A Case in Question

by Herb Hamlet

  “I agree with you, Mr. Pedersen. Your objection is therefore upheld.” Justice Barrow’s lips became a thin line. “Are you nearly finished with this witness, Mr. Flanagan?”

  “Just a couple more questions, Your Honour.” Henry’s tone was far from apologetic.

  “Minister, within state conducted prisons, what is the ratio of warders to inmates?”

  Minute lines creased the Honourable John Windsor’s brow. “Er, I’m unsure, but I think it is somewhere in the vicinity of one to twenty.”

  Henry raised his eyebrows. “And what is the ratio of warders to inmates in privately conducted institutions?”

  “I, er, don’t know, Mr. Flanagan.” The Minister looked a little sheepish.

  Henry looked to the jury, his face filled with disgust. “You don’t know. How very convenient for you.” He swung back to the witness. “Minister, James Rankin was a federal prisoner who was incarcerated in a state prison, a part of your portfolio. Mr. Rankin subsequently died within the confines of Pukka Correctional centre. The question I wish to ask is, who was responsible for his safety and what are your duty of care responsibilities in the matter?”

  Another long pause. Finally, the Minister cleared his throat. “Where Mr. Rankin’s safety was concerned, every possible precaution was taken by ICS staff, even though there was no evidence he had ever been assaulted in the first place. The staff merely acceded to your request, Mr. Flanagan, to place him in the protective custody wing, as a precaution.” John Windsor sounded convincing.

  “You are dismissed, Minister.” Making his way back to his chair, Henry couldn’t help thinking how well he’d been briefed.

  “Mr. Graham or Mr. Pedersen.” Judge Barrow glanced from one to the other.

  “Nothing from me, Your Honour.” Graham resumed his seat.

  “Me either, Your Honour.” Oscar Pedersen barely rose from his.

  “Mr. Flanagan, your next witness if you please.” Justice Barrow leaned back against his chair, his gazed fixed on Henry.

  “Thank you, Your Honour,” Henry answered politely. “We call Emily June Atkins.” After taking the oath, her fingers trembling, the beak nosed woman looked expectantly at Henry. He gave her one of his most charming smiles as he approached. “Ah, Miss Atkins. I won’t keep you long. You represent an organisation called the Prisoners Aid Society of Queensland, do you not?”

  “Yes, Mr. Flanagan.” She pursed her lips. “That is correct.”

  “And what is the role of your organisation?”

  Before she had the chance to answer, Walter Graham was on his feet. “Your Honour, I must object in the strongest possible terms,” he growled. “The matter before the court has little to do with the role of the Prisoners Aid Society. I would request that my learned friend restrict his questions to those that are relevant to the case.” He resumed his seat.

  “I must say I agree. The objection is upheld.” Justice Barrow looked over his granny spectacles at Henry. “Mr. Flanagan, during these proceedings I’ve given you considerable latitude, however, my patience is quickly diminishing. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Honour.”

  “Then get on with your questions.”

  “Of course, Your Honour. My apologies to the court” Henry bowed. “Miss Atkins, does your organisation gather statistical information regarding the care and treatment of prisoners?”

  “Yes, that is correct.” Emily Atkins removed a folder from a black leather briefcase.

  “Miss Atkins, could you please inform the court, what ratio of warders to prisoners is needed to ensure an inmate receives the necessary supervision?”

  Emily Atkins checked the file. “Academic research has indicated that a ratio of one to fifteen is required.” She set her lips firmly together and glanced at the jury.

  “I see.” Henry hesitated, letting the numbers sink in. “And what is the current ratio of warders to prisoners at Pukka Correctional centre?”

  “One to forty, Mr. Flanagan.” She emphasised the words with much indignation.

  “Thank you, Miss Atkins.” Henry leaned forward. “Now finally, by reducing staff numbers at Pukka Correctional centre, have the State Government and ICS breached their duty of care responsibilities to the prison population?”

  “Yes, they most certainly have, Mr. Flanagan.”

  “Thank you, that’s all.”

  Walter Graham approached the witness box, his upper lip curled, causing a shiver to run up Emily Atkins’ spine.

  “Miss Atkins.” He could see she was nervous. “Your organisation exaggerates the so-called plight of prisoners, does it not?” He turned his back on her, raising his eyes at the jury.

  She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. “No, definitely not.”

  “In relation to the so-called statistics you offer to the court as evidence, the required academic research you refer to was undertaken by what institution?”

  “The Social Science Faculty of Griffith University,” she offered proudly.

  “Who funded this supposed research?” He swung back, his eyes boring into hers.

  “What do you mean?” She looked mystified, her expression changing to one of anxiety.

  “It’s a very simple question, Miss Atkins. Who provided the funding so the so-called research could be undertaken?”

  “Why it was the Prisoners Aid Society of Queensland,” she reluctantly admitted.

  “The Prisoners Aid Society of Queensland.” Walter Graham’s tone was scathing as he repeated the words before going on. “In funding research you knew would point to a low ratio of warders to inmates, your organisation achieved the outcome it desired. Isn’t that right, Miss Atkins?” He pointed an accusing finger at her.

  Henry wanted to go to her aid, but didn’t want to alienate the jury by a trivial interruption. He drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if he had underestimated his adversary. He’s on the ball today, the flea.

  “No, no that’s not true.” Emily Atkins’ quivering voice was strained and unconvincing.

  “Now I refer to your statement that the present ratio of guards to inmates at Pukka Correctional centre is one to forty. How did you come by this statistic?” Graham pushed his advantage.

  Emily Atkins’ fingers trembled. “Through staff employed at the correctional facility.”

  “I see.” Graham gave a dismissive wave. “Some disgruntled union member guard, looking for an increase in staffing, approaches you and provides you with incorrect information regarding the guard to inmate ratio at Pukka, and your organisation willingly accepts his words as fact.”

  Henry jumped to his feet. “Your Honour, I must object. Mr. Graham is making unsubstantiated statements and is badgering the witness.”

  “I agree, Mr. Flanagan. I uphold your objection. The jury will disregard Mr. Graham’s statement.”

  “My apologies to the court.” Graham bowed. “I have no further use of this witness.”

  “Mr. Pedersen?” Justice Barrow raised his bushy eyebrows.

  “No questions, Your Honour.”

  “Next witness, Mr. Flanagan.”

  “Thank you, Your Honour. We call Mr. Allan Bruce Hartman.”

  The Chief Executive Officer of International Correctional Services Australia strode toward the witness box, looking uncertainly in Henry’s direction. After being sworn in, he coughed to clear his throat.

  “Mr. Hartman, you are the Chief Executive Officer of International Correctional Services Australia. Is that correct?” Henry nonchalantly ambled toward the box, a pencil in his hand.

  “Yes, sir.” His accent was crisply American.

  “When the state government made the decision to privatise Pukka, your organisation won the tender, did it not?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “I beli
eve that six other companies also quoted to conduct the prison.”

  “That is correct.”

  “To win the tender, your quote must have been very competitive?” Henry sounded impressed.

  “Yes, sir, the industry is a competitive one.”

  “In your agreement with the Department of Corrective Services, what ratio of warders to prisoners are you required to maintain at any given time?”

  The CEO thought for a long moment. “I think it’s one guard to twenty-five inmates.”

  “I see.” Henry moved closer to the witness box, never letting his eyes leave those of the witness. “What was the ratio when you took control of the prison.”

  “I believe it was in the vicinity of one to twenty, sir.” Hartman’s tone remained uncertain.

  Henry arched his eyes inquisitively. “What is your present ratio, and please remember you are under oath.”

  Hartman thought for a long moment before answering. “At present, the ratio is a little wider than normal.” He hedged. “This is mainly due to early retirements, long service leave, illness and staff attending training courses. However, once our recruitment targets are achieved, I’m sure the required ratio will once again be achieved.”

  Henry wasn’t fooled. “You still haven’t said what the current ratio is, Mr. Hartman.”

  “I’m not sure.” He lifted up his palms apologetically. “Perhaps one to thirty?”

  “One to thirty.” Henry scoffed. “I’m informed it is closer to one to forty.”

  The CEO shook his head defiantly. “No, sir, that’s not true.”

  Henry’s voice became more animated. “Isn’t it simply company policy to downsize staff at any government prison ICS assumes control of?”

  “No, there’s no such policy, I can assure you, Mr. Flanagan.” He was becoming a little flustered.

  “Come now, Mr. Hartman.” Disbelief in Henry’s tone. “In the USA, Great Britain and other states of Australia, whenever ICS has won a contract to manage a prison, for some unknown reason, staff numbers are quickly and dramatically reduced. Is this just a coincidence, sir?”

  He seemed uncertain as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I can’t speak to you about other prisons, Mr. Flanagan.” He licked his lips. “But I can definitely state there is no official policy to reduce staff at government institutions, taken over by ICS.”

  “No such policy. How convenient for you.” Henry’s tone facetious, his scowl deepening. “I’ll try and ask you a question you can answer, Mr. Hartman.” You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom. “Would a decrease in supervisory staff make a prisoner more vulnerable where his safety is concerned? Surely you can answer that?”

  The gleam in Henry’s eye made Hartman feel uneasy. “It may, then yet again it may not, Mr. Flanagan. It depends on the circumstances.”

  “A little vague for a man in your position, Mr. Hartman.” Henry made no attempt to hide his critical tone.

  Oscar Pedersen interrupted. “Your Honour, I think Mr. Flanagan has overstepped the mark.”

  “Mr. Flanagan, I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Pedersen.” Justice Barrow gave a deep sigh.

  “I’m sorry Your Honour. Just one more thing.” Henry turned back to his witness. “By reducing staff numbers, your organisation placed James Rankin in a vulnerable position where he was bashed and raped. As a consequence, your organisation and the state have breached their duty of care responsibilities? Do you agree?”

  “No sir, I do not.” The CEO’s tone was emphatic.

  “I have no more questions of this witness.” Henry strode back to his table.

  “Mr. Pedersen?” Justice Barrow leaned back in his leather chair.

  “I don’t think there’s any need for me to cross examine this particular witness, Your Honour.” Uttering the words, Pedersen glanced across at Henry, smirking in triumph.

  “We will begin the summations after lunch.” Justice Barrow rapped his gavel down on the pad.

  ***

  At lunch in the same Greek cafe, Henry, Elaine and Judy sat despondently sipping their coffees. Their appetites were non-existent. “That’s it. We’re done for,” Henry said despondently.

  Judy took a long sip and placed her cup on its saucer. “It is nothing more than we expected, Henrt,; she sighed. “At least we brought prison bashings and rapes to the public’s attention.”

  Elaine remained silent. Henry thought she looked pale, her features a little drawn. “Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?”

  She lifted a handkerchief to her lips. “No, I’m a bit off colour today, Henry. In fact, I haven’t been myself for the past few days.”

  “You’d better see a doctor.” He patted her hand.

  “It’s probably just menopausal,” she replied softly. “My doctor said I’d experience days like this.”

  “Nevertheless, I still want you to go back and see him.” Henry paused. “Do you feel like something to eat?”

  The thought of food made her stomach turn. She held her hand to her mouth until the uncomfortable feeling dissipated. “No, definitely not, Henry.”

  “Don’t come back to court this afternoon. You make an appointment to see the doctor instead. Okay?” He squeezed her hand.

  “Very well, Henry, I think I will.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Walter Graham strutted back and forth in front of jury members like a proud peacock. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the determination you have to make in this civil case is straight forward and simple.” He deliberated for several seconds. “First, and most importantly, I must emphasize that at no time has the Plaintiff been able to produce any evidence that Mr. James Rankin was ever assaulted whilst an inmate at the Pukka correctional facility. Indeed, not one witness has come forward, nor has any shred of evidence been produced.” Graham let his words sink in. Allowing his eyes to move from one jury member to the next, he continued. “Throughout this hearing, there has been much talk of staff numbers, ratios, the privatisation of prisons and many other irrelevant topics. In the Plaintiff’s presentation, there has also been accusations and much innuendo, even slurs against the Department of Corrective Services and International Corrections.” His face set as hard as granite. “Once again, I reiterate - there has been no evidence that James Rankin was ever assaulted whilst an inmate at Pukka correctional facility. For you to even consider the possibility that an assault actually occurred, there has to be concrete evidence. Only then could you consider any breech of the state government’s and ICS’ duty of care responsibilities. No such evidence has been produced...” About to continue, Graham was brought to an abrupt halt by a commotion at the rear of the courtroom.

  Henry turned his head and could barely believe his eyes. Dick Argent strode confidently toward his table, accompanied by a short, bald headed man wearing spectacles. Dick mouthed the word ‘doctor’ to Henry.

  As soon as the implication hit home, Henry jumped to his feet. “My apologies to Mr. Graham, Your Honour, however, we have just located a witness who is crucial to our case.”

  “I must protest, Your Honour,” Walter Graham interrupted.

  “And so must I.” Oscar Pedersen joined in.

  “Mr. Flanagan,” Justice Barrow looked down at Henry and said firmly, “you have had ample time to produce your witnesses in this case. We are now in the process of summations and I am very reluctant, at this late stage, to allow any further evidence to be presented to the jury.” Henry took a step forward, his expression thunderous. “Again I apologize for the interruption, Your Honour. However, I must point out that Doctor Simpson was listed as one of our witnesses in the first instance.” He pointed to the defense teams. “In fact, it appears as if the state government has transferred him to a remote community, under an assumed name, so he would prove difficult to track down. That is not the fault of the Plaintiff.”<
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  A look of outrage filled Walter Graham’s face. “I protest at the unsubstantiated slur against the state government, and I oppose at any attempt by Mr. Flanagan to introduce further evidence at this late stage.” He threw his hands in the air.

  “And I must concur with Mr. Graham,” Oscar Pedersen added forcibly, before resuming his seat.

  “Yes,” Justice Barrow replied thoughtfully pursing his lips. “I’m inclined to agree also, gentlemen.”

  Henry could see his only real opportunity slowly slipping out of reach. “Your Honour.” He slammed the palm of his hand down on the table in front of him. “I must also protest in the strongest possible terms at any attempt by our opponents, or this court, not to permit testimony from this most crucial medical witness. In the name of justice, the jury must hear what he has to say. Doctor Simpson will testify that he treated James Rankin after the despicable assault which occurred on the sixth of April this year.”

  “You know better, Mr. Flanagan.” Justice Barrow warned sternly, but Henry went on regardless. “I must also warn the court that any decision not to allow Doctor Simpson to give evidence will be subsequently challenged in the Court of Appeal, or even the High Court if need be. Be assured, sir, I will take this matter as far as I have to.”

  “Are you threatening this court, Mr. Flanagan?” Justice Barrow fought to control his anger.

  “No, of course not, Your Honour,” Henry replied tightly. “I’m merely pointing out that further down the line, Doctor Simpson’s testimony will be heard before a court of this land. Why not save time and resources and listen to what he has to say now?” Still trembling, Henry slumped into his chair.

  For several seconds Justice Barrow sat back in his brown leather chair contemplating Henry’s words. He leaned forward and looked over his spectacles at the three competing parties. “I will take this matter under consideration and give you my answer in the morning.”