Original date of post: November 1, 2013. Slight edits have been made since for consistency/grammar reasons.
Homework? What homework? Today, it was time for another excursion! This time, it was a somewhat familiar scene: the Central Criminal Court aka the Old Bailey! I had visited this famous courthouse before (which is where my photo at the bottom of this post comes from), but this time, I actually went inside and watched some courtroom proceedings, complete with horsehair wigs and black robes worn by the barristers!
Security at the Old Bailey was tight (cell phones and electronics of any kind are not allowed, which is why I couldn’t take any pictures, along with the fact that recording trials is prohibited), but the bailiffs were really friendly and pointed me towards the only viewable trial for the day. The court was much older than the previous courts I have visited, but it had the same aura of seriousness and severity as all courts do. On a slightly nerdy note, the public waiting lobbies and staircases reminded me a bit of the TV show Rumpole of the Bailey, which I had watched a little bit of before coming out here to England (and which provided inspiration for this post’s title).
The proceeding I watched was interesting enough once I sorted through some of the jargon and realized what was going on. When escorting me in, the bailiff had mentioned that it was a pretrial hearing for a fraud case. While it was definitely a pretrial hearing, I realized after about twenty minutes that it certainly involved no fraud.
It was a murder case, and though it wasn’t made explicitly clear, it seemed that the defendant was charged with murdering his wife.
The hearing itself was a suppression hearing regarding controversial evidence submitted by the prosecution: a transcript of a conversation between the defendant and his therapist where the defendant admitted to having nightmares about his wife sleeping with other men. The prosecuting barrister claimed that this was vital evidence, as it established the defendant as a paranoid, controlling man who reacted violently when his wife tried to free herself from his influence. The defending barrister (who referred to the prosecutor as “my learned friend,” continuing the Rumpole of the Bailey parallels for me) challenged this evidence on the grounds that the defendant’s consent in allowing his therapist’s records to be used was shaky at best, while the judge felt that nightmares can’t be considered evidence of a solid motive for the jury (this prompted a two-minute debate between prosecutor and judge about the meaning of the word “nightmare”). At the end of the hearing, the judge decided that he would spend the weekend deciding the legitimacy of the transcript as evidence and would come to a conclusion by Monday. The whole experience reminded me of my time as a legal file clerk, but was much more serious than any case I had seen so far.
After the hearing was over, I got lunch outside and tried to return to the galleries. However, it turns out that on Fridays, most cases at the Old Bailey are deliberated on by juries, meaning that there were no more cases for the public to view for the day. Still, I walked away satisfied. How many people can say that they’ve watched a pretrial hearing for a murder case at one of the most famous courthouses in the world?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my chocolate level is dangerously low.
Modern reflections:
It's odd looking back at a time when going to court was an exciting time for me, given that I basically go to court every day as part of my job. Still, the Old Bailey remains one of the more memorable stops on my Criminal Justice Pilgrimage.
Wigs and polite phrases aside, the proceedings I saw back then are somewhat similar to the proceedings I regularly go through in my current day job. I have yet to handle a homicide case, though. I also will likely never litigate a case there, though I have done so in the video game Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. Still, I try to be (something of) a modern-day Rumpole as I defend the guilty and innocent alike.
One amusing detail that sticks with me is that the bailiffs mentioned that there is a subculture of "Old Bailey groupies" that regularly sit in on trial. This explains how they were so polite and efficient when a nerdy American wandered in as part of his weird tourism hobby. Given how famous that courthouse is (having appeared in countless TV shows and been blown up in the graphic novel/movie V for Vendetta), I imagine I'm not the weirdest tourist they've dealt with.
I must emphasize that this journey was a bit of a challenge, as I couldn't bring my phone with me (they allow guests to keep wallets in a miniature locker, but not electronics). This means I had to take several Tube rides without any phone on me at all, where I felt practically naked. Going to the Old Bailey was enjoyable, but it's something you definitely need to plan carefully.
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