Years before his public outrage about a TD’s glowing character reference for a criminal, Judge John Edwards’ tolerance of unverified mitigation pleas on behalf of convicted parties had worn thin. Back in 2021, he put down a red marker: be prepared to back up any such plea at sentencing hearings.
He had sent up warning flares, raising questions about claims that guilty parties were suffering from depression or drug or alcohol problems – but with zero supportive evidence. This extended into unsubstantiated claims they had attempted suicide or had tragic family backgrounds, or had a sibling who suffered paralysis following an accident.
Whether Edwards suspected these were being entirely fabricated or merely embellished is not clear, but it was “happening all the time… and had to stop”, he said.
It was inevitable that one day he would swoop on some aspect of the crazy business of character references; ie, testimonials fashioned for a similar purpose to the mitigation pleas. They were highly subjective, inherently biased, possibly coached and heavily skewed in favour of perpetrators with well-connected referees.
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The object of the exercise was always questionable. Media outlets, for example, may not publish the unredacted story of a trial immediately after conviction due to the (unlikely) risk that it might influence the court’s thinking before sentencing. Yet in that lacuna, a judge is also handed a pile of wholly positive testimonials from friends, employers or community leaders with a singular purpose: to humanise the perpetrator in the judge’s eyes and win mitigation.
Judges may also anonymise the writers of the references, as was done in Daniel Ramamoorthy’s original trial and sentencing appeal. It’s hard to see how this squares with a system where justice must be blind and also be seen to be done.
Ramamoorthy’s appeal against the severity of sentence for sexual exploitation of a 13-year-old boy and possession of child sexual abuse images finally forced the reality of this practice into the public forum. His counsel chose to argue that the trial judge had given insufficient weight to mitigation for Ramamoorthy’s “exceptional background” and history of public service.
It was rare to see character references of the calibre received in this case, they said, including one “from an elected representative”. This provoked the judge’s comments about the “quite extraordinary” fact a TD and other individuals had given references on Ramamoorthy’s behalf yet failed to mention the victim or the vile nature of the offending. It triggered such frenzied speculation about the TD’s identity – including a hashtag, #WhichTD? – that the judge had to clarify, days later, it was a retired TD. This generated a new phase, some of it edging into defamation on social media.
Well before Jim Glennon was forced to admit he was the retired TD in question, two former Fine Gael TDs, Richard Bruton and John Perry, had to publicly confirm it was not them.
This is the problem with anonymised character references. When refusing an application from The Irish Times to release the referees’ names, Edwards maintained the identity of the former TD who provided a reference was no different from any other individual who submitted one. But given the defence counsel’s specific highlighting of a “public representative” and the judge’s own excoriating words with specific reference to a TD, the referee’s occupation was clearly considered to be of a higher order by the court.
The truth is that the indifference of all the referees to the victim’s suffering should matter to us. The other people who provided references may or may not be household names, but they walk among us. They are the kind of respected, powerful, influential people whose words might sway a judge’s thinking.
The irony is that because of his public career, we already know more about Glennon’s personal and political views than those of his fellow referees. And since the judge was sufficiently moved to tell us Glennon’s views were shared by the other referees, surely it is in the public interest to know who they are and what they said – or omitted to say – about a man convicted of sexually exploiting a child, who was found to possess images of sexually abused children and displayed numerous “red flags” indicating an extremely unhealthy interest in children.
Other jurisdictions manage this more transparently. In refusing to release the documents, the judge said the references had been “accurately” summarised (ie, not separately read out) by the court, and beyond that there was nothing in them that required them to be disclosed. In Canada, the US, England and Wales – with obvious exemptions – character references are generally accessible either on an “open court” policy or on request.
The outstanding question is whether character references serve any proper function in a system strictly bound by rules of evidence. Noeline Blackwell, former CEO of Dublin Rape Crisis Centre and an expert in this area of law, sounded bemused that such things – “odd subjective things which don’t depend on real evidence” – continue to feature in court cases. She told RTÉ: “What [Glennon] knew when he was doing the reference is hard to know because some of the time, some hand them over when they’re asked to by a buddy." Maybe it was as dismayingly simple as that.
Glennon may not be the only person forced into rueful reflection after his public shaming, unreserved apology and consequent withdrawal from public life. A deeper understanding of character references, their nature and purpose has been nailed into the public consciousness. With that comes the question of precisely what and whose purpose they serve – and how much we are entitled to know.
