“As someone who was (rightly) prosecuted for breaking the law, I would not have got through it without the brilliant care of my solicitor and barrister.…
..I had never been in any trouble before, and pleaded guilty immediately, but the whole process took over 2 years (from police to magistrates court to crown court to sentencing), and the depression and thoughts of suicide would have overwhelmed me if it wasn’t for…
..the brilliance of those who looked after me, going above and beyond anything I deserved.
Because of them, I was given the right advice, including receiving counselling and GP support, and there to receive my sentence of some community service..
They helped me understand that I had done something wrong, something bad, and in fact illegal, but that shouldn’t define the rest of my life. As Brene Brown puts it, ‘Shame is “I am bad.” Guilt is “I did something bad.”’
I did something wrong, and rightly took the punishment for it, but the barrister (I can honestly say) saved my life, and I can never do enough to thank them, or their profession.
I never thought I would need them, but I did.
Many would say that I didn’t deserve their help, but that isn’t the point.
They were there when I needed them.
And all I can do is support them now, and thank them.
Thread 🧵 from a junior barrister in a defence-only set:
“We have given all we have to give, and it is insulting to hear the government spew lies & misinformation about something that we live & breathe every day. No other profession would stand for this for this long…
..They have dried up the goodwill for too long. We give it our all, for every case. To just list the personal commitments we have given up, only to see the disheartened faces of our loved ones, to hear the hidden disappointment in their voices…
The late nights buzzing on energy drinks to get unpaid written work done on the tightest deadline. Fractured relationships with partners, children who never get to know you, this is all par for the course and expected by the system…
Civil Servant: they are asking why you haven’t met the barristers even once to find out the problem
RAAB: THIS IS A WAR. I MUST BEAT THEM
Nigel: what do I tell the press?
RAAB: TELL THEM THE BARRISTERS SHOULD GO BACK TO WORK
Nigel: right, but what do I say about the whole, ‘you not ever meeting the barristers and just sending Dines out, then her writing that awkward reply in the Commons that betrayed our position on the action’
RAAB: OH JUST TELL THE PRESS I WILL SIMPLY REPLACE ALL THE BARRISTERS
“I wanted to become president of my country, not for position, wealth, or fame but to build my country and make Kabul as beautiful as Paris. But now I can’t even go to school.”
“Maybe you think somehow Afghan girls can live without dreams but among us are girls who want to be doctors, engineers, an astronaut ...
and for the last 20 years that your soldiers were here in our country you have encouraged us to think that we could be.”
“We are crying every day. But we still have phones and we read about England’s Lionesses on the football field and how proud you were. We had girls’ football teams too, you even sent people here to teach us, but now that is all gone, we could get in trouble even for watching it.”
I want to explain why Criminal barristers are striking.
Imagine you work in an office and the pay is poor, but the work is FANTASTIC, necessary work and your colleagues are great. The bosses vary depending on the day, some are awful, some brilliant.
The carpet is stained and worn through to underlay in places, in the corner the walls are mouldy. It smells weird.
Your desk has thank you cards on it from grateful clients whose lives you have changed forever.
Morale is sustained by black humour and good results for clients.
You haven’t had a pay rise for over 30 years. Mary, one of the most senior staff, has been here for 31 years. She does all the Big Cases like murder.
Mary’s annual pay is *exactly the same* as it was when she was a trainee, shuffling papers and doing the lightest cases.