Category: Criminal Law

If you're hooked, as I am, on the phenomenally popular podcast, Serial, crank up those earphones and get ready for a new round of infuriating twists and turns.
Criminal defence lawyers often deal with desperate people - desperate to clear their name, desperate to establish their innocence, sometimes just desperate to avoid their guilt. And desperate people take desperate measures.
This week saw the passing of my very dear friend and mentor Kelly Macgroarty, one of Queensland’s greatest criminal law defence barristers of any era. Born Neil Joseph Macgroarty 81 years ago, he inherited the tag "Kelly" from his father Neil Francis Macgroarty, himself a distinguished Brisbane barrister who served as Queensland Attorney General in the Moore government of the 20's and 30's.
Little fish are sweet. High profile defamation actions and messy murder trials may make for big headlines, but from a lawyer's point of view the smaller, seemingly less significant cases are just as challenging and (provided you finish first, and not just a commendable second) every bit as satisfying.
Last week the Supreme Court ordered the Queensland Parole Board to pay convicted bank robber Brenden Abbott’s legal costs because it failed to make a timely decision on his parole application. The Board had sat on Abbott’s application for 389 days, unable to decide whether or not it should release the so-called ‘Postcard Bandit’. Why? What was the problem? The only answer I have is “It’s complicated.”
So you think that all CSI stuff is pretty impressive, huh? Think again. On February 24, 1981, a young woman was raped in her Washington DC home by an armed intruder. She saw the perpetrator only fleetingly as he climbed in through her window, before tying her up and blindfolding her, so she could give only limited details of his description. But five weeks later, when 18-year old African American man Kirk Odom was being questioned on an unrelated matter, a policeman thought he fitted the limited description. So police showed a photograph of Odom to the victim, who tentatively identified him as the culprit.
I was surprised to read this week former Immigration Minister Philip Ruddock's comment that it is unlikely proposed anti-terror laws would see an Australian deported before their appeal is heard. Some years back a client of mine was deported to the UK by ministerial direction pursuant to section 501 of the Immigration Act. He had come to Australia with his family as a child, and was in his 20s when he was convicted of a criminal offence.
Sadly, there is a growing sense of inevitability surrounding impending execution of Bali Nine members Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran. The political rhetoric continues, but most Australians sense the Indonesians just aren't listening.
It’s high time for good men to stand up and do something about domestic violence. Last year domestic violence was the leading cause of death and injury in women under 45 in this country. It reportedly accounted for 40 per cent of police time, and cost the economy $13.6 billion. The Easter period alone marked the death of six women and children in a single week. This year, which is not yet two months old, we have already seen 14 Australian women allegedly killed by domestic violence. If that figure runs true, we are online for the shocking statistic of two domestic violence related deaths per week in 2015. That represents a 100% increase in such crimes since last year. It underscores what campaigners have long warned, that domestic violence is at risk of reaching epidemic proportions in Australia.
Talk about art imitating life imitating art imitating life. In the 2002 American action-comedy movie Showtime two odd-couple cops are ordered by the LA Police Department to pair up for a reality television police show. Hard-nosed veteran detective Mitch Preston (played in delightfully irascible fashion by the great Robert De Niro) is a distinctly unenthusiastic participant, but his new partner, brash and charismatic rookie Trey Sellars (Eddie Murphy), laps up the glamour and attention of his 15 minutes of fame, revelling in his new-found celluloid celebrity. Throughout the film the grisly Preston, who just wants to get his serious police work done, bemoans his flashy partner’s corner-cutting and grandstanding for the cameras, ignoring the all-important grunt work in favour of sexy TV stunts.
Questions about racial inequality continue to simmer in the United States following last week's decision of a Staten Island Grand Jury not to indict Officer Daniel Pantaleo to stand trial for the killing of Eric Garner earlier this year. It's a decision which has even some of the country’s most staunchly conservative commentators, such as Fox News traditionalist Bill O’Reilly, scratching their heads in disbelief. Protesters in New York have taken up from where the citizens of Ferguson left off. But unlike the unsavoury shooting of Michael Brown in Missouri, which was shrouded in conflicting versions of events, the video evidence of Garner's death was there for all to see. The deceased's non-threatening behaviour was visible, his cries for help audible, and the excess use of force by the Officers, irrefutable. Upon examining the deceased's body, the coroner labelled Eric Garner's death a homicide, having regard to the fact that he died as a result of a violent attack.  The video clearly shows the officer applying a rear chokehold, a manoeuvre banned by the NYPD in 1993. The evidence was damning.  Or so we thought. On 3 December 2014, a Staten Island Grand Jury declined to indict the officer.
A couple of years back, at the International Criminal Law Congress, I delivered a paper on the effect of pre-trial publicity on jury trials. Victorian Supreme Court Justice Betty King, who presided over the trial of Melbourne underworld figure Carl Williams and others charged in the wake of the Melbourne gangland war, was on the same panel of speakers. Justice King famously banned the high-rating Underbelly television series from being aired in the state of Victoria during Williams’ trial because of the prejudicial effect it might have on the deliberations the jury. Naturally, the ban caused quite a stir and upset a lot of people, not least of all the producers at Channel 9. But in the end it probably had significantly less effect than Justice King had hoped it would. Despite the television ban, the first episode of Underbelly was available online, everywhere throughout the world wide web, within 20 minutes of it being aired on television in states outside Victoria.