Inside a London Magistrates’ Court, on a windy November morning, the court heard the case of a homeless man.
The judge enters the courtroom; there is still no sign of the defendant.
“Can I go to the gents?”
The defence lawyer seems to blurt out before the judge can address the absence. There is an air of disbelief and annoyance coming from the judge, who allows him to go.
The defence lawyer hurriedly leaves. The courtroom falls silent for 5 minutes until the return of the defence. Upon his return, he explains that the defendant is homeless and has no address or contact information registered. The prosecutor fidgets with his papers, shaking his head slightly as he does so.
It is agreed that the trial continue in his absence. Before any details of the case are discussed, a police officer is called in as a witness. He enters and it is obvious that he is well versed in how the process works in a courtroom.
The police officer goes on to lay out the facts; the defendant was picked up by police after a call about a disturbance at the hospital. The defendant was continuously spitting on himself. This continued all the way to the station. It is continuously mentioned in a condescending way that there was a language barrier, and they could not communicate with the defendant. On arrival to the station, the defendant was being escorted to the custody desk.
“I was walking him up the ramp and he deliberately turned his head and spat directly on to my leg. It is rather dehumanising to be spat on.”
The police officer never once refers to the defendant by name in his testimony. The prosecution begins questioning. The prosecutor asks two short questions, and then it is the defence lawyer’s turn. Immediately, a rather rude and heated back and forth begins between the defence lawyer and the officer, neither one listening to each other.
“If you would just let me explain for more than a second then you’ll understand what he did”
The police officer finally snaps. Nobody is thinking of the defendant anymore.
The officer is then dismissed, and the judge begins her final statement.
“It may be difficult to sentence the defendant if nobody can find him and he has no address. So I will give my judgement for the event that he’s ever found”
The room all begin to smirk and chuckle slightly after this remark, finding some amusement in the dismissiveness of the judge’s tone. The judge continues to speak with a slight smirk, the prosecutor looks over at the clerk with a similar expression.
The judge gives her judgement, a warrant out for his arrest with no possibility for bail. The defence tries to advise a less harsh sentence but is immediately shut down, as if any leniency would be completely unreasonable.
The next case is called. The defendant walks in; a middle-aged white man, dressed in a full suit and tie, holding a stack of papers. He is greeted by the court in a kind manner and called up to the stand.
He explains that he is from Nottingham and has had his identity forged on multiple car insurance policies. He was called to court because he allegedly didn’t receive the letter summoning him to court after one of the cars was pulled over in London, and so was not present for the first hearing.
The magistrates listen with sympathetic expressions. One magistrate exclaims,
“You came all the way from Nottingham? That must have been a real inconvenience, and we thank you for taking the time to come in.”
The courtroom becomes less about hearing the trial and more about relieving the defendant’s inconvenience. The defendant begins to explain more about the situation and continues to receive sympathy from the court.
The magistrates continue to try to provide solutions for the defendant, suggesting that he should be given an afternoon slot for his trial, as he would have a long way to travel.
An agreement is reached for him to have an afternoon trial next year. Everyone in the courtroom smiles and wishes him well as he collects his belongings.
(Names and places have been changed for anonymity)