Why death has become an officially-sanctioned secret

Sunday, 4 May 2025

Andrea Vance is national affairs editor based in Wellington, covering politics, the environment and national investigations.

OPINION: The tragic death of a 7-month-old baby trapped between his mattress and cot.

The suicide of a 17-year-old, suffering a prolonged period of disturbance after a bad MDMA trip, and failed by inadequate mental healthcare.

The water-related death of a toddler on the East Cape.

A wanted man shot dead by police after threatening a parent and child in their home while fleeing police.

The deaths of two young men in a speeding car which crashed in central Wellington after police officers activated lights and a siren.

A boating accident in Coromandel which killed a man and injured his grandchildren.

The murder of a young father, stabbed to death in an Auckland car park.

All these sad deaths have one thing in common: officially-sanctioned secrecy.

In every case, a coroner has made an order banning the publication of the names of the deceased, and sometimes their relatives.

These restraining orders can be temporary, but last for years while an inquest is completed, or permanent.

According to information provided to my colleague Nikki Macdonald, who has reported extensively on delays in the system, coroners made 6300 non-publication-orders between 2019–2023.

Coroners have powers to make these orders relating to evidence under section 74 of the Coroners Act 2006. Section 71 of legislation specifically relates to details such as method of suicide or place of death, and that’s largely to prevent copycat self-harm.

But officials don’t distinguish between s74 and s71 orders when collating data.

That makes it hard to determine the frequency of these suppression orders.

However, journalists have noticed that the names of the deceased, and other crucial details, are being increasingly withheld from the public.

More often than not the grounds for suppression are simply because the family has asked the coroner to do so.

These applications are frequently supported by police and there is now a suspicion among news media that officers are encouraging relatives to do so.

This censorship marks a chilling overreach by the country’s coroners.

It’s natural to want to protect the grieving from any further distress. But there is no privacy beyond the grave, and it helps no-one to shield others from the reality of tragedy.

Rather, the secrecy raises serious concerns for transparency, public accountability, and broader principles of open justice and freedom of expression.

The recent suspected murder-suicide of British couple Ben and Claire Anderson, in Wellington’s Roseneath, was a watershed moment.

The couple’s family made an application to coroner Mary-Anne Borrowdale for a sweeping gag order that would have included names and photographs of the tragic pair.

“I note that the police support the application based primarily on welfare concerns for the immediate family. I consider that support well-founded,” Borrowdale wrote.

But, as Borrowdale herself put it, the horse had bolted. The Andersons’ identities had been widely reported by the media that afternoon.

Because, in reality, a suspected murder-suicide is not something that can be kept secret. In a wealthy suburb like Roseneath, a heavy police presence is immediately obvious.

Families grieve, funerals are held, obituaries are published, and communities notice.

Trying to enforce a veil of anonymity around these tragedies ignores the social and human nature of loss - and the truth of the digital age where everyone carries a camera and the parish pump is a cellphone.

Instead of protecting privacy, it creates an illusion of secrecy that collapses under the weight of public attention, local knowledge and online sharing.

Attempts to gag the mainstream press at a time when information can be shared instantly and widely are absurd. It attracts more curiosity and speculation, especially when the victims are young.

Reputable news outlets are bound by legal and ethical standards, while individuals online often circulate names and speculation unchecked. It’s an uneven playing field that undermines the authority of professional journalism and allows misinformation to flourish.

You might read about a sad case on Reddit, a Facebook tribute or even a Givealittle page, but the Sunday Star-Times would be constrained, unable to report fully or verify the facts.

That leaves the public to rely on rumour, partial truths, and unverified claims. A muddled narrative and this two-track legal system erodes public trust in the justice process and the media.

Coroners are public officials whose work is inherently linked to the public interest.

Their investigations — particularly in cases of sudden, unexplained, or police-involved deaths — ensure no wrongdoing has occurred and prevent future tragedies.

But restricting information, or delaying publication for many years, makes it difficult for reporters, researchers, and advocates to find patterns in preventable deaths, like those in police custody, prisons or care homes.

Like us or not, a free and informed press is essential to a democratic society.

Few journalists want to cover a death and no-one relishes having to contact the family or friends of the deceased.

Many of these coronial applications speak of a fear of ‘harassment’ but that’s not how modern journalism works in newsrooms now dominated by more empathetic millennials and Gen Zers. A polite no is enough.

When coroners withhold names, journalists are hampered in their ability to follow leads and piece together broader narratives that might reveal systemic failures.

It stifles public discourse and diminishes the role of investigative journalism in exposing negligence or abuse. Crucial stories go untold, and institutions are shielded from necessary scrutiny.

Overstretched newsrooms are also worried about the impact on open justice. Rarely is there an opportunity to challenge these decisions, and media outlets lack the resource to do so.

And so, while a coronial officer must be satisfied that the interest of personal privacy outweighs the principles of open justice and freedom of expression, they are not often called on to demonstrate this.

Open justice is a cornerstone of the legal system, predicated on the idea that legal proceedings must be visible and understandable to the public. Coroners’ courts are no exception.

There may be exceptional circumstances that justify anonymisation (like issues of national security), but these should be rare and rigorously justified.

Currently, they aren’t. Coroners must resist a drift toward secrecy and reaffirm their role as custodians of truth in the face of death.

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