Law and Disorder
Page 20
‘It’s just you and your mother, I believe?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I sometimes think it’s hard being young these days.’
‘Oh, it’s OK. Plenty of people in the same boat.’
‘Forgive me for asking, but are there financial pressures?’
‘You know, sometimes I don’t even know how we’ve made it through this far. We’re both absolutely laden to the hilt with debts and are just counting on my making it at some point at the Bar. That’s a big worry.That it’ll all have been for nothing.That I’ll have inflicted all this on my mother and for no benefit whatsoever.’
‘And how does your mother cope?’
‘That’s my biggest fear, OldRuin. She’s extremely fragile. Struggled ever since my dad left and sometimes I do worry . . .’
‘Fear, BabyB. It’s a part of caring for someone. My wife was ill for five years before she finally passed away. Each day I kissed her goodbye in the morning, I prayed, literally prayed, that it would not be our last goodbye. Then one day, it was.’
I was silent.
‘I’m sorry,BabyB.I think I’m doing no more than articulating your worst fears. It’s not a bad thing to take them out and examine them once in a while. Makes it easier to put them away afterwards.’
I nodded and he smiled. I wanted to tell him about the loan company, about TheBoss blackmailing me to help him and even to confess about my scheming with the pupils. But the shame and the fear were simply too great. Perhaps he saw this cross my eyes as he continued, ‘The Bar, BabyB, isn’t about dusty law books. It’s all about people and their problems. You’ll be the stronger for it.’
‘Thank you, OldRuin. I’m sorry to offload.’
‘It’s the dark ingredients of the soul which give us strength, BabyB. Cherish the gift, for it takes us closer to heaven than ever we’d realise . . .’ He looked at me and paused wistfully before continuing, ‘. . . though it takes us closer to hell too.’ Again he paused and added something in a tone which left me unsure whether he was providing encouragement or a warning, ‘It’s how we use that strength that matters.’
CHAPTER 10
July: Facebooked
That general is skilful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Monday 2 July 2007
Day 190 (week 40): Rear-end shunts
I went with Claire to see FakeClaims&Co this weekend.I was looking for something more than simply a bit of professional misconduct. I’d been told that they were involved with a fraud ring and yet had found nothing more than an association with an aggressive ambulance chaser and a dodgy doctor. Not great behaviour, but not enough either. We turned up on Saturday to find a person from the accident management company covering for them.
‘Poor you having to work on a Saturday.’
It was Claire and she was all charm as she small-talked him for probably half an hour before giving him a big sob story about me having money problems and needing to get as much money as possible from my claim. Eventually, he turned to me and suggested, ‘Of course, you could always have another accident.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Do you have a car?’
‘Well, if you could call it that.An old banger worth about ten pence.’
‘Perfect. Then you’re all set. All boils down to rear-end shunts, you know.’
‘Is that rhyming slang?’ I asked.
My lame attempt at lightening the conversation was lost even as the words entered the ether and he stared back at me deadpan. ‘What?’
I went on to dig my hole a little deeper with, ‘You know. Things with double meanings. Like “see you next Tuesday”.’
‘What? I can’t do Tuesday.’
Our cross-purposes were getting crosser and I backtracked awkwardly to the job in hand and added the question, ‘So how does it work exactly?’
‘Er, we’ll take you out and show you how. Let’s see. How about Monday evening?’
‘Should be OK. What will I get out of it?’
‘Now, let’s see. You’ll obviously get some money for your new injuries. Then there’s a new car. We should be able to get it written off and valued at, say, £3,000. After that we’ll give you a share of the hire charges on a replacement car which obviously you’ll be wanting to incur until the other side pay up. That might give you another £2,000. Oh, and then there’s your four passengers. We’ll give you £500 per passenger as well. How does that sound?’
Well, as I listen to it back on the tape that Claire made, it sounds good. Tonight we’ll see how this little scam works.
Tuesday 3 July 2007
Day 191 (week 40): Dodgy claim
Busy evening last night. Claire and I went and met up with the dodgy claims man in a late-night greasy spoon in east London. Well, Claire was in disguise again and we both had a camera this time. Seems I was one of many appointments for that night. I had the 10.30 slot. I was introduced to my four passengers and then we went off to my car. What I had to do, apparently, was to drive to the dual carriageway and then pull in front of a slow-moving lorry and stop suddenly. We’d get a gentle shove and that would be it. No dispute on liability. I said I’d rather one of the other ‘passengers’ drove if they had insurance to do so. One of them eventually volunteered by saying that he was insured to drive any car and was happy to step in.
So off we went. Frighteningly simple. The lorry driver got out and apologised and said that he was sorry. Didn’t even see us pull in front. He handed over his insurance details and that was that. All on tape. Should be enough for TheBoss to nail FakeClaims&Co and get them to drop their complaint (as well as the fake claim itself). More importantly for me at the moment, it should be enough to convince TheBoss to give me some extra cash so that I can pay off Ginny and get the tape she made of TopFirst.
Wednesday 4 July 2007
Day 192 (week 40): Five grand
‘Well done, BabyB. This is just what we needed.’ TheBoss had watched the low-quality videos that Claire and I had covertly made of the various meetings with FakeClaims&Co and their associates. I took back the tape. He’d given me £1,500 when I started investigating and now was the time to seek the balance.
‘Given the results, I was wondering if you might not increase my fee? I’ve got myself into a little financial difficulty and it really would make a difference.’
‘How much are you talking, BabyB?’
‘It’s cash flow, I’m afraid. No one’s paid me for my own cases yet and the pupillage award came to an end with my first six. Rock and a hard place, you know. No sympathy from the bank either.’
‘How much, BabyB? Give me a figure.’
‘Ten thousand on top of the original fifteen hundred. That’d cover my immediate problems.’
‘No chance, BabyB.’
He pulled a wad of notes tied up with an elastic band from his pocket.He’d anticipated this conversation.‘Here’s five grand.More than we agreed, but I figure you deserve it.’
Just enough to be buying that tape from Ginny.
Thursday 5 July 2007
Day 193 (week 40): Priceless
My client today was a young man of twenty. Quite likely and a bit of a know-all but nice enough as they go. His evidence was chugging along smoothly until the judge noticed that he was chewing gum in the witness box. He looked furious.
‘Young man, there are many things that one has to put up with as a judge but one thing I simply will not tolerate is mastication in my court.’
My client’s look was priceless. His mouth dropped as, probably, did mine. Clearly the judge was losing it. Seeing that this was having no effect, the judge turned to his clerk and told him to ask the witness to stop masticating. The clerk looked shocked but put on a serious po-faced look and said to the witness, ‘The judge would like you to take your hands out of your pockets.’
Now the judge looked shocked and interrupted with, ‘No, no, no. You have all misundersto
od what I was saying. Young man, will you please refrain from the masticating of that dreadful gum. At once.’
In unison my client, the clerk and I all took on an ‘Oh, now I see what you’re getting at’ look. My guess is that’s not the first time the judge has pulled that gag.
Friday 6 July 2007
Day 194 (week 40): Making the trade
Met up with Ginny last night and handed over the cash in return for the tape. I think my favourite bit was the pleading from TopFirst as he banged on Ginny’s door, completely starkers. Eventually he had become nasty and started threatening her both with unspecified trouble at university and with getting OldRuin to tell her family about her modelling in London.
‘You’ll regret this, Ginny. You wouldn’t want me as your enemy, I can assure you.’
‘Go home, TopFirst.’
‘Let me in right now. If you don’t I’ll make sure you never get taken on anywhere at the Bar.’
‘Go home, TopFirst.’
‘Believe me, Ginny, there’ll be trouble . . . please Ginny let me in . . . or just give me my clothes . . . I’ll call the police . . . please . . . maybe just my boxer shorts?’
‘Go home, TopFirst.’
There’s also some great stuff that he said about members of chambers, and of course the evidence of his sexual advances would be fatal to his engagement. A very handy insurance policy in case ThirdSix doesn’t come through against TopFirst on his own.
Monday 9 July 2007
Day 195 (week 41): Ouch
UpTights received a call from a solicitor today. Not just any solicitor, but the senior partner at a massive firm which provides her with a lot of work. Despite this, it would be accurate to say that they have never quite seen eye to eye. Legend has it that this has been since she spurned his advances some twenty years ago. Let’s call him OldSoak. UpTights had the phone on loudspeaker and so I heard both sides of the call.
‘Hello, OldSoak. How are you?’
‘Not bad, UpTights. Not bad. But despite the fact that it’s always a pleasure to hear your dulcet tones, I was actually hoping to speak to OldSmoothie.’
‘Oh. right. Hmm. Let’s see. I’m not terribly good with this newfangled phone system, you know. I can give it a try though.’
She then pressed a few buttons on her phone and got through to OldSmoothie. ‘Hello, OldSmoothie. I have someone on the phone who puts even you in the shade on the loathsome stakes.’
‘You’re on charming form as ever, UpTights. Now, who could that be?’
‘Take a wild guess. He’s even older than you, fancies himself even more than you, but unlike you, his dearly beloved wife is having an affair with a young man whom he’s just made partner in his firm. Oh, and you can smell him at a distance of a hundred yards.’
‘Ooh. Difficult one indeed. You must be referring to our dear friend OldSoak, methinks.’
‘Yes, not my favourite person in the world. Pays the bills though, I guess.’
‘Well, quite, UpTights. Quite. Priorities and all.’
At which point they were both interrupted from their gossiping.
‘Hello? Hello? What on earth are you talking about. UpTights? What’s going on?’
It was the voice of OldSoak himself. UpTights had pressed the three-way conference call button.
Ouch.
Wednesday 11 July 2007
Day 197 (week 41): Lucky escape
‘Counsel is instructed to do what a man’s got to do. To put on his wig and drink his milk.’ That was the extent of the instructions which ClichéClanger had sent down with the papers, though to be fair the case pretty much spoke for itself. It was an application in Barnstaple County Court and unfortunately I was slightly late and as I arrived to sign in the usher pointed down the corridor and directed me straight into the courtroom. I went in front of the judge and was relieved to see that the application was unopposed. I started explaining what the case was about.
‘And this is an application to vary certain parts of the timetable, isn’t it?’ he asked.
I confirmed that it was and then spent the next quarter of an hour going through all the facts which led to us making our application. As I came to the end, I looked up hopefully at the judge, somewhat pleased with the clarity with which I had summarised it all. His reply was, ‘I’m afraid to say, Mr BabyBarista, that you’re in the wrong court. Been going through my list here and there’s no mention of your case. Anywhere. Sorry.’
‘Oh.’
‘Try the next courtroom down.’
Which I did. I knocked on the door and there was a judicial ‘enter’ from within. I poked my head around the door and asked if he was hearing my case.
‘Ah, the applicant arrives. Bit late, don’t you think?’
‘Sorry, sir. Really, very, very sorry.’
‘I’m sure you are. You’ll be even more sorry to hear that your opponent has been and gone.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. Luckily for you, he consented to your application in full.’
‘Oh.’
‘Narrow escape, I’d say.’
‘Yes.’
With that, I unpoked my head from around the door and made a sharp exit. Later in the day I had to phone ClichéClanger and somehow explain what had gone on. Started with telling him that the trains were late and that I originally went in front of the wrong judge, when he interrupted me and said, ‘Let me stop you there, BabyBarista. I received an email a few minutes ago from the other side giving me the full details of the order.’
‘Oh,’ I said, unsure where this was going. I figured it’d be better for me to get in my explanation now before he started having a go. Yet as I drew breath to give my little plea in mitigation, ClichéClanger continued, ‘Yes. You got everything we asked for. Very well done. A piece of gâteau to you no doubt,’ he said, emphasising the French. ‘You are definitely le grand fromage round here today, I can tell you. Well done,BabyBarista.You can expect more where that came from.’
What was I to do? The first solicitor I’d had promising me my own work. Did I correct him? Tell him that I wasn’t even at the hearing?
‘Look forward to it,’ was all I could manage in the heat of the moment.
Well, wouldn’t want to ruin his good mood.
Friday 13 July 2007
Day 199 (week 41): Memories
TheBusker was defending a theft today and I was once again following him to court. It all boiled down to whether the prosecution’s witness was credible or not. Looked pretty open and shut to me.
‘Nothing’s ever clear cut, BabyB. Not when it comes to memories. There’s no smooth little movie being recorded in that head of yours. It’s all a tapestry of jagged images and sounds, stitched together by the imagination. Watch out for those stitches, BabyB. They’ll win you case after case.’
So it was today. TheBusker was as friendly as you like to the witness, getting her full story in intimate detail. Then he went back and simply asked,‘And you are absolutely certain that your account is accurate in every detail?’
‘Of course,’ came the reply.
‘Thank you. Now, if we can just go over a few of these details again . . . You say the defendant came from the left?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you actually see him come from the left?’
‘Er . . .’
‘Or did you simply assume it because you heard the shout coming from the left?’
‘Er . . .’
One by one he addressed each detail and exposed the little assumptions upon which so many of them were based, reaching into thin air and finding those little stitches added by the imagination.
On such details is a man’s liberty determined.
Monday 16 July 2007
Day 200 (week 42): VampCard
UpTights has a big case tomorrow and this afternoon she was told which judge she would be appearing before, which sent her into something of a tizzy.
‘He’s the most lecherous, chauvinistic pig of a judge in th
e whole country. Decides by the attractiveness of the legal team rather than the strength of the case.’
‘So how do our opponents shape up?’ I asked, trying to lighten her mood.
‘It’s not funny, BabyB, I’m afraid. Not for you anyway. Now that we know he’ll be hearing it, I have no alternative but to play a VampCard. You’ll be no help whatsoever.’
Oh. Dropped. Just like that. Who cares that I’ve spent the last few weeks slaving over these papers for her? ‘Sorry, BabyB, but you just don’t have what we’re looking for.’
UpTights called TheVamp down and simply told her that she was needed for a hearing with this particular judge. ‘Oh. I see,’ she said, in an understanding tone. Not that it’ll be much fun for her, but apparently she gets paid twice her usual rate to make her feel better for cases such as these.
‘You know what’s required,’ was all that UpTights said to her about the case. Of course she did.
Tuesday 17 July 2007
Day 201 (week 42): Foiled
I was the bag carrier for UpTights and TheVamp today as they arrived at court done up to the nines. They were greeted by OldSmoothie.
‘You know, UpTights, each time you lower yourself like this you just feed that little self-hatred monster which gnaws away at your brain each day.’
She ignored him.
‘You know that they’ve changed our judge, I assume?’
She didn’t ignore him on that one.
‘Yes. Shame really. Feels there’s a conflict of interest given that he and I sit on the same golf-club committee. He’s passed the case over to his learned colleague.’
UpTights’s mouth dropped. Well, it moved as far as it was able. To make it worse, not only was the new judge female but she, like the rest of the legal community, knew the stories about the lascivious nature of her fellow judge and it didn’t take much of her female intuition to sniff out what was going on. In fact, going by the pungent smell of expensive perfume coming from UpTights and TheVamp as they entered the courtroom, ‘sniff out’ would probably be extremely accurate.
‘How long has your junior been instructed on this case, Ms UpTights?’
‘That is not relevant, Your Honour.’