They Do It Differently Up There

Well, honestly. I never realised how different even the physical court layout would be to the English system - nor did I realise till too late that the Sheriff is not quite equivalent to a District Judge, but is altogether more senior and so should be addressed as 'My Lord'. So no wonder then that calling him 'Sir' was getting me fish-eyed glares from him...thank goodness Sheriff Fraser is long since retired, because I can't imagine he'd have let me off with it.

I knew the legal system was different. Very different. The policeman kept going on about Mooroff (sp?) evidence and the common law and what-not. I think this seems to be something to with corroborative evidence. Several of us were telling the same or very similar stories so there must be something in it, basically.

I got a lift through to D------- with another witness and his wife, who was there for moral support. Had a couple of sneaky fags on the way. Me, nervous, about going to court? Damn bloody right, I was shitting bricks, for want of a better phrase. It's one thing getting up on your hind feet and putting on a performance to convince a bench or DJ to side with you. Quite a different thing to be giving evidence in a criminal case against a man you've known since you were 6 and who you once counted a friend. Especially when you've just found out that that man is suspected of paedophile offences against a number of young men and boys, including a relative of mine. A man who threatened your brother, mentioned getting a shotgun and shooting those who deserved it and by the way, I think I'll just pop into the nursing home and see your old man...and someone asked me if I thought the experience had made me a better lawyer and I could empathise with my clients more closely. I couldn't do this job if I was unable to empathise with my clients already, but apparently we lawyers are nerveless creatures untouched by human emotion. Except avarice, presumably!

The charge I was giving evidence in respect of seemed to be one of threatening behaviour, though I'm not sure as no charge was read out in front of me, nor was I told at any stage. I waited in the witness room across from the court room along with the other witnesses. Shortly after 10 am the Procurator Fiscal (the prosecuting lawyer) came in and had a chat with us. The accused pleaded guilty to a couple of the charges, so two of the witnesses were told they could leave and scuttled off sharpish before he could change his mind. About a quarter to eleven, JU was called to give her evidence, and PG and I had a nervy wait till about 11.30 when he was called in.

My turn came shortly before midday. We'd been kept company throughout by the officer in the case, PC CM. I only knew his first name as we're rather informal in the village. It's a small place so they live and socialise amongst the people they serve (and occasionally arrest) so it pays for us all to get along, I suppose. They've always been right with me and mine, although my brother has had a couple of speeding tickets, and indeed used to associate with the accused a few years ago and was interviewed about some of the offences the accused had committed in the past. No charges were ever preferred against my brother, who may be daft but isn't stupid. Anyway, C cracked numerous jokes and told outrageous stories about cases he'd worked on in the past.

The usher came for me as I said, shortly before midday. I followed her into the courtroom and laid my coat and book down on a chair behind the witness box. The box was raised up and to the left of the Sheriff and to the side of him. The PF had his back to me and the defence lawyer was facing me, one either side of a big rectangular table made out of heavy wood. The PF walked round to the opposite side to face me and began asking me his questions. My name. My care of address (Bradford Central police station!). My profession (the Sheriff raised an eyebrow at that one). Then he asked me if I remembered the events of April 29, to which I said yes. Before I had to give him any details he asked me if I could see the accused in the courtroom, to which I replied yes, he's sitting in the dock. Could I point him out? Well. Nice. I had to look across to where DR was sitting and point him out. I didn't look at his face. I couldn't bring myself to.

The questions from the PF were not so bad. Just taking me back through what had happened, in what sequence, what was said and by whom. I felt a bit lame at the end when he asked me how our conversation had ended because I'd said to C I wasn't really sure how to describe it and he'd put down 'friendly chat'. But that was the weird part of it, as I explained, DR had been so matter of act and ordinary even when what he was saying was totally outrageous and nonsensical.

The defence lawyer attempted to take me apart and largely I think failed. I can't really go into some of it because it relates to other people close to me and I don't wish to go there. I got in the classic line 'You don't antagonise a rabid dog, do you? I wanted to keep him sweet because I was frightened by what he was saying and wanted to get away in one piece'.

The upshot of the morning was that because H, my sister in law, was unable to attend that day to give evidence, they decided they needed to hear from her on a later date and so she had to go back on June 14 to give her evidence, as did C. DR was found guilty of the charges relating to mine and H's evidence and JU's evidence, but not of PG's. Sentence deferred for reports to June 30th, so another update on Friday!

Part of DR's defence was that the sisters in law (me and H) had made up a story because DR had said he'd had an affair with my brother! H nearly died laughing in the witness box and replied 'I don't think so!!!' in very stern tones. *lol* It was an interesting experience all round, but not one I think I would want to repeat any time soon at all. If ever.