They Say They Want to Bring Me in Guilty*

Fictional court cases can be absorbing, especially when there are very strong feelings about the case. But in most countries, even the most heartily disliked defendant is entitled to legal representation. That means that lawyers sometimes have to defend a client that ‘everybody knows’ committed a crime. Those cases can be especially difficult. Cases like that can rankle when the lawyer loses, but they’re especially satisfying when the lawyer wins. It’s little wonder that they can make for such engaging reads. Oh, before I go any further, you’ll notice I’m not going to mention any of Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason cases – too easy. It’s the same with John Mortimer’s Horace Rumpole stories…

In Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs, Carla Lemarchant hires Hercule Poirot to find out who poisoned her father, famous painter Amyas Crale. At the time of the murder, his wife Caroline was suspected of the crime, and with good reason. There was evidence against her, and she had a motive, as her husband was having a not-very-hidden affair. Caroline Crale was arrested, tried, and convicted in the case, and died in prison. But Carla has always believed her mother was innocent, and now, sixteen years later, she wants Poirot to re-investigate the case. Poirot learns that Caroline was defended by Sir Montague Depleach, a very well-regarded barrister. From the interviews Poirot conducts, it’s clear that Depleach worked hard for his client, and came up with the best strategy he could use. In fact, he managed to get her sentence commuted from execution to life in prison. He faced the proverbial uphill battle, though, as everyone assumed Caroline Crale was guilty. In the end, though, we find out that she wasn’t the only one with a motive for murder.

In John Grisham’s A Time to Kill, Mississippi lawyer Jake Brigance is faced with a very difficult case. His client, Carl Lee Hailey, has been arrested for killing two men, Billy Ray Cobb and James Louis ‘Pete’ Willard. He’s also charged with wounding a deputy sheriff. It doesn’t help matters that Hailey is Black. But the case is much more complicated than it seems on the surface. The two men Hailey shot were responsible for raping his ten-year-old daughter Tonya. They’d been arrested and were in custody when Hailey killed them. On the one hand, there’s a lot of sympathy for Hailey. Plenty of fathers might have done the same thing. There’s no denying that he committed murder, though, and vigilantism can’t be condoned. What’s more, there are people who, for racist reasons, don’t want Hailey acquitted. The case becomes a media sensation and a political tinderbox, and through it all, Brigance has to do everything he can to defend his client.

So does Arthur Beauchamp in William Deverell’s Trial of Passion. Beauchamp has just retired from his law firm and is settling into his new life on Vancouver’s Garibaldi Island. He’s called back to work, though, when Professor Jonathan O’Donnell, acting dean of law at the University of British Columbia, is arrested and charged with rape. His accuser, law student Kimberly Martin, admits that she was at O’Donnell’s home at a party, and that she had had a lot to drink. She claims that O’Donnell took advantage of that and raped her. At first, O’Donnell denies everything, but then finally admits having sex with Kimberly. He says, though, that it was consensual. It’s a major point of controversy, and there are plenty of people who see Kimberly as the victim. Still, Beauchamp has a job to do, and although it doesn’t help that O’Donnell lied to him at first, he wants to do the best he can to defend his client. It’s a difficult case to litigate, and it gets a lot of public attention.

And then there’s Gianrico Carofiglio’s Involuntary Witness, the first in his Guido Guerrieri series. Guerrieri is an attorney based in Bari. One day, he gets a visit from a woman named Abajaje Deheba. Her partner, a Senegalese man named Abdou Thiam, is under arrest on the charge that he abducted and killed nine-year-old Francesco Rubino. Thiam says he is innocent, and his partner believes him. Neither of them is convinced that he can get justice in the Italian system, though. After hearing about the case, Guerrieri decides to take it. He meets with his new client and begins to put his case together. It’s going to be challenging, though. Everyone is very quick to believe that Thiam is a murderer. In part, that’s because there’s a convincing eyewitness account. In part, it’s because Thiam is African – a ‘non-European’ whom many assume is guilty. As the case goes to trial, Guerrieri is going to have do everything he can to bring the prosecution’s case into question, and it will be difficult.

Cases like this, where most people assume a person is guilty, can be especially challenging for defending counsel. But those cases can also make for suspenseful crime fiction (right, fans of Ferdinand von Schirach’s The Collini Case?). These are only a few examples; your turn.

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Bob Marley’s I Shot the Sheriff.


10 thoughts on “They Say They Want to Bring Me in Guilty*

  1. Well put Margot. Rumpole was a staunch believer in the presumption of innocence as the golden thread of British justice. I have read all of your examples except for Christie’s book. Maybe it is time to read of Poirot again. Another example is Old City Hall by Robert Rotenberg. Prominent radio host, Kevin Brace, advises his newspaper deliverer that “I killed her”. The body of his second wife is in the bathtub. Adding to the challenge for defence counsel, Brace will only communicate with his lawyer in writing. The odds are daunting!

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    1. Of course, Bill! Old City Hall! It’s an excellent example of a lawyer who’s working against the odds. As you say, he only communicates in writing, and there’s the fact that prosecuting counsel has stripes to earn and a real motive for winning that case. It’s a tense, well-written story and I’m glad you mentioned it. You’re right, too, about Rumpole. One of his fine qualities is that he is absolutely committed to the principle of presumption of innocent. That’s how he does his job. As for Christie, there are a couple of her novels in which (at least, in my opinion), we see some difficult legal cases. Five Little Pigs is one, and so is, of course Witness For the Prosecution. Sad Cypress also has a solid discussion. If you ever get the chance, I hope you’ll enjoy them.

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  2. Interesting post, Margot. I remember a judge in Tom Wolfe’s The Bonfire of the Vanities who refuses to bow down to public opinion though he is heckled and abused. A pretty admirable character.

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    1. Thank you, Neeru. And thanks for mentioning Bonfire of the Vanities. That’s definitely the sort of character I had in mind with this post. It’s not easy to stand up to public opinion, and I do respect characters who do.

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  3. I’m one of those strange indviduals who can’t stand court room scenes in books or in TV dramas so I’ve nothing much to add I’m afraid. LOL! But I have thought, on occasion, that I should try reading some Rumpole, I gather it can be quite funny.

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    1. Courtroom drama isn’t for everyone, Cath. And even people who like courtroom scenes don’t like all of them. About Rumpole, though, some of the scenes really are funny. And fortunately, Mortimer wrote Rumpole short stories, too, so that you can try some of his work without investing yourself in a whole novel. If you do get Mortimer’s work, I hope you’ll enjoy it.

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  4. Excellent post. Courtroom scenes become excellent reading material if written and plotted well. I like the whole going against the system to prove one man’s innocence when everyone is against him idea. Reminds me of a movie Primal Fear although it’s slightly different and deals more with sociopathy and mental illness/insanity pleas, but is still a courtroom drama/thriller. The ending is pretty frightening.

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    1. Thank you, OP. I think the going against the system to prove innocence can work really well if it’s done carefully and effectively. It reminds us not to make assumptions, if that makes sense. Thanks, too, for mentioning Primal Fear. That’s definitely an example of a courtroom thriller.

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