Why legal aid reforms must be stopped, Exhibit A: the "child pornographer"

Innocent people could be in jail if proposed changes to the legal system are implemented. Here is one of them.

This blog seeks to expose some of the myths about our present criminal justice system, myths that have risen to prominence again following publication of the Ministry of Justice (MOJ) consultation paper Transforming legal aid. Myths that have been fed to the media, and the public, by the MOJ.

First, I covered the myth of  the “fat cat” lawyer. Then I went onto the myth of the “scumbag criminals” and I promised to tell you about a few of my husband’s clients. Not the proper scumbag criminals that you read about in the press, but the ones whose stories don’t often get told. The ones who are victims of police and Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) blunders and this finger pointing, blame gaming society that we now live in. These are the people who, under the proposed changes to our criminal justice system, would probably be advised to plead guilty and end up with a criminal record and possibly serving time.

NB this is a true story. Certain details that don’t relate to the factual and legal process have been changed to protect those who were involved.

In the beginning

Exhibit A was a retired man, in his early 70s. Married for over 40 years. Never been in trouble with the police in his life. He’d kept up with technological developments was something of a “silver surfer”. He had a laptop and enjoyed using the internet for pursuing his hobbies and keeping in touch with his family and friends.

One day his laptop wasn’t functioning as it should do. He took it to his local computer repair shop. The geeks there went to work. In the course of their work they found a number of images of naked children. As all law abiding, paedophile paranoid citizens would do, they called the police. Let’s face it, who isn’t paranoid these days, when we read so much about paedophiles on every street corner? The police came and had a look at the images. They took the laptop away and made written descriptions of the content of each of the images.  Exhibit A, a bewildered old man, was arrested and taken away for questioning.

Interviewed & charged

The interview transcript shows that the police kept saying to him “you’ve got child porn on your laptop” and he kept saying “no, I haven’t!”.  “You’ve got pictures of naked children, posing provocatively with each other” “no, I haven’t, I don’t know what you are talking about”.  The written descriptions of the images were passed to the CPS. On the basis of these written descriptions, Exhibit A was charged with possession of level 1 child pornography. Level 1 is the lowest level, it does not involve sexual activity but must involve provocative and sexual poses. Because he had never been in trouble in his life and wasn’t thought to be dangerous he was bailed on condition that he wasn’t alone with any children. He went home.

Exhibit A knew he was innocent. But he also knew that, despite what they say, most people believe people are “guilty until proven innocent”, particularly in this age of paedophile paranoia and hysteria. He didn’t want his friends and neighbours to find out and ostracise him, or worse. Because he couldn’t see his beloved grandchildren alone he made up a lot of cock and bull stories over the next few months, to avoid having to tell people what has going on.

A provocative bucket

One evening, a few months later, I was at home with my husband. He was quietly working at the kitchen table, surrounded by piles of paper. I was pottering. The radio was on in the background. I didn’t know what he was working on, often he doesn’t tell me until or unless it starts kicking off.

Suddenly, he shouted “a bucket! What is “provocative” about a f*&$ing bucket?”. I didn’t know either and asked him to explain. It turned out that he was working on yet another child pornography case, that of Exhibit A. He was reading from the police description of one the pictures, the descriptions that had been passed to the CPS, the descriptions on which the CPS had made the decision to charge. The pictures themselves weren’t in the file. The descriptions were certainly sinister, but the bucket was incongruous. Something wasn’t quite right. My husband said “I need to see these pictures”. He emailed the solicitor and asked him to request access to them. Over the next few weeks the request was repeated. My husband became angrier as time passed.

His day in court

The day of the trial came round. As is customary, my husband linked up with his opposite number, the in house CPS barrister. The prosecutor asked if Exhibit A was going to change his plea to “guilty”. “Not till I’ve seen the pictures!” said my husband.  Eventually the police produced the pictures and the two barristers went off to have a look at them. Until this point the CPS barrister hadn’t seen them either. The two barristers looked at each other. They didn’t need to say a word.

My husband went to find his client. He gave a reasonable, measured, description of the photos, omitting the sinister overtones that the police had given them. The pictures were of young children in a garden on a hot summer’s day, playing with water pistols, hoses, buckets, paddling pools, balls etc. It looked like they are having a whale of a time, running about, splashing, laughing, smiling and shrieking. The children are all naked. He asked Exhibit A if he knew anything about them. “Oh yes” he replied “they are my grandchildren!”. The police written description was so far away from reality that Exhibit A had not been able to recognise his own photos. It transpired that the grandchildren had all come over to visit him and his wife one day. It had turned out very hot and the children had all ended up playing with water outside. As we all know, you can’t predict the British weather so they’d not brought their swimmers. That was why they were naked.

In court the Crown offered no evidence. The case was closed. Exhibit A went home a free man.

Why this story should matter to you

  1. Finger pointing – Exhibit A’s nightmare began because someone pointed the finger. This happens ALL THE TIME these days. We could all fall victim to it. For anything. From child pornography to giving someone a bop on the nose.
  2. Police & CPS inadequacies – these don’t have to be deliberate. We can all be a bit overzealous, or have a bad day, forget to double check something, suffer a lapse in judgement etc. and often it won’t have serious consequences. In Exhibit A’s case these factors combined to mean that all that stood between him and a prison cell was his lawyer.
  3. Cost to the public purse – much has been made of the MOJ plans to save £200m from the legal aid budget, never mind that these calculations are based on out of date figures and fundamentally flawed. How much do you think that Exhibit A’s case cost the taxpayer? Not just in legal aid, but in police time, CPS time, court time. Multiply that by the number of spurious and nonsensical prosecutions that happen every year.
  4. Other costs – what about the costs that can’t be measured? The costs to Exhibit A’s emotional and physical health. The costs to his family relationships.
  5. What if this happened to you? Or to your grandson, son, brother, father, uncle, grandfather? Would you want them to be able to choose the lawyer who is going to give the best quality service and act in his best interests? Or, as per the MOJ plans, be allocated the services of a lawyer who just happened to be the cheapest?

Help save our justice system

As things stand the proposed changes to the criminal justice system are going to be brought in under secondary legislation, without any debate. The minister responsible has refused to meet with Michael Turner QC, Chairman of the Criminal Bar Association to discuss the proposals. The media appear to be keeping the story very quiet, or conflating it with other MOJ proposals.

The Save UK Justice e-petition needs 100 000 people to sign it in order for there to be a debate in parliament. If you have not already signed the petition please do so, and ask your friends and family to do the same.

This piece is part of a series of posts exhibiting people at risk due to legal aid changes. It is cross-posted with permission from the A Barrister's Wife blog.

Photograph: Getty Images

Barrister's Wife is a barrister's wife. She writes a pseudonymous blog which offers a behind closed doors view of the justice system.

Getty
Show Hide image

Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

0800 7318496