  A second question is whether (PI) has implications for the substantive criminal law. Some writers—and most courts—think not. They give (PI) a purely procedural interpretation (Roberts 2005; Lippke 2016). It has been argued, however, that all such interpretations are implausibly narrow (Tadros 2007; 2014; Tomlin 2013). Imagine it is an offence to possess information of a kind that might be useful to terrorists, with the intention of committing acts of terror. Intentions like this are often difficult to prove. Legislators might respond by shifting the burden of proof to D: they might make it the case that, once the prosecution proves possession, it is for \(D\) to prove the absence of intention. The Woolmington formulation suggests that this move violates (PI). Now imagine a creative legislature simply eliminates the requirement of intention from the law: it becomes a crime to possess information of a kind that might be useful to terrorists, whatever the possessor’s intentions might be. Assuming that the prosecution must prove every element of the revised offence, this move brings the law into conformity with a purely procedural (PI). Now most writers—and most human rights treaties—consider (PI) to be an important right that protects criminal suspects against the state. Examples like the above show that the purely procedural interpretation has the following implication: legislators who offer suspects less protection somehow better conform to the right. Not only is this counterintuitive, it renders the right toothless in the face of legislative creativity (Tadros 2014). This is, some conclude, sufficient reason to reject the purely procedural (PI).