Court Out (11 page)

The Judge is losing patience with a junior barrister from another set of Chambers. Instead of getting to the whole point of his application, he’s skirting around the issue, muddling up various dates and confusing the statutes he’s citing. From experience, I know that this judge doesn’t suffer fools gladly and will make him repeat his submissions until he gets it right. I don’t think he does it to be cruel, I suspect he has a genuine desire to help people learn from their mistakes.

When I was in front of him for the first time, not only did I manage to rely on a piece of law that’d been out of date for the last thirty years, but call him ‘Sir’ throughout as well. I had been blathering on for what seemed like a lifetime, but in actual fact couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before through our interactions I realised my schoolgirl error and righted the situation. Since then, I’ve developed a great respect for him, instead of sitting back and letting people perform poorly, he demands the quality of advocacy necessary for his court.

The junior barrister appears to have cottoned on to the point the Judge is making and I slip outside to have a quick word with Ms Goodridge before the jury are empanelled. It’s a daunting concept, having to explain yourself to twelve strangers and she looks understandably nervous. Her long curls are tied back today and she’s swapped her beaded top for a simple cream shirt and black trousers. The only hint at her usual dress sense comes from a small stud in her nose. She gives me a small smile and stands as she sees me approach her. I can see that her hands are trembling as she puts down her newspaper.

“All set?” I query.

“I think so,” she replies. “Are you sure this is worth the risk?”

“It’s up to you,” I say. “If you’ve told me the truth you’ve got a defence. You can plead guilty, but it’d be to something you haven’t done. I can’t say whether the jury believe you, but that’s a decision for you.”

She looks at me thoughtfully.

“Do you believe me?” she asks, looking me straight in the eyes.

I laugh and wish I had a penny for every time I’ve been asked that question. “You’ve done something quite foolish that, as a woman, I can relate to. Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend is always a recipe for disaster but luckily, not a crime in itself. Just remember, people who tell the truth during their time in court always stand out; liars are easily tripped up and don’t come across well. Whilst you have nothing to prove, you’re going to be judged nevertheless, so this is your only chance to have your side heard.”

“Sorry,” she says. “I know I’m going on about this, but I just can’t face the thought of my kids seeing their mum in the local paper.”

“Whatever happens, it’s tomorrow’s chip paper,” I say, happy that she hasn’t pushed the point.

Our usher appears from the courtroom, black gown billowing behind him.

“All parties in the case of Gillian Goodridge to court twelve please!”

We file in dutifully behind him and Ms Goodridge assumes her position in the dock. As she is identified and the charges are put to her, I feel a pang of sympathy for her predicament; it’s one thing to try and play the system and lose, it’s another altogether to be accused and convicted of something you haven’t done.

As the jury are being empanelled, Serena passes me a note ‘Can’t you make her plead? She’s obviously guilty!’

I roll my eyes, fold it up and file it deep within my papers before raising a casual eyebrow at her. The names of the jurors to be sworn are being read out to the court and as usual they go in one ear and out the other. I glance briefly over to see if I recognise any of them, but the rows of faces staring at us are unfamiliar. It’s a beautifully sunny day today and I can’t blame anyone for feeling slightly resentful that they are stuck in a stuffy courtroom rather than enjoying the potential start to our summertime.

To start proceedings, Serena opens the case to the jury, giving them a brief outline of what Ms Goodridge is supposed to have done:

“You may all be familiar with the benefits system by one way or another, but I’m sure, Members of the Jury that each and every one of you know that it is a privilege and not a right that the weak are supported by the strong of society.”

Uh oh, it appears that Serena’s been reading the Daily Mail again.

“This woman,” she says in a theatrical voice, pointing at the dock, “This woman has abused our system. She lied to the Department, told them that she was single, living alone, when in fact she had a partner. She knew that fact would reduce her ill-gotten gains and that’s why she concealed it when her claim was up for renewal!”

I know I could stand up at some point and point out that claiming benefits is not ‘ill-gotten gains’ per se, but I let it pass. The Judge’s eyebrows are almost in his fringe so I know I haven’t heard wrong.

Serena then proceeds to read out various statements taken from the mothers at the school gates who have seen the pair canoodling each morning. I drift off, familiar with the various versions of their antics, ranging from an innocent peck on the cheek to a brazen bum squeezing incident. She progresses to a short statement from a council officer detailing that the total amount that has been overpaid to Ms Goodridge is just over fifteen thousand pounds.

After reading through my notes, I next become aware that Serena is reading out the full transcript of Ms Goodridge’s interview. Have I missed something? I turn around to see my solicitor behind me also looking puzzled. Serena reaches the final page of the interview and with a flourish, speaks.

“Your Honour, that is the case for the prosecution.”

This means that she had presented all of her evidence and intends to put nothing else before the jury. Instead of thanking her and allowing me to call my client, the Judge frowns deeply.

“Jury out,” he requests of the usher.

Serena turns and looks at me in bewilderment as the jury are shepherded out of the small door. When they’re all successfully through and the door is shut firmly behind them, he speaks, each word carefully considered.

“Miss Taylor, is it your opinion that now is an appropriate time for you to close your case?”

Serena looks affronted.

“Yes. All of the evidence I’ve read out has been agreed and there’s nothing else I can or want to give them.”

What she hasn’t spotted is that she’s failed to adduce the benefit form that Ms Goodridge signed declaring that she was living as a single woman; without it there is no case. It’s a technicality, but a crucial one.

The Judge picks up a copy of the charge sheet and takes a minute to read it to himself.

“You will of course appreciate that after you close your case then I will not allow you to introduce any further evidence?”  He says slowly.

“Of course,” she replies haughtily; rather than acknowledging that he is trying to help her for some reason she seems to be taking his comments as negative interference. I know that some judges would just tell her that she’s missed something huge, but this one prefers to be more subtle. The relevant documents are literally spread out in front of me and as she looks over, I’m tempted to hide them under the rest of my papers. I refrain and keep my eyes forward.

“Well, if you are satisfied that you have made out your case? I am perfectly happy to give you a little time to reflect on your answer?”

“I don’t need any time,” she insists “I’m ready now.”

“So be it.”

He turns to the court usher and indicates that the jurors are to be returned to their positions. I shuffle in my seat as they resume their places, a knot of anxiety forming in my chest. When they are all in their seats, Serena continues where she left off.

“Your Honour, that is the case for the prosecution.”

She takes her seat with a satisfied expression on her face. Rising to mine, feeling like a complete bitch, I clear my throat.

“Your Honour, a point of law has arisen. I wish to discuss it in the absence of the jury.”

Grumbling, the twelve selected made their way out for the second time, shooting me evil looks in the process. I address the Judge when they are out of earshot using the shortest sentence I can manage to get the job done.

“Given that the prosecution are no longer able to prove the charge against Ms Goodridge, it is my submission that there is no case for her to answer. Accordingly I invite you to stop the case and invite you to direct the jury to enter ‘not guilty’ verdicts.”

Serena looks at me openmouthed. Before she has a chance to challenge this, the Judge addresses her.

“You accept Miss Taylor that you can not prove that the Defendant has dishonestly failed to declare a change in her living circumstances?”

“I do not!” she explodes. “The Defendant has signed a declaration stating that she is a lone female, when in fact she was living with a man, who was effectively her spouse.”

I swear I can see a look of pity in our Judge’s eyes.

“That may be so Miss Taylor, but where is the evidence before the jury of that?”

“It’s, it’s-”

She tails off as the penny drops. Serena picks up some pages from the bench in front of her and shuffles through them. We sit in silence as she turns them over in order before stopping at the relevant exhibit. I can see that in her hand she has found her copy of the form signed by Miss Goodridge relating to her latest claim to benefit. She looks at it, then at her pile of notes, then at me. It’s almost like she’s expecting me to save her, to tell the Judge that actually, it’s ok and I’ll let her fix her problem so we can carry on. Sadly, I’m not going to do that and I wouldn’t even if I could.

The Judge speaks again and I can clearly detect an air of sympathy in his tone.

“I’m very sorry Miss Taylor, but as things stand, there is no evidence at all that the Defendant had claimed or had failed to notify the Department that her living circumstances had changed.”

“But she doesn’t accept that they had,” she bleats.

He looks at her with something bordering on exasperation.

“That may well be so, but at this stage of the case I have to look at what the jury have been told, and without the final claim form, no properly directed jury could find her guilty in any event. Is there anything you wish to add Miss Chase?”

In a very small voice, I reply.

“No. Thank you.”

I turn around to see how Ms Goodridge has taken the news. Perhaps unsurprisingly she looks totally baffled at the exchange that has just taken place. I’d better go and explain.

“Your Honour, I wonder if I could have a moment at the back of court?” I ask.

He nods.

“Of course Miss Chase.”

I trot to the dock and crouch down so that my face is positioned next to a break in the Plexiglas screen.

“Did you understand what just happened?”

She shakes her head looking perplexed.

“Not a bit. I was gearing myself up to have to talk to the court and I couldn’t work out why we stopped.”

“In a nutshell, the Prosecutor’s forgotten to give the jury a copy of your latest benefit form, you know the one you signed when Mr. Lukes was living with you, when you said you were single?”

She nods.

“Well, without that there is no case. They can’t prove you were dishonest if they can’t prove you did it in the first place. Game over.”

A look of disbelief covers her face. She speaks.

“But they’ve got that form, you’ve got that form, I’ve got that form? Can’t the jury just be given it now?”

“Nope, too late. She had a chance to do just that but thought she’d sealed the deal. It's a stupid mistake on her part, but one you’ll get the benefit of. Hold tight, you’ll see.”

I make my way back to my seat just in time to see the jury come in. They’re still scowling at me, as if I’m the cause of all of their upheaval. A few are openly glaring at Ms Goodridge, resenting the fact they have been dragged out of their usual routines to sit in judgement on someone whom they already believe to be a criminal.

Unusually for me, I study their faces as they wait for the Judge to speak. The hostile ones meet my gaze and I try my hardest not to display any signs of triumph.

The Judge instructs the juror sat closest to him to act as foreperson for the procedure that we are about to follow. The juror is a middle-aged lady with a bright pink cardigan and I note with satisfaction that she was one of those giving dirty looks to us. The Judge explains that there has been legal argument heard in their absence and he has to ask the foreperson to return a verdict. The pink lady looks smug at the thought of being able to tell her friends she’s played an active role in proceedings.

“When each count is read to you, you will be asked if you find the Defendant ‘guilty’ or ‘not guilty’. Please answer ‘not guilty’ to all questions.”

Oddly, she nods with gusto. Maybe I misread her. I had her pegged as on the prosecution team from the word go. The court clerk reads out the first charge.

“And on this first count, do you find the Defendant guilty or not guilty?”

Pink lady inhales deeply and turns to face Ms Goodridge. “Guilty!” she says with feeling.

What? My head jerks up in alarm to see the court clerk looking equally concerned. She presumes she’s misheard and repeats her question. Still, the same reply comes.

“Guilty!”

The Judge gives her a funny look. “Madam foreperson, just a moment ago I instructed you to answer ‘not guilty’ in respect of both counts. I’m sorry if there has been any confusion.”

“There has not been any confusion. I think she is guilty. We all do,” she replies indignantly.

“I don’t,” whispers a small voice on the back row.

“Scroungers, the lot of them,” continues Pink Lady.

“That’s quite enough Madam,” says the Judge. “Please enter the correct verdicts now so I don’t have to hold you in contempt of court; whilst I’m all for a bit of ignorant prejudice, I have better things to do today than sentence you for your little outburst.”

Pink lady turns an unattractive shade of green. For a wonderful second she looks as if she is going to argue with him. She obviously thinks better of it as she simply nods mutely. When the charges are put to her for the third time, she enters the correct ‘not guilty’ verdicts and the jury are discharged. The Judge then turns his attention back to Ms Goodridge.