Judge Walden

by Peter Murphy

  ‘The page he showed me,’ she continues, ‘contained an astrological forecast for the coming month, the main feature of which, as far as this young man was concerned, was the prediction that – and I quote – “As a Capricorn, with Neptune currently retrograde and transiting in Pisces trine to the Sun and Venus in Scorpio, you are in line for a new and exotic romantic relationship.” Inexplicably, more than two months later no such relationship is anywhere in sight, and the young man says he feels cheated.

  ‘I suppose there are many levels on which one could approach this episode in his life, and perhaps the most obvious one would be to dismiss astrology as a load of hocus-pocus and to conclude that anyone who puts their trust in such nonsense gets everything they deserve. And perhaps you think that my reply to this young man indicates that I was trying to convey just that. I wasn’t.

  ‘I have no particular brief for or against astrology, but I don’t think that’s where the problem lies. After all, if we had an astrologer with us this morning, I suspect that she might reply that you have to read forecasts in a sensible way. There are twelve signs of the Zodiac – so Capricorns make up about one twelfth of the population. But the article gives only one forecast for Capricorn, as it does for each of the other eleven signs. Was the author claiming that all of those millions of Capricorns were destined to start exotic new relationships last month? It seems unlikely, doesn’t it? So perhaps you have to read the forecast less literally, in terms of the energetic patterns themselves rather than any particular expression of those patterns. But then, perhaps the author of the column should have made that rather clearer than he did.

  ‘It’s been fashionable for more than a hundred years now for the Church to decry astrology and other esoteric practices as being at best superstitious rubbish and at worst the work of the Devil. But before writing it off entirely, I think we should bear one or two things in mind. In earlier times, all the major religions had respect for astrology and it formed part of their teachings, certainly in the esoteric canons. The Jewish Kabbalah is an essentially astrological construct. Early Islam made wide use of astrology alongside the astronomical, mathematical and medical aspects of its culture. Today, the Hindu Jyotish remains one of the pillars of the wisdom of that religious system. Even in our Christian religion, until relatively recent times many popes and bishops employed astrologers to advise them: the famous seer Nostradamus was such an astrologer who worked for a bishop. The dating of Easter was originally an astrological calculation, as was the start of the Muslim feast of Ramadan.

  ‘And the next time someone on the more evangelical wing of our Church tells you that astrology is contrary to Scripture, you might ask them what the prophet Daniel did for a living. Does anyone remember? No? It’s a great pub quiz question, by the way… no? The answer is that he was an astrologer: and apparently he was rather good at it, because he became the chief astrologer to several Persian emperors, from Nebuchadnezzar to Cyrus.

  ‘But as Shakespeare’s Cassius rightly reminds us, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” This young man’s problem wasn’t that he read an over-general astrological forecast in an uncritical way, but that he used the forecast as a way to avoid taking responsibility for his life. He sat back and waited for something to fall into his lap, without any effort or commitment on his part. Whenever we do that, we condemn ourselves to failure. God doesn’t want us to sit around all our lives in a passive way, waiting for something good to happen. He wants us to be proactive, with His help, in seeking out good things for ourselves. That’s what I meant when I told this young man to get a life. I wasn’t trying to be unkind to him. I was trying to get him to see that blaming others for your failures when you haven’t made any effort to succeed isn’t a productive way to go. This morning, I want to look at some ways in which we can all work on getting a life, or an even better life, by taking responsibility for our own lives and wellbeing…’

  As usual, the Reverend is right on point. But what’s remarkable about it, as has happened with many of her sermons over the years, is that, sitting in my pew on Sunday morning I not infrequently detect an echo of what awaits me at court on the following morning. How she does it, I don’t know, but she often provides insight into a case I’m about to try – and never more so than this week.

  * * *

  Monday morning

  ‘May it please your Honour,’ Susan Worthington begins, ‘I appear for the prosecution in this case. My learned friend Mr Aubrey Brooks represents the defendant, Gerard Busby. Your Honour, I understand that my learned friend Mr Brooks has an application before we swear in a jury, so may I defer to him before we go any further?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Worthington. Mr Brooks?’

  ‘Your Honour,’ Aubrey begins, rising to his feet gradually in his usual urbane manner, ‘this is a somewhat unusual case, and I have a somewhat unusual application.’

  Aubrey is at his elegant best in his trademark double-breasted jacket, and as one of our regulars who himself sits as a recorder from time to time, he has acquired a certain gravitas to go with his understated but potent skills as an advocate. He’s going to need it this week, I suspect.

  ‘As your Honour knows, the defendant Mr Busby is charged with a single count of fraud. The prosecution say that Mr Busby dishonestly made a false representation to a woman called Edith Hunter, the alleged misrepresentation being that he had the ability to predict correctly that Mrs Hunter would be successful in obtaining a high-powered job abroad, in Paris. In fact, Mrs Hunter didn’t get the job, and in addition to having to resign from the job she had in London, she incurred the expense of renting a flat in Paris for a year. Your Honour, the skill Mr Busby claimed to possess – and indeed does possess, so he instructs me – is that of using astrological techniques to forecast future events with some degree of accuracy.’

  ‘Not, apparently, in this case,’ I observe.

  ‘Well, his prediction wasn’t fulfilled in this instance,’ Aubrey concedes at once. ‘Mr Busby doesn’t deny that. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that what he told Mrs Hunter was false, or that he was acting in any way dishonestly. That is what the jury will have to decide, and my application concerns the jury.

  ‘Mr Busby, quite naturally, wishes to know more about those involved in his trial. As an astrologer, the most natural way for him to do that is to have everyone’s natal charts – their birth charts, that is. He would like to prepare charts for your Honour, my learned friend and myself, and most important of all, for the members of the jury. It’s a fairly simple procedure, I’m told. Charts can be prepared in a matter of minutes using a computer programme. The information Mr Busby needs to input is each person’s date, time, and place of birth.’

  I must admit, I’m rather taken aback. I’ve known Aubrey to make applications that have little chance of success before – he sometimes does it deliberately to draw attention to aspects of the case that may be important later in the trial, or just to wind his opponent up – and this may be one such. But even by that standard, this one is on the edge. Susan takes advantage of my being taken aback to launch an immediate counter-attack.

  ‘Your Honour, this is the most ridiculous application I’ve ever heard in my life,’ she protests in her most severe tone of voice. ‘There is no basis whatsoever for asking jurors to divulge that kind of personal information, and it smacks of trying to undermine or intimidate them in some way. For my own part, your Honour, I flatly refuse to supply the information my learned friend is asking for, and if your Honour were to rule that I must, I would ask for an adjournment to allow me to seek professional advice from the Bar Council.’

  ‘I don’t know what my learned friend is so upset about,’ Aubrey replies. ‘All the dates of birth are public information. Jurors provide their dates of birth to the court. In your Honour’s case, as in mine, it’s available in the current edition of Who’s Who; and in my learned friend’s case, I got it from her cha
mbers website before coming into court this morning. All Mr Busby is seeking additionally is the time and place of birth, and I don’t see why that should ruffle any feathers if the date is freely available.’

  Susan doesn’t immediately spring to her feet again.

  ‘Why does he want the time and place?’ I ask.

  ‘Your Honour, he instructs me that the date alone is not precise enough for a detailed assessment of someone’s personal traits. A date is a period of twenty-four hours, anywhere in the world. Without knowing the precise time and place of birth, the chart is not specific to the individual and so isn’t of much use.’

  I have a flashback to yesterday’s service and the Reverend Mrs Walden’s observation that a twelfth of the world’s population are Capricorns. A date doesn’t distinguish between them. As she suggested, one size can’t fit all.

  ‘In this day and age, your Honour,’ Aubrey goes on, ‘people are more curious than they used to be about the people with whom they have to deal, and Mr Busby is no exception. Natal charts are what people used as a source of information before we had the internet and social media. It’s an older system, but it’s one Mr Busby trusts.’

  ‘He’s not entitled to subject judges and jurors to that kind of personal intrusion,’ Susan insists, ‘and that’s before you take into account that, as this case shows, his so-called older system is arrant nonsense.’

  ‘It’s done in America every day,’ Aubrey says.

  ‘What’s done in America every day, Mr Brooks?’ I ask. ‘Are you suggesting that every American court has an astrologer on standby in case someone wants information about the jury?’

  Susan turns to Aubrey with a smirk, but he seems unperturbed.

  ‘Not astrologers, your Honour, no. But counsel are allowed to ask jurors all kinds of questions to try to find out what prejudices they may have. In some cases, they have jury consultants to look into the jurors’ backgrounds, or even to investigate the demographics of the jury pool in the area.’

  ‘That’s not the practice in this country, thank goodness,’ Susan intervenes.

  ‘It’s the practice to ensure that jurors have no connection to the defendant, or the offence charged, that might affect their ability to be impartial,’ Aubrey replies at once. ‘We do that all the time.’

  ‘That’s not the same thing. You don’t need astrology for that. All you have to do is to ask them a few basic questions.’

  ‘It’s exactly the same thing,’ Aubrey insists, ‘and even if your Honour is against me when it comes to the natal charts, I’m going to ask your Honour to question the jury panel about their attitude to astrologers – whether they approve, disapprove, whether they’ve ever consulted one, whether they read newspaper horoscope columns, and so on. I don’t want a juror who thinks that anyone who dabbles in the dark arts is Lucifer incarnate and should be condemned accordingly.’

  There is a pause. Susan nods.

  ‘Well, that’s a different thing,’ she replies. ‘I have no objection to your Honour asking the jury panel whether they have a belief or attitude that might get in the way of their giving Mr Busby a fair trial. I don’t mind them being asked whether they have ever consulted an astrologer – but with the understanding that the answer does not necessarily disqualify them from sitting on this jury.’

  Aubrey nods. ‘I can live with that, your Honour. But I would like your Honour’s ruling on whether we can ask for their time and place of birth.’

  ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I’m not going to allow that, Mr Brooks – whatever they may get up to in America. Moreover, I do not propose to divulge that information about myself, or to require Miss Worthington to divulge such information about herself.’

  Susan flashes me a grateful smile.

  ‘As your Honour pleases.’ Aubrey says. ‘I see that your Honour has a sentence listed before we begin the trial. It might save time if my learned friend and I can agree on the wording of the questions, and then, if your Honour approves them, we will ask the jury bailiff to supply them to the jury panel. Hopefully the answers will be available by the time your Honour is ready to start the trial.’

  ‘I agree, your Honour,’ Susan says.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ I reply. ‘Just as a matter of interest, Mr Brooks,’ I add as they are making ready to leave court, ‘have you supplied the defendant with your date, time and place of birth?’

  ‘Of course, your Honour,’ Aubrey positively beams in reply.

  The subject of the sentencing hearing is Tony Morales, a resident of Bermondsey old enough to know better, who was convicted in front of me recently of inflicting grievous bodily harm. While drinking and playing pool in the George and Dragon one evening with his mates, Tony encountered a face he didn’t recognise, but that turned out to belong to a young man called Owen Wiles. Since he didn’t know Wiles, and since he’d downed an impressive number of pints of lager by then, Tony jumped to the conclusion that Owen probably hailed from Lambeth or Vauxhall, or, even worse, somewhere north of the River. It’s well known, of course, that no one from outside Bermondsey is allowed in the George and Dragon if they’re of an age to drink too much and get involved in fights for the fun of it – that privilege being reserved for Tony, his mates, and other local residents. So Tony and his mates gathered round and suggested that Owen Wiles might like to find somewhere else to drink. Wiles’s reply, admittedly, was lacking in factual information and somewhat undiplomatic, but in fairness he probably didn’t anticipate Tony’s response – which was to crack his pool cue over Wiles’s head six or seven times, and to continue the assault by kicking him after Wiles had collapsed to the floor until his mates thought enough was enough and pulled him off.

  Owen Wiles was unconscious for some time after arriving at hospital, and was diagnosed with a hairline fracture of the skull, in addition to two broken ribs and numerous lacerations and bruises. He spent several days in hospital, four weeks recovering at home, and was unable to return to work for more than two months. Ironically, Owen was born in Bermondsey, had lived in Bermondsey his entire life, and had been to the George and Dragon any number of times before.

  Tony Morales has form for actual bodily harm – an assault on an opposing supporter after a game at Millwall – and driving with excess alcohol, plus a couple of cautions and juvenile findings of guilt for shoplifting and non-residential burglary. Cathy Writtle is representing him, which is a good choice. Cathy can be a bit excitable, but she’s realistic and is not in the habit of making exaggerated claims on her client’s behalf. Not that claims of any kind favourable to Tony Morales are easy to come by: the pre-sentence report makes bleak reading. The only glimmer of light, hidden away amid the observations on Tony’s apparent aversion to work, growing fondness for alcohol, and generally wayward lifestyle, is what seems to be a genuine attachment to his elderly mother, who suffers from some form of dementia and has recently entered a care home.

  Cathy has been around far too long to think that his attachment to his mother is going to get him off the hook for this. Her best point is that she somehow persuaded the jury to acquit Tony of GBH with intent, which would have carried a vastly greater sentence, and to convict him only of the lesser offence of inflicting grievous bodily harm without intent, for which I now have to sentence him. It was a remarkable result that surprised everyone, including Cathy; and today she has put together a seductive proposal involving a suspended sentence with unpaid work and treatment for alcohol addiction, which would leave him at liberty to visit his mother. She presents it with all her usual skill and flair, and I congratulate her on it just before they take Tony Morales down to the cells: but she knows I’m not buying it. I weigh Tony off for four years, which is at least two years less than he deserves. It’s slightly on the high side for the sentencing guideline I have to apply, but I don’t think the Court of Appeal is going to show any interest in interfering – and neither, I know, does Cathy.

  ‘Me
mbers of the jury,’ Susan begins after introducing herself and Aubrey to the jury, supplying them with copies of the indictment and explaining it to them. ‘This is a classic case of a fraud committed on a gullible victim by a man dishonestly claiming to have supernatural powers. Unfortunately for his victim, Edith Hunter, that claim was untrue, Mr Busby knew it to be untrue, and as result, you will hear, Mrs Hunter suffered not only considerable distress but also a significant financial loss.’

  We have a typically mixed Bermondsey jury, mostly fairly young but with two older men of Bangladeshi extraction. While sitting upstairs waiting for me to finish sentencing Tony Morales, they occupied themselves by answering a makeshift questionnaire devised by Susan and Aubrey and approved by me, which asks them the following questions:

  1. Do you know, or have you heard of the defendant, Gerard Busby?

  2. Do you know a woman called Edith Hunter?

  3. Have you ever consulted an astrologer?

  4. If so, when and for what purpose?

  5. Do you regularly read horoscope columns in newspapers or magazines?

  6. Do you have any religious or other belief that would make it difficult for you to judge a case fairly and impartially if the case involves astrology?

  All sixteen members of the panel have answered ‘no’ to questions one and two, and almost all of them have answered ‘no’ to questions three, five, and six, ignoring question four in consequence. One man discloses that his Auntie Vye used to read tea leaves, though he does not suggest that he benefitted from her skills personally, and confirms that he has never consulted an astrologer. But one woman reveals that she once consulted an astrologer to see whether he could help her find her missing cat, a valuable Siamese. She adds that she found the cat a day later in the kind of place the astrologer had suggested looking for it, but she is objective enough to add that she’s not sure whether that was because of his advice, or sheer good fortune. She is confident that she can judge the case fairly.