In 2024, 1,602 people were killed on British roads. Only a small proportion of these resulted in a surviving driver being prosecuted. When we hear about the sentencing in such cases, the public reaction is often a mix of sorrow, anger and, increasingly, confusion. Why do some drivers who kill receive only short prison terms? Why are some charged with the lesser offence of “careless” rather than “dangerous” driving? After more than two decades researching this area of law, I believe our legal framework for prosecuting drivers needs to change.

Most of us rarely do anything that could easily kill another person – except when we drive. For many of us, passing our driving test is a rite of passage. It represents independence and adulthood in a car-centric society. When we first learn to drive, we are hyper-aware of the need to concentrate. But once we have passed, most of us never look at the Highway Code again, and the careful habits drilled into us by instructors fade away.

However, the law still assumes that we all understand – and consistently meet – the standard of a “competent and careful driver”. The reality is different.

Two cases heard in court on Friday 13 March highlighted the problem. At Birmingham crown court, Javonnie Tavener was sentenced for causing the death of four-year-old Mayar Yahia. Reports say he was on his phone, speeding in a 20mph zone, with cannabis in his system, and attempted to overtake near a junction. Dashcam footage showed him clipping another car, losing control, mounting the pavement and hitting Mayar’s family as they walked home. It is clear that his driving was appalling. Yet, inexplicably, the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) categorised it as “careless”, and a jury was never given the opportunity to decide if it was in fact “dangerous”.

On the same day, I was at Lincoln crown court observing another sentencing hearing. Eighteen-year-old Madeleine Lonsdale had pleaded guilty to causing the deaths by careless driving of two peers in a crash last June, on the last day of their A-levels. She had been driving at 76mph in a 60mph limit and failed to brake before a bend. Her car left the road and hit a tree. Her passengers who died were students at my son’s school. Their mothers read their victim impact statements with extraordinary dignity.

When I described the court hearing to my son – who is learning to drive – he immediately asked why Lonsdale had not been charged with dangerous, rather than careless, driving. To him, choosing to drive at such a speed is obviously behaviour that falls “far below” the standard of a competent and careful driver. And that is precisely the legal definition of dangerous driving. Careless driving means falling below the standard; dangerous driving means falling far below it, and doing something that any competent driver would recognise as creating a risk of harm.

At the Lincoln hearing, no one suggested that dangerous driving might have been the right charge. But in Birmingham, after watching the dashcam footage, the judge, Peter Cooke, questioned why Tavener had not been charged with causing death by dangerous driving. It is unusual for a judge to say something like that in court. It casts doubt on the CPS’s claim that the evidence did not meet the test for a dangerous driving charge.

In both cases, the judges placed the offending in the highest category under the sentencing guidelines. Both defendants received a reduced sentence because they pleaded guilty, which is standard practice. Tavener received three years and 10 months in prison and a six-year driving ban. Lonsdale received 14 months in prison and a three-and-a-half-year ban. Judges always make clear that the prison term is not intended to reflect the value of the life lost. In the Birmingham case, though, the judge complained that his hands were tied because the charge limited his sentencing powers.

The problem goes deeper than individual decisions. Our entire legal framework for driving offences rests on a concept – the “competent and careful driver” – that does not have a shared meaning. Prosecutors, magistrates, jurors and police officers all interpret it differently. Even the Automated Vehicles Act 2024 uses the same standard to judge whether a self-driving car is safe enough for the roads. If humans cannot agree on what the standard means, how can we expect machines to meet it?

Meanwhile, driving standards appear to be falling. It was reported last month that more driving offences were committed in 2024 in England and Wales than ever before. Speeding is widespread. Handheld mobile phone use is endemic. Both of these are separate offences, yet also provide evidence of dangerous driving, according to CPS legal guidance. They are behaviours that have been criminalised because of the risk they pose to others. Creating separate offences does not, though, help with the messaging about what constitutes (un)acceptable driver behaviour. It is surely beyond question that reading WhatsApp messages on a mobile phone mounted to a dashboard while driving is unacceptable. Yet some assume that if it isn’t expressly banned, it must be fine.

Built-in screens to control GPS and music are now widespread and complicate things further. They can be distracting, and any lapse in attention could amount to careless driving, yet the temptation to allow our eyes to wander from the road is difficult to resist thanks to the marketing of car manufacturers. Even when drivers commit blatant breaches of the law, enforcement is patchy and inconsistent, thanks to roads policing having been cut to the bone. And every attempt to tighten the rules is met with cries of a “war on motorists”. This narrative must end.

In order to ensure that our criminal justice system can respond appropriately to road violence, we need to do three things. First, driving offences must be redefined. The distinction between careless and dangerous driving is poorly understood and too subjective. It leads to inconsistent charging decisions and undermines public confidence. We need a clearer framework – one that focuses on concrete behaviours, not abstract notions. It is disappointing that the government missed the opportunity to review these offences and resolve this ambiguity as part of its road safety strategy.

Second, the government must also reinvest in roads policing. Its new road safety strategy sets ambitious targets for reducing deaths and serious injuries – but without proper enforcement, these targets are unlikely to be met. Between 2012/13 and 2019/20, roads policing in England and Wales was cut in real terms by more than a third. Officers cannot deter dangerous behaviour and prevent deaths if they are not present on the roads.

Finally, there is work to do as a society to reframe how we think about driving. Many drivers see speed limits, cameras and enforcement as personal inconveniences. We must communicate the concept that driving is a responsibility, not an entitlement. This means better driver education and a public conversation that centres victims, rather than complaints about 20mph zones. Let’s ensure that the criminal justice system is used to reinforce the message that adherence to the Highway Code is not optional.