FROM THE ARCHIVES: March 15th, 1975:Nell McCafferty's reportage in the mid-1970s, under the heading In the Eyes of the Law, cast a rare light on the daily doings of Dublin District Court and the twists and turns of justice. This is one of her columns from this day's paper in 1975.
‘A cock and bull story,” said District Justice Good as he convicted the boy who stood in the dock of Dublin District Court 4. The boy had said that he was merely carrying the bicycle up the stairs from the basement of the store in order to help the poor woman who had bought it but had not the strength to carry it herself. When he was stopped near the entrance by the staff he was in the act of leaving the bicycle down, and “honestly, Justice, the woman had disappeared”.
The defence solicitor said the boy had got married three weeks ago, was the father of a baby and was about to start work tomorrow.
“He has 15 previous convictions,” said the ban garda. “The last three a £2 fine for the unauthorised taking away of a vehicle in April, 1974; a six-month suspended sentence for the unauthorised taking away of another vehicle in October, 1974; and a six-month sentence for driving without insurance in January, 1975.”
The last sentence was being appealed, the ban garda said.
The Justice asked the solicitor if he had anything to say. The solicitor repeated the facts of the boy’s marriage, his wife and child, his intention to start work, and ended up saying: “I think this marriage may encourage him to pull up his socks if you could give him one last chance.”
“How many chances does he want?” asked the Justice. “Fifteen previous convictions, and one only a few weeks ago for larceny.”
“No,” corrected the ban garda, “for not having insurance.” . . .
“I’m going to go straight,” said the boy. “I’d like a chance, Justice. I’ve never had a chance. I’ve always been put down.”
“But you’ve never been in jail, have you?” asked the Justice, judging the boy’s past on the basis of three cases out of 15.
“I have,” he insisted. “I’m always being put down.”
“When were you ever in jail?”
“I did 12 months last year and then other charges were brought against me as I came out, and I went right back in. They wouldn’t bring them all against me together. And then the last time, Justice, they charged me again, when I got out, for robbing £700, and I was innocent, but they put a big bail on me and I couldn’t get it, and I was three months in jail waiting on the trial, and then in the trial I was found innocent because I had been in jail when the robbery was done.”
“You were on remand, in other words,” said the Justice.
“I was in jail, in other words,” said the boy.
“The serious thing about this is you went into the witness box on oath and committed perjury. If you had admitted guilt quite frankly. If you had even done that.”
“But I did tell you the truth,” said the boy.
“Don’t tell me that cock-and-bull story was true,” said the Justice.
“I only thought I was doing the woman a favour,” said the boy.
“And you say you want a chance now,” said the Justice.
“Please, your honour. Please,” said the boy.
“Very well,” said the Justice. “Six months suspended. I’m taking a gamble on you. The rest is up to you. This sentence will be hanging over you. I wouldn’t like you to think you can walk out of this court scot-free.”
I asked the boy afterwards about his jail record. He had been in Letterfrack, Marlborough House (later condemned as unfit for human habitation), St Patrick’s Institution, and Mountjoy, over and over again. He’s been in and out of institutions all his life; they are by definition not helping him. If he is left to his own devices, without the help or guidance of a probation officer, and keeps committing anti-social acts, he is by definition not capable of helping himself. Justices should stop gambling. Some horses are far too heavily handicapped.
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