A.A. Abbott

GREAT CRIME STORY WRITER

jury service

Afterwards – my Verdict on Jury Service

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I finish my jury service with a heavy cold and a heavy heart. I’m convinced the twelve of us delivered the right verdict, but I can’t help feeling sympathy towards the young men who were convicted. Fifteen minutes of simmering anger, thirty seconds of violence, and suddenly the whole course of their lives changed. I hope they will find help to build a better future. Mr Drummond, whom we acquitted, appears to be doing so. I hope, too, that the victims of the attack won’t end up with mental scars even though their physical wounds have healed.

Able to discuss the case with my family at last, I give them chapter and verse.

“I can’t believe anyone was stupid enough to sell cocaine in a popular bar,” my son says.

“It was probably baking powder,” I tell him.

While I return to the jury lounge on Monday morning, I’m not selected for another case. My pleas of work pressures, supported by a helpful letter from my temporary employer’s HR manager, are enough to excuse me from the three month long trial beginning that week. I know an individual involved in the other long trial for which Andy is recruiting (a barrister, seeing as you ask!), and that bars me from serving on the jury. On Tuesday afternoon, I’m told I’m no longer required.

“Awesome,” my boss replies when I email to tell her I’ll be back at work next day.

I’m glad to have had experience of jury service, and not just because I’m a crime thriller writer. It’s given me confidence in British justice. Care was taken in court to ensure each side could present its arguments, unfailing courtesy was shown towards the defendants, and the judge patiently explained legal concepts as well as the evidence. Most of all, the jury worked as a team. We supported and listened to each other. Having been selected entirely at random, our diverse backgrounds were our strength. Each of the twelve brought different experiences and knowledge to bear when deciding the fate of those three young men in the dock – a serious matter, indeed.

My jury service took place a month ago. Read more about it here – I posted a blog every day this week:

Introduction

The Trial – Day 1

The Trial – Day 2

The Trial – Day 3

The Trial – Day 4

The Trial – Day 5

Note – all names have been changed

On the Jury – Day 5: the Verdict

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One of our jurors is often late. Public transport is poor in her village, and she’s stuck with it because she can’t afford to park in the city. The court will pay for bus fares, but not parking. She just makes it for 10am and the jury is brought into court again a few minutes later. The judge summarises the evidence carefully, taking each witness in turn and reminding us to read the agreed facts. We may return to the courtroom as many times as we wish to see the CCTV footage again, but it must not be removed from the court. The judge points out that, although Lloyd Wick answered police questions, he did not give an alibi. He just said he wasn’t there. “That is not an alibi,” the judge says. “It is an assertion.”

He is dismissive of George Drummond’s alibi, saying we are entitled to wonder why it was not forthcoming earlier. DC Hampson should not be criticised for failing to contact the alibi witnesses. After all, we know one of the telephone numbers given by Drummond didn’t work. Even if we decide Drummond’s alibi is false, however, we should be aware that individuals falsify alibis for a number of reasons. For example, they may have been somewhere else that they wouldn’t want others to know about. If we choose to ignore the alibi, we must still convict Drummond only if the prosecution has proved his guilt otherwise.

The CCTV evidence is of insufficient quality to identify anyone by itself, but it may be used to support Daniel Hart’s identifications. We may similarly use it to exclude suspects, bearing in mind its poor quality, the judge says.

The jury should now retire to the jury room, where we will stay until we can reach a unanimous verdict on all charges.

The law does not allow me to say anything about the jury’s discussions, but suffice to say that we reach unanimous verdicts on all charges. We agree that Drummond is innocent, whilst Goodman and Wick are guilty of the charges of violence.

As soon as we are seated on the benches again, the judge directs the defendants to stand. He then asks the foreman of the jury to stand too. Our elected foreman rises to his feet.

“Have you reached verdicts on all counts put before you?” The judge asks.

“We have,” he replies.

“And are you all agreed on them?”

“We are.”

The clerk to the court, a young blonde, stand and speaks for the first time. She begins with the drugs-related offence. “Do you find the defendant, Mr Jacob Goodman, guilty or not guilty of offering to supply a Class A drug to Mr Daniel Hart?”

“Not guilty.”

“Is that not guilty?”

“Yes.”

She reads out the other charges, one by one, dealing with each defendant separately on each count. Whenever the foreman says “Not guilty”, she asks him to confirm that.

“Thank you,” the judge says when the foreman has finished. He looks at the dock. “Mr Drummond, you are free to go.”

Young Drummond looks stunned. He does not smile. For a second, he glances sympathetically at another defendant – not his friend, Goodman, but his acquaintance, Wick. I suppose Goodman’s case was dead in the water as soon as he admitted he was in the bar that night. Then Drummond walks from the dock a free man, clutching a large plastic carrier bag. “Thank you,” he says to the judge and jury.

A man who has sat in the public gallery for most of the proceedings leaves the court with him. He is perhaps in his thirties. Who is he? Drummond’s brother or father? Drummond is lucky to have supporters, but most precious of all, he has his freedom.

That evening, I walk through the city, looking at the Friday night revellers with a lump in my throat. I give thanks to God that I have my life and my liberty.

But all that is several hours away. Right now, Smith anxiously asks the judge to sentence Goodman quickly, as he has been on remand for a long time. The judge agrees speed is desirable, and offers a slot next week.

That puts Miss Barry under pressure, as the judge wants to sentence Goodman and Wick together, and she needs to get pre-sentencing reports for Wick. “I’m not sure I can do it in time,” she says.

He gives her short shrift, but at least allows Wick to walk free on bail, as his record is nothing like as serious as Goodman’s. The hapless Goodman is returned to prison. “And now, members of the jury, let me thank you,” he says. “It’s not easy to make those kind of decisions. Between you and me, and this is just a personal view, even if you discounted Mr Drummond’s alibi, your decision to acquit him was correct based on the evidence presented to you.” He says we can come back to view the sentencing from the public gallery, but back in the lounge, cheery old Andy tells us we’ll almost certainly be fully occupied on new juries next week.

So we head out into the sunshine. I walk away from the drama of the week, past the bar where several young men had that fateful argument, and back to my beautiful quiet life.

My jury service took place a month ago. Read more about it here – I posted a blog every day this week:

Introduction

The Trial – Day 1

The Trial – Day 2

The Trial – Day 3

The Trial – Day 4

Afterwards….

Note – all names have been changed

On the Jury – Day 4

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The court starts just after ten. Bastow begins by questioning Drummond about Bradford Dean’s mobile phone, further trying to goad Drummond into either losing his temper or admitting he has one. Although Drummond remains calm, it’s too much for one of the observers in the public area.

“Stop this,” the young man shouts. “Can’t you see what he’s doing? He keeps asking the same dumb questions.” His voice is much louder than any other we’ve heard in court, although judge, barristers and witnesses use microphones.

“Get out of this court,” yells the judge, as Paul takes the man away.

“I have no further questions,” Bastow says.

Then Bradford Dean, Drummond’s childhood friend, takes the stand. He’s a credible witness, of good character, who robustly denies Bastow’s suggestion that he’s lying. The problem is, that although he knows he made arrangements to see Drummond that evening, he has no proof that they actually met. When Bastow asks what he did every other day that week, he can’t remember. The mystery of his mobile phone is solved, though. Under Miss Shah’s examination, it turns out that it stopped working a month ago but Dean didn’t tell anyone.

A group of young students are now sitting in the front bench of the public area. Paul brings them water to drink. They look relaxed, shiny even, compared with the rather strained-looking people sitting them behind them, most of whom have been here all week.

Wick remains silent, so it’s time for the summing up. Bastow says Goodman and Wick must have something to hide, because they haven’t taken the stand. Drummond on the other hand is confident, and therefore must be the confident leader of the attackers. (Miss Shah makes capital of this later, saying poor Drummond is damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t). All three are violent, says Bastow. We should not doubt Hart’s evidence because he correctly identified Goodman, who admitted he was there. It was no coincidence that the other two men Hart identified, Drummond and Wick, also had a history of violence and knew each other and Goodman. “Fancy that,” Bastow says drily.

There’s short lunch break. The students have left by then, but I see them outside talking to the other observers and Lloyd Wick. Perhaps they’re friends.

After lunch, the defence counsel sum up. Smith, who has asked very few questions of the witnesses, gives the jury plenty of eye contact as he tells them they need to be sure to convict Goodman. And they can’t be. If they watch the CCTV footage, they won’t see Goodman hitting anyone. “Watch it again,” Smith urges. Although he was there, Goodman doesn’t have any distinguishing marks on his face, so couldn’t have been the man who tried to sell drugs to Dan Hart.

Miss Shah is worthy of an Oscar, looking wide-eyed at the jury. She starts by quoting Little Women on important words. She tells us we’ve heard the most important words all along from Drummond: ”I was not there.” The CCTV images could be any one of hundreds of men in the city with a similar physical appearance, mixed race youths around six feet tall. Merrick, who saw the man alleged to be Drummond at close quarters, didn’t identify him. While Hart did so, he hardly saw him and could be wrong. Most of his offences were many years ago, a long time for a young man of his age. We must take this seriously as we have the power to affect the course of his life. She hopes we’ll react to his courage and consistency and acquit him. She met him for the first time in September and it has been a privilege to know him, she says.

Miss Barry acknowledges her client is an unpleasant man, but says he wasn’t there, he didn’t do it, Dan Hart was too drunk and had too little time to identify him and the CCTV certainly doesn’t.

Then the judge begins his summing up. “I don’t see Mr Wick,” he says. “Where is he?”

All eyes turn to the dock, where only Goodman and Drummond are on view. Suddenly, Wick’s head pops up. He’d obviously been resting it on his hands. He’s so short that, unlike the others, he simply disappeared from sight.

Nobody laughs but I bet everyone wants to.

“I will firstly summarise the law for you, then the evidence,” the judge says. He explains the law on joint enterprise. If two or more people act together with the same purpose, it does not matter who did exactly what – they are all jointly guilty of the crimes committed as a result. The actions can be planned or can happen on the spur of the moment. It is the joint enterprise doctrine that means Goodman, Drummond and Wick are each charged with attacks on each of Brooks, Merrick and Richards.

He tells us that we should not take into account the defendants’ silence during their first police interviews, but we may do so in the post-identification parade police interviews if we believe the prosecution has a compelling case to answer. We may take silence in court into account in the same way. He points out that, however, Wick did answer questions when DC Hampson interviewed him. He and Goodman are perfectly entitled to decline to take the stand, effectively saying to the prosecution, “You prove my guilt.” The burden of proof at all times rests with the prosecution. He reminds us that Drummond had elected to give his account in court and has been cross-examined at length, as has his witness, Bradford Dean.

He directs us not to rely on the CCTV footage as proof of identity, but says we can use it in support of Hart’s identifications if we believe he is correct.

By now, it is 3.55pm. The judge dismisses the jury for the day, telling us he will summarise the evidence tomorrow.

My jury service took place a month ago. Read more about it here – I posted a blog every day this week:

Introduction

The Trial – Day 1

The Trial – Day 2

The Trial – Day 3

The Trial – Day 5

Afterwards….

Note – all names have been changed

On the Jury – Day 3

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Usher Megan works part-time, so it’s her colleague, Paul, who collects us today. He doesn’t come straight away though. The jury lounge is full of folk sitting around. Andy announces most of the trials have a delayed start. Ours won’t be ready until 11am. I have time for not just one cup of tea, but two, as it turns out. We’re delayed again until 11.30am and beyond. Jurors for other courts are shepherded away. Finally, Andy announces that we’re on. I race over to him, closing down my laptop and then both my mobile phones as the jury follows Paul to the courtroom. It’s just before noon.

Today’s proceedings start with agreed facts, the written statements of facts on which both prosecution and defence agree. They contain several surprises. Each of the defendants saw the CCTV footage when first interviewed by police. More dramatically, Jake Goodman has admitted to being to one of the men seen following Brooks into the bar. Goodman and Drummond are friends. All three defendants have been convicted of multiple violent offences, although Drummond’s convictions are old.

Bastow reads all the agreed facts out and the jurors also have a printed copy each. Once this has finished, it is lunchtime. The Court is adjourned until 2pm.

For a change, we manage to start the afternoon on time. It’s just as well, as more drama unfolds. The next witness to take the stand is DC Hampson, who managed the case and interviewed all three defendants both before and after the identification parade. Hampson is a middle-aged man with a cynical expression. He has been sitting behind Bastow throughout the trial. I’d assumed he was a support lawyer or member of court staff.

Hampson is the first to swear on the bible when called to the witness box. The others have merely affirmed they will not lie. He confirms a few more facts to Bastow. George Drummond was suspected from the start, but was hard to find. Eventually, Drummond heard Hampson was looking for him and made contact. He was interviewed under caution with a solicitor present. Although he exercised his right to remain silent, he gave a prepared statement in which he said he wasn’t there that night, and had not in fact visited any licensed premises in the area since the end of 2013. It later transpires, when Drummond is cross-examined about it by Bastow, that Drummond was on bail for another offence (of which he was presumably found innocent) and it was a bail condition.

“What would have happened if you’d breached it?” Bastow asks.

“I don’t know.” Drummond looks puzzled. “But I didn’t want to find out!” He grins.

Lloyd Wick had given his side of the story to Hampson when interviewed. A transcript of his questions and answers is produced to the jury. Bastow and Hampson role-play it, Bastow taking Wick’s part. Wick says he was not there, he has never met Daniel Hart, and Hart’s identification is mistaken. Wick asserts he is often mistaken for other people.

Miss Barry asks if a solicitor was present and Hampson says no, Wick was advised he could have one, but chose not to.

Hampson tells us more about identity parades. Apart from the photos of the suspects, each batch of nine images is drawn from a huge computer database. The computer deliberately seeks out similar faces to that of the suspect, and the suspect’s legal advisers vet the images and may object to them before they’re shown to witnesses. The process is known as VIPER: Video Identification Parade Electronic Recording.

“We no longer drag members of the public off the streets,” the judge smirks.

All three defence counsel cross-examine Hampson. Beyond getting Hampson to confirm Goodman pleaded guilty to all but one of his previous convictions, Smith has little to say, but Misses Shah and Barry have plenty. Miss Shah points out that George Drummond has an alibi for the night. He was with his friends Bradford Dean and Nathan Judd all evening. Their names and phone numbers were handed over to the Crown Prosecution Service three weeks before the trial. Hampson says he received them a week later. It would be normal procedure to try to find Messrs Dean and Judd (which it turns out is not difficult) or phone them. Hampson admits this and says he didn’t do it; he can’t recall why.

Hampson is the last prosecution witness, and now the defendants may have their say. Goodman, however, declines to take the stand. Drummond is asked to do so. He, too, affirms that he will tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

George Drummond is tall and broad-shouldered. The men seen on CCTV appear slimmer, and I wonder at the identification evidence. He is a confident, but not aggressive, witness. Miss Shah is now the soul of gentleness as she sympathetically draws out his story. Drummond says he too pleaded guilty to all but one of the offences of which he was convicted. Most took place when he was a boy. He was in care and found it hard to settle; he simply lashed out.

“I know that doesn’t excuse my behaviour,” Drummond says. “I feel remorseful. I knew I’d done wrong and must make amends, so I pleaded guilty.”

He feels he’s put all that behind him now. After a period of homelessness, he’s secured a college place and somewhere to live.

Miss Shah asks him about the alibi. Drummond has been through his social media messages and saw he’d made arrangements to see Bradford and Nathan that night. We are given screenshots.

“Can you translate for us?” Miss Shah asks, seemingly perplexed at his textspeak.

Drummond grins while Goodman and Wick fall about laughing. Patiently, Drummond talks her through the messages. He asserts that he spent the evening with his friends and stayed overnight with them.

Now it’s time for Bastow to cross-examine and he lets rip. “You have a temper don’t you, Mr Drummond?”

“No more than anyone else,” Drummond says. “I know I did wrong when I was younger. I was under pressure then, in care or homeless. I’m a different person now.”

“You lose it when you don’t get your own way.”

“I don’t do that now,” Drummond repeats.

Bastow is deeply suspicious that the alibis were so late in being forthcoming. He says it took Drummond a long time to persuade his friends to lie to him. Why weren’t they mentioned before?

Drummond says his solicitor advised him to say nothing in police interviews.

“Mr Goodman is your friend too, is he not?” Bastow asks.

Drummond says yes, but not like Dean and Nathan.

“Not someone who would lie for you?” Bastow suggests.

“No.” Poor Drummond is damned however he answers that question.

“And Mr Wick? Do you know him?”

“I know OF him,” Drummond says. “I mean, he’s a friend of a friend. But I don’t know him.”

Bastow asks if Drummond has spoken with his alibi witnesses. He claims he hasn’t, saying they were both busy and Bradford had no phone. The judge points out that Drummond has provided a phone number for Bradford. Drummond says it didn’t work when he tried to ring it.

At 4.30pm, with Bastow still raring to go for Drummond’s throat, the judge calls a halt. The court will resume at 10am tomorrow.

My jury service took place a month ago. Read more about it here – I posted a blog every day this week:

Introduction

The Trial – Day 1

The Trial – Day 2

The Trial – Day 4

The Trial – Day 5

Afterwards….

Note – all names have been changed

 

On the Jury – Day 2

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My bags are searched and I’m frisked on entering the court building. All the cleaners and security staff at the court are employed by the company for which I’ve been doing temporary work. The cleaners in particular have an air of brisk efficiency. I smile at them and tell a cleaner how lovely and bright a door looks. After all, their efforts are paying my wages – at least when I turn up for work. Although I won’t be paid for it, I spend most breaks checking emails and firing off emails or phone calls to my team. They’re being proactive and efficient while I’m away, and I’m grateful.

The court usher, Megan, collects us early from the lounge and we wait in the antechamber until 10.25. In court, the evidence begins with another prosecution witness: Ned Richards. Richards too sustained a head injury requiring four staples. Again, we’re shown a photo. He has a reasonable recall of events but can’t identify anyone. His evidence concluded, the jury is sent out for a coffee break in the lounge while the lawyers discuss legal issues.

We’re recalled after noon and the Crown’s star witness is produced. This is Daniel Hart, who was not attacked and is confident he has a clear recollection of the evening.

Several months after the brawl, Hart viewed an ID parade. This is now done by showing the witness videos of nine faces each – front and profiles. He went through three of these in video rooms at the police station, and in each video, identified a defendant. It is his identifications, of which he is certain, that have brought Messrs Goodman, Drummond and Wick into the dock today

Hart’s story is that, on arrival at the bar, Merrick and Richards went straight inside. He remained outside with Matthew Brooks. There was a group of males a few feet away from them. Goodman approached from this group and offered Hart some coke. Hart declined, and went straight inside. Brooks remained outside to finish his cigarette. Hart believed the group were about to offer drugs to his friend as well.

Shortly afterwards, Matthew Brooks entered the bar followed by two angry men from the group. Hart and his friends intervened, saying they were sorry and didn’t want any trouble. This seemed to calm matters, and the men left. Not for long. They returned in force, at least four of them, storming into the bar and determined to attack.

Hart was lucky. He’d fallen into conversation with a stranger, who pulled him out of the way. Hart wasn’t involved in the brawl, but saw everything that happened.

Apart from saying Wick repeatedly hit Matt Brooks, Daniel Hart is hazy as to who exactly did what. He just says all of the defendants were involved in the fight.

It was over quickly – the CCTV shows it taking thirty seconds. Once the police arrived, Hart went with them at once to make a statement, so what he told them was very fresh in his mind at the time.

Bastow plays the CCTV again and asks Hart to identify himself in it. He can’t.

This is the Crown’s star witness, so the gloves are off as far as the defence counsel are concerned. Before, they’ve been meek as lambs; now they are wolves going for his jugular.

Smith says that Hart alleged the man who wanted to sell him cocaine had a distinctive mark on his face. Goodman has no such mark.

Hart has said the coke seller looked Asian and Smith asks what this means. Hart says he meant Middle Eastern. How then is this Asian, Smith wants to know. He says Miss Shah is Asian. The judge says wryly that the Middle East is in Asia. Miss Shah is unimpressed. “Your Honour, it is not,” she declares.

Miss Shah represents Drummond, who has not been specifically mentioned but was identified by Hart. She starts by talking like a schoolmistress, saying she assumes Daniel Hart has never given evidence in a court before. He agrees he has not. She says, well it is a serious matter, and again he agrees.

Her focus is to prove his memory is wrong. Did he really only have four pints, as he said, she muses. He would have been over the limit to drive.

Hart is composed. “It was over 8 hours,” he points out, adding, “But no, I wouldn’t have driven.”

She is hectoring now. “But if you had six pints, your concentration would be impaired. You can’t be certain you identified the attackers correctly.”

“It was only four or five,” he says, “and my memory is clear.” All of the attackers had leaped off the page to him in the ID parade, he tells her.

“But that was months later. I put it to you that you cannot be sure.”

On the contrary, he says, “I am sure.”

She points out he’d said he, Darren Merrick and Ned Richards had interposed themselves between Matthew Brooks and the two men following him into the bar; however, CCTV footage shows Merrick alone doing so.

“I must have been further back, out of camera range,” he says calmly.

Miss Barry is similarly snarly, her lip curling. It is as if the Furies have been unleashed in the court. “You said you were between Matthew Brooks and the two men but you were mistaken, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was mistaken.”

“What else, then, are you mistaken about? How can you be certain you saw the defendants that night? I put it to you that your identification could be incorrect.”

“I don’t believe so.”

She then says he only identified Wick because he was short. Hart points out that he did not see Wick’s height at the identity parade, only his face. He had mainly seen Wick in profile hitting Matthew Brooks, and it was the profile he picked out at the ID parade.

Miss Barry finishes with the hapless Hart at 1.25pm. The jury retires for a late, but extended lunch break, as there will be more legal discussions. We are told to return at 3pm.

Andy announces over his mic there are some big trials next week – they will last five, seven and twelve weeks. We have to fill in forms to say if we’re willing to serve on them, and if not, why not. We may be called to explain ourselves to a judge on that. Andy says he doesn’t have enough people yet, but another batch of jurors is due in fresh on Monday. He seems reasonably sure he can persuade enough of them to volunteer. I complete the form to explain I’m already providing temporary cover.

Despite spending the first forty minutes of the lunchbreak on some work, I get to stroll in the sunshine for lunch at a cafe. At £5, it’s just within our daily allowance from the court. I meet George Drummond on the way. We rush past each other without eye contact. He looks somehow distant, possibly bored but more likely stressed. Mostly, the defendants are looking down while in the dock, so I guess they’re playing video games.

Once we return to court, we’re not there for long.

“We are now going to see agreed statements,” the judge tells us. “They’re statements in writing of evidence on which everyone has agreed. They’ll be typed up tonight, so come back tomorrow morning for 10.30am.”

My jury service took place a month ago. Read more about it here – I posted a blog every day this week:

Introduction

The Trial – Day 1

The Trial – Day 3

The Trial – Day 4

The Trial – Day 5

Afterwards….

Note – all names have been changed

On the Jury – Day 1

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As sixteen of us are led into the court to be selected to try the case, I look around me. We’ve been brought in through a door near the jury benches, on one side of the court. Our seating is made of wood and fashioned like a church pew, with a ledge in front for paper and pens. We may keep the notes for the duration of the trial but they are then to be destroyed.

In front of the jury benches, and at ninety degrees to them, are the advocates’ benches, with three people in each. The dock, with a glass screen, is behind them. The clerk sits in front of them and the judge in a raised alcove behind her. Beyond the advocates are the usher’s bench on the right and the public gallery on the left, four benches that can hold three or four people each.

The judge is young, in his late thirties or early forties. He introduces himself, and then the barristers. The prosecution barrister is Roger Bastow, about the same age. Then there is Mr Smith, who represents Jacob Goodman; Miss Shah, barrister for George Drummond; and Miss Barry, whose client is Lloyd Wick. Miss Barry sits behind the others, with a young woman who makes a lot of notes and a middle-aged man who turns out to be the police detective on the case. We are asked if we know any of them, and also various witnesses whose names Bastow rattles off. We don’t.

Goodman, Drummond and Wick look us over. They seem very young; barely in their twenties.

Miss Shah, a chunky Asian woman with a beaked nose and big smile, could almost be the same age. She has the air of a school prefect. Barry is a lot older, with long blonded hair. Smith is probably in his thirties. The grey wigs sit incongruously on all of them.

We file into the benches in order as we’re called. These will be our seats for the entire trial. I desperately want to be picked – what crime thriller writer wouldn’t? – and to my relief I’m the last one. I had expected objections from the advocates – the defendants are all black or mixed race, while the jury is solidly white – but there are none.

Mr Goodman, Mr Drummond and Mr Wick sit silently, side by side in the dock, bookended by two security guards. They seem engaged right at the start, then slip into glassy-eyed boredom until CCTV footage is played. They’re very interested in that. It turns out this is the first time the prosecution witnesses have seen the footage. I imagine it’s a first for the defendants too, but not so, as I discover two days later.

The legal professionals all rib each other a lot, especially when Bastow can’t get the CCTV DVD to behave (it returns to the beginning when he freezes, rewinds, or fast forwards it).

“I know we’re all teasing Mr Bastow, your honour, but it’s not his fault,” Miss Shah says. “The connection’s loose. The TV switches off when I cross my legs.”

“Perhaps we need Miss Shah to uncross her legs,” the judge smirks when the TV refuses to start again.

Throughout the trial, the method of address is very formal. The judge is addressed as your honour and referred to as his honour. The barristers are Mr this and Miss that, and my learned friend. The defendants are addressed and referred to as Mr Goodman etc.

The jurors are given a list of charges against the defendant. They are accused of drugs and violent offences. Bastow then outlines the case. Four young men went out for a midweek drink. They had perhaps five pints each and a light meal, then ended up at the bar where they met the defendants.

The bar is well known; a respectable place not noted for trouble. I prick up my ears.

Bastow goes on to say two of the friends stood outside the bar to smoke, whereupon Goodman tried to sell them cocaine. They refused and went inside. It was alleged the three defendants and an unknown male went inside and attacked them.

CCTV footage is played. I am convinced at first that none of the defendants are on camera. The CCTV footage appears to show only white people. It becomes apparent, however, that the CCTV just bleaches everyone’s faces. The quality is indistinct. It’s impossible to tell if the defendants are there.

Two victims then give evidence, one after another. Everyone is given a choice of swearing on the bible or affirming they’re telling the truth. Both choose to affirm. Once each is sworn in, a few photocopied sheets are circulated with photos of their injuries.

Both were punched by their attackers and had to be taken to hospital. Brooks had stitches and staples. He remembers little of the evening, saying after he told the persistent cocaine sellers outside to f**k off, he has a vague recollection of an argument inside, then waking up among blood, police and paramedics. The paramedics shone a light in his eyes, repeatedly asking, “Matt, are you awake? Are you awake?” They had to do this for ten minutes.

Merrick can’t recall full details of the evening either. But he did remember trying to separate Matt Brooks from trouble inside the bar. He also remembers a barman asking what Brooks had said to wind up “those guys – they’re not normally aggressive.” Alas, in his police statement, the key fact that this witness was a barman was not mentioned.

Both Merrick and Brooks say they were merry but not overly drunk. “I’ve drunk that amount many times and never lost my memory,” Brooks says. “I was heavily concussed from the attack; that’s why I can’t remember everything.”

Smith ask Brooks how he knew he was being offered drugs.

“The man said, do you want to buy some coke?” Brooks says. “You don’t stand outside a bar offering to sell people Coca Cola. I knew it was drugs.”

Again, Smith tries to catch Brooks out. “You say when you were smoking outside you told them to f**k off, but you signed a police statement saying you told them to go away,” he says.

“I told the police I said F**k off,” Brooks asserts.

My jury service took place a month ago. Read more about it here – I posted a blog every day this week:

Introduction

The Trial – Day 2

The Trial – Day 3

The Trial – Day 4

The Trial – Day 5

Afterwards….

Note – all names have been changed