Perspective of a litigant in person at a hearing - anonymised
My experience as a LIP bringing two cases at the same time - against a police force and the IOPC.
Details have been changed for anonymity.
I checked out the court twice before coming myself. The Royal Courts in Aldwych, London. Terrifying and intimidating in a uniquely Hogwarts sort of way.
A huge stone entrance hall, with towering pillars of carved limestone. Large, full length portraits of judges past adorn the walls. And it’s cold in here.
The floor is chequered with black and white tiles, terracotta tiles and encaustic slip clay tiles. The click clack of shiny black shoes clip clopping around the room vibrated off the cold walls.
Court 22. That is where I’m heading. After a cursory look around, I saw the sign indicating I would be on the first floor.
I climbed up the stairwell, into the Ministry of Magic (and Law). The hallways up here are lined with rows of rooms, each with the Court number beside it.
After a minute or so of walking, I found Court 22.
Conveniently for me, there are alcoves outside it with dark wooden benches and church like pews for seating.
I sit down and try to calm myself. Deep breaths. Power posing. Making myself puff up and stretch out to make myself feel big, instead of shrinking up into a little ball and apologising for even daring to think I should be here.
No. This is fine. I can do this.
Several minutes pass and I jot down a few last minute notes. Reminding myself of what to say, the order of what I need to say or maybe trying to make my scrawling more legible or coherent.
I decide to double check the paperwork hanging on the corkboard by the entrance to Court 22. Yes, Wexler v Chief Constable of Southshire Constabulary and Wexler v the IOPC.
I go to sit back down and realise there are three smartly dressed people in the alcove next to mine, two of whom are wearing wigs. “Mr Wexler?”
I approach smiling, “Yes I am, good morning” I say politely.
“Good morning Mr Wexler. My name is James Hexley I’m representing Southshire Constabulary, this is Jane Wormwood representing the IOPC and this is Clara Nightingale with the IOPC”
“Nice to meet you all and nice to finally meet you in person Clara”, I say, extending my hand out to her and then the others.
“As you are a litigant in person, is there any part of the court process today which you would like any clarity on? We can’t give you any assistance with your case however”
“I think I have familiarised myself with the court process”, I reply, slightly caught off guard. “I have been watching Court of Appeal cases on YouTube to try to understand the process. I will be speaking first to give my oral arguments, is that right?”
“Ordinarily yes, however as you have two cases running sequentially, it may be worth asking the judge for his preference as to how to hear the cases” replied Hexley.
“Ah ok yes that makes sense. I suppose it’s quite unusual for a litigant in person to bring two cases, simultaneously..!” I joked back.
They laughed politely. I’m not sure if it was funny. But it was kind that they laughed.
“Oh! What’s the situation with mobile phones? The signs say they can’t go into the courts, but underneath it says that they can’t be used. Am I allowed my phone in the court room?”
“Yes, as long as it’s on silent, it’s fine”, replied the female bewigged barrister Wormwood.
“Excellent thank you”.
I then thanked them for their help and went to wait in my alcove again, shutting down my phone completely.
Ten or so minutes later, the court usher appeared outside of the room and called out “Parties in the matter of Wexler and the Chief Constable of Southshire Constabulary… and Wexler and the IOPC”
We got up and went in.
The court room was bigger than I had thought it would be. There was a raised dais where the judge would be seated, with a large carved sigil behind the seat. The rows of benches in front were confusing… I wasn’t sure where I should sit. At the front presumably, but which front? Which side?
“Excuse me? Where should I go?” I asked the usher innocently and clearly confused.
“You’re a litigant in person I understand. You need to go on the left side here behind the lectern”.
I took up my place on the left side of the court room, with two barristers and a solicitor to my right. My seat was an old looking dark wood pew, but they were all flipped up like theatre seats.
I stayed standing, not really knowing what to do, so I started sorting my papers and lectern out.
The usher went up to the back wall, where there was a door leading into presumably the defence against the dark arts classroom. He knocked on the door three times and the defence team all stood up.
I was already standing, so I felt smug. Ha. I win.
“All rise for the honourable Justice Greymoor, in the matter of Wexler and Chief Constable of Southshire Constabulary…. And Wexler and The IOPC”.
The judge was a retired high court judge, I had read online the night before. He entered, grey haired and looking very much as one would expect a judge to look.. judgy. No… judge-like.
Justice Greymoor was berobed as well, his black robes swishing behind him as he cast the unforgivable curse at my opponents.
Or rather, he sat down.
I remained standing. Shaking slightly perhaps. This is about to start. I’m here, I’m doing this.. and that’s a judge. They’re wearing wigs. I made this happen.
Justice Greymoor then began to speak with me. I knew to call him “Your Honour” and “My Lord” as much as possible. Show respect. Be polite. But he was asking me lots of questions about how we would proceed with the hearings.
What he proposed was exactly how I had planned my cases, so I was happy with them.. but I just sort of nodded along with the occasional “yes” and “yes my lord” and “I agree your honour”.
“Right Mr Wexler, the floor is yours”.
Time to get going then. Let’s do this.
Now. I would like to go into detail about everything that happened but. It’s like a job interview. I came away with a sense of what had just happened but.. the individual elements are a blur.
I felt understood. I felt respected. I felt that my arguments were credible ones that the judge wanted to explore with me. The judge put some of my points across to the defendant for their views. I was happy.
It was then the defence’s turn to go through their arguments. I listened intently, trying to find gaps and questions I could push back on.
There were some, I wrote them down furiously.
At other points my mind wandered… was I really here? What did he say? Words mean nothing…
Then I would snap back.
This pattern continued throughout until it was my turn to reply. I had a few things to point out to the judge, some disagreements I had with what the defendant had said. I pointed out that contradictions I had highlighted had not been resolved to my satisfaction.
Then… we repeated. But this time it was the female barrister’s turn after me. She was less sure of herself.. less confident. I wondered if it was an experience or age thing, perhaps a late reading of the case, or something else entirely. The male barrister had been very confident, annoyingly so.
I also noticed on a few occasions that she referred to the judge as “my lordship”. My lordship.. my lord.. Should I try out a “my lordship”? Ship.. lord of a ship.
No. I don’t understand that word. I’m not going to use it - but I will Google it later.
Argh, I’m not paying attention to what she is saying!!
Overall Wormwood made some good points and some bad ones which I jumped on the same way I did with the constabulary’s barrister.
By the end, we had gone over our time by an hour. Maybe this is a positive thing? I’m not sure.
The judge wanted us to have a lunch break and then come back for his judgement. That’s where I am now… dying for a wee but scared the usher will call us in.
Correct that. I’ve just ran to the toilet and back again. Still waiting.
While I’m waiting, I’ll write quickly about an odd experience I had when coming back into the court from lunch. They have metal detectors and an X-Ray machine, airport style but miniature. Stuff goes in a plastic tray, through the machine and we get scanned by a metal detector. Not too unusual.
But on the way into the court, there was a small Indian looking lady, older, struggling to drag two hand luggage cases on wheels through the double doors.
There was a lady behind her, clearly ignoring her need for assistance. “What a prick!” I thought. I reached over and held the door open for this woman as she struggled to drag her cases into the court.
I let the door close behind me, into the woman that wouldn’t help. If she wouldn’t hold the door for someone struggling, I’m not going to hold the door open for her.
We then approach the X-ray machine and conveyor belt system. The woman in front clearly won’t be able to lift those things up, so I offer to help.
“Oh yeah please! Thank you!” She thanked me.
The security guy was standing back, watching the whole thing. “These people are a disgrace” I thought.
I lifted the suitcases up - and they were heavy - onto the machine and she went through.
The security guy moved closer to me, “she’s here nearly every day mate. She doesn’t need any of that stuff she brings with her.. She’s been told but she still brings it all, so we’ve given up helping her, it’s not necessary and it’s ridiculous”.
“Oh yeah?” I replied, caught off guard..
People are fucking weird aren’t they? Maybe I won’t help anyone again.
Update: I’m on the train heading home. The judge delivered his verdict and… I lost. Permission was refused for both cases.
Obviously I am disappointed but I’m also relieved. This has been so much work, it has consumed me for the last year and at times, made me very unwell.
I could challenge it again, in the Court of Appeal. I could take on a private case against Southshire Constabulary… but I’m tired.
I understood the judge’s points. Dare I say it.. I even agree with him. This case has become fact heavy and police officers need to be interviewed to find out WHY they did what they did. Not just WHEN they did it - which is what I was fixated on. Maybe it’s my autism, maybe it’s my injustice sensitivity.. but WHY questions aren’t suitable for the Administrative Court - they take up too much time. And my case is riddled with them.
It’s partly my fault. I let my case get wider and wider as more shocking facts became revealed. I could have kept it tight, laser focused on one issue… but I wanted to document the horror I was witnessing as it unfolded. It needed to be recorded somewhere and this court case became the vehicle for that.
Both the IOPC and Southshire Constabulary attempted to get me to pay their costs for this hearing - approximately £10k in total between them. Under court rules for this type of hearing, each side bears their own costs unless there has been something exceptional to justify changing that.
Southshire Constabulary’s barrister, (who I thought was my friend!) tried to push that my case was hopeless from the outset and I had been overly persistent - Hexley, you bitch!!
But I get it, it’s wasn’t personal, he’s doing the best he can for his client, just as I would. No risk in trying it on.
The judge wasn’t having that though and said that I had conducted myself throughout the hearing with professionalism and it ran through my prepared bundles. He ordered that they bear their own costs - haha.
I do have to pay for their initial filings of £800 each. I did try to argue that I felt their costs were inflated and unreasonable.. but I had lost the fight at that point and, to be fair, for the amount of work they have done, it felt cheap.
So I’m out of pocket £1,600. However.. I’ve had the opportunity to peer through a window into another world. I had the chance to see what my life could have been like, had I pursued a career in law.
While studying law, the thought of having to stand up in front of a room of intelligent people and a judge, having to speak and articulate my reasoning, filled me with terror. Public speaking was my worst nightmare made flesh. It was a big reason for me choosing the solicitor pathway instead of the barrister route.
Look at me now though, arguing with barristers, on my own!
That being said, I know that it was my journey after law that got me here. Learning how to calm myself, how to be kind to myself, allow myself to fail, to not be perfect, to stutter, hesitate and drip with sweat.
Through therapy and teaching, I’ve been able to overcome nearly all of my fears and become the person I was always meant to be.
And the person next to me wearing a wig is not that person.
*I did end up Googling “Your Lordship” when I got home. And Wormwood was using it incorrectly. Ha. I win.