“Order to the court!” Another day begins when the gavel is struck. You might think that it’s all high-stakes drama and dramatic speeches, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ll take you through a day in the life of a Melbourne criminal lawyer, more hints?
The alarm goes off at 5:30 am. My first witness is a black coffee with no sugar. My schedule is packed as tight as a sardine. First up, client meetings. One man claims that he has been framed by the new boyfriend of his ex-girlfriend for a burglary. He insists “It was not me”, his eyes widening with desperation.
I pay attention to what they say, and jot down notes that I will only be able to decipher at a later date. Not only what they say, but also how they say it – the pauses and hesitations. They say more than any words could.
I am at the courthouse by 8:00 AM for a pre trial conference. The prosecutor is late, again. We exchange colder-than-an-Antarctic-winter-like pleasantries. We haggle about evidence like two vendors at a bazaar trying to get a better deal.
Oh joy, it’s time to go back to work by 10 AM. It’s not glamorous, but it is crucial. Each comma or period can be a pivotal moment in someone’s career.
Lunch? What’s for lunch? While I read depositions of witnesses who remember events differently each time, a sandwich will do.
It’s 1:00 PM and time to go back to court. This time, it is a bail hearing. As he waits to hear his name, my client’s hands are shaking like leaves in a windstorm. “Just breathe,” he says softly. But I am mentally practicing every argument that I will make in front of the judge.
The judge peers over her glasses at us; she doesn’t take fools lightly. The judge looks over her glasses and doesn’t take fools lightly.
The hearing is successful, better than expected. Bail is granted with conditions that are more strict than grandma’s recipe for cookies but still manageable.
Mid-afternoon I am back in the office meeting with clients. This time, it’s someone who has been accused of embezzlement and claims that everything was an accounting mistake. The story is riddled with holes, but I am here to sift it all out and find some solid ground on which to stand.
The late afternoon brings more document reviews and calls with experts who use jargon that’s so thick, you would need a machete just to get through it.
The evening is approaching and we’re off to meet colleagues for drinks. It’s a chance to relax and share war stories about our legal battles. As we lean closer to each other, one begins: “You won’t be able to believe what happened today.”
If I’m lucky, I can get home by 9 PM. Or maybe later if an urgent matter arises (which it does). If I feel fancy, takeout or whatever is left in the refrigerator will be my dinner.
Legal crises do not respect office hours. Around midnight, it’s time to go to bed with the thoughts of tomorrow’s challenges swirling in your head. The next client’s life may depend on what happens inside those courtrooms.
It was a day full of twists and turns, worthy of a thriller novel. But real lives were at stake with each decision.