The McIntosh fight for Windrush justice

L-R: UNISON local organiser Rose Dunkley, solicitor Van Ferguson, Hetticia and Vanderbilt McIntosh, UNISON general secretary Christina McAnea,  policy officer Narmada Thiranagama and assistant general secretary Liz Snape

Hetticia and Vanderbilt McIntosh arrived in the UK separately as children in the 1960s, at just five and eight years old. Their mothers were among thousands of Caribbean women recruited through a government drive to combat nursing shortages.

Hetticia’s mother, from Barbados, worked as a nurse at Manchester Royal Infirmary. Vanderbilt’s mother, from St Lucia, was recruited as a midwife in East London, while his father found work at Ford in Dagenham. The two children grew up in Britain, later married, raised a family in East London, and built careers. Hetticia joined the British Army. Both were considered full British citizens.

But in 1978, Hetticia’s life changed when her application to renew her passport was refused on the grounds that Barbados had become independent.

“I couldn’t understand that, having never lived in Barbados since I was eight years old. You’re shocked and, in your mind, you’re wanting to ask questions, but the hardest thing was coming up against a brick wall.”

Targeted

On advice, she applied for a Barbadian passport so she could visit her father, adding her baby to the application. When she returned to Britain, an immigration officer stamped her passport as if she were an “ordinary resident,” without restrictions.

“At the time you didn’t think it was that serious, we were born as British citizens. We didn’t have any other status. At that time the island was under the Crown, they were owned by Britain. But because of the colour of your skin, you’ve been targeted. And that was a harsh reality.”

In 1984, Vanderbilt faced the same fate. Despite his Scottish grandfather, he was denied a passport renewal. Stripped of his right to work, he lost his job at Berger Paints, and the family lost their East London home. Their children were just seven, nine, and eleven years old. Unable to stay in the UK, Vanderbilt was forced to take the children back to St Lucia.

“There was literally nothing we could do. And then, you know, you feel the sense of rejection. You feel the sense of embarrassment because people are questioning you as to what’s going on, and you can’t really, truly answer”.

The couple’s lives were torn apart. Their marriage was pushed to the brink, and for years they flew back and forth between the UK and the Caribbean.

Between 2021 and 2025, the McIntoshes were refused compensation under the Windrush Compensation Scheme three times. Desperate for justice, Hetticia eventually secured pro-bono support from lawyer Van Ferguson.

But Vanderbilt was given a “nil offer,” even though the Home Office admitted its error and reissued him a British passport. Officials told him he didn’t qualify for compensation because he had re-entered the UK in 1993 as a “visitor” — the only way he was allowed back at the time.

The couple remain adamant: “It’s not about the money, it’s about justice.”

Petition

In April this year, the government launched a £1.5m Windrush Compensation Advocacy Support Scheme. However, it does not provide survivors with legal representation. Hetticia insists that only qualified lawyers can help victims secure fair outcomes. She has launched a petition for legal aid for Windrush survivors, which has already gained nearly 20,000 signatures.

Her point is clear: with proper legal representation, the difference in compensation can be life changing. In one case, an award rose from just £300 to £170,000 after legal intervention.

General secretary Christina McAnea met with Hettica and Vanderbilt recently when she re-confirmed the union’s solidarity with all those seeking justice.