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Sometimes I wonder why

February 2, 2018   ·   0 Comments

By Constance Scrafield

‘Iggs, so I call him, as a nod to his Cockney background, is in a multi-month battle with his local council, H, in London, UK. What he claims is true but the powers at the council deny the whole story – it is quite bazaar. He may never be able to prove his case.

I went to join him at a court appearance and to spend a week to see if I could untangle some of the mess.

Anyway, there we all were in court to debate part of the issue but, more interestingly, in many ways, it gave us a chance to witness council H’s reasoning in its pursuit of those accused. Sitting in the court, watching the wheels of justice grind on, there were two cases to be dealt with before ours.

Mr. Smith had a home within the borough, which, according to Council H’s solicitor, he had not kept up the front garden of his terrace house and neglected to paint, as and when needed, the frames around his front door and windows “white or cream, to match the designated colour.”

He was pleading guilty but made the mitigating comments that he had been away caring for his mother elsewhere and had done all he reasonably could to maintain the proper aspect of his home during that time.

“The grass does keep growing,” he commented, “and I have painted those frames a few times…”

There were two magistrates, a lady and a gentleman, nice enough people but not trained at all in the law; the Clerk of the Court, who was a solicitor, sat in the corner of the L-shaped bench and conducted the flow of the proceedings, advising the magistrates as to the law and their options for judgement. They were clearly predisposed to be influenced by him.

At the other end of the bench was Council H’s solicitor, a smart young woman, knives primed to follow the letter of the law to its sharpest edge.

Mr. Smith’s real reason for his guilty plea was that he had been assured of leniency with reference to his fines for neglect and court costs. Council H’s solicitor waxed about the demerits of sloppy house keeping and the burden to the tax payer of this outrage. There was some heavy math and he was fined $4,800. He offered to pay on the spot, so glad was he to be done with it.

Next up was Mr. Brown, whose condition classed him a Section C: living in a hospital mental ward, for the last six months and, his guardian from the hospital assured the court, for another six, at least. It was clear that Mr. Brown, whose impoverished wife was also by his side, was pretty vague about what was going on.

His sins were nine “noise abatements,” meaning his music was too loud for the neighbours where he had been living six months ago and would never live again.

Demands to appear in court had been delivered to the abandoned premises from which Mr Brown had been transferred to hospital. Normally, the courts do not pursue Section C defendants in such circumstances. So, the Clerk of Court stopped the discussion of how to proceed, saying, “Well, do we need to proceed? Is there anything to achieve with such a matter?”

It was as though he had megaphone, shouting to Council H’s solicitor, “Leave him, you silly bugger – can’t you see there’s nowhere to go with this?”

It wouldn’t have made any difference if he had, for she was glad to say: “There are nine of these abatements. You can see how serious the offences are and, yes, we wish to proceed.”

‘Iggs is in a wheelchair and is suffering a dozen health problems; I stood before the magistrates, mild and smiling, asking permission to speak. It was out of the question but we got around that, offered a not- guilty plea for a case similar to Mr. Smith but bigger; listened to their promises of leniency for a guilty plea and the truly ruinous consequences of taking the thing to court with not guilty. We took a break outside the court to confer, returning to ask for an adjournment to seek legal advice which they were pleased to give us: two weeks – well, three – “We’ll give you four weeks!”

They passed us a appointment notice which I took, saying, “Ah, just like the dentist.”

The comment made them laugh – for the first time that day.

Over my many years living in London, I have sat in courtrooms, watching wisdom and compassion play as big a role as the letter of the law. I used to go just to observe the system at work, it was so interesting. This is a story of a local government with too much power and real malevolence at its base, not what normally happens in British courts.

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