The Day of Justice

A CELL-PHONE'S shrill tones shocked me awake. I was apologising, not even fully conscious yet. "Sorry, I've gotta go, I'm late." I was due at The Four Courts, that bastion of Irish justice, in order to get a story for Advanced News Reporting class. The case was scheduled for 11:00, my phone read 10:25. Shower, brush, dress, gone.
The LUAS deposited me outside the courts at 11:09.


The entrance, through those old doric columns, to the wonderful atrium within was closed off now. The grand public entrance from the quays, which gave one such a feeling of awe and respect for this venerable old building, was dusted in traffic grime, and barred away.
Instead I was required to run rat-like through a security porta-cabin maze.
By the time I found the sultry-eyed receptionist, I was sweating. I tried to be as charming as possible and asked her if there were any interesting cases today.
She shrugged, “Well there’s a murder case in court two.”
I was wearing my magic shirt you see. The shirt summons serendipity.
I walked hurriedly on squeaky shoes through the domed nexus. They echoed up into the great cupola, I was late.

On entering a court
I’ve entered several courts in my day, sometimes on the right side, and sometimes the left. And I have established that there is a way of entering a court. To take one’s place. This is not just a case of choosing a seat and sitting. Lordy no. There is more to this. One becomes a cog, a small one, in the system of democracy.

BTW if you see ‘In camera’ on the door, it means disrobe and enter with gusto.

But forget about lame metaphors. There is an actual physical demeanor one assumes upon entering a Court. You can see it in the people - wigged or without - if you wait and watch. Citizens enter: the meek, the fixtures, the trailblazer, the young guns, the head honcho. Each has a way of entering because each has a reason for being there.
Enter a courtroom with respect but remember that the room has been furnished for the administration of justice in public by the state. Its mandate is to serve justice for, and to, the citizens of the republic. The laws that bind it serve the citizen’s purpose. In a democracy, after all, the only regent is the citizen.

A 27-year-old man has gone on trial charged with the murder of a man in Dublin almost two years ago. Derek Wade pleaded not guilty to the murder and attempted robbery of Zhi Song in Rialto in the early hours of 29 June 2005.

Entering like a meek little mouse in a spot-light I scampered over to a safe corner. I spied a girl from my class in bowed discussion with another, tapped her on the shoulder and smiled – she glanced a smile back at me before returning to her business. Around me journalists were scribbling; I scribbled. While I was scribbling I noticed that two stiff wing-collared, wig bedecked Senior Council were talking to another big-wig at the head of Court. Judge Barry White presiding. He had razors for eyes.
I have an organic resentment of most authority. It is in my nature. Scenes from Kafka and Dostoevsky became backdrops in my mind. It was all I could do to keep a sneer off my face. Disguising them as facial twitches I practiced a few. I began to feel prominent and resented. Hunching over my pad I scribbled passionately until the madness inside me subsided.
As my heart rate returned and the sweat cooled in my magic shirt I began to hear a three-way discussion. Senior Council for the defense O'Higgins, informed the Court that his client was not yet ready to appear. His opposition, a seemingly deflated wig on a scarecrow, with fly-away hairs from his curls, sunk in his seat, and mumbled. A decision seemed to coalesce. The Jury was excused and filed out, the case was adjourned ‘till 14:00.
As the judge left we rose in unison like some congregation. I always feel the same when compelled to observe ritual. Like a hypocrite. But as I filed out, I saw two haggard Chinese faces, and my reverence turned natural. I bowed my head and looked at my shoes as I passed the victim’s parents.

During the break for lunch I returned home to retrieve my laptop. Making my way along Marlboro Street, just outside the Pro Cathedral I passed a trio of uniformed teenage school girls. One of them called at an African woman who was passing them by, "Yo Niggah!". I slowed to a halt, and looked at her. The African woman said back at them "You racist."
"What do you think you're doing?" I spluttered, outraged. Wispy fingers of red blush streaked over her cheeks.
"I didn't do nothing." Panic in her voice.
"You can't go shouting racist slurs like that."
"I didn't say nothing."
Her green jumper bore the logo of Larkin Community College.
"You cannot talk that way to people. I'm going to inform your school of your behaviour."
Walking on, I imagined a bottle smashing into the back of my head, paranoid. Passing the African woman an apology heaved out of me. She smiled and thanked me. She was pretty.

When I returned to the Four Courts, 12:40, the place was like a big empty church. All the wigs and suits were feeding somewhere. I enjoyed the growing squeak squawk of my shoes on the marble floor. It gave my pace a depth, echoing off these hallowed arches. Only this brief sound would mark my passage. There then gone.
As I entered the cupola, I barely spied the father of Zhi Song sitting quietly. His face was a deep wound, raw and terrible. Looking at him was like looking at oncoming headlights on a lonely night-time highway, it hurt. Just inside the court, a young Chinese translator laughed into his cell-phone. Their only son was dead.

The following news piece was a submission for a college assignment - but it doesn't adequately portray what transpired as the verdict gathered like a dooming wave.

Wade found guilty of murder

After two and a half hours deliberation, Derek Wade from Rialto, Dublin was found guilty tonight of the murder of Mr. Zhi Song (23) on June 29th 2005.

The victim’s parents wept openly in court when Mr. Wade was convicted of stabbing Mr. Song, a Chinese national, during a foiled robbery in his home on Reuben Avenue, South Circular Road.

The jury of 6 men and 5 women also found Wade guilty of the attempted robbery of Ms. Xiau Wen Zhou, Mr. Song's girlfriend, in her separate bedroom immediately prior to the murder.

Ms. Zhou said she was “frightened” when she awoke about five AM to find Wade, who had armed himself with a meat cleaver and chef’s knife from the kitchen, searching her room. She addressed him first in Chinese then in English. He told her to: “Give me your purse, and I won’t hurt you.”

Wade denied that he intended to use the knife, claiming that the 16cm wound that fatally injured Song’s heart and lung had been an accident that happened as he had tried to escape. “It was in case of being caught, I had no intention of using the knife.” Wade told the courtroom.

In testimony the pathologist was sceptical of Wade’s explanation that Mr. Song had impaled himself on Wade’s knife and the prosecuting SC Noel Birmingham roundly rejected the defendant’s claim. “It's as plain as a pikestaff that there was a killing," He said. "The prosecution contends murder.”

The accused admitted that he had been coached to say “she must be mistaken”, if he was identified by Ms. Zhou in a line-up. But Ms. Zhou identified Wade, despite having dyed his hair a different colour.

Mr Wade, who was acquitted of a similiar charge in 1999, will be sentenced on Monday.

If you want to read my version of the final day of the Wade trial [click here] and the file.

Below is a vid reel of interviews with Mick, Niell, James and Darren about the case and their opinions of proceedings and a final clip of Zhi Song's parents leaving the Four Courts (apologies for poor sound on some interviews).