Baby-faced Al Capone

Ha! The morning on the third floor of the Intermediate Courts is like fresh air to me. It is home to the criminal courts and to low-class villains. They are here waiting in the narrow and dimly lit corridors. I enjoy as a pupil to scrutinise their faces and try to guess what offences they have been charged with.  I can almost smell the adrenaline in the air. The police officers are also here. Some in formal dresses and others in mufti. They all look alike to the trained eyes. Those police officers in mufti usually wear the suits they got married in. At this juncture, they would usually be friendly with accused parties but aloof with defence Counsels waiting to corner them. Their priority is to have their court attendance form signed by the usher so that they can claim their meal allowance. My Pupil Master has an IFP (in forma pauperis) case this morning. That is he has been chosen by the court to represent an Accused who applied for legal aid. My Pupil Master is often chosen for IFP cases… he pretends he does not know why. I suspect it is because of the expediency with which he deals with the IFP cases. Our client, a young offender who just turned 18, is accused of larceny by scaling. His boyish appearance makes him look outlandish in this courtroom. He should be out there playing truant instead, like we used to do in the good old days. My Pupil Master has this morning advised the baby-faced Al Capone to plead guilty to the charge. He will then do a plea in mitigation (pleading the mercy of the Court). According to him, the most precious advice he can give me (whilst adopting Polonius’ tone) is that if I want to be in the good books of the magistrates, I should never challenge a police officer in the witness box since the court always believes police officers! I prefer the advice of Roger, the oldest clerk in Chambers with whom I enjoy chatting after office hours when all the Barristers are gone, who once told me: “It does not matter whether you are an old soldier or a young soldier. What matters most is for you to be a good soldier young Padawan.” My Learned Pupil Master is today in front of His Honour Mr Kisstout. Mr Kisstout joined the bench (Judiciary) quite late after a career as a civil servant. Used to come at the office at 9:05 and by 4 pm, he was down the lift with his suitcase and lunch bag. Some things never change. After morning briefing with the Police Prosecutor, he will walk into the Court at 9:30 sharp. Mr Kisstout is usually very accommodating towards female Barristers and would smile at them as soon as they pass the threshold of the Court. He would also allow senior members of the Bar extra latitude and liberty to talk aloud and laugh in Court but he would jump on the neck of the junior Bar for a triviality. The Bar is also composed of “senior-juniors” and “junior-seniors” in my… huh… humble opinion. My Pupil Master belongs to a sui generis class: those who are “senior-junior-junior” Barristers! Put plainly he is senior only in age! And although his baldness (not to be confused with BOLDNESS), grey beard, fading and battered gown gives the wrong impression that he has been through many battles, the old sweetheart is not on the pleasantry list of His Honour Mr Kisstout. Devilling (that’s the old term for pupillage) my Pupil Master is enlightening in many ways since the old sweetheart has no talent for crime. However, he is an expert in asking for the clemency of the Court. So here we are in front of Mr Kisstout begging for clemency. My Pupil Master stands up and reads his notes laboriously: “Your Honour my client re-grets his act… action and apo-lo-gi-zes to the court,” before sitting down. His Honour Mr Kisstout intervenes and tells the client to expect a prison sentence since he has a duty to protect society. It is then that as always I fall into my imaginary exchange with the Bench since this is all I can do:

• “Your Honour if anything it is my young client who needs to be protected against society,” I boldly say.
• “Do you want to rephrase your submission Counsel?” says Mr Kisstout between clenched teeth.
• “No thank you Your Honour. Does society ever stop and think about the fate of young offenders? Where was society when my young client failed his CPE and had to work?
• Counsel…this Court has been very patient!” I answer back before adding: “Will society be free of all its perversities when my young client is sent to prison Your honour? Does society ever stop and think about the causes of crime?”
• “COUNSEL!!!!! It is the duty of this court to send a strong signal to other potential offenders!!” Mr Kisstout fires back.
• “Is my young client is paying for other potential offenders Your Honour?” I thoughtfully reply.
• “I am sentencing the Accused to 12 months imprisonment,” says His Honour Mr Kisstout who is now getting ready to leave as he does not want to hear any more of what he terms an “impertinent plea in mitigation.”
• “SOCIETY NEVER GETS LOCKED UP!!!!!” I rant. But Mr Kisstout has already left. So I utter my submission in an empty Court as the usher and clerk are packing up while ignoring me:

Go Soul, the body’s guest Upon a thankless errant Fear not to touch the best The truth shall be thy warrant Say to the Court it glows and shine like rotten wood… It shows what’s good and does no good If (they) reply Then give them the lie Tell Potentates they live Acting by others’ action Not loved until they give Not strong but by a faction If Potentates reply give them the lie Tell men of high condition That manage the estate Their purpose is ambition Their practice only hate And if they reply give them all the lie Tell physic of her boldness Tell skill of her pretention Tell charity of coldness Tell law it is contention And if they reply give them the lie Tell fortune of her blindness Tell nature of her decay Tell friendship of unkindness Tell justice of delay And if they reply give them all the lie. “Tell me how I was,” asks my Pupil Master once we are out of the Court. “I thought you were just great,” I rep(lie) thinking of our client being carried away to the University of Crime to perfect his skills. Relieved however that there exists no such judges and barristers in this jurisdiction, I head back to Chambers to help my Pupil Master draft his letter to claim his allowance for his hardly won legal aid fees.