Law and Peace (33 page)

 

 

Wednesday 2 July 2008

Year 2 (week 40): Scales of justices

 

I don't think it was coincidence that I was booked to be against TopFirst today. More, I'd say it was our various clerks who have picked up on a general sense of rivalry and thought they'd amuse themselves with another face-off. The problem was that for me it was an almost unwinnable car case in which TopFirst had an independent witness backing his client's version of events. With this in mind I went to seek the advice of TheBusker.

‘Everything's winnable, BabyB. It's all up for grabs once you have a real, living and above all fallible judge sitting in front of you. Maybe you'll start off chatting about the weather or a particular detail relevant only to him, such as his mother's health or son's prospering career as a solicitor. But even if the usual lines of attack fail, you should always, and I mean always, have a scales of justice speech up your sleeve. Get that right and it'll never fail.'

He then took sympathy on me, due not only to my forlorn look but also he mentioned that he knew about the superhero trick TopFirst had played on me a while back and wanted to help me get him back in court. He therefore took a look at my case and gave me a short script for the key moments as well as a bit of specific advice about the judge we were appearing in front of. So when I arrived at court, I was feeling a little better although still not terribly confident.

‘First your Moldy cases start to fall apart and then they start sending you their other hopeless cases,' said TopFirst in the robing room.

‘Actually, with you as my opponent, everything's winnable,' I said, although probably without a great deal of conviction.

Once we got into court, I followed TheBusker to the letter and stood up and said, ‘Your Honour, might it be useful for us to decide the issue of liability as a preliminary issue?'

In itself this seemed like just an innocently helpful suggestion were it not for the sting in the tail: ‘After all, if you're with us on that, all the other complicated and time-consuming issues fall away.' What this was in effect saying was that if the judge found for our side, the hearing would be cut short and we wouldn't have to waste his time with all the other tiresome issues. The judge nodded approvingly and TopFirst was already snookered, unable to object without seeming to be posturing for some tactical advantage in some way.

Then it was on to the toy cars. By way of background, most baby barristers are in the habit of using them to help witnesses describe the accident, and those looking for an angle tend to offer the toy Ferrari to the other side's witness and a nice, safe, responsible Mercedes or Volvo to their own witness. Meant to work on the judge's mind and all. So before going into court I followed TheBusker's suggestion and mentioned to TopFirst that he might want to watch it with the toy cars with this judge. Predictably sensitive to any game-playing tactics on my part, he decided that this was some sort of bluff and so when it came to cross-examination of my witness, he made a big song and dance of giving him the ‘speedy little number'. As soon as he did so, he was hit with the full force of the judge's temper.

‘Mr TopFirst, I am well aware that some members of the junior Bar think the judiciary so naïve that they can influence them through some sort of subliminal messages to do with the toy cars. However, I think you ought to know that not only do I find that implication offensive to the judicial office itself but I think perhaps it's only fair to tell you that I myself drive . . .' he gave a theatrical pause before finishing with, you guessed it, ‘. . . a Ferrari.'

Ouch. I smiled over at TopFirst and raised a sympathetic eyebrow. But I still had my trump card to play and it was one which TopFirst had clearly heard about during his pupillage in our chambers. Because when I got up for my closing submissions and started with, ‘Your Honour, the scales of justice . . .' I could see his whole face change complexion as if to say, ‘No! Not the scales of justice! Anything but that . . . please!' He immediately stood up to object almost as some kind of Pavlovian reaction. As TheBusker had instructed I gave him a kindly smile and sat down to allow him to speak. Which exposed the fact that in reality he had no grounds for stopping me other than stamping his foot and moaning ‘it's just not fair'. I then stood up to resume the speech I had learnt by heart.

‘Your Honour, the scales of justice are a finely balanced instrument which have been used down the ages to settle disputes both great and indeed small. A constant in our lives which for most of the time we simply take for granted. But very occasionally one is faced with an extraordinary decision where those scales are so finely balanced as not to be able to determine whether they are falling down on one side or the other. At those rare times it takes but . . .' I then theatrically dipped my hand into my suit pocket and as if from nowhere produced a gift from TheBusker, ‘. . . a small feather to tip the scales but one way or the other. Just the very smallest thing to make the difference between one side winning, or the other. Your Honour, this is one such rare case in which the scales are indeed balanced. We say one thing and the other side say something else, but if I was pushed I would have to admit that in reality we are equally matched.'

I then deliberately dropped my voice and continued. ‘Thankfully, Your Honour, when the cases are so evenly matched then all we ever have to fall back on is the burden of proof and today that lies with the claimant. Sadly for him, Your Honour, in the absence of that little feather . . .' with which I dropped my own one to the ground, ‘. . . the case must be dismissed.'

Well, it was obvious to us all that the judge was utterly charmed by the performance. After that no amount of TopFirst trying to tell him that his independent witness counted for enough feathers to fill a whole courtroom was ever going to change his mind.

Case indeed dismissed. As we left court, I said to TopFirst, ‘Maybe you just need a little more practice . . .'

He didn't look at all amused, particularly when I added, ‘. . . in coffee-making, that is.'

 

 

Thursday 3 July 2008

Year 2 (week 40): BrainWashering

 

I had another update from BrainWasher today about his excellent work convincing the judge that he's suffering from brain damage as a result of exposure to imaginary mobile masts.

‘I think we're getting somewhere, BabyB. Not only did we organise a little rally near his house, which he attended, but we also got one of the court ushers to chat to him about the problems she thinks she's been suffering because of a mobile mast near her own home.'

‘Sounds great, but are you managing to actually make him think
he
might be suffering?'

‘Well that's been the more difficult task I have to admit but we're certainly making progress. It's taken a large cast though.'

‘In what way?'

‘Well, I've already told you about the newspaper seller giving him the wrong change. Then there's been a host of fellow commuters at different times reacting to him as if he'd actually approached them and said something first.'

‘Which he hadn't.'

‘Precisely.'

‘As for the hypnotism, BabyB, you've been doing an excellent job moving your head back and forth for the last few weeks in court.'

‘Thank you very much,' I said, glad that my work was being appreciated, particularly as I'd been suffering a stiff neck for a fortnight.

‘It's just that, well, I didn't really have the heart to tell you after the first couple of days . . .'

‘What?' I asked, confused.

‘Well, you see,' he said looking a little sheepish. ‘All of the other things are working wonders but well . . . you see . . .'

‘Yes?' I said, not seeing.

‘Well, I'm afraid I was only joking about the need for you to sway your head.'

Oh.

 

 

Friday 4 July 2008

Year 2 (week 40): Lawyerville

 

Went with Claire and OldRuin to a negotiation over the hospital case today with the other side's lawyers. They were pointing out a couple of technical deficiencies in our case, which appeared to have no merit other than us not having ticked quite the right boxes before the lawyers got involved.

‘You know,' said OldRuin, ‘sometimes I look at what we do and think we're no better than the prisoners in Plato's cave.'

The other side, along with Claire and I, looked a little nonplussed. OldRuin continued, ‘Plato imagined that all these prisoners saw of the world were its shadows. Sometimes it reminds me of what we do. Yet, when I meet the people who will be affected by the hospital closure, it's like coming out of the cave and being blinded by the bright light of reality.'

He looked at the other side's lawyers and then turned to us and said with a smile, ‘Come on you two. Sometimes I tire of the profession to which I have devoted my working life. The sun's shining outside and it's time to leave the cave.' He paused and then gave a wry smile at the other side, ‘For today, at least.'

 

 

Monday 7 July 2008

Year 2 (week 41): Drink-driving

 

With summer holidays looming there's definitely a de-mob happy feel to chambers at the moment and today TheVamp and I went out for a lazy lunch after having agreed a very fruitful settlement for both of us (and of course our respective clients). We certainly weren't planning on returning to chambers and the beer was flowing freely. Then three pints in, TheVamp received a call from HeadClerk.

‘Since you're now both free, do you think you could cover for us for two of our pupils at three o'clock in Horseferry Road Magistrates? Tiny plea in mitigation. Won't take long.'

Well, when HeadClerk calls, it's not really a request. More a thinly veiled instruction, and so the pair of us staggered back to chambers to collect our respective briefs. When TheVamp saw that it was a drink-driving case that I was prosecuting and she was defending she said, ‘Have you ever played the drink-driving game at court, BabyB?'

‘Er, no. What's that exactly?'

‘Bit like the James Bond drinking game but instead you have to drink whenever the words “drink” or “driving” are mentioned. Both words and it's two drinks. Simple, really. Oh, and you just put vodka in a water bottle and fill your glass from that.'

Yes, quite simple and also quite extraordinarily illegal and unprofessional – which certainly wasn't going to stop us now that we were on a roll.

‘And hey, the gaelic word for whiskey means “water of life” so we're following in a great tradition.'

‘A fine point,' I said.

‘And if we both do it,' added TheVamp, ‘it still keeps the trial fair.'

‘Well, quite,' I agreed.

The only mitigating feature of the whole case was that when we arrived at court TheVamp's client also stank of drink and so neither he nor anyone around her realised that she had also been drinking as well since they attributed the smell solely to him. As for me, I tiptoed into the office of the Crown Prosecution Service and quietly took the brief whilst avoiding speaking to anyone. Once in court the more we tried to make our drinking appear subtle and nonchalant, the more we failed. So much so that at one point the District Judge said to TheVamp, ‘These drink-driving cases can be thirsty work, MsVamp? May I offer you an extra drink of water?'

This of course had the effect of eliciting three more gulps of vodka from the two of us. Thankfully, all I had to do was introduce the case since the man had already pleaded guilty and sentencing was all that remained. But when it came to TheVamp's submissions, they did get a little flowery.

‘Shir, drink-driving [two more sips] is the bane of our soshiety and we're all aware of the shlogan, “Don't drink [one sip] and drive [and another]: accidents cause children.” Indeed, accidents can alsho harm children Shir and sho for all of those reashons it ish what the authors of
1066 and All That
would call “A very bad thing indeed” as indeed any fule kno. But despite this Shir, all I can ashk is that the court take mercy on this man's soul. Now and forever. Amen.'

With which she sat down.

 

 

Tuesday 8 July 2008

Year 2 (week 41): Victim of own success

 

I went to see Smutton again today.

‘Ah, BabyB. Come in, come in.'

She ushered me into her office, being a little more physical about it than I would have chosen. Then she said, ‘So, let's get down to brass tacks.'

I began to feel slightly frightened, but she continued, ‘The Moldy litigation. I have some good news.'

‘Oh, yes?' I stuttered, regaining my composure.

‘A friend of mine bumped into JudgeFetish at a party over the weekend. Seems BrainWasher's starting to make real inroads. Apparently the judge is telling people that he thinks he might be suffering from brain damage caused by rampant mobile signals.'