15 August 202516 August 2025 by Massoud Hussein

🔥 System Failure: Julie Major: ‘I believe in fighting for what is right’

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Originally reported The Justice Gap on 2025-07-17 07:37:00 by Jenny Evans.

Julie Major takes no prisoners. Ironically, that’s precisely the quality you need when you’re fighting to overturn a miscarriage of justice. Jenny Evans writes.

She first met Mark ‘Ozzy’ Osborne (she calls him Mark, everyone else calls him Ozzy) when he was a baby. He and his parents lived in the flat below Julie and her first husband. It wasn’t an easy time: Julie had married young—just 16—to escape a violent stepfather, only to find herself tied to an even more frightening husband.

‘I was six stone when that relationship ended. I used to sit with my head down.’ She mimics the image of a woman cowed, afraid. More than once, Julie sought refuge in a neighbour’s flat.

None of the families in the neighbourhood were affluent. Some were more stable than others. Mark was a good boy with a vibrant personality, ‘very popular’ but by the time he was a teen, he was known to the police. ‘That’s why I think they did it,’ Julie says, implying a fit up. ‘They [the authorities] wanted him off the streets.’

Julie is now in her fifties. She left both her first and second husbands to raise four children alone. Her second marriage ended when her youngest child was just three months old. ‘I had to get out. And he never gave me a penny. I did it all,’ she says, ‘I know what it’s like to have nobody.’

She is alone no longer.

Today, Julie is the matriarch of a large and loving family; ten grandchildren, one great-grandchild – a tightly knit circle. The family is currently reeling from the death of the newest born grandson, Freddie, last November. He was just six days old. ‘I’m fighting the hospital about that too,’ she adds. Julie has learned how to fight—but she uses her wits, not her fists.

After our conversation, she texts me a photo of her law degree certificate, earned in her fifties while working full time at a local hospital. ‘I’m very proud,’ she says.

‘You should be so fucking proud,’ I reply. ‘What a warrior.’

Journalistic impartiality, it’s fair to say, momentarily escapes me.

Let me tell you about Mark

Mark Osborne was in prison for grievous bodily harm when the murder he’s now accused of facilitating took place. ‘He’d got drunk and got into a fight with a bouncer. Not okay—he was doing his time. But kid stuff, really. Angry kid.’ He was nineteen.

Mark’s brother, Tony—who was raised by their father, while Mark lived with their mum—was a local drug dealer. He had fallen into a dispute with a man known to both brothers: Mark Treddinick, a user himself. Julie knew him, too. ‘I went to school with him. He sold drugs for Tony and the rumour was he got himself into debt.’

In June 2007, Treddinick was lured to an alleyway in Essex and shot with a machine gun—in front of his partner and four-year-old son. Julie’s face drops as she recounts it. ‘Terrible. Terrible for the little boy.’

In 2009, Tony Osborne and his associate, Wayne Collins, were convicted of Treddinick’s murder. A third man at the scene, Terry Sherman, was acquitted. It was shortly before the trial that Mark was implicated. His cellmate, a violent man with 13 aliases and nine different dates of birth, who was facing deportation, approached the prison authorities, claiming he had overheard Mark planning the murder via the prison phone.

Call records later proved this wasn’t possible. Still, his testimony was accepted—and worse, never cross-examined. ‘The solicitor who handled Mark’s case said it was one of the biggest regrets of his career,’ Julie says. She also approached the barrister who worked the case. ‘He said he’d only talk to me with a solicitor present,’ she recalls, raising an eyebrow.

That’s when Julie began to dig.

She obtained paperwork and began to sift through the case, looking for grounds for appeal. By then, Mark had been in prison for twelve years. Sentenced in 2009 to life, with a minimum of 30 years, he had given up hope.

His mother had written to the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC) to request an appeal, but without legal training, she hadn’t made the right kind of arguments. When Julie first contacted the CCRC, they confused her with Mark’s mother and told her the appeal had already been deemed without merit.

Instead of arguing, Julie ‘went in the back way’.

She filed a complaint. Within it, she included a detailed list of legal points—gaps in the prosecution’s case and new evidence in Mark’s defence. This time, the CCRC paid attention. ‘They assigned a new caseworker after that,’ she says. ‘But it’s still been an uphill struggle.’

In September 2024, the CCRC rejected Mark’s appeal once again. He and Julie had held out hope—his former cellmate, now living in Somalia, had contacted Julie and admitted to fabricating his testimony. Initially, he demanded £30,000 in exchange for recanting his statement in court, but later agreed to speak to the CCRC over the phone in return for a contribution toward his legal costs. Julie sought guidance from the commission and, with their approval, sent him £350.

It came as a profound shock, then, when the appeal was denied and the CCRC described her payment as a ‘negotiation’, suggesting it undermined the witness’s credibility. ‘I only sent the money for legal fees after asking for and receiving the CCRC’s approval,’ she says. ‘If his request for money makes him unreliable now, wasn’t he just as unreliable when he was the prosecution’s star witness?’

Although the witness did speak to the CCRC, the commission dismissed his testimony, citing an inability to verify his identity. It claimed that additionally, as the call wasn’t recorded, the Court of Appeal would be unlikely to accept his evidence.

Julie remains incredulous. ‘They didn’t even try to confirm who he was. I gave them voice recordings. I gave them photos. They didn’t lift a finger. And Mark is still locked up. Mark is still locked up.’

Her face falls again.

I ask how Mark is doing. She momentarily brightens once more. She says: ‘He’s doing really well. He’s a ‘listener’ in prison, and he’s has been put forward for an Ethos Award with the 3Pillars charity [a mentoring programme]. He’s perked up since I got involved. But sometimes it does get to him. He goes a bit quiet at times.’

When her grandson died, Julie called Mark to talk strategy. But Mark, hearing the grief in her voice, said: ‘Sod the CCRC. Let’s worry about you.’ ‘He’s a good man,’ she says. They speak a few times a week.

I try to imagine what it must be like to lose your liberty at 19. To spend your twenties and thirties in prison. To face twenty more years locked up for a crime you say you didn’t commit. And then, one day, Julie Major turns up—and says she’ll fight for you.

It must feel like being sent a guardian angel.

‘Why did you pick this fight?’ I ask her.

Julie pauses. ‘I believe in fighting for what’s right. Even if I’m the only person in the room saying it, I’ll stand up and speak.’

With a new solicitor looking at the case and another CCRC caseworker now reviewing the application for appeal, I get the distinct impression that Julie Major will keep standing up—for Mark, and for justice—until someone listens.

Jenny Evans’ book Don’t it break you, honey : A Memoir About Saving Yourself is out now. Read an interview with Jenny by Simon Hattenstone in the Guardian

Updates to follow from our team.
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Hashtags: #Julie #Major #fighting #JusticeForBlasio #WrongfulConviction #SystemFailure #GasExplosionTrial #TruthReclaimed

Julie Major’s relentless pursuit of justice for Mark ‘Ozzy’ Osborne highlights systemic failures in the judicial system, showcasing how institutional injustices can ruin lives. Julie, who has experienced her own struggles, takes it upon herself to fight for Mark after he is wrongfully convicted based on dubious testimony. The individual who testified against him was a violent prisoner with a questionable background, yet the authorities accepted his claim without thorough cross-examination, reflecting a troubling inclination within the justice system to prioritize expedience over fairness. Despite her limited legal expertise, Julie navigates the bureaucratic maze of the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC), attempting to bring critical new evidence to light, only to face further obstacles as the commission dismisses her efforts without adequate investigation.

The depth of Julie’s commitment and the obstacles she confronts underscore a broader societal failure to protect the innocent. Her struggle illustrates the inadequacies of legal representation and the often-insurmountable barriers to appeal faced by those wrongfully convicted. Even when presented with compelling evidence that could exonerate Mark, the CCRC fails to thoroughly validate crucial testimony and instead places blame on Julie for funding the witness in an effort to corroborate his claims. This narrative is not just a tale of one woman’s fight; it is emblematic of a justice system that can permit the innocent to languish in prison, leaving families shattered and individuals like Julie to become advocates against a backdrop of systemic neglect.

Fighting for Justice: A Personal Battle Against Institutional Injustice

When I think of the relentless struggle against injustice, the name Julie Major springs to mind—an unwavering force who embodies the fight for what’s right. I first got to know Mark ‘Ozzy’ Osborne during his childhood, a bright boy with an infectious spirit who lived below Julie and her husband. In those days, life was fraught with challenges, darkness shadowing too many families, including Julie’s.

Julie’s journey began when she was only sixteen, desperately seeking an escape from an abusive stepfather. Instead, she found herself trapped in another cycle of fear and violence—one that left her feeling tiny, like a lost child in a world that seemed bent on breaking her. “I was six stone when that relationship ended,” she recalls, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken sorrow. There were nights when she sought refuge in a neighbor’s flat, a flicker of safety amidst the chaos.

Mark had a spark, a vivacity that drew others in—but as he transitioned into his teens, the police began to take notice. “They wanted him off the streets,” Julie explains bitterly, hinting at the systemic injustices that would ultimately entrap him. I can feel her frustration—a mother’s instinct entangled with profound anger toward a system that seems to devour the innocent.

Over the years, Julie faced an unyielding battle. She left two husbands, raising four children on her own after her second marriage crumbled when her youngest was just a baby. “I did it all,” she says, her eyes burning with fierce pride and resilience. “I know what it’s like to have nobody.” And yet, in the midst of unimaginable pain, community began to blossom. Julie became a matriarch, surrounded by love—ten grandchildren and one great-grandchild, each a testament to her strength.

But tragedy knocked on her door once again when her newborn grandson, Freddie, died just six days after his birth. “I’m fighting the hospital about that too,” she reveals, her determination intensifying. She’s become a warrior—not with fists but with words and knowledge, armed with a law degree she earned while working full time. “I’m very proud,” she says, sending me a photo of her hard-earned certificate, and I can’t help but respond, “You should be so fucking proud.”

Then there’s Mark. Wrongfully imprisoned, he was sentenced to life for a crime he didn’t commit—a nightmare that began when he was just nineteen. He was intoxicated in a bar fight, a young man marked by society, doomed to the shadows of the prison system. “Terrible for the little boy,” Julie mutters, recalling the murder of Mark’s friend, an event that spiraled into further tragedy.

Mark was implicated not through evidence but through the words of a violent cellmate who concocted a story—a story that silenced Mark’s truth in a manner that’s become all too familiar in our justice system. “The solicitor who handled Mark’s case said it was one of the biggest regrets of his career,” Julie recalls, her voice breaking again with emotion. It seems unfathomable that an innocent man could become a victim of a system fraught with failures, a scapegoat for something he had no part in.

Determined to fight back, Julie began to dig deep into the paperwork, exposing cracks in the prosecution’s flimsy arguments. Mark had been rotting in prison for twelve years, his hope dwindling. When Julie approached the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC) for help, they confused her with Mark’s mother. Despite that initial setback, she wouldn’t be silenced.

She filed a complaint—a detailed document of legal points outlining the injustices. Finally, the CCRC began to take notice, assigning a new caseworker. But the uphill battle continued, the odds ever-present against them.

When the latest appeal was denied, it felt like a punch to the gut. With renewed hope, a former cellmate had come forward, confessing to fabricating his statement. Yet, the CCRC cast doubt on his credibility, calling Julie’s financial support a “negotiation.” “If his request for money makes him unreliable now, wasn’t he just as unreliable when he was the prosecution’s star witness?” She struggles to comprehend the absolute absurdity.

I see in her eyes a blend of disbelief and righteous anger. “They didn’t even try to confirm who he was. I gave them voice recordings. I gave them photos. They didn’t lift a finger. And Mark is still locked up.” The weight of those words hangs heavy in the room.

Yet, amidst the pain and injustice, there’s a glimmer of hope. Mark grows stronger, becoming a mentor inside the prison. “He’s a good man,” Julie beams, illustrating the resilience they share. They speak regularly, with Mark supporting her through the loss of their beloved Freddie.

“Why did you pick this fight?” I ask, curious about the fire that fuels her. “I believe in fighting for what’s right,” she replies, her conviction unwavering. “Even if I’m the only person in the room saying it, I’ll stand up and speak.”

With a new solicitor on their side and another caseworker reviewing Mark’s appeal, I feel the tide might be shifting. Julie Major will not rest—she’ll fight for Mark and for all who have suffered due to a system that too often prioritizes convenience over truth. And I can’t help but think, in a world endlessly shaken by injustice, that perhaps we all need a guardian angel like her.

Here are five powerful hashtags to match the content about Julie Major:

1. #FightForWhatIsRight
2. #StandUpForJustice
3. #EmpowerChange
4. #VoicesForJustice
5. #AdvocateForTruth

Stand with Julie Major for Justice!

Julie Major is a fierce advocate fighting to overturn a tragic miscarriage of justice affecting Mark “Ozzy” Osborne. His wrongful conviction is deeply rooted in fabricated evidence, and despite relentless efforts from Julie, the system continues to ignore critical new information that could exonerate him.

Join Julie in her battle! Sign the petition today to demand justice for Mark and ensure that no voice goes unheard. Share this message with your friends and family, and let’s make a difference together! Click here to sign the petition and #FightForJustice.

in Justice Watch