I
was in court all day clerking a multi-track civil trial. In those
days it meant that the amount of money involved was over fifteen
thousand pounds, witnesses would be involved and that the trial would last for
at least a day, probably spreading out over more days. The Circuit Judge
would be dressed in full regalia and the barristers for the claimant
and defendant would also be dressed in appropriate legal robes. Wigs would
definitely be worn and trial bundles distributed between the parties and the Court many weeks before the trial
started.
I
sat in my place of honour before the Judge facing out over the
congregants and stood and bowed to him as he entered. After Amelia shouted in her loudest
voice All
Rise I called on the Trial in my poshest voice by stating
the name of the claimant versus the name of the defendant. Sitting down at at my desk I faced the hall looking serious and stern; making sure that they could see I was an important official of the
trial; I even had my smart black trouser suit on. The tapes whirred round as I made some
scribblings in my court ledger of who the litigants and
representatives were, and the tape numbers and numbers on the tape
counter that correlated with when the various people started speaking.
It was all very technical and hallowed.
I
then wanted to look even more serious with substance so I put on
the the head phones, nodded knowingly at the tape counter and sound
indicators, and made little adjustments with the switches while
looking at the Judge speaking and the barristers answering as though
I was an experienced sound technician. Really, I didn't know what I
was doing and hoped that the tape would have recorded the speech
clearly despite my interference and twiddling. Wanting to keep up the pretence of looking considerably high level I kept repeating the head phone and knob
fiddling routine at regular intervals.
I
listened closely to the legal arguments and then the first witness
was called. It was a very complicated case involving accountancy
jargon and economic procedure, who owed what amount of money to who, and did they really
owe it, had they already paid it in a different way, was it really
owed to the tax man. Why had it disappeared? In the end I didn't have a clue what was
going on; it all went right over my head. This was not surprising
really, I was not legally trained and I am certainly not an
accountant, but the Judge and the barristers seemed to know what they
were talking about.
It dragged on and on. During
the afternoon session the Judge called for half an hour's recess
around three o'clock. Great, a tea break. The congregation all
stormed out of the back door for a brew and a pee. The Judge, Amelia
and myself left through the door behind his throne and entered the
back corridor reserved for the Judiciary. The Judge threw open the
window in the corridor opening onto the park behind and produced a
packet of cigarettes, handed one to Amelia and to me. She took hers
and I refused mine. Then he got out a silver cigarette lighter and
lit both the cigarettes. He and Amelia hung half out out of the
open window puffing away merrily. We watched the smoke curl away
into the blue sky.
Nicotine fix taken, they retracted their heads into the corridor. He looked at us both, and began to
chat.
“Well
I haven't got a fucking clue as to what is going on” he revealed
with a laugh. “I am in a fog as to this one. I've got no idea as to what is going on. Have you got any suggestions Amelia?”
“No
Judge” she replied. “It seems like one big mess,” laughing and shaking her
head as she said it.
“What
about you Sarah? Have you got any insights?”
“No”
I replied, “I haven't got a clue. I don't even understand what is going on.”
“Me too!” he said as he gave out a big belly
laugh. “And I have to give a judgment on it. Shall we go back in for the second round?” He opened the court room door for us. And we all
trundled back into the court room.
