A day like no other

Such was the emotion when I finished reading Unlawful Killings, the memorable account by Her Honour Wendy Joseph QC of her time sitting as a judge at the Central Criminal Court (Old Bailey).

Before putting down the book, my mind reached back into a day like no other, in a magistrates court as a duty probation officer.

On arrival at the central London magistrates court (now closed) preparing for a full day of pre-sentence/stand down reports and the myriad other judicial tasks expected of the court duty probation team, I bumped into Ticky (not his real name).

His period on probation supervision had recently finished; not without some stumbling interludes!. He was ‘begging’, together with his faithful dog and shouted out “Aaah , Mr Guilfoyle, how are you doing”.

After a brief exchange, (his hostel placement had broken down once more) I briskly set about following up on pre-planned same day reports together with a probation colleague.

Before long , a stressed legal representative, stood outside the door of the poky subterranean court based probation office. “I need to read what you have proposed on *****.”

In this instance, a prior judicial indication that unpaid work was under consideration greatly alleviated his angst. In the course of the morning, a range of other court users passed by the office – police, clerks, ushers and gaolers – in a seemingly endless procession of judicial participants.

The chief metropolitan magistrate  was presiding in court one. He was a person of estimable character with a solid understanding of the role of the probation service, having once at the beginning of his career worked as a probation officer.

I entered the court in anticipation of the sentencing outcome on the defendant assessed as suitable for Unpaid Work. With some familiar judicial gravitas to frame the expectations of the order, he intoned: “See Mr Guilfoyle, before you leave the court, and work your hours accordingly”.

As I was returning to court one, I spoke to one of my probation colleagues, whose vital role as a probation service officer was undertaken with consummate professionalism and candour. She was visibly upset and we moved to a quieter corner of the court building.

Reception from phone usage was sometimes poor. I heard on the radio that some serious incident had happened in the West End, without being clear as to just what this amounted to.

Moments later a strange and chilling silence fell over the court; a palpable sense of something frighteningly real and close but edged with uncertainty. Then a court usher breathed the word “Bombings”. I looked at my colleague. Maybe a call to the field office for urgent clarification? Where the criminal courts the possible target?

There was, I understood, an evacuation plan in place for such a contingency, but as there were no indications that the court was under threat, how to respond?

“Mike , you are the most senior probation officer here. I think you should make a decision and we go with it”, she said. Straining the credulity of occupying the role of a senior probation officer (a professional designation I had always eschewed!) I agreed that we should leave the building, but should inform the court, and in particular Mr ****** , of our decision.

I hurriedly returned to court one, looking around for other users, but it was deserted. I left a message to the effect that the court duty probation team had departed. Outside, a most unsettling, ordered chaos, was in evidence. Droves of people appeared to be heading to the nearest rail terminus (another target maybe?, I wondered).

By this time, clearer information had percolated through. A series of terrorist related bombings had happened across central London, with high numbers of casualties and damage.

Ignoring what I took to be too risky a departure point, the two of us walked hastily alongside thousands of Londoners leaving the capital. Taking an unusual option, I suggested that we seek refuge in the members area of a Thameside museum to catch our thoughts and ponder our options for getting home safely.

The haunting spectacle of a city in turmoil unfolded as we looked together at the scores of commuters passing the building. After an hour or so, we moved to catch our trains homewards and later realised the full horror that had unfolded close to the court on the 7 July 2005.

A surreal aftermath greeted us in the following days , when we returned to work in the court. It appeared that our ‘sudden departure’ had left the court without any probation cover.

I mused at what I took to be an insensitive judicial utterance, but shook off any annoyance, when a week or so later, having spent another eventful day at this historic magistrates court, I noticed a photograph on the window of a barbers not far away.

It was that of a young employee who had died in the attack. He was being remembered as one of fifty-six people (including the bombers) who perished due these Unlawful Killings.

Mike Guilfoyle is a retired probation officer.