Three weeks ago I boarded a plane to Denver to report on the and find out what this shocking incident tells us about America’s attitude towards guns.  With 12 dead and over 50 seriously injured in the suburb of Aurora I thought I would find a city in shock and its people up in arms about the amount of guns in circulation in the country.   On the first point I was right - many were affected by the tragedy, knowing someone who was killed or injured.  On the second I was wrong. Even after the massacre, this part of America is still in love with its guns – and that’s what surprised me.

Most of the images we see of the USA over here are of the East and West coasts – New York, Hollywood, San Francisco, maybe Boston, Miami or Seattle. It’s easy to forget that there is a vast amount of America in between - often Republican, usually evangelically Christian, invariably in love with country music - and strongly pro-gun.  And Colorado belongs firmly in that tradition, as I was to learn.

On a sunny Saturday afternoon we headed off to a picturesque old mining town called Leadville, high in the Rocky Mountains to watch their annual Boom Day parade. It was a fun family day out with floats, costumes, food, dancing and music – just like you’d find at a summer fete in any number of English villages.  But I was surprised to find that the star attraction that afternoon was a gun display from a re-enactment society. As they marched down the high street shooting off round after deafening round, I was confronted by the reality that guns are very much a part of American culture and history.   As the afternoon progressed they even staged a mock shoot-out on the high street, and the watching crowds loved it.  I chatted to young people in the street afterwards and was surprised to find that most of them were strongly in favour of guns, and many owned guns themselves. In this part of the world, it’s normal – and it seemed the events of Aurora hadn’t changed it one bit.

The next day I visited the memorial to the Aurora victims. It’s on a dusty patch of ground opposite the cinema where the massacre took place.  Here, amongst the tributes, the flowers, the tears and the supportive hugs, I chatted to young people paying their respects.  I expected to find that here, of all places, they would be strongly opposed to guns and might want to make them a little less accessible, but once again I was surprised. Though many people had been directly affected by the tragedy, having lost friends or family, the feeling wasn’t as strongly anti–gun as I expected.  Yes there should be restrictions, said some, and yes, we should keep guns away from people with mental health problems, but even here quite a few still thought that gun ownership was an important part of being an American. It was a fundamental right which should be defended.

Denver is a city which has witnessed massacres before – the of 1999 were only 15 miles to the South West of the city. That tragedy didn’t fundamentally change the , and somehow, I doubt if Aurora will do so either.    

 is on Sunday 19th August at 9pm

It was the culmination of a deeply personal and draining journey for me, looking back at Justin's legacy as Britain's only ever openly gay professional footballer as part of the documentary (tonight, 9pm).

John and Justin were born and raised in the UK, living with foster parents for a significant period of their youth. John grew up with a speech problem and to him Justin wasn't just an older brother. He was also his confidante, best friend and role model.

Sadly, as their lives developed and they both became professional footballers, their relationship became strained. Most significantly in 1990, when Justin took the radical, but very courageous decision to "come out" openly in the press with his homosexuality.

Prior to this, Justin had been a genuine star. In 1981, at the age of 19, he was signed by the then-mighty Nottingham Forest FC, as the first "million pound" black footballer. His career didn't take off as it should have, but this never affected our relationship. To me he was an extraordinarily kind, loving and charismatic uncle. The day he tragically took his own life in 1998 will never leave me.

 

Making a documentary about homophobia in football was always going to be deeply emotional for me. I hoped it would add fuel to a campaign my uncle never had a chance to ignite - for equality and acceptance within football, on both professional and grassroots levels.

When I began this journey, I had a very clear image of where this journey would lead. I imagined discovering the prejudices Justin was exposed to at the hands of colleagues, and expected to find a more progressive and accepting mentality in football today.

On the latter count, I was disappointed. Meeting a whole range of people, I learned how football has failed to keep pace with wider society. Football has changed since Justin's death, but frankly not enough. Gay footballers remain a taboo, and second to that taboo is a straight footballer being seen to support the idea of openly gay players. Despite approaching dozens of players for interviews, my producers and I were constantly rebuffed.

An interview with the FA showed that active steps are in the pipeline to try and eradicate homophobia, alongside other forms of discrimination. The FA is working with grassroots organizations like the Justin Campaign, which I'm involved in, to aid their efforts.

But this doesn't disguise how much more needs to be done to create the conditions for gay players to feel happy about coming out openly. It's the very least Justin's courageous legacy deserves. As one of his friends put it, "Justin Fashanu was a bright shining star - not a flawless star - but a star nonetheless."

is on Monday 30th January at 9pm.

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Have you, or someone you know, been affected by the issues raised in this programme?