Judge Not, Lest Ye be Judged

Crown Court Judges and Juries........

As I said in my last post about courts, young inexperienced police officers all dread the first time they give evidence at Court.  At Magistrates Court it is not too bad as the Magistrate, in most large cities is a Stipendiary – or should I say a ‘Professional’ who try to help new officers.   Where there are Benches – trained voluntary magistrates, who can be difficult unless there is a good clerk of the court to assist.

When I started my police service in 1966 we had to prosecute all minor offences - low value thefts, assaults and motoring offences - at Magistrates Court on our own without a solicitor.   The defendant was often represented and unless our case was complicated or controversial, Legal Aid would not be provided by the police legal department.

As I say the first few occasions were nerve-racking and personally I could never sleep the night before the case was being heard.   The Magistrates were quite famous in their own little way among police and criminals alike.  Others were characters and the stories about some are legend.

More serious cases had to be heard at Crown Court and with minor offences, if the Magistrate did not think that he/she had sufficient powers in sentencing (their maximum was 6 months), the prisoner could be sent to Crown Court for an enhanced sentence.

All Crown Court prosecutions had to be conducted by Lawyers both for the Prosecution and the Defence.   It was a little less frightening in some ways but the power of the Judges was scary.   They used to dish out fines for the simplest of cases of disrespect in court.   I have seen on one occasion a female jury member, who on a very warm summer’s day, fell asleep.   As soon as the Judge noticed her, he looked at his watch and signalled with his raised hand for everyone to remain silent.    She woke up started after about ten seconds...................

“Madam” the Judge bellowed “you have been asleep for ten seconds; you will pay a fine of twenty pounds for contempt”.    Twenty pounds in those days was a good week’s wages.

As soon as the Judge left the court, police officers, jurors and barristers used to light up cigarettes, pipes or cigars.   Strange looking back but everyone smoked in those days.   Anyway, as the Judge left the court, an old Detective Sergeant lit up.   The Judge who was not quite out his door, turned on his heel and bellowed “And you Sergeant are fined ten pounds for contempt”.   

Some of those old Judges were hard men.    Incidentally the above photo of a Judge is not the one I will refer to in a moment.

Judge McLean was a highly respected Judge who sat at the Inner London Crown Court just south of London Bridge.   He used to give lectures at the Police Training College and his advice was always well worth bearing in mind when in his court.   He hated having his time wasted either by the police, barristers or the criminals.   He would not hesitate to double the sentence of someone whom he thought was pleading Not Guilty when the evidence was overwhelming.   It was said that if a police officer ever upset him,the officer would have to transfer to a distance station or other force area well out of Mr. McLean’s jurisdiction.

And so it came to be that yours truly was due to give evidence before a Jury and His Honour, Judge Ozzie McLean..................It was about 1968.

There is an old police expression about being nervous that says ‘I was crapping bricks’ but in my case it was ‘boulders’...............I was as nervous at hell.    I had arrested two young men on night duty who had stolen a radio from a car.   When searched at the police station a large desert spoon was found in one of their pockets.    The Night Duty detectives had them charged with Theft of the radio and Going equipped to steal with the spoon.   I was in no position to argue with them.

At Magistrates Court, as was their right, they elected trial by jury and a few weeks later they were committed for trial.    I awaited the court warning which came about three months later.

Even to this day after over 50 years in London, people tell me that I still have a very strong Irish brogue and in those days I spoke very softly.   

When taking the oath, Old Ozzie spoke loudly at me “Speak up, officer, speak up”.   I almost fainted but raised my voice.    He appeared to recognise the accent as Irish and immediately waved his hand at me.   He actually apologised to me and said “You have a wonderful sweet accent officer, try to keep it loud enough for us all to enjoy it”.   He smiled like a Cheshire Cat.

I looked for help towards the Detective Sergeant who was sitting behind the Prosecution Barrister and he gave me the thumbs up.   That relaxed me.    I gave my evidence about chasing the two prisoners and catching them with the radio, my return to the car and seeing the wires removed.   I then came to the searching at the station.....................

I produced the stainless steel spoon and held it aloft.   I said “I found this in the inside coat pocket of the prisoner Smith”.   Before I could go any further, Ozzie asked me “But it is just a spoon officer, how is that going equipped to steal?”   I had been briefed on that point a little so I waved the spoon about and said “Sir, it is used to open the window of the car”.   “And how is that done officer?”   Ozzie asked with a big grin on his face.   I very nearly answered ‘Sir I haven’t the faintest idea’ but knew before I said anything that I better just wave the spoon around a bit more.

“No, no, no Officer” Ozzie continued “I mean a practical demonstration”.   As I began to wave the spoon around even more violently, he continued “In the car-park officer, a practical demonstration if you will”.    For probably the third time in the Witness Box, I almost fainted.   In truth, I did not have the faintest idea how the spoon worked and regretted that I had not said so earlier.

Anyway, out we all traipse into the court car-park.  Judge, Jury, Gaolers with the prisoners, Barristers, Court clerk and friends and family of the prisoners from the public gallery.   I made a bee-line to the Detective Sergeant and pleaded “What the bloody hell do I do Serge?”   He actually laughed the so-and-so........he had the cheek to laugh, then said “First make sure that the spoon does not have Metropolitan Police Canteen on it, then bend it, stick it into the quarter light of the oldest car you can see in the car-park, twiddle it around a bit and the window opens.   You put in your hand and wind down the large window.  Ok?” 

  

With that Old Ozzie called out to me “Officer, you are still under Oath, let us get on with it”.  I had chosen an old Morris Minor and for those who do not know or remember, the driver’s and front passenger’s windows had windows as cars of today have.  They also had what was called a Quarter-light, a small window that could be opened separately with a stud and clip that locked it.

Oddly enough, I knew that if I could not do it, I could always faint, get a long recess and practice the art of stealing from a car at my leisure but thought twice about that one......

Instead, I grabbed the bull by the horns and loudly said, and I remember the words exactly, “You take the spoon thus; you bend it thus; (which I did); you place it between the rubber of the quarter light thus; and twist it thus”.   

Mother of God, the blinking window popped open and Ozzie began to clap.   The two prisoners stood with their eyes in one case looking at the ground whilst the other’s looked up to heaven.

All Old Ozzie said was “Well done officer, splendid demonstration which leaves no doubt as to its use.   You” he pointed to the Defence Barrister, “I will see you in my chambers”.    A few minutes later back in court, Ozzie came out and asked that the indictments be once again put to the prisoners, they both immediately changed their pleas to Guilty.    A deal had obviously been done and he gave them six months imprisonment each.

I left that courtroom walking on air and to cap it all, the Detective Sergeant even reported my ‘excellent’ evidence to the Guvnor back at the nick...............

I gave evidence before Judge McLean several times subsequently and he would always give me a knowing nod.   He once said to me – and very politely I might add – “Officer, you have a lovely Irish accent for chatting up the ladies, but in my court we would like you to speak just a little bit louder”................

Old Ozzie always was, and in my memory still remains, a thorough gentleman to me, whilst he was still referred to as an ‘Old Basket’ by the majority of other officers..................

If we still had Judges and Magistrates like the two I have referred to in this and the previous post, there would be, and I fully guarantee it, less crime than at present.....

------Mike-----