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The 'Crossroads' of the justice system

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Here's the latest Ward's World column from eccentric inventor John Ward...

There seems to have been quite a flood of courtroom drama recently either as filmed entertainment or those reported in real life events with some that make the mind wonder what is real or just the handiwork of a screenwriter.

Years ago I received a letter requesting my presence for jury service at the local Crown Court on a given date, so I informed my boss why I would not be at work then and possibly for a few days after depending on how the case/trial proceeded so plans were sorted to cover for me.

Columnist John Ward (54198490)
Columnist John Ward (54198490)

I popped in a few days later and told my mum, of the people for the people, about it as she sat slooping tea in the kitchen with her friend Viv, who suggested I ‘might see Margaret Lockwood there’: about that time the actress Margaret Lockwood was starring as a lady barrister in a weekly drama called ‘Justice’ on television.

Mum said it was unlikely as I was to be there for 10 in the morning and Margaret was covering the ‘late shift’ as she came on at nine o’clock in the evening but only did an hour’s worth before the News at Ten came on – sorted then.

I arrived on Tuesday as requested and went through the formal procedure as a juror – this induction has possibly changed over the years – and all went well as we selected 12 were given a rundown of how things went.

On going into court, fellow juror ‘Miss Marple’ (who was to sit next to me in the jury box, sadly) complained the seats were too hard and felt ‘she might not last the day due to her problem’.

Ron, another juror, muttered her problem might be she was a ‘moaning Minnie’ so no cure then.

Seeing one person enter, Miss Marple remarked that he was a ‘wrong ’un, quite shifty looking – you can tell by their ears you know’ but he turned out to be the prosecuting counsel.

After the preliminaries were sorted as to who was who and what might be what, battle commenced in the form of the first witness for the prosecution being called and a slight hint of the pantomime to unfold in more ways than one.

He was sworn in, asked his profession to which his head swivelled all around as it was quite obvious the term had got him stumped as the clerk to the court then said the court wanted to know what he did for a living, to which he smiled and said he was a ‘pint spire’ much to everyone’s amazement, Judge included.

He was asked three times with the same response until the judge requested he write it down and this duly happened, then handed up to him as he then read out he was a ‘paint sprayer’ to which the witness then said: ‘I fed fo the flurst tome didn’t I!?’

Thus was the start to the high comedy to follow over the next few days as we heard assorted accounts of the case as possibly the late Eric Morecambe might have paraphrased it: ‘All the right evidence but not necessarily in the right case.’

The case we were sitting on seemed to have references to other ‘events’ that related to another criminal case as the defendant seemed to have had quite a colourful past if some details quoted, or inferred to, were anything to judge by but did leave a lot of questions – or cases –unanswered but hey ho, we battled on regardless.

Day two arrived as well as Miss Marple but now armed with her purple velvet cushion to sit on.

The basics of the case revolved around the defendant and his then friend AKA the ‘pint spire’ who together removed assorted building materials from assorted areas to build a large extension to a house, doubling its value, but during all this happening they fell out (another story worthy of a ‘Carry On’ type film) and so he reported him or as the defendant said in the box later: ‘He bladdy grassed me up!’

The falling out seemed to hinge on the defendant’s wife and her alleged involvement with the ‘pint spire’ but the details or rather what we were told in court seemed to relate to another case entirely, so we were partly confused with even the Judge’s eyebrows seemingly doing a rumba at various times, so we were instructed to disregard certain things said.

It came to the Friday morning with the Judge summing up but I was amazed that while I thought he was nodding off at times, he had actually handwritten down everything said in court from day one and even mentioned the confusion over the pint spire’s profession.

This took about an hour or so to hear as we were then instructed to go away and come back with a verdict but he would only accept a 10 to two majority if there were any doubts among us, so off we went to the jury room to debate the case.

Miss Marple got her knitting out her bag, then click-clacking away with the needles as she said her vote was ‘he’s guilty, that one’ (maybe it was his ears) as she wanted to finish a sleeve off.

British justice at its best – the defendant was guilty as somebody wanted to finish knitting her jumper sleeve.

Due to assorted elements of the case, we arrived with a three to nine majority, so word was passed through, then we were given ‘extra time’ but by now the clock was ticking by – it was now ten past four – as out of the woodwork almost came ‘Miss Takkan’, the quiet juror, whose voice we had not even heard since her being there.

She was ‘one of the three’ but wanted to change to guilty but when asked what had brought this change about, she said that she was some miles from home and might not make in time if we were in a stalemate as she wanted to see ‘my fave soap Crossroads at six thirty’ and so we had the ten to two result.

The accused got a fairly light sentence (we all thought so) by way of a fine, Miss Marple didn’t finish her sleeve there but hopefully Miss Takkan got home in time but I never saw Margaret Lockwood but then she did the nine to ten shift anyway.

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