Whiteley on Trial by Gabriella Coslovich

Author:Gabriella Coslovich
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780522869248
Publisher: Melbourne University Publishing
Published: 2017-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

The jury would never hear the words ‘the artwork to be painted on these doors is worth over a million dollars’. On the morning of 14 April, the judge ruled that Richard Simon’s conversation with Siddique was inadmissible. Borg looked shattered as the judge explained his ruling, criticising her approach along the way. She had tested his patience.

Siddique’s comment was in the future tense, the judge said. It referred to ‘doors’ plural, suggesting that at least two or more paintings would be created in the future. The danger of unfair prejudice was substantial. The comment would leave the jury with the impression that ‘Mr Siddique and Mr Gant’ were to produce more paintings that were not charged.

‘Having read his evidence at the committal, he strikes me as the sort of witness who would have to be controlled,’ the judge said of the wilful Mr Simon.

Just before midday, Borg went out to speak to her supposedly wayward witness. Her face was flushed when she walked back into court. ‘He’s taking a little time to calm down,’ she said softly to the judge’s associate. The jurors were called in and the judge explained why they had been kept waiting all morning. Counsel was attempting to condense the evidence and present only what was relevant. It would save time in the long run, the judge said. I wondered whether I would ever be able to trust such an explanation in the future if I were to hear it while sitting on a jury.

After almost three days on stand-by, Simon had his cameo. He walked decisively into the courtroom, face tight. Neither Siddique nor Gant looked at him. They didn’t have to avert their gazes for long. Simon was in the witness box for less than ten minutes. He confirmed his occupation and the delivery of doors to Siddique. He identified tax invoices, bank statements and reconciliation reports. All the jury heard him say were variations of the affirmative: ‘That’s correct’, ‘Yes, I did’, ‘Yes, I can say that’, ‘Yes, he would have’, ‘Yes, that’s correct, clean faces and no edge strips’.

Simon’s evidence had been whittled away until only a pile of woodchips was left. The defence barristers did not cross-examine him. There was no need.

Was it possible that I was as gutted as Borg by the scuttling of Simon’s evidence? One of the best performances of the committal had ended up on the cutting room floor. The answer to my gloom was lunch with Tom Gyorffy and an associate at his favourite Italian restaurant on Little Bourke Street. When I recounted what had just happened, Gyorffy reminded me that Simon said what he did at the committal because Richter had hounded him into it. It wasn’t because he was some sort of uncontrollable witness. Over a bottle of red, the lawyers attempted to lift my spirits, telling me to trust in the common sense of the jury. They shared a quote from the English humorist AP Herbert: ‘A jury is a device designed to prevent the law from degenerating into justice.

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