There Are No Bad Boys, There Are Just Bad Haircuts

Continued from the last post:

After dressing down the barrister in the first case, but agreeing to reschedule the case for Michaelmas term, the judge instructed the clerk to call the second case. This was a criminal case where the defendant was charged with possession of stolen property, to wit, a 2004 BMW 5-series.

Before calling the jury in, the court heard a motion from the defense barrister to dismiss the case. The argument was that the defendant could not be found guilty because he could not form the requisite mens rea, which is literally translated from Latin as "guilty mind." Practically it amounts to a "but I didn't mean to" defense. The defense's ground for such a claim? The defendant (allegedly) was not in his right mind at the time he obtained the stolen car; he is bipolar and was in the middle of a manic episode at the time.

The judge looked down at his paperwork. "But you do not plead 'not guilty by reason of insanity,' you plead 'not guilty.'" The judge looked at the lawyer expectantly.

The lawyer stumbled through an explanation that didn't really explain anything. Essentially, he just repeated that since he could show that the defendant was in the midst of an episode, the case should be thrown out.

I felt as though I was channeling my Civil Procedure I professor as I wrote "TITTJ!" in my notebook. He had a habit of writing acronyms on the board when the class was overlooking an easy answer. I remember the day he wrote "TITTJ!" on the board as he was asking us to pretend to be plaintiff's attorneys responding to a defense motion. "What will you say to the judge? What is your answer to their motion?" Because of his messy handwriting, I sat silent and motionless, not believing that he really wanted someone to shout out "TITTY!" either in open court or in his classroom.

Of course, the correct answer was "tell it to the jury!" As in, this is not a matter for the judge to decide beforehand; it's why we're here, to let the jury decide.

So, the judge in Irish court that day probably had no idea that anyone was thinking about titties in the middle of a proceeding about a stolen BMW, but I was. He offered to allow the defense leave to amend their plea from 'not guilty' to 'not guilty by reason of insanity,' but the defense declined.

"What you're essentially saying to me, then, is that the prosecution does not have enough evidence to carry their burden of proof, since one of the things they must prove is mens rea. As I'm sure you know, a failure-of-proof defense is a matter for the jury, not for me. If you do not wish to amend your plea, then I am denying your motion."

TITTIES! I thought.

Whereupon, the two sides huddled and asked the judge for a recess to confer with each other. I don't think it takes Kresken to guess what happened next. After about a half hour break, the parties came back to announce they had reached a plea agreement.

Whereupon, the judge called the jury in to apologize for wasting their time, but as sometimes happens, it turned out that they weren't needed. He did tell them that since they were empaneled past 11am, they were entitled to lunch on the state, so head on down to Quay Street Restaurant and tell them you were on the jury today. I did not attempt to take advantage of this ludicrously loose system for a free lunch.

Whereupon, the trial proceeded to the sentencing phase. This was pretty cool because I actually got to see testimony. The prosecution called the sergeant who investigated and arrested the defendant. Little did I know that happy-go-lucky garda who told me that court would start at half ten was the prosecution's star witness. He matter-of-factly described his investigation and his understanding of the defendant's diagnosis. Incidentally, the defendant bore a striking resemblance to Brendan Fraser, except with a much worse haircut (almost shaved on the sides but long and Elvis-like on top).

The defense's witnesses included his psychiatrist, mother, father, and boss. It really got kind of sad through that phase, as you could see that the guy really did have a serious diagnosis. The doctor had been treating him for about ten years, the defendant had been hospitalized twice for his disorder, his father suffered from the same disease, and his mother even called the police in the days before he was caught with the car, trying to begin the process of getting him committed for going off his meds.

Here is a quick memo to anyone who wishes to pursue an insanity plea: don't do anything to cover your tracks or avoid detection. To succeed with the plea, at least in Ireland, you are still bound by a burden to prove the ancient M'Naughten rule: that at the time, you did not know right from wrong. Our defendant changed the plates on his stolen beamer. This instantly (and maybe unfairly) defeats any argument that he didn't know it was wrong.

So, as the judge returned from chambers to sentence your man, I was sort of holding my breath. After hearing the whole story, and the fact that the guy has absolutely no record, a new fiancee, is holding down a job, and has the support of his family, you just felt like this wasn't a guy who belonged in prison, even considering his haircut.

The judge, however, explained that he was unconvinced that the defendant didn't know right from wrong, and even hinted that he was a bit cranky that the court even had to put up with that argument. Further, the fact that the defendant had not cooperated with the police in tracking down the person that did the actual stealing was another negative. Therefore he handed down a sentence of 18 months. But, he continued, he was not unsympathetic to the condition that the defendant suffered, and to his lack of a record. So, he suspended the sentence on the condition that the defendant repay the owner her losses not covered by insurance, continue treatment and meds, and not get into trouble for a period of three years. It may seem lame but I actually did think, the system worked in this case.

Then a sort of touching thing happened. While the family huddled for a group hug, I noticed the sergeant waiting to talk to the defendant. After the family broke, the sergeant approached the defendant, offered his hand, and said, "I wish you the best of luck with everything - and I very much mean it."

It's sort of nice, in our adversarial system of justice, to see a bit of cooperation and understanding, isn’t it?