Looking back at my Probation Court duty times, there were so many memorable events. Some funny (see previous posts below) and others were rather sad or even dramatic. This tale from the Court room, where I became like the Pied Piper from Hereford, turned out well in the end but it also has a sad side.
Just another ordinary day in Court….
An ordinary afternoon in Court and a fine defaulter was listed. I sometimes used to take an interest in these cases and get involved. Sometimes there were some injustices in the making and I used to keep my ears open and occasionally intervene. This case was different, a man who had been ducking and diving for ages in trying to avoid paying some fines he had outstanding.
We’ll call him Mr Smith for now. Mr Smith had been arrested and bailed to appear in Court having ignored numerous letters summoning him. The clerk read out all of the unpaid fines listed against him; must have been over twenty and they amounted to several thousand pounds. It quickly became apparent the Court had had enough of his wriggling. Even the super efficient Yvette, the fines manager from the Court office, had come into Court to see justice finally happening, he had been on her “special” hit list for a long time.
Turned out Mr Smith had changed his name a few times in trying to avoid paying the money. He had moved a few times, tried to plead ignorance and had done everything he could to avoid facing the music. The Court had previously given him every chance to pay and now he was going to face the consequences.
Take him down!
“Mr Smith, the Court finds you guilty of culpable neglect where you have wilfully neglected to pay your fines. You will serve the time in prison in lieu of payment. Forty two days. Take him down”
“You can’t send me to prison today, I’ve got my kids outside waiting for me!”
“Your children? You have brought your children to Court? Where are they, how old are they?” demanded the chair of the bench.
“They’re 10 and 12 your worship, I wasn’t allowed to bring them in, so they’re probably still in the waiting room”
“Don’t worry, Mr Hook will look after them. Take him down”
At that point I had thoughts of ‘here we go again’.
The helpful Mr Hook, again
Mr Smith protested further. “But my car is outside, I’m gonna have a heck of a parking fine by the time I get out, you can’t send me down today”.
“We can and we will Mr Smith. Mr Hook will deal with these matters. Forty two days, take him away” said the chair of the bench, beckoning to the security guard.
“Mr Hook, may we ask a favour of you, we realise this is beyond what we would normally expect of you….”.
“Of course Sir” I responded, rising to my feet “I’ll see Mr Smith’s children now if you would like to adjourn for a tea break”.
“What a jolly good idea Mr Hook, we’ll have a cup of tea before the next case, you’re always so helpful to the Court”. They simply had no idea what they’d just landed me with….
I went out into the waiting room and found Mr Smith’s children, naturally they had a different surname. I explained their Dad would be spending a little time inside and I needed to make sure they got home alright. They weren’t fazed at all, so I thought this made my job a bit easier as the last thing I wanted was a load of sobbing kids. I took them into my little interview room and tried to call Social Services, hoping they would simply pick these kids up and take care of them. Social Services didn’t want to know as the kids weren’t in any immediate danger and insisted it was up to me to get them sorted.
I went to see Mr Smith in the cells before he was taken away. I was too late but the custody sergeant gave me Mr Smith’s car keys.
“The van was waiting for him as the last prisoner of the day and they’re on their way to Gloucester Prison now. Apparently Mr Smith wanted you to have his car keys, he said you would know what to do with them…..”
To be honest I was furious with the Mr Smith. I didn’t see why I should take any responsibility with his car outside the Court. Feeling generous for a moment, I asked the Custody Sergeant if he could speak to the traffic wardens and request they avoid putting a ticket on the car today. In those days, traffic wardens were employed by the Police. He obliged.
After the last case in Court was dealt with, I took the children back to the Probation office with the car keys in my pocket. By this time, everyone was leaving the office.
“Right then kids, is your Mum at home, could I phone her to collect you?”
“Nah she’s at work and the phone’s been cut off”
“Okay, where does she work?”
“In a nursing home”
“Which one?”
“Dunno”
“Is it in Hereford?”
“No”
I then had a feeling this was going to take a little longer than expected. The last person left the office, leaving me with Mr Smith’s kids. Drat. I called Social Services again. They weren’t interested and they were just going home themselves. This, by the way, was in the early 1990s and before the days of emergency duty teams, out-of-hours help desks or even the internet to look for nursing homes or anything else for that matter.
I quizzed the children a bit more, trying to get some clues about where their mother could be. They thought it was hilarious and didn’t mind the prospect of being taken into care. I was beginning to see their point as it was probably a better option, given their irresponsible father and elusive mother. I tried Directory Enquiries but I didn’t have enough information for them to find the phone number of an unnamed nursing home in a village somewhere out of Hereford.
In the office staff room we had a map of Herefordshire on the wall. We figured out where they lived and they said their mother always turned left as she went to work. It took her about 20 minutes to drive to work. So, I could see the direction on the map and the possible villages a few miles out of town. I knew some villages to be too small for a nursing home and we worked out which village it probably was. At this point they were starting to enjoy the detective work and they assured me they’d recognise it when we got there.
So off we go in my little red Volkswagen, out of town and we passed the end of their road. We got to the village we thought it could be and sure enough they saw the nursing home sign. I parked the car and as we were walking up to the front door, their mother appeared at the door (she had seen us arrive).
“Who the hell are you bringing my kids here? Take ’em away, I don’t want them here!”
I explained what had happened, who I was and why I’d brought her kids out for her. She soon calmed down, even thanked me. I went onto explain I had Mr Smith’s car keys, duly gave them to her and said she needed to move his car before tomorrow.
“He’s such a bastard. I can’t believe he’s done this. Fancy taking our kids with him to Court, I didn’t even know he was in there today”.
As I drove home
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for those children, growing up like that and whether they would eventually follow in their father’s footsteps. I also had some sympathy for their mother who, although a bit stroppy with me at first, seemed to be a hard-working conscientious mother. It was just Mr Smith who was out of order.
The next day I checked our records, to see if we knew him at all. I checked his various names and no, he wasn’t known to us. In those days we only had a very rudimentary computer system (it was in the early 1990s) with just two computers in the entire office with green letters on a black screen. I even checked our Mickey Mouse card index system to no avail. I called Social Services again, in case they might have the family on their books. No, they didn’t know the family and didn’t appreciate me calling about them!
When I was next in Court, not a word was said about it. Mr Smith was duly tucked up in Gloucester Prison serving his time. His children were safe and Yvette the fines manager had got him off her special hit list. His car had gone from outside the Court.
I wondered how long it would take for Mr Smith to pop up again, since he had such little regard for the law and was not adverse to sticking two fingers up at the law. Perhaps only a matter of time….
Related: Tales from the Court room – me getting banged up Tales from the Court room – nearly in the dock