A law meant to protect now shields a man convicted of crimes against children
A man convicted of orchestrating the systematic sexual abuse of children in Rochdale has been released from prison into a legal limbo that the British state cannot easily resolve: stripped of his citizenship yet shielded from deportation by a 1971 law designed to protect long-settled Commonwealth residents. Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood will announce steps to change that law, but the path is slow, the diplomatic terrain is hostile, and for the survivors of his crimes, the distance between intent and outcome carries a weight all its own.
- Shabir Ahmed, convicted of child sexual abuse in 2012, has been released on licence after 14 years — GPS-tagged and supervised, but legally impossible to deport under a 55-year-old immigration statute.
- His victims described feeling frightened and unsafe upon learning he could not be removed from the country, exposing the human cost of a legal framework that was never designed for circumstances like these.
- Cross-party pressure for deportation is intense, yet Pakistan has signalled it will not accept him, and Ahmed claims to have renounced his Pakistani citizenship — leaving the government with no clear destination even if the law were changed.
- Mahmood is expected to announce plans to amend or override the 1971 Immigration Act, but one government source warned the legislative process could take up to a year to complete.
- The Conservatives are pushing for emergency legislation or a fast-track amendment to the immigration bill currently in Parliament, arguing that the ordinary timeline is an unacceptable delay given the gravity of the case.
Shabir Ahmed left prison earlier this month after serving 14 years of a 22-year sentence for orchestrating the systematic sexual abuse of girls as young as 13 at takeaway restaurants in Rochdale and Oldham. He is now living in staffed accommodation with an electronic tag and strict licence conditions. But the government cannot deport him — and that legal impossibility has become a crisis.
Ahmed was stripped of his British citizenship at conviction in 2012 and holds only Pakistani nationality. Yet a 1971 law protects Commonwealth citizens who arrived in the UK before 1973 and lived here for at least five years from being removed. Ahmed meets both conditions. A statute designed to shield long-settled residents from arbitrary expulsion now stands between the state and a man convicted of some of the gravest crimes against children.
The political response has been swift and broadly unified, but the practical obstacles are formidable. Pakistan has signalled it will not accept him. Ahmed himself claims to have renounced his Pakistani citizenship, a claim the government is examining. Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood will outline plans to amend the 1971 law, though one government source suggested the process could take up to a year. The Conservatives are pressing for emergency legislation or an amendment to the immigration bill currently moving through Parliament.
For Ahmed's victims, the impasse is not abstract. When news of his release broke alongside confirmation that he could not be deported, some described feeling frightened and unsafe. Supervision — the tag, the staffed housing, the licence conditions — is not the same as removal. Mahmood's announcement will signal intent, but the mechanics of change remain unresolved, and the question of where Ahmed could even be sent, if removal ever becomes legally possible, will shape the months ahead.
Shabir Ahmed walked out of prison earlier this month after serving 14 years of a 22-year sentence for orchestrating the systematic sexual abuse of girls as young as 13 at takeaway restaurants in Rochdale and Oldham. He is now living in staffed accommodation with a GPS tag around his ankle, subject to strict licence conditions that will send him back inside if he breaks them. But the government cannot deport him, and that legal impossibility has created a crisis that Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood will attempt to address on Monday.
Ahmed was stripped of his British citizenship when he was convicted in 2012. He holds only Pakistani nationality now. Yet a law passed in 1971 prevents the removal of Commonwealth citizens who arrived in the UK before 1973 and spent at least five years here. Ahmed arrived decades ago and meets both conditions. The law was designed to protect a specific group of long-settled residents from arbitrary removal. It now shields a man convicted of some of the most serious crimes against children.
The political response has been swift and unified. Across the spectrum, lawmakers are demanding his deportation. But Pakistan has signaled it will not accept him. Ahmed himself claims to have renounced his Pakistani citizenship, though the government is exploring whether that claim holds legal weight. Mahmood will outline the steps she intends to take to change the 1971 law, but the path forward is unclear and potentially lengthy. One government source suggested the process could take up to a year. The Conservatives are pushing for emergency legislation or an amendment to the immigration bill currently moving through Parliament, arguing that the normal legislative timeline is too slow.
The human weight of this impasse falls on Ahmed's victims. When news of his release broke, they were told he could not be deported. Some described feeling frightened and unsafe. The government has committed to keeping him under close supervision—the electronic tag, the staffed housing, the licence conditions—but supervision is not the same as removal, and for people who survived his abuse, his continued presence in the country carries its own gravity.
Mahmood's announcement will signal the government's intent to act, but the actual mechanics of change remain unresolved. She must navigate not only the complexity of rewriting a 55-year-old law but also the diplomatic reality that Pakistan appears unwilling to cooperate. The question of how to remove someone the law currently forbids removing, and where to remove him to if removal becomes possible, will define the weeks and months ahead.
Notable Quotes
We are exploring every available option in this case, and that includes talking to the Pakistani authorities.— Spokesperson for Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a law from 1971 still have this much power over what the government can do now?
It was written to protect people who'd built lives here over decades. The assumption was that someone who'd been in the country that long, who arrived as a Commonwealth citizen, shouldn't be thrown out. It made sense for the problem it was trying to solve. But it didn't account for someone like Ahmed.
So the government has to change the law itself. That's not a small thing.
No. And they're not even sure how to do it yet. Do they amend the existing law? Do they create an exception for serious crimes? Do they try to strip the citizenship of people convicted of certain offences before the deportation ban applies? Each option has legal and political complications.
What about Pakistan? Can't they just take him?
Pakistan hasn't said they will. Ahmed claims he renounced his citizenship there. Even if he didn't, Pakistan has no obligation to accept him. He's a British problem, in their view, because he committed these crimes in Britain.
The victims know he's still here, still in the country.
Yes. The electronic tag and the staffed housing are real constraints on his movement, but they're not the same as him being gone. For people who survived what he did, knowing he's in 24-hour accommodation with monitoring is not the same as knowing he's been removed.
How long will this actually take?
No one knows. A year, maybe. The Conservatives want emergency legislation to speed it up, but even that assumes Parliament agrees on what the law should say. This is genuinely uncharted territory.