The Southport Inquiry is in full swing—and with it, we’re learning more about Axel Rudakubana’s potential motives.
Alongside an al-Qaeda training manual, investigators told the inquiry this week they had also uncovered images of Jihadi John—the infamous Islamic State executioner—on Rudakubana’s devices.
It follows the revelation that just 40 minutes before the attack, Rudakubana had searched for “Mar Mari Emmanuel stabbing”.
Emmanuel, a Christian bishop, was repeatedly stabbed by an Islamic extremist in April 2024 during a live-streamed service in New South Wales, Australia.
Other violent material found in Rudakubana’s possession—on his laptop and other devices—include content on Nazi Germany, ethnic violence in Sri Lanka, Somali clan cleansing, and the Rwandan genocide.
Additionally, a teacher who had worked with Rudakubana when he was 14 discovered he had posted images of Muammar Gaddafi on his social media accounts.
Put simply, the material found in Rudakubana’s possession appears to be heavily weighted towards Islamist ideology. Yet, it is varied enough to muddy any attempt to identify a clear motive.
Some have suggested the general tone is “anti-white” or “anti-Western”. Unconfirmed reports further allege he was known to speak of “Britain needing a genocide like Rwanda” and openly declared the need for a “white genocide.”
Curiously, our authorities still appear determined to make one thing clear. They insist the attack was not an act of “religious extremism or terrorism”. Counsel to the inquiry, Nicholas Moss KC, repeated such on Tuesday.
Authorities did much the same when they announced terrorism charges against Rudakubana last October. Merseyside police said they were unwilling to classify the case as terrorism, citing a lack of evidence of a clear “motive”.
In other words, suspects charged with terrorism for possessing terrorist materials are not necessarily terrorists. It’s true, such is theoretically possible and could be the case.
What this rather inconveniently exposes in the interim, however, is the selective caution our authorities exercise in determining motive.
Just two days after the murders, Merseyside Police issued a statement referring to individuals who committed violence outside a mosque as “believed to be supporters of the English Defence League (EDL)”.
Then, on 4 August 2024—five days after the attack—Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer stood at the Downing Street lectern and labelled the protests and riots “far-right thuggery”.
The Metropolitan Police Service’s Commissioner, Sir Mark Rowley, doubled down on 8 August, claiming his officers had quelled “extreme-right disorder” following a large-scale policing operation.
At the time, no thorough investigations had taken place to ascertain a clear motive. In fact, a later police inspectorate review (HMICFRS) found "no conclusive or compelling evidence" of premeditated coordination by extremist groups.
Much of the disorder, they stated, underpinned broader factors like social deprivation, austerity, migration policies, and declining trust in policing.
Starmer, Kennedy, and Rowley got ahead of themselves. They didn’t have the material, objective evidence to back their labels.
Indeed, such selective caution takes on even greater significance when contextualised with how the Crown Prosecution Service—not just the police—treated those who merely referenced Islam in the aftermath of the attack.
Consider the case of Jamie Michael.
He posted a video on Facebook in which he speculated about the then-suspect being a migrant, further referencing extremism deriving from mosques.
Next, he was arrested, held on remand, and prosecuted under the Public Order Act 1986 for “publishing threatening material… intending to stir up religious hatred”—an offence carrying a maximum sentence of seven years, a fine, or both.
So our authorities show caution where there appears to be credible evidence of terrorism, yet speculate about extremism where little evidence exists, and then prosecute certain citizens for doing the same.
Imagine if the Crown Prosecution Service, the Prime Minister, and our police chiefs were held to the same standards.
As for the Rudakubana’s true motive, we can only hope the inquiry reveals more. That said, police have already reported that he deleted much of his internet browsing history on several devices on the day of the attack—so it may be wise not to hold our breath.
You can access more about the Southport Public Inquiry—here.
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Deleting their history shouldn't stop anyone from seeing it. Not if it was recent. Not unless he used specialist software to destroy the deleted data (and this doesn't sound like someone who was being secretive).
Corrupt low-achiever political appointees