Law Unordered: PPS #3 - A

Today's story is the summary of a 2-week jury trial involving sexual assault with a weapon, alleged against a 40-year-old black man in a wheelchair. I'll be leaving out a lot of details, but there's ways to find what's publicly available if you dare. The accused is Lloyd Eugene Bailey, and that's as much as I'm going to say with regard to particulars given the disturbing nature of what happened. That said, there's loads I will tell you about the trial, the jury, testimony and cross-examinations, and deliberations. I'll try keep it shorter than a novel, and longer than a toddler's attention span.

First off, the jury selection. About 220 people appeared in answer to a summons. First the judge asked for general exceptions (medical problems, prejudice, financial difficulty) and after interviewing each complaining prospective juror, excused them. As an example, I'm told in a murder trial one such person told the judge he couldn't be objective because he hated murderers - after going into enough detail the judge released him, and on his way out he sincerely told the accused to rot in hell. Then there were specific exemptions (knowing a witness, having been involved in a similar trial) and again, most applicants were interviwed then excused. Believe it or not, one older man got summoned despite being the father of the case's lead investigator - once that came out he was released, no further questions asked, to the amusement of the courtroom. Now it was time to draw numbers - each person had a juror number on a card, which the court clerk shuffled into a deck, then drew 12 numbers. Both the Crown and the defence had 12 challenges, where they could reject such a person for any reason. It took a while, but 12 jurors were sworn and took their seats - no fanfare, no grand pronouncement, just the start of the trial with opening statements by the judge and Crown. (It's possible to have 14 jurors - 12 + 2 spare, but that didn't happen in this one. If a jury drops to 10 members the trial can continue, but any less than that and it's a mistrial.)

So, since the accused is presumed innocent, it's on the Crown to make their case. So, after a compelling opening statement, the Crown started calling witnesses. Forensic investigators, officers on the scene, medical and technical experts, and of course the victim took the stand, answered the Crown's questions, then were cross-examined by the defence lawyer. The victim particularly was exceptional - she was very candid and bravely withstood invasive questioning, clearly traumatised and emotional, and entirely believable. She was sharp, too - the defence got her saying "yes" to a bunch of questions then said "and this was all with your consent, wasn't it?" to which she quickly answered with an emphatic and disgusted "no!" She was still quite shaken, at times sobbing and trembling in the stand and recoiling from exhibits. When the defence lawyer asked her to demonstrate a pose of how she was tied up, he touched her arm to indicate where the rope went without her consent - she flinched and drew back and the jury glared daggers at the defence lawyer and the accused. Hearing her testimony was difficult, as she was clearly still suffering and psychologically scarred. Jurors got misty-eyed and the Crown lawyer, in making his opening and closing remarks, got caught up in the emotion of the events as well. After a hearing without the jury present the judge allowed the Crown to introduce 2 previous victims of this accused (which is rare given that they can introduce undue prejudice) to establish a signature pattern to his attacks. After that, the Crown closed its case and the defence made their opening statement (the opening statements are so separated since the judge could decide the Crown hasn't made enough of a case to base a conviction from, and make a defence statement needless).

In this case the defence called the accused to the stand. His lawyer asked him questions that laid out his side - that she consented to this activity. Once that was made clear, and he directly accused her and 4 police officers of lying, it was time for the Crown to cross-examine. Have you ever seen a starving doberman get set loose on a thick, juicy steak? The Crown lawyer performed a textbook cross, at times quiet and reasoning, at other times indignant, others still passionate, angry, argumentative, and generally going up one side of the accused and down the other, tearing him and his story to shreds in pointing out its numerous inconsistencies (Law & Order fans would consider it "going all Jack McCoy on his ass") - the jury was often smirking or chuckling at the accused's sudden memory loss, or confusion, or insistence that the evidence was wrong or misleading. The Crown didn't just debunk his side of the story, they tore his credibility to shreds. When that show finished, the defence lawyer (having bothered to call evidence) then gave his closing argument first, trying to introduce a reasonable doubt into the Crown's case, then the Crown finished with a very strong reminder of the evidence, the testimony, and the accused's fabrications. The judge then gave closing instructions to the jury on points of law, and away they went to deliberate.

Once all arguments were made it was no longer improper for us Crown types to chat with the defence lawyer (a very respectable and forthright grandfather) - we placed wagers on how long deliberations would take, then played poker for paper clips as various predictions fell by the wayside. We had a nervous coffee break, then an anxious lunch - not so much fearing an acquittal as a weekend verdict or hung jury - before returning for more cards before we got the call - the jury had reached a verdict after almost 4 hours deliberating. The foreman answered the clerk's questions of finding on each of the 8 charges with a very satisfied "guilty." There was no outburst, no demand for order, just a victim trying to hold herself together and people sensitive to the moment. Sentencing was put in motion, with an upper range of life imprisonment (with eventual parole), or the Crown's preferred option of a Dangerous Offender finding, which if approved would essentially mean that Lloyd Bailey will eventually die in prison. Far be it from me to actively wish for his imminent demise, but were I to hear of his passing I wouldn't stop a smile from poking through. There are some people the world is better off without, and the scary thing is lots of them seem very normal.

The judge was the very image of courtesy and impartiality, and the clerk was nicer than anyone else in the room - when Bailey was to take the stand she explained how there was a lift in a back corridor so he wouldn't have to worry about falling down the stairs going to the witness stand. "We wouldn't want him getting injured here," she said - the Crown and I looked at each other - "we wouldn't??" Scott and I not only got to watch the entire trial but to sit in on out-of-court debriefings and strategy sessions, chipping in with our observations and recommendations. On the whole, trauma and drama aside, it was a very educational and occasionally exciting if not stressful experience, and one I can easily see myself stepping into more regularly.

Thankfully, this time the bad guy lost, the good guys won, and 1.5 years of investigation and preparation paid off. The next update in this series will be after my return to the less-dramatic provincial court routine, perhaps with a special interlude.

Until then, keep your stick on the ice!
A.

Keep A Straight Face & Say It With Me: Dingle! - A

I've thrown a lot of words your way lately, so I'll take a moment to change the pace. Racheal and I took a pleasant afternoon to head over to Sanford Fleming Park, take pictures, and explore the monumental Dingle tower. Basically it's a tribute to Nova Scotia being the birthplace of responsible government in North America, a 10-storey tower of rough stone and plaques capped by an elegant copper roof, atop a flag bedecked observation deck, with fine stone and chiselled pillars. If nothing else, it's a good view and decent workout climbing all those stairs. The park is nice (and was hosting a Teddy Bear Picnic that day), and there were ducks. Enough words. Pictures!

Northwest Arm looking towards the harbour:


The tower:


Northwest Arm looking inland:


At/in the tower:







Sir Sanford Fleming Park:



Dead Man's Island:


A.

Special Visit #1 - A

We had a special treat the first week of June in the form of a visit from my parents, here to sample what Halifax has to offer and to spend their anniversary with us. They got to see the Citadel, Point Pleasant Park, the Harbour, the Pier 21 Museum, my office and a few minutes of court time, and join us for a road trip across the peninsula to the Annapolis Valley for sightseeing and a lobster dinner while waiting for the tide to change. There's not much to add beyond how great it was to see them in person and catch up, so I'll just defer to the pictures and let them speak for themselves. Just for the record, though, our GPS is lacking in Nova Scotia backroad details, so what should have been a 5 minute trip turned into a 30 minute "faster way" that included the purchase of a paper map with the missing roads on it. Sure, the GPS knows US highways inside and out, but apparently rural Canadian detail is optional. Oh well, at least the province is small enough that if you get lost you'll eventually find somewhere big-ish to navigate from.

At The Citadel:



Parents and son, in the Public Gardens and at Dal:



Dad and his little buddy in Point Pleasant Park:


In Grande Pre and Medford area:




In Halls Harbour, low-tide style:



In Halls Harbour, slightly-higher tide 2 hours later:


How we spent the 2 hours:


Until later,
A.

Law Unordered: PPS #2 - A

Last episode you read about the courthouse process. What you missed out on was the people. If you want an unpredictable colourful cross-section of all walks of life, go to court. You've got accuseds showing up in anything from suits to disintegrating clothes, torn jeans and undershirts to what I'll generously call interesting dresses, all in front of well-dressed lawyers, bored judges, burly sheriffs, and frazzled clerks.

First, the Crowns. They're incredibly hard-working people juggling a huge caseload, trying their best to make sure nothing falls through the cracks. They range from avuncular gentlemen to feisty and energetic women to crass, foul-mouthed insulting degenerates with hearts of gold who'd give you their shirt or buy you a book because they remember you mentioning the author favourably. It's not a place for people with virgin ears - due to the accuseds they deal with, the workplace stresses, and occasionally disturbing files they handle, cursing isn't just a release valve or shock mechanism but an occupational necessity. In reading the facts of an offence in court the avuncular gentleman has to quote the accused's creatively foul language to the judge. If people aren't cussing each other out you can safely guess they hate each other's guts - insults and expletives also pass as badges of honour or indications of respect. Like the rest of the province they drink freely at their parties, and like anyone else they get together outside work hours for soccer games or weekends at the cottage or for poker nights. They're frank, rough around the edges, tough and thick-skinned, but they care very much about their roles in the justice system and the impact of their decisions. They pull large briefcases on wheels and carry boxes of files without complaint. They are a harmonious group of people by and large, and thoroughly professional in their own ways. The typical daily workload is anywhere from 1-3 boxes of files for a Crown, but a specialised youth court Crown was seen with a hand cart loaded with no fewer than 5 boxes! With such a workload, it's no surprise that office pranks happen from time to time (bananas hidden behind filing cabinets, dry cereal inside shoes) to lighten things up.

This brings us to the defence lawyers. The private types are less overworked than the Crowns or Legal Aid types, so they carry less stress and be-frazzlement. They advocate energetically for their clients, providing advice and pushing for the best arrangements they can get, but they're also extremely realistic. The Legal Aiders are very overworked and underpaid, and at least one of them lives in her own unique world of organisation. Picture someone trying to juggle baby geese while riding a flaming unicycle while reciting tongue-twisters. Backwards. That's what Legal Aiders (NSLA) have to deal with - scores of cases with different dates and times in different courtrooms for different reasons. In all fairness, keeping it straight is a challenge, but it's frustrating for everyone when details get missed and matters have to be rescheduled again. Regardless of who's paying, though, the defence lawyers I've met are incredibly cooperative and collaborative with the Crowns - if one side forgets information or a relevant document, rather than playing hardball the other will often help out, to the gratitude of the judge and all involved. Negotiations are frank and quick to get to brass tacks, but efficient and built on mutual respect and trust. Halifax isn't exactly a teeming metropolis, so if one lawyer burns another, not only is there a long memory coupled with a high chance of facing each other again, but word will get around. Honesty, respect, integrity, and a commitment to their sides characterise the lawyers I've seen, and the result is a system as efficient as the judge lets it be.


Judge Hyneman


Judge Gibbs

The judges have their own quirks. Some are ruthlessly efficient, others more committed to formalities, and some nice and polite almost to a fault. One (twin brother separated at birth pictured above) has a very dry wit and knows how to use it to devastating effect. Still another has the temperament and moustache of one Mythbuster, Jamie Hyneman. Another, when faced with a plea bargain regarding charges of uttering threats, read the charges to the accused and asked if she pled guilty - she did. Not convinced her level of education meshed with the vocabulary of the plea, he asked her if she made the threats and if she meant them - "of course not!" Everybody sighed - "let's set a date for trial, people." The lawyers involved felt duly chastised, a lesson was learned, and the next case was called. Interestingly, despite what could become a circus, court is kept in order without the need for gavels (I have yet to see one, anywhere) or anything beyond a dirty look from a sheriff. There are of course the odd exceptions, but for such a busy place, things are generally able to move along uneventfully. (For a couple reasons I won't go further into judicial nicknames or gossip, but sitting on the bench wearing red-trimmed robes does not confer immunity from stories or restore normalcy to a colourful character.)

The accused and their supporters are a varied group covering pretty much every walk of life. One balding pasty fellow is accused of defrauding his unknowing mistress out of $50k, while another very well dressed man is seeking a variation in his conditions arising from an impaired driving conviction. Of course there's druggies and toughs and unsavoury types, most accused of shoplifting or the like, but despite getting a feel for who's likely to do what, sometimes there'll be a total shocker where the big burly tough guy will actually be the victim, or the little slip of a woman will be accused of assaulting police officers.

In short, the people in the Crown offices are amazing to work with, the defence lawyers actually have souls, and life in court is never dull. Until next time,
A.