Court Witness Training

I was sat in a hall within a police building, surrounded by nearly a hundred other police officers who I had joined with. We had come back for some training and today’s topic was crown courts. A barrister had been drafted in to explain to us what lawyers will try and do to trip police officers up when giving evidence.

Once he had explained the court set up and the underhand tricks that are used, he revealed to us that he had a pile of witness statements that we had written earlier in the week relating to robbery we had watched on a television screen. In it, a female had had her laptop bag stolen by a hooded male.

Unbeknown to us, our instructors had earlier in the week faxed them over to him and he had gone over them in minute detail. I shifted uncomfortably as he revealed that some people would be called up where he would proceed to destroy them. I began to start feeling warm and undid my top button and loosened my tie somewhat. Only five people were going to be called up and out of nearly a hundred, our individual odds were pretty good.

Slowly people were called up, taken out of the room and then when the signal was given, led back inside for the long walk to the front where a mock court had been created, complete with a jury which was made up of willing volunteers. I decided to stay rooted to my seat as I watched the back of the barrister’s head as he peered over the statement. I looked up at the witness box and saw my colleague looking rather grey.

The barrister meticulously picked apart the statement and had the officer spluttering as he fired questions at him. The atmosphere in the room was tense; nobody moved as they waited with baited breath to see if he survived this verbal attack.

He managed to find an incorrect detail within the statement and had the officer on the ropes as he bullied him into admitting it was wrong.

“I suppose that is incorrect, yes,” he stammered.

“Well officer,” he replied theatrically. “What else is incorrect in your statement?”
Suddenly the barrister looked up at the judge and said he had no more questions. The officer looked exhausted and he made his way back to his seat as we applauded before the barrister had a debrief and gave feedback.
This continued three more times until time was running dangerously low. He called what we thought would be the final witness and feeling more confident I went and sat in the seats of the jury. Now I could watch the ‘witness’ get destroyed from a different position and prepared to savour every moment.
It came to an end quite abruptly as the barrister looked at his watch.

“Now,” he said in a casual voice. “I think we have time for one more.”

He picked up a handwritten statement and my heart began beating. That handwriting looked oddly familiar.

“Bill. Bill Newman, is he here?”

“Shit,” I muttered loudly as I raised my hand from the jury seats.

“Ah good,” he beamed. “Go and get ready.”

I had left my statement under my seat in the main audience which was on the other side of the hall from the jury seats. I escaped out of the hall and wondered if I could give my evidence without it. Suddenly I was given the signal and was taken up to the box.

“Officer,” he started slowly, peering at me. “Did you have a good view of the incident.”

“Yes,” I replied, my throat now somewhat dry. “I was overlooking the road and could see it.”

“So it wasn’t the best view then?” he said sarcastically.

“It was a view,” I said.

“Yes, you didn’t answer the question. It wasn’t the best view then?”

“I was happy with it, yes,” I said.

He looked at me annoyed and continued.

“Officer, you say in your statement that the victim had a handbag stolen from her. Is that correct?”

I knew I was on shaky ground and knew what he was getting at. When we had seen the incident it had been just a few seconds long and we had to record as much as we could. At the time I had thought it was a handbag she had been wearing over her shoulder. Once our statements had been written we had been informed that it was in fact a laptop bag.

“Yes at the time I believed it was a handbag.”

“So it couldn’t have been a rucksack?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“So it couldn’t have been a briefcase?”

“No.”

“So it couldn’t have been a satchel?”

“It was a bag on a strap over her shoulder, I believed it was a handbag.”

I could see the audience smirking as they knew, as did I, what he was getting at. I had mistaken a laptop bag for a handbag but I was determined not to admit I was wrong. He looked back at my statement for a moment before looking directly at me.

“And officer, it couldn’t have been a laptop bag?”

He said the words ‘laptop bag’ slowly and deliberately before looking back at my statement. I could hear a few people giggling and I felt slightly amused. The audience knew I was lying and the barrister knew I was lying. He looked back up at me.

“No,” I said confidently. “I do believe it was a handbag.”

He glared at me and looked annoyed before telling me to go and sit down as people applauded. He looked over at me and asked how I felt.

“And do you think you’re appropriately dressed for court?” he sneered.

I was wearing a suit, as were many of the other males in the room. In fact, some had not even worn a suit jacket, but just a shirt and tie.

I felt confused as to what he was getting at. We had come for courtroom skills and not tips on how to dress. We would be in our best uniform at crown court, not a suit anyway.

“Erm, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“Just answer the question yes or no,” he spat.

I felt a little shocked at his reaction and wondered what was going on. He was still in the role-play mode and attacking me. This wasn’t meant to happen; with the other people he had talked to them kindly after they had sat down and offered them advice on giving evidence, not on their dress style.

“Yes,” I said. “I am dressed appropriately.”

“I would disagree,” he said sternly. “Your top button is undone and your jacket was open. It’s all about appearance,” he barked.

I recoiled back into my seat and sat there stunned for a moment. Granted, my top button had been undone because I had been hot, but I wouldn’t have done that in a court – in fact, I wouldn’t even be wearing a suit in court. And as for my suit jacket being done up, I had never seen people wear one all buttoned up.
I’m not quite sure why he attacked the way I was dressed but I shall now always ensure my clip on tie is firmly fastened when I venture into the witness box.