Grace Eracleous witnessed the English legal system fumbling for justice on a grey afternoon in East London.
It’s 2.10pm, Stratford Magistrates’ Court. The court was due to be in session 10 minutes ago; but the waiting area is still fully occupied – packed with anxiety, impatience and frustration.
There is mumbling and rustling of papers from a phalanx of uniformed police officers, fed up with waiting. A door opens and all heads turn. A respectable gent, wearing a respectable pinstriped suit, pokes his head out of Court 1, and asks: ‘Is there anyone here for the case of Mr X?’
Various individuals stand up. ‘Are any of you his representative?’ Said individuals shake their heads. The respectable gentleman disappears back into Court 1, wearing a confused look.
More than 10 minutes later, a police officer and a male, noticeably not wearing a suit, both enter Court 1. Already standing in the witness box, a female police constable has her hand on the Bible. ‘I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,’ she intones. Meanwhile the unsuited male is directed to stand behind the prosecutor.
The accused, for it is he, wears a discoloured polo t-shirt that is more grey than off-white. He stands out a mile from the smartly dressed cohort of court officials. While a succession of police officers give their evidence, he is frantically writing notes. He is doing this because, in the absence of a lawyer to represent his interests, he is defending himself.
According to police evidence, the following events led to Mr X being charged with assault and assault on a police officer:
As two police officers, one female, one male, walked up the garden path leading to Mr X’s flat they witnessed Mr X push his father into the flat, shouting ‘Dad, just go inside!’
Mr X, his socks and trousers covered in white paint, was blocking the entrance to the communal area. Behind Mr X was a smashed coffee table with broken glass scattered all around it, and a paint pot, only a quarter full, lying in a puddle of its own contents.
Mr X shouted at the police officers: ‘You have no right to be here!’ With hands balled up into tight fists, he mumbled through gritted teeth: ‘Just fuck off out of here!’
Strutting at the officers, Mr X gripped the wrists of the female officer. With his face six inches away, she smelled the alcohol on his breath. ‘I don’t agree with you being here,’ he barked, ‘just fuck off!’ But Mr X’s wrists were punched down by the other officer, forcing him to release his grip. In anger, Mr X shunted the male officer into the doorway.
A police van arrived. Several officers jumped out and wrestled Mr X to the ground. He continued to thrash about until leg restraints were placed upon him, and he was carried into the van.
In court, Mr X’s voice is shaking. His notes are scattered in the wrong order. He continues to pursue lines of inquiry which he thinks help his case. While police officers roll their eyes disparagingly, the judge is struggling to understand why he is asking certain questions. At one point, he asks a police officer: ‘Do you know the difference between a psychotic episode and an alcohol induced episode?’ Not being a clinician, the officer is not qualified to give a clinical answer.
The judge is starting to become irritated with Mr X’s questions. ‘You’re making matters worse for yourself – do not bring up situations that have not been mentioned.’
Holding her hand up in the air, she pauses – she is making a stop sign to show that she has heard enough.
She steps out of the room to look over her notes, then comes back in with her judgement – in less time than it takes to smoke a cigarette.
The judge explains a point of law to Mr X, who nods in agreement. She recapitulates the police evidence and concludes that: ‘your behaviour was appallingly rude… it is absolutely clear that you assaulted a Constable.’
But even as she insists that Mr X assaulted an officer of the law, the judge discharges him with the words, ‘You are not guilty on this account….I’m glad you’ve stopped drinking.’
Court officials gather their papers, the proceedings are at an end. Now that ‘it is absolutely clear’ that he ‘assaulted a Constable’, the defendant is free to go home.
Justice is blind, as the saying goes.
But is it meant to be as muddled as this?