The more the newspapers covered trials, the more their reporters took an interest in the cases they covered and developed a degree of forensic expertise. Something was to happen that had never happened before. Trials, and the investigations behind them, were put under public scrutiny. Some of the latter seemed to show the hand of Inspector Lestrade more than that of Sherlock Holmes. The prurient and pugnacious upstarts of the press were straining at the leash to savage the system of justice. Doubts about it were creeping in. Perhaps it was not infallible; perhaps mistakes could be made; perhaps the innocent were sometimes convicted; perhaps executive review would prove inadequate; perhaps – perish the thought – an innocent could be hanged.

It was not just the plebeian police who were subjected to rough handling. The exalted legal process itself, and even the words and actions of the judiciary, fell under the spotlight of an investigative and demotic press, devoid of due deference. Judicial decisions were scrutinised and even criticised, and potential miscarriages of justice, thought virtually impossible in what was considered to be a near-perfect legal system, became front page news. These developments initially damaged, but ultimately sustained the reputation of the courts and of trial by jury. A legal system that believes itself perfect is doomed to disappoint, but one that is capable of admitting mistakes, and is willing to incorporate safeguards, ensures it has the flexibility to survive and flourish. One press campaign would prove decisive. Instigated by the recently created tabloid, The Daily Mail, it was encouraged by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of the doyen of detectives, and an amateur sleuth himself.