Gone is the image of integrity and dignity, the face and voice that could be trusted above all other, the main anchor of BBC TV News.

In some respects, Edwards is a victim. Caught in a tabloid snare, he was allegedly paying a teenager for sexually explicit photos. So much were they being paid – £35,000 – that they used the money to feed a crack habit, it was claimed.

In covering its scoop, The Sun never outed Edwards; but in a sporting bloodfest, the nation did, complete with memes galore, on social media. Finally, his wife, Vicky Flind, confirmed what everybody knew and said it was him, and that Edwards had undergone some sort of mental breakdown. Subsequently, it transpired there were others Edwards had pursued, including allegedly young BBC colleagues.

He may be able to launch a legal action. But even if he can, to what end? The damage is done. His illustrious career must be over.

An affair that, let’s face it, kept many of us entertained, has ended sadly and badly. Not one single person in the saga emerges well. There are no winners – everyone is a loser.

First, the teenager, now 20. Clearly, they were exploited to some degree. If their mother and stepfather are to be believed, they have a drug habit.

The parents went to the press with what appeared to be the best intentions – to get the TV star to stop hounding their child, after complaining to the BBC and not being heard. That’s all well, but they now find themselves hunted, the media clamouring for their identity, for further detail, for “colour”. Meanwhile, their relationship with their child is in doubt, since the latter issued a denial – a flat contradiction of what they had alleged.

The Sun had an exclusive, but its claim to be acting in the public interest diminished after police said they would be taking no action. It became an intrusion into someone’s private life. Albeit that someone was famous – but did their fame, derived from working for a publicly funded organisation, make them public property?

No, said some; yes, said others. No, said lawyers, pointing to Max Mosley, who was able to successfully claim his celebrity did not entitle a newspaper to mount a “sting” operation against him for attending a private sex party of adults behaving consensually.

Yes, but Edwards was far better known. Arguably, he was performing a public service.

The Sun’s stance began to appear flaky. The paper said it had never accused Edwards of criminality in its original piece. It’s true, it didn’t. But it did report that others were saying a crime might have been committed, once its tale took off and gained what journalists term “legs”.

And a newspaper answerable to a proprietor – Rupert Murdoch, who loathes the BBC – found itself again open to charges of doing his bidding.

The BBC once more was caught blindsided, its “red flag” procedures failing miserably. The parents went to the press because they felt the broadcaster had let them down – it hadn’t taken up their grievances, hadn’t investigated, was not taking any action.

Not necessarily so, says the BBC, it had tried to contact them. To which the riposte must be: not tried hard enough. And what sort of organisation can it be where such an accusation against just about your most prominent front person does not set alarms shrieking?

The BBC is now investigating, but all that does is to provoke a yawn. We’ve been here before, too often.

As the story unfolded, the reporters making the running were from… the BBC, from its news arm. Their independence is to be commended, but the sneaking suspicion was that they were making a political point: “You dare try to stop us.” Again, what sort of organisation is it where there is such a low level of trust between one side and another?

To worsen the BBC’s woes, presenters were at each other’s throats, with some saying Edwards should be named or name himself, and others arguing he should remain anonymous. To stir the pot further, it transpired some BBC journalists were already making enquiries about Edwards, about the very person who led their prime-time newscasts. You can’t make it up.

Politicians pile in, representing parties and sitting in a parliament that have had scandals galore and found their own controls pathetically and repeatedly wanting. They accuse the BBC and The Sun, but did nothing about the disgraceful hounding in the Commons of former home secretary Leon Brittan and military chief Lord Bramall, on entirely baseless abuse claims.

There are no winners, us included. It’s possible to say that, if The Sun had not published, nothing would have occurred, that Edwards could carry on presenting – and continue asking people for photographs and seemingly threatening them if they dared reveal he was using dating apps. At some point, the way things appeared to be heading, the dam would have burst.

It’s possible to say that the BBC’s checks would have kicked in. But what then, that Edwards was quietly taken off air, with no reason given? His absence would be noted in no time, and the BBC being what it is, the explanation would soon be forthcoming. He could have retired, but people knew the truth. It would only be a case of when, not if.

It’s hard now to watch the re-run of the solemnity and pageantry surrounding the Queen’s passing. Suddenly that timbre feels unconvincing. What were you really thinking, Huw, when you put on your serious face? We can’t help but feel less certain. Some may feel queasy, others may snigger. In the last week or so, another piece in the underlying foundation of British life we cling to so dearly was lost.