SEE YOU IN COURT!
Independent glazing consultant Philip Rougier gives a flavour of the Court process, written from the viewpoint of a Defendant glazing contractor. He draws on his own experience as an Expert Witness and presents a composite taken from many cases. If you've been through it . . . you'll know.
Glass and Glazing Products, March 1996, "In My View"
Copyright © Philip Rougier 1996
Remember Perry Mason? The excitement, surprise witnesses, last-minute confessions, thrilling victories? It's not like that in real life. Glazing cases can have their interesting moments. But usually they're mundane affairs - complex rehearsals of mistakes, misunderstandings, tales of corners cut and the wrong glass inserted, of broken promises and shattered bank balances. And now, years later, they rely on references to subtle paragraphs in Standards you've never had the time to study in such detail before now, and accusations that you can refute so clearly, if you get the chance, once you're in the witness box - perhaps in two days' time. Civil Courts don't have juries, so you are faced with a robed and wigged Judge, high up on the bench, sitting beneath a huge coat of arms - twenty times you read the motto "Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense" and wonder if it really means what it says. And you try to read the Judge's thoughts as he hears the evidence and arguments. You watch the little pony tail of your Barrister's wig from two rows back and listen to his voice getting it all just slightly wrong. You only see his face when he turns in quiet concern to ask your Solicitor or Expert a question, and you strain to hear what's being said. You try to intervene but you're politely sidelined, superfluous - the experts are having their days in court. And all the time you know it might cost you £1000 an hour, give or take a few quid.
You attend the ad hoc conferences and make your points, but somehow they fall on stony ground. There are so many side issues, complications. You smile dutifully with the others when the judge says: "This Court has endless capacity to disregard evidence it may consider irrelevant to the issues without the need for formal objections" - a statement that says everything and nothing, and you realise this is just an expensive game of words. The first and second night you pace up and down at home, can't sleep, go over the papers again and again. Their Expert makes good debating points, but yours is better, clearer. Surely the Judge will see through the lies and misunderstandings, recognise that these hard-won customers of yours have been encouraged, goaded, by their advisers into doing this. Why is this case being brought ? If only they'd paid your bill, you would have done the outstanding jobs, everyone would be content and we wouldn't be here. Five hundred quid at cost to change the frames two years ago could have avoided this, but now you seem to pay your Solicitor that much every fortnight and you just get in deeper.
Day three arrives strangely quicker than expected, but day one seems a month ago. Now's your chance to give evidence. You walk slightly too fast to the witness box and take the Oath with just a hint of a breathless quiver. Nervous, you see your Barrister's full wigged face for the first time, and you dry. He prompts you to give your name, address, some trade membership details, you gloss over this and that, then - silence. Everyone seems to be writing. You begin again, adding something to fill the void, but your Barrister waves you to be quiet. Then the questions. If only he'd ask the right ones you could clear up this mess in a few minutes. But he asks for trivial confirmations of things already in the written Pleadings, and you answer, but they don't deal with the things you want to convey to the Judge. You try a little interruption but it's put down. You go back to just answering him, and hope you can get out of the box in time to avoid running into the fourth day. Then he's finished.
But now it's the other Barrister's turn, the dreaded cross-examination, calculated to discredit. Your responses become short, more aggressive, as the barbed questions are fired at you. Yes, you did not go to University, and yes, you have no professional qualifications. But you're no cultural Philistine! And you've attended technical courses, have many, many years' good experience and achieved many things. Insulted, harassed, you make assertions you don't mean, and they're picked up and pressed home. You sweat a little, retaliate, and the Judge mercifully intervenes. But you groan inwardly for losing your cool. Suddenly the Barrister sits, and it's over. You need a cup of tea, rather badly. Oh not quite, your Barrister is on his feet again - a few more questions in re-examination, some technical points arising, to get the record straight. You answer well. Surely now it's finished. No, the Judge has a question - "Yes, Your Honour. I offered to put things right 18 months ago." And another. "No, not in writing." It's true, but you know in your heart it sounds hollow. "Any further questions from either counsel?" No. You need that tea even more now - it's almost become an obsession in the last few minutes. A break. They all leave you alone, no further need for you.
Then back into Court - "All rise". Speeches - both Barristers have their uninterrupted turn to present closing arguments - so assured, clever, convincing. And finally, the Judge begins his summing-up. "In this case..." - a last rehearsal of the facts, then a summary of the arguments presented by both sides. You could cry out when he gets it wrong, but you don't, you keep quiet and listen, doodling, taking a few half-notes. It's too late now. You see your Solicitor writing furiously, but somehow you know you'll never see a transcript. Then comes the reasoning, followed by the Judgment "I therefore find for..." While you grapple with that, a Barrister is on his feet: "...and as to costs Your Honour." "Costs awarded in the proportions..." And fluidly, "...as to interest Your Honour, we have a contractual entitlement to that portion at five per cent above bank rate which by my calculation represents..."
Then it really is over, and you and the other side count the cost. You're anaesthetised, relieved it's done and in mild shock. You can't believe the outcome, but it's final unless there's an Appeal, and now you can get back to the good, clean reality of your life and home and business.
Until the next time . . .
Glass and Glazing Products, March 1996, "In My View"
Copyright © Philip Rougier 1996