I’ve become sick to death reading
about threats of strike action by teachers, tube drivers, nurses, and probably
tree surgeons. Last month the Government imposed 8.75% cuts to the publicly
funded work that I do. We are remunerated with a fixed fee based on the time
spent on a case calculated on notional hourly rates. Now I have to undertake
more work to hit the so called “higher” standard fee. The hourly rates as well
as the standard fees have been reduced by 8.75%. Forgive me for not giving a
shit about those workers (particularly public servants) that are complaining
about a 1% pay rise. I’d happily take a pay freeze.
I appreciate that just because my
profession is being savaged it doesn’t justify cuts to other services, and I
agree. A dear friend and I have been accused of “teacher bashing” because we
dare to mention the fringe benefits this profession receives including long holidays. When we’re not facing a 17.5% pay
cut over the course of the next two years my giveashitometer might stop
flat-lining. Almost as painful as the pay cut is the lawyer bashing mostly by
the Daily Fail, quoting the fees of the top two criminal QCs in the country
intimating that we’re all fat cats in a feeding frenzy from public funds. The
truth of the matter is that most legal aid lawyers in the criminal justice
system earn significantly less than newly qualified teachers, receive no sick
pay, holiday pay or pension contributions.
Teachers, nurses, firefighters,
and probably tree surgeons complain that because their professions are vocational
they are expected not to be well
remunerated. My first point is that they are. My second point is that lawyers
have been instructed by the Government to
undertake pro-bono work. We already do, but we just don’t make a song
and dance about it. I have given serious thought to changing jobs. In fact I
considered lecturing in law, but just thinking about it lead to me experiencing
the first signs of coma. So despite the fact that this option would be better
remunerated, and I might even get paid holidays, I concluded that if my heart
isn’t in it I won’t do it.
Here are a couple of the reasons
why. About a week ago a life sentence prisoner client that I have represented
for almost ten years confided in me that he had reached a point of utter
despair and was pondering the most efficient manner to despatch himself since
the powers that be, he believed, would never despatch him from prison. I have
known him long enough to know that this was not an idle threat. He wept.
Generally when client’s cry in front of me I inform them that cry babies have
no business committing crime, and that they are wasting valuable (though barely
chargeable) time.
In this instance I was in no
doubt that my client was suicidal, and I understood why. If I had been thoroughly
stitched up by my Probation Officer I would undoubtedly feel the same. He made
me promise not to tell anyone because he did not want to be placed on what is
known as an ACT (suicidal prisoners are monitored every fifteen minutes in the
hope that if they do try to top themselves there is sufficient time to prevent
death setting in, thus averting an inspection by Her Majesty’s Inspectorate).
When you’re feeling low enough to welcome death, the last thing you want is a
prison officer looking at you as often as adverts appear on prime time TV. I
agreed to say nothing, but crossed my fingers behind my back. One of the few
occasions that solicitors are permitted to breach client confidentiality is
when there is a real prospect of self harm. You can also dob them in if you are
aware they’ve committed a crime, but if a client attempts to make a clean
breast of it with me I generally stick my fingers firmly in my ears and chant LALALALALALA.
Unless the SRA are reading this, in which case I follow the Code of Conduct to
the letter.
Before I left the prison I
reported my concerns to the Duty Governor. Two days later I received a call from
my client and his cousin thanking me. He had been provided with help and
support and felt better able to face the challenges ahead, and that I had been
instrumental. I did a small thing that made a big difference and it made me
feel better about myself. Priceless, as Mastercard would say. Almost as good as
when you complete a level on Candy Crush that you’ve been stuck on for months.
There are other occasions when my
job just makes me laugh. I could probably write a book about the things that
prisoners should never ever say. A few years ago a career criminal was giving
evidence at a recall hearing before the Parole Board. He had been returned to
prison following police intelligence that he was dealing in class A drugs which
he denied in the strongest possible terms and wished to take to the highest
court in the land. During the course of this evidence it was put to him that he
had been observed buying £10 bags of heroin. He replied –“you’ve got to be
kidding, you can’t get a £10 bag for love nor money these days; do you have any
idea how much smack costs?... Oh shit.”
There are also those moments when
cultural diversity intervenes and makes me appreciate the society I inhabit. I
have represented a Bengali national who informed the Parole Board that he could
not accept that he was guilty of assault because the victim “was my wife.”
There was a Nigerian who proclaimed – “rape?!!! – she was a woman.” I offer
advice, but am at times relieved that clients choose to ignore it. Also known
as giving them the rope to hang themselves.
I’ve heard of many experienced
quality solicitors are planning to leave the profession. At times thoughts of
running a coffee shop or florist are attractive. But like my client with his
£20 bags, I just don’t want to give it up.
