Walden of Bermondsey Read online

  Before I go in through the judges’ entrance, unobserved by what I hope will be a multitude of ravenous paparazzi, I sneak a look around the corner at the front of the court. So far, there is only one TV van, and a couple of people standing around who look as though they might be reporters. The only other sign of unusual activity is a couple of elderly gentlemen carrying a sign which reads: ‘Government Hands off our Pensions’. It’s probably a bit early. I’m sure the crowds will build as the day unfolds.

  ‘Will the defendants please stand,’ Carol, the clerk, begins once court is assembled. The two gentlemen in the dock stand slowly. They look harmless enough, each dressed in a suit and the appropriate tie, blue for one, red for the other. But the prison officers are taking no chances with this one. There are three officers in the dock, one of them stationed between the defendants to maintain a safe distance between them. I have to smile. I’ve seen less security for heavy grievous bodily harm cases bordering on attempted murder. Someone on high obviously thinks it would be a political hot potato if anything kicks off in this case, and has passed the message down the line to the officers on duty. I find myself wondering whether the decision to place red tie on the left and blue tie on the right was conscious or subconscious. Either way, it is a pleasing touch.

  ‘Are you Liam Voss?’

  ‘I am,’ the defendant on the left with the red tie replies. He is in his mid-twenties, and has an angry shock of black hair and dark, brooding eyes. He gives the impression that he might be more at home in a black leather jacket and jeans.

  ‘Are you Richard William Mayfield?’

  ‘I am.’ This time it is the turn of the defendant on the right with the blue tie. Mayfield is in his fifties, with a well-groomed appearance, dark hair turning to grey immaculately combed back, silver cufflinks protruding beneath the sleeves of his jacket. A greater contrast to Voss could hardly be imagined.

  ‘May it please your Honour,’ Roderick Lofthouse begins, ‘I appear to prosecute in this matter. My learned friend Miss Writtle appears for Mr Voss, and my learned friend Mr Blanquette for Mr Mayfield.’

  I am pleased to see all three. I am very glad to have counsel I know. Even if he no longer has quite the same detailed grasp of his cases as he did when younger, Roderick still has a formidable instinct for finding the jugular vein, and even more importantly, with his seniority, he undoubtedly has the gravitas for the big occasion. As for the defence, no casting director in Hollywood could have improved on it. Cathy Writtle is a human attack drone, perfect to represent red-tie Voss in a cut-throat ABH case. Julian Blanquette is the perfect foil for Cathy, dapper and understated, relying on subterfuge and innuendo where Cathy relies on aggression. It should be a good show.

  The public gallery and press seats are filling up nicely now. The seats we call the press seats, by the way, are simply seats in the public gallery. A press presence is something of a rarity at Bermondsey, so we don’t normally make the distinction, and any passing reporter who happens to grace the court has a free choice of seat. But today, Carol has placed a few sheets of paper bearing the legend ‘reserved for press’ on the front row of the public gallery in honour of the occasion.

  ‘Your Honour,’ Roderick continues, ‘my learned friends have indicated that there is a point of law which your Honour should decide before the jury is sworn. It is simply whether there is any basis for the prosecution’s allegation of racial aggravation. Does your Honour have the indictment?’

  I certainly do have the indictment, and I have spent some considerable time meditating on it in my chambers during the past week. Though not intended as such, the indictment is a mantrap waiting to clasp its jaws over a helpless judicial limb and drag an unwary judge into the nightmarish world of the Top Judge. The legal argument the defence want me to decide is the spring which will activate the trap’s fiendish mechanism, and Roderick is about to wind it up.

  ‘Your Honour,’ he begins, ‘the indictment contains two counts, which are identical: except for the fact that in count one Mr Voss is charged as the defendant and Mr Mayfield is alleged to be the victim; whereas in count two, Mr Mayfield is charged and Mr Voss is alleged to be the victim. The Crown’s case is that both defendants were guilty of simultaneous, unprovoked attacks on each other, and are both guilty of assault accordingly. I understand that the defence in the case of each defendant will be one of self-defence. The issue for the jury will be: who was the aggressor and who struck the first blow?

  ‘If I may read the particulars of count one by way of illustration, it is alleged that on or about the ninth day of May of this year: “Liam Voss assaulted Richard William Mayfield, thereby causing him actual bodily harm, and at the time of doing so, or immediately before or after doing so, demonstrated towards Richard William Mayfield hostility based on his membership (or presumed membership) of a racial or religious group, namely the British upper class.”

  ‘Your Honour, the events in question began on the late evening of the eighth of May, which as I am sure your Honour will recall, was polling day. Both defendants were candidates in the general election in the constituency of Clavering West with Baddiefield, which, in case your Honour is not familiar with the area…’

  ‘Not at all, I’m afraid,’ I admit.

  ‘Neither was I, your Honour, until I looked at a map in the course of preparing the case. But it appears that it is a small, mainly rural constituency in Warwickshire, no great distance from Coventry. Because of the small size of the Clavering West constituency, the count did not take long, and the result of the election was announced between twelve-thirty and one o’clock on the morning of the ninth. I should perhaps add that the constituency of Clavering West with Baddiefield has traditionally been a marginal one. The retiring MP, Mr Marcus Stoddie, had held it for the Conservatives at the previous two elections, but with a very small majority. It was widely believed that his successor, the defendant Mr Mayfield, might have difficulty in holding on to it, and that the defendant Mr Voss, the Labour candidate, had a good chance of winning it.

  ‘The events which led to this indictment are shown with admirable clarity on the DVD which we will show to the jury, and it may be convenient if I show it to your Honour now.’

  ‘Ah,’ I say, ‘so it was caught on CCTV?’

  Roderick beams. ‘Oh, no, far better than that, your Honour. It was captured by a visiting camera crew from the BBC, which was filming the announcement of the result for the live coverage of the election on BBC One.’

  This exchange between Roderick and myself, with its insinuation of surprise and revelation is, of course, completely faux. There is no one in Great Britain who has been awake and paying attention for the last few weeks who has not seen this piece of film over and over again. It was an instant hit. The BBC had intended it solely as part of its election coverage, but the drama made it a news item in its own right, and of course, it went viral on the internet within minutes of being broadcast. Since then, it has been replayed endlessly on various TV channels, and has been the butt of jokes on every comedy, quiz, and talk show imaginable. This is one problem we are going to have with the jury panel shortly, when we try to find twelve jurors who can try this case with some pretence of neutrality. It is also the reason why the Midland Circuit got rid of the case to Bermondsey as soon as it decently could. There would be absolutely no chance of jurors within striking distance of Clavering West with Baddiefield doing, or being seen to do, justice to this case.

  It is also the reason why the case has been fast-tracked. Mr Mayfield is anxious to take his seat in the House of Commons, and Mr Voss is anxious to start looking for a new constituency, and both are anxious to know what the future holds. The answer to these questions may be provided by the jury. Someone may have to stay after school if convicted on this indictment, and that would not look so good on future election leaflets.

  Roderick picks up the remote and pushes the button. The large screens around the courtroom
burst into life, as does the far smaller screen I have on my bench. The familiar logo of BBC One news appears, and we hear a male voice pontificating about exit polls. A female voice chimes in from somewhere off camera.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we are getting reports that the Clavering West with Baddiefield constituency in Warwickshire is about to declare, and we are going there live now for the announcement. It is worth reminding you that Clavering West with Baddiefield is something of a bellwether constituency, a highly marginal Tory seat, and we may well learn a great deal about the way things are going when we find out whether or not the Tories’ Richard Mayfield has managed to hold off a strong challenge from Labour’s Liam Voss.’

  The scene shifts from the studio to what looks like a rather run-down church hall. We see two rows of trestle tables, with folding chairs for the vote counters, occupying most of the floor space. Most of the counters seem to be still sitting around the tables. On the stage at the far end of the hall there is a small podium, and the Returning Officer, a short, officious-looking man in a dark grey pin-striped suit, a formal white shirt and a red tie, is taking his place in front of it. The candidates have positioned themselves around him, and one can clearly see the defendants, wearing their appropriately-coloured rosettes, one on either side of the Returning Officer. To Voss’s left there is an earnest looking man who looks to be in his thirties, wearing a brown suit and a Liberal Democrat orange-yellow rosette. To Mayfield’s right is an equally earnest young woman in a long green cotton dress, a whole armful of brightly-coloured bracelets and a huge Navajo silver necklace, whose rosette proclaims her to be the candidate of the Green Party. Behind them are one or two other people whose affiliation I can’t quite place. The Returning Officer has the results in his hand, and is putting on his reading glasses. The hall, which until now has been resounding with nervous chatter, suddenly falls deathly quiet.

  ‘I, Matthew Charles Malone, being the Returning Officer for the Constituency of Clavering West with Baddiefield in this United Kingdom Parliamentary General Election, do hereby give notice that the number of votes recorded for each Candidate in the said election is as follows:

  Marie Cuthbertson, Green Party, 1546

  Derek Hamilton, Liberal Democrat, 781

  Richard William Mayfield, Conservative Party Candidate, 14896

  Liam Voss, Labour Party Candidate, 14444

  Celia Wingate, Monster Raving Loony Party, 42

  Henry Yates, Warwickshire Independence Party, 11

  ‘The number of ballot papers rejected was as follows: want of an official mark, none; voting for more candidates than voter was entitled to, 37; writing or mark by which voter could be identified, 3; being unmarked or wholly void for uncertainty, 72; total 112.

  ‘And I declare that Richard William Mayfield is duly elected as the Member of Parliament for the Clavering West with Baddiefield Constituency’.

  There is an outbreak of reasonably good-natured applause, cheering, and booing from those assembled. Richard Mayfield raises a victorious arm towards the heavens, then turns to shake the hands of the other candidates, all of whom, with the notable exception of Liam Voss, take his hand with as much goodwill as they can muster. Voss remains motionless, his arms folded across his chest. Mr Malone is giving those assembled further information about the size of the eligible electorate and the percentage turn-out in the constituency. The BBC’s female voice-over is to be heard making the rather superfluous observation that the Conservatives have held the seat, albeit with a small majority, and is preparing to hand us back to the pundits in the studio.

  But for whatever reason, her producer has decided that we shall linger in the church hall in Clavering West with Baddiefield long enough to hear the beginning of Richard Mayfield’s victory speech. It proves to be a historic decision, and thankfully there is a transcript to enable us to follow what happens in the subsequent confusion. After thanking his agent and his tireless party workers, Mayfield is gearing up to emphasise that he intends to represent all the electors of Clavering West with Baddiefield, regardless of party affiliation, and to work with his colleagues in government for the good of the country in general and his constituency in particular, when he is rudely interrupted by a loud bellow.

  ‘This must be stopped. There has been a fraud. I demand a recount!’

  The interruption emanates from Liam Voss. There is no doubt about that. At first, Mayfield ignores him and proceeds to describe some of the many improvements in their lives the voters may expect as a result of his election. But Voss is not to be silenced. The following is recorded in the transcript.

  Voss: ‘This is ridiculous. There has been a fraud. Recount, recount, recount!’

  Mayfield: ‘Oh, for goodness sake, shut up! The voters don’t want you; they have made it clear that they want me. Just let it go. They don’t want sour grapes. They’ve heard enough of you during the past few weeks as it is.’

  Voss: ‘It’s not sour grapes. There has been a fraud. It’s obvious. I mean, how could they prefer a prat like you, for God’s sake? The numbers are too close to call. I demand a recount!’

  Mayfield: ‘You were offered a recount. It’s too late now. The result has been declared.’

  Malone: ‘That’s correct, Mr Voss. You were offered a recount and your agent turned it down. I’m afraid it’s too late to change anything now. In any case, I supervised the count personally, and I can assure you that there is no question of any error.’

  Voss: ‘My agent is an idiot. There is no way the voters preferred this toffee-nosed git to me. I have evidence of a fraud. I demand a thorough investigation.’

  Malone: ‘Now, just a minute…’

  Mayfield: ‘What did you call me, Voss?’

  Voss: ‘I called you a toffee-nosed git. What are you going to do about it?’

  Malone: ‘Gentlemen, please. I must ask you to remember where you are…’

  Mayfield: ‘How dare you talk to me like that. I will thank you to remember that I am now your Member of Parliament.’

  Voss: ‘You toffee-nosed, upper class git!’

  Mayfield: ‘You moronic, working class lout!’

  The only contribution the transcript can make after this point, until the scene ends with the swift arrival of the police, is that there was ‘general confusion, with various blows being exchanged’ – a description which is accurate as far as it goes, but not particularly helpful to anyone trying to reconstruct the events in an orderly sequence. What is plain to see is that Voss and Mayfield lunge at each other at virtually the same moment. Both punches seem to connect. They spring at each other and lock arms, and before you know it they have wrestled each other to the ground, and have rolled together off the stage on to the floor of the hall some three feet below, where they land with a jarring thud. Even then, they continue wrestling, trading blows and insults. Various supporters wade in at this point, and you have to think that a wholesale riot is about to ensue. But mercifully, the supporters behave rather more sensibly than their candidates, doing their best to prise them apart, while Malone helplessly calls for order from the podium. Not long after that, the police arrive and the footage ends.

  The result of the fracas, as I know from the file, is that the newly elected Member of Parliament for Clavering West with Baddiefield is carted off to the local A and E, where he is treated for numerous cuts and bruises and a fractured right wrist. His unsuccessful challenger is treated at the same facility, albeit at a safe distance, for numerous cuts and bruises and two broken ribs. We are now definitely in ABH territory. In law, actual bodily harm means any bodily injury, however slight. On being released from hospital in the early hours of the following morning with analgesics and head injury advice, both are bailed to attend the police station a few days later for interview.

  Needless to say, the whole scene has its funny side, and during the many showings it has had, it has spawned a new genre o
f ‘Clavering West jokes’, such as: the count featured a big swing towards Labour, followed immediately by a big swing towards the Tories. Those of us who are called on to deal with the legal aftermath of the Clavering West count must ignore such trivia and concentrate on the cold, hard facts, which of course we will make every effort to do.

  ‘I am not sure I can add very much to that,’ Roderick says, pausing the DVD. ‘It may be best if I defer to my learned friends for the defence at this point, and your Honour can hear me in reply after hearing from them.’

  Cathy Writtle has been elected to present the point of law on behalf of the defence.

  ‘Your Honour, this is a joint submission on behalf of both defendants. My learned friend Mr Blanquette is content for me to begin,’ she says. ‘He will add anything he considers necessary on behalf of his client after I have addressed your Honour on behalf of Mr Voss.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Writtle,’ I reply. I have a feeling that this is the only thing in the case about which the two defendants will have any measure of agreement at all.

  ‘Your Honour, the prosecution say it is a racial or religious aggravation for Mr Voss to call Mr Mayfield an “upper class git”; and for Mr Mayfield to call Mr Voss a “working class lout”. It is our submission that a British class, whether upper, middle, or working, does not constitute a racial or religious group. The prosecution must amend the indictment to delete the element of racial or religious aggravation, and proceed on the basis of simple ABH without any aggravation.’

  She looks towards Roderick.

  ‘For clarification, may we take it that the Crown say this is a case of racial rather than religious aggravation? I assume that not even the CPS contends that the British upper class is a branch of the Church of England.’

  Roderick rises slowly to his feet with a smile.