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From the Courts

A most industrious critic, I am indeed. I have even got around to going to the Supreme Court, although I did for some time suspect that I was viewing an elaborate, stylized play rather that the bastion of out judicial system.

The set was elegantly wood panelled, with some almost Maori-looking carving extending in dark strips along the walls —the contribution of some past figure with a sense of irony and humour. A large, high wood bench reared up at centre back, with a number of smaller desks scattered nearer to the audience, who were most effectively kept from endeavouring to incite a riot by a barrier with rather incongrously painted-iron battens. The audience theatre is fairly small — evidently intimate theatre is the intention.

Suddenly, a stentorian voice rang out: "Silence! Stand please'" It seems it is not the tradition to applaud the performance. The stentorian gentleman whipped back the side of the lush blue curtain framing the bench and the three main characters paraded in. Their posture was unoriginal, being curiously like that of the three gods in Downstage's production of "The Good Person of Setzuan". Their robes, dull black, were further indication of the dearth of originality and imagination. Fundamental to the play is the impression of great age, and to assist this they wore wigs of a most exaggerated whiteness, with rather silly ribbons tickling their necks.

Distributing themselves with a fine sense of symmetry behind the bench the centre god turned first to the left and bowed from the waist, and then to the right, the same. Now attention turned to the prisoner, who looked the part admirably with a fine makeup job, close cropped grey hair, and shabby jacket, but rather inconsiderately confused the issue by not standing in the dock (he was in fact a lawyer up for misconduct, conducting his own defence.)

Throughout the play the characters made a strong point of not saying anything of interest out loud. Traditionally, the brilliant minds of the judiciary are crystallized on conversion to words into such familiar summary lines as "viewing the situation in the round". Impetus was lost at climaxes by the gods putting their heads together and whispering "rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb". Another favourite option was to declare an interval/teabreak ("adjournment" in legal parlance.)

The gods seemed easily distracted from proceedings and would lean over to each other and discuss odd irrelevant items of greater interest like Thaddeus McCarthy's holiday or Mrs. Rowling's pavlova. Unfortunately, two of them indulging in vigorous conversation left the third to sit alone and look vaguely learned, with his near ear pricked for snatches of the subject. The god in the middle is lucky — he never gets left out.

Observing the finesses in communication enabled by the three-person structure, speculating on possible topics of conversation, and estimating the tea-break per hour of work ratio, it is a wonder to me that the entire Supreme Court bench is not composed of surburban-housewife stereo-types. The deficiencies they are, often attributed would surely pass unnoticed in this job.

I am hesitant to say anything more on the subject of the atrocious lawyers one comes across in the Magistrate's Court, in case anyone should start imaginging I've got something against some of the greatest rippers-off in history. What a thought! I was interested, however, to read a practice note to counsel from Mr. Sullivan, Acting Senior S.M.:

"The Registrar advises me that counsel are not co-operating with the operation of the fixture lists " It sets out the proceedure: Advise the Registrar three days prior to the hearing whether the fixture is proceeding or not ... only those cases so advised will be heard. And then: "Remaining cases will be adjourned for a further fixture and counsel will not be heard on reinstatement." Evidently all those stories one hearts about lawyers not turning up, or giving the wrong time to their clients, are not bleak exceptions after all. The situation has provoked the Court to do some tough talking.

Actually, I heard a good counsel the other day. He was defending a master mariner up for drunken driving, and set out the facts in quite a reasonable manner: just released from hospital, in pain from burns, drank heavily, next day just a couple of drinks, topping-up effect caused high blood/ alcohol count, was most reasonable at scene of minor accident ... why, that's basically all one would expect him to have noted in a brief interview and said before the Court. Mr. Bradford S.M., was enraptured. The "eloquence" of counsel has saved you an "almost automatic term of imprisonment", he told the defendent. Thus he indicated an obvious implication of the pervasiveness of poor lawyers — some people are being punished more severely than they would be were all the facts presented to the Court. It is not so much a matter of having a smart lawyer as an informative one.

Another implication of poor represenatation was illustrated by the case immediatly after the master mariner. A man was charged with driving while disqualified, and failing to stop after an accident. He'd driven home after a wedding reception because his wife was drunk (she was also up on various charges). "Extraordinarily stupid", said his counsel, "No excuse." He did mention at one stage that the guy was the sole proprietor of a butcher's shop and thus shouldn't be imprisoned, but Mr. Bradford rightly decided he knew altogether too little about the man to sentence him. He was therefore remanded almost a month (not in prison) for probation report and sentence. The load that such remands, which are frequent, place on the court schedule and the probation service, could be alleviated somewhat if defence lawyers would do their job properly.

Deborah Mabbett