At the Court,
While sitting in the lawyers' lounge at the courthouse, waiting for the criminal court session to begin, the wait dragged on, filled with anticipation and boredom. I kept glancing at the clock, sending messengers to the courtroom to inquire through the court bailiff, the insider who knows what’s happening behind the scenes.
- “Has the judge arrived yet?”
- “No, not yet,” the bailiff replied.
The bailiff only gave answers to those who offered a tip.
The clock hands crept steadily toward eleven, and we had been waiting since nine in the morning. It was no surprise; we were used to waiting and had grown accustomed to wasting our time.
A colleague from among the waiting crowd said impatiently:
- “The judge is very late! We've been here since nine in the morning!”
Another replied:
- “It's us who need to wait for the train. The train doesn’t wait for anyone.”
I smiled at the odd comparison and chose to remain silent until an older colleague lamented the state of justice and the legal profession. He nostalgically recalled the days when litigants would set their watches by the exact timing of court sessions.
Another commented, "If only the problem were just about timing. The whole system has become a mess."
I smiled again, despite my annoyance at the crude term "mess" and started pondering its linguistic origins. Egyptian colloquial language is rich and absorbs influences from ancient Egyptian, Coptic, Greek, French, Turkish, and more.
I glanced at my watch again, and the hands had crept halfway between eleven and twelve. I repeated my question and got the same answer:
- “Has the judge arrived yet?”
- “No, not yet.”
Suddenly, we heard screams, cries, and commotion like those accompanying a heated funeral. From experience, we knew that the first court division’s judge, who usually arrived early and rushed through his session to catch his train back to his hometown, had completed his session and issued verdicts.
At that moment, a young lawyer stormed in, visibly distressed, followed by a crowd of angry individuals shouting and cursing. We all rushed to defend him and managed to calm the situation with the help of some police officers who cleared the area of the agitated crowd. Left alone with the young lawyer, we tried to calm him down.
He turned to me and said:
- “Didn’t you teach us, sir, that police investigations alone are not evidence and that a judge cannot convict solely based on them without additional proof?”
- “Of course, that’s well-established and undisputed.”
- “That’s exactly why I accepted to defend the accused in this case. When I reviewed it, I found no evidence against the defendant except for the police investigations. I even researched precedent from the Court of Cassation, and all of it confirmed what you taught us in practical training. This encouraged me, and I happily accepted the case—it was my first felony trial in criminal court.
"I reassured the client, spent three days preparing my argument, reviewed it meticulously, and consulted colleagues and mentors. When the day arrived, I stood before the court, confident and ready.
"When I began my argument, saying that I challenged the reliability of the investigations due to their lack of substance and because they were merely the investigator’s opinion, the judge interrupted me.
- 'Based on that, counselor?'"I told him, ‘Your Honor, I was just about to explain my argument.’ But he shouted, 'That’s enough! The court doesn’t have time to hear all this. Just state your requests!'
"I looked around and saw my colleagues gesturing for me to stop. So, I said, 'I request an acquittal for the defendant.' After the session, everyone reassured me that the judge’s behavior meant he would issue an acquittal.
"But then, just five minutes later, the ruling came out: life imprisonment for the defendant. The family thinks it’s my fault because I guaranteed them acquittal and because they saw the judge cut me off. What should I do? I feel like my career is over before it even started.”
I replied with sympathy:
- “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can appeal the verdict at the Court of Cassation, and the ruling will likely be overturned. I’ll even prepare the appeal memo for you, free of charge, to reassure the family and relieve you of the blame.”
The elderly colleague chimed in:
- “Don’t pin too much hope on the appeal. The Court of Cassation has abandoned most of the principles we were raised on.”
I didn’t respond, as I was summoned to my own session. The judge had arrived.
After the long wait, I presented my arguments, emphasizing that the case lacked any evidence other than the police investigations, which were merely the investigator’s opinion and did not constitute valid evidence. The judge smiled and said, “Based on that, counselor?”
Sometime later, the client called me, panic-stricken:
- “The judge ruled life imprisonment! What do we do now, counselor?”
- “We’ll appeal the verdict at the Court of Cassation.”
- “And is the appeal guaranteed to succeed?”
I remembered the words of my elderly colleague and chose to remain silent.