The court room door was boarded up with cheap plywood and the lights were off inside. We had arrived at 8:57 am for a 9 o’clock conference. Confusion: were we even in the right place? A hooded youth was swearing loudly into his phone, the only other person around.
Dirty grey concrete building, 1960s, ripe for demolition. What a terrible place for life changing decisions. Google Street View the previous evening had dampened some of the initial shock. Having no other option, we stood outside in our Sunday best, waiting for the doors to open.
Security staff clearly understood their role in calming and then assessing each anxious individual entering the premises. But despite handing over belt, shoes and belongings, it took three attempts to make it past the X-ray machine. Holding up my trousers whilst being patted down, I felt humiliated and put in my place.
Later I saw a notice saying that 88 hand guns (or replicas) had been confiscated by security staff last year. I hoped our opposing party had left theirs at home, although the criminal court was where I suspected the firearms to be found. Not our destination today. I wondered how the hooded youth was getting on.
Most of the 2 hour hearing slot was spent sitting around whilst side discussions were held. Solicitors, barristers, advocates. Negotiating positions ahead of even seeing the courtroom. We sat in the waiting room, patiently, largely unaware of the concessions being offered, then counter offered.
About an hour in, negotiations tapered off and a draft order was agreed. We then lined up neatly like school children, before filing in to take a seat. We sat at the back. Silent. Everything done through representatives. I watched my own case from a distance, present yet removed.
However, the justice system acts swiftly when it wants too. Total court time was less than 15 minutes, although we’ll be back for one last hearing. The Magna Carta, a constitutional cornerstone, was signed only ten minutes down the road, so we stopped for coffee and cake on the way home. A far cry from the boarded up courtroom door.
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