Forget the conspiracy theories … David McLetchie’s demise was of his own making, writes Scottish Political Editor Paul Hutcheon

November 6, 2005

I recalled this incident two years later, when McLetchie was engulfed in a crisis about his part-time work for legal firm Tods Murray. A cabbie dismissed the row to me on the grounds that McLetchie was a “good guy”. He said he knew this because he had driven the Tory leader to the law firm and other places on a number of occasions.

This innocuous conversation was the motivation behind the Sunday Herald asking for copies of all McLetchie’s taxi and mileage claims on February 10 this year, a probe that would lead to the Tory leader’s resignation eight months later. The FOI question, which was lodged with the parliament, was tabled in the knowledge that the Pentlands MSP’s taxi journeys were worthy of scrutiny.

The question caused panic on the Tory floor. Six days after the FOI question was lodged, Conservative spin doctors banned the Sunday Herald from attending a press event at which the Pentlands MSP was talking about health policy. Days later, this was followed by McLetchie going to embarrassing lengths to avoid me on Princes Street, despite the fact that I was walking to work. Something was not quite right.

For the next four months, McLetchie’s use of Holyrood cabs was a controversy in cold storage. Behind the scenes, parliamentary officials had “blacked out” the Tory leader’s taxi destinations, citing personal data and security issues. Bundles of cab receipts were handed over, but with vital details missing.

After failing to have the decision to redact the destinations overturned by the parliament, the Sunday Herald broke the story in June that Information Commissioner Kevin Dunion would adjudicate on the dispute. This sparked the media’s interest in the row, particularly given that the letters “Qu” were visible on a number of the blacked-out taxi receipts, prompting speculation that McLetchie had taken Holyrood cabs to Tods Murray’s former headquarters at Queen Street.

McLetchie was dogged by these claims for the next three months while Dunion investigated, a row fuelled by his refusal to answer questions about Tods Murray, always a taboo subject . When Tory historian Michael Fry hit out at his “part-time” leader in an article for the Sunday Herald in August, McLetchie blamed Brian Monteith MSP and bawled him out in front of colleagues.

Being forced to quit the lucrative legal post earlier this year didn’t improve the Tory leader’s mood on the matter.

Dunion’s decision calling for the disclosure of the taxi destinations happened the day before McLetchie jetted out to New Zealand on holiday and hastened the end of the MSP’s career. Within days of his ruling, publication of the MSP’s taxi rides showed that he had billed the taxpayer for trips to the dentist, his mother’s street and to a performance of Swan Lake at the Playhouse. His £11,500 cab bill was being dissected in excruciating detail.

Disclosure also revealed £5000 of street cab journeys with no destination or point of departure on the chits. Instead, McLetchie had either handed in an incomplete receipt or written “taxi” on numerous invoices. The self-styled defender of taxpayers’ money had been remarkably cavalier in his use of public cash.

More damagingly, McLetchie admitted that he had paid back nearly £200 for party political trips made in the parliament’s first term. The false claims, which he said were made in error, had been identified by the MSP weeks after the Sunday Herald requested copies of his travel expenses. It was a coincidence that the Tory leader struggled to explain.

Party spin doctors then tied themselves in knots as they struggled to provide a reason for McLetchie’s night-time trips to the home of Lady Sian Biddulph, a Tory activist who lives in Edinburgh’s Ravelston Terrace. The aristocrat first claimed the journeys were for “party” business, an explanation changed by a Tory spokesman who said the visits amounted to “parliamentary” matters. This was later clarified as “secretarial” work.

Perhaps the most harmful revelation was the suggestion that the Tory MSP had used parliamentary taxis to do legal work at the home of a private client. Holyrood officials, still fretting over the Data Protection Act, refused to divulge the house number of a property at East Newington Place that McLetchie had visited three times in 2001. They did so on the grounds that disclosure would “out” the owner because there was only one single-occupancy property on the electoral roll.

The parliament’s explanation was accurate, as the Sunday Herald quickly established that there was only one single- occupancy property in the small street. At the time of the McLetchie visits, the house was owned by Laurence Briskman, a conservative philosopher who died weeks before the MSP’s trips. Not only had McLetchie signed the late academic’s death certificate as the “executor”, but he had also drawn up Briskman’s will. Unless he had another explanation, McLetchie had taken publicly funded taxis to the home of a dead client.

Contrary to McLetchie’s insistence that all his taxi trips had been for “parliamentary” work, a pattern was now emerging of the MSP billing the taxpayer for personal, legal and party business, all of which was contrary to the rules.

This was the storm that gathered for McLetchie as he arrived back in Scotland from New Zealand. Instead of looking forward to the new parliamentary session, he was being forced to look back at five-year-old taxi chits. As he was bundled into the parliament, McLetchie gave interviews in which he promised to review his claims.

The vow to review his taxi fares set off another spate of stories that he couldn’t control. By promising to revisit his diaries, McLetchie gave the impression of a man who knew there were further illegitimate claims. He had also created a timetable for prolonging his agony: further checks, followed by explanations to the parliamentary authorities and the media. The Tory leader had given the story another seven days, at least.

That weekend’s coverage buried him. Not only did the Sunday Herald report further inconsistencies in his explanations for visiting Sian Biddulph, but two Tory-friendly papers also turned on him. The Mail on Sunday reported a grass-roots revolt against the leader, while a broadsheet carried a story about another claim for party business. The following day, he resigned.

For McLetchie’s colleagues, his misdemeanours were far less damning than the way he handled the crisis. They squirmed as he criticised the parliament for making him a “cause célèbre” of freedom of information, despite the fact that he could have published his claims in June. Rather than concede that he was subject to scrutiny, he attacked the “pariahs of the press” for daring to question him. And instead of taking responsibility for his mistakes, he seemed to point the finger at his secretary for any “errors”.

Colleagues and opponents agree that Taxigate didn’t have to end with McLetchie’s resignation. By admitting in June that he took parlia mentary taxis to Tods Murray, McLetchie could have slammed the brakes on the story, rather than give it mileage by ducking questions.

Similarly, concluding an investigation into his own travel expenses before the information commissioner’s ruling could have saved him. His strategy was to gamble on Dunion backing the parliament’s censorship of his expenses. He lost.

Bizarrely, McLetchie’s resignation has led to a number of conspiracy theories being floated, the most ludicrous of which is that a Tory malcontent drip-fed information to the Sunday Herald as a way of toppling the Conservative leader. Friday’s events – which saw Brian Monteith resign the Tory whip for sending an e-mail that was critical of McLetchie – has given this account a superficial credibility.

The reality is that Monteith, who offered no help to the Sunday Herald during our McLetchie investigation, resigned after suggesting to the editor of another newspaper – while the controversy was already at fever pitch – that it should run an editorial calling for McLetchie to resign. “By the way – you need to do a serious leader saying why the Letch should resign this week. Happy to speak to you about it but cannot afford to be quoted …” his e-mail said.

Having learnt on Friday that the e-mail was set to be exposed, Monteith informed party chairman Peter Duncan of the correspondence and resigned from the Tory group.

Another red herring is the idea that the McLetchie probe was a “revenge attack” for the Tory leader’s role in Henry McLeish’s downfall. The MSP’s justified pursuit of the former First Minister only became an issue when he failed to meet the standards he set for others.

The truth about McLetchie’s demise is mundane rather than dramatic, as the Sunday Herald’s investigation relied on only three sources: a paper trail; a pot of money; and a liberal freedom of information law. No “vendetta” was pursued and the story didn’t need a Deep Throat. All the information required was publicly available, for those who cared to check.