had my first and very tiny taste of the media hounds,, well obviously not the kind on tv where they thrust microphones at you on the courtroom doorstep while the camera shutters are going ‘click-click-click’ (do newspaper reporters still use cameras that go ‘flash-click’? — not that singapore really has a paparazzi?) ) but as we left the magistrate’s appeals two reporters in the media gallery rose quickly and followed us out of the courtroom: what comments did [the learned counsel] have about the appeal? can they have a copy of his written submissions? and did they hear him say in mitigation the client had a respected position in the [x] community? pray, what position? i didn’t hear which papers they were from. if my initial impression was one of the three morning dailies — when they requested the actual submissions i was naively hopeful they might raise some points of doubt in the news — when they asked “what position” i began to think it was one of the evening chinese tabloids.
the boss is a seasoned campaigner. of course we value our relationships with the press etc and would like to be helpful but client confidentiality etc so give us your namecard and if client permits we will call you back and let us talk of something else now while i send my helpful intern back into the courtroom to talk to the wife of my client, all right? i didn’t relish this job: the woman was crying silently in the public gallery; she had brought no friend with her to the hearing (ashamed, too private a trouble, or has no friend?) and now her husband is taken away to jail, on a charge i couldn’t make up my mind whether he was guilty of but on balance thought he deserved the benefit of the doubt for, and what will she do, sitting in the gallery all alone, how will she walk out of that courtroom, when even her lawyers have left the room? what i would have liked to do was sit by her and hold her hand if that was any help, but that would be strictly unprofessional and moreover what right had i? i’d met her only once before, i had barely handled her husband’s file my sole contribution was drafting the executive summary and putting the bundle through the binding machine! and now the reporters had scented blood but didn’t even want to talk to her personally just her husband’s lawyers (was that a kindness with respect to her unhappiness or the kind of casual unthinking dismissiveness of “the little housewife” bordering on insulting?) but what good would it do her, speaking to reporters? if this was a serious miscarriage of justice and the family wanted to make a media ruckus by all means, a feisty investigative journalist might make some difference, but her husband’s case were a toss-up and i didn’t like the look of these reporters at all. on the other hand i was not allowed to advise her (what right had i? i haven’t the slightest experience with the media), only to convey the request for consent. “some reporters are very interested in your husband’s case. they asked to see the appeal submissions but of course we will never release that without your husband’s permission. can you ask him? he doesn’t have to give permission if he doesn’t want to.” that was as neutrally as i could word it without outright dissuasion, but i didn’t think she needed much dissuasion. “what do they want it for, how will they use it?” she wants to know. i don’t know, i say. (what could i have said? anything i said would have been speculative, and my dislike of the reporters was my own prejudice.) she makes up her mind: “no media attention.” yes, i tried to explain again, but the refusal has to come from your husband, not you. will you ask him and text us if he confirms he refuses? (and now i’ve gone too far, that was dangerously close to advising her, i hastily tag on “or confirms he agrees.“) but she is no longer listening to me, her mind is elsewhere. i say i’m so sorry about today again and slunk out of the courtroom, to my relief my learned master has managed to get rid of the reporters by this time and we retired to the bar room. i don’t know if she ever called our office back. i certainly didn’t see the case in the papers the next day. but i wish i knew how she left that courtroom, that day.
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