Twelve good men (women were excluded from participating until 1921)
The Vikings invented jury service and Jeremy Thorpe’s acquittal led to the Contempt of Court Act, writes Lucy Kenningham
Last week I was one member of a jury that convicted a man of murder; he will now spend 27 years in prison. The decision – guilty or not guilty? – was the most consequential I’ve ever had to take.
How did we as a collective come to our decision? Well, courtrooms no longer use the term “beyond reasonable doubt”. Instead, we were told we had to be “sure”. An odd word to use, I thought, as it seemed jarringly untechnical – a filler word by simping Americans. I soon fell down an existential, epistemological wormhole – but how can you be sure of anything? – I eventually clambered out with the crutch of the judge’s legal directions. These advised us (optimistically) to use our “common sense”, ignore our emotions and concentrate on the evidence.
Don’t speculate, the judge told us, but do draw on your life experience. This I found disconcertingly paradoxical. And it is this element that was, unintentionally, highlighted in Channel 4’s new drama The Jury: Murder Trial. In the show, the transcript from a real murder trial is acted out in a fake court for the benefit of two onlooking “juries” which then deliver a verdict. Spoiler: they come to different conclusions, ostensibly highlighting the failings of the modern justice system and fuelling the fire of anti-jury advocates.
However, there are several glaring errors in the show’s depiction of a trial. Most of these could be dismissed by any generous viewer (the propensity of the actor barristers to strut around as if on stage, for instance), but one aspect can’t. The show hinges on the personality of the jurors – this is reality TV after all. Firstly, this group of 24 all volunteered to go on the show. Secondly, they knew it was TV. Thirdly, they chatted incessantly during the court sessions, which is by no means permitted. The Law Gazette duly derided the drama as “guilty of misrepresentation”. In my experience, my jurors were so hesitant to reveal personal details that we referred to each other by our assigned juror number, meaning I now harbour an odd attachment to the digit five.
How can we take an accurate temperature on the justness of juries if the door to the deliberation room remains closed?
How Jeremy Thorpe’s acquittal led to the Contempt of Court Act
I put this to the producer, Ed Kellie, who accepted that some aspects were inaccurate but said these concerns missed the “elephant in the room”. “In my mind, the call to action for the programme is not especially controversial,” he says, adding that “the Law Gazette piece trying to undermine our programme is just bizarre.” Kellie claims the show is trying to challenge the 1981 Contempt of Court Act, which made it illegal to disclose “any particulars of statements made, opinions expressed, arguments advanced or votes cast” in the course of jury deliberations – if I violate this, I could be imprisoned for up to two years.
There are some noble reasons for protecting the conversations held in deliberation from seeing the light of day – individuals are more able to speak candidly in the jury room and the process of justice is secure from media intervention.
But that being said, the context surrounding the introduction of the Contempt of Court Act is, frankly, chilling. In the wake of Liberal MP Jeremy Thorpe’s shock acquittal for conspiracy and incitement to murder of his ex lover Norman Scott in 1979, one juror revealed the jury’s doubts and criticisms about the trial to the media. In 1981, this new law was passed preventing jurors speaking out about their experience. It looks fishy.
Some legal academics are crying out for change. Dr Lee Curley told me academics “need access to deliberations” to enable them to carry out studies on whether a jury system is the fairest or not. Without this, they resort to using mock trials not dissimilar to Channel 4’s heavily criticised model. How can we take an accurate temperature on the justness of juries if the door to the deliberation room remains closed?
The concept of a jury derives from the Plantagenet period, when Henry II created a jury of 12 local knights, himself having been inspired by the legacy of Vikings
Other systems are available
It must be admitted, there is a romantic mystique to the idea of a jury. The fact that they derive from the Plantagenet period, when Henry II created a jury of 12 local knights who would go out to investigate a crime and arbitrate in disputes, is endearing and alarming in equal measure. In fact, the practice may date further back than the 12th century to the Vikings, who set up 12 hereditary ‘law men’ as principal officers in villages.
Undoubtedly the discourse over juries will rage on. Those who say they could be tweaked to hire jurors for longer and include training as in Denmark, or to demand reasons from the jury upon a verdict being delivered as in Spain have a point. Our Courts of Appeal rely on three judges and use no jury at all, so clearly, we don’t think a jury is critical – only one per cent of trials in the UK ever go to a jury anyway.
For what it’s worth, my experience left me impressed by the level of consideration and dedication displayed by the rest of my nameless collective. But perhaps my cohort was particularly diligent. As the judge told us last week, it is the strength of the evidence that matters, and that alone. Opening up the possibility of collecting data on how such important decisions are made could help policymakers come to an evidence-based verdict on our justice system. Until then, the jury’s still out.
I served on a murder trial – it’s nothing like Channel 4’s The Jury
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11.04.2024
Twelve good men (women were excluded from participating until 1921) The Vikings invented jury service and Jeremy Thorpe’s acquittal led to the Contempt of Court Act, writes Lucy Kenningham
Last week I was one member of a jury that convicted a man of murder; he will now spend 27 years in prison. The decision – guilty or not guilty? – was the most consequential I’ve ever had to take.
How did we as a collective come to our decision? Well, courtrooms no longer use the term “beyond reasonable doubt”. Instead, we were told we had to be “sure”. An odd word to use, I thought, as it seemed jarringly untechnical – a filler word by simping Americans. I soon fell down an existential, epistemological wormhole – but how can you be sure of anything? – I eventually clambered out with the crutch of the judge’s legal directions. These advised us (optimistically) to use our “common sense”, ignore our emotions and concentrate on the evidence.
Don’t speculate, the judge told us, but do draw on your life experience. This I found disconcertingly paradoxical. And it is this element that was, unintentionally, highlighted in Channel 4’s new drama The Jury: Murder Trial. In the show, the transcript from a real murder trial is acted out in a fake court for the benefit of two onlooking “juries” which then deliver a verdict. Spoiler: they come to different conclusions, ostensibly highlighting the failings of the modern justice........
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