Tag: lawyers

Biologist, historian and futurist H G Wells, author of the sci-fi classic The War of the Worlds - a tale of alien invasion and annihilation by pathogen - once famously wrote “Adapt or perish, is nature’s inexorable imperative.” It could be very good advice in today’s troubled times.
About ten years before the birth of Christ the great Roman poet Publius Ovidius Naso, in his collection of epistolary poems known as The Heroides, coined the Latin phrase Exitus acta probat, which translates roughly to the often-quoted mantra ‘The end justifies the means’. It is a sentiment celebrated by the Italian Renaissance writer Niccolo Machiavelli in the 1500’s and enthusiastically embraced by a long list of authoritarian dictators throughout history. Thankfully, it has no place in the criminal justice system of any modern western democracy.
Remember the old joke about lawyers and rats? In case you don't, here's how it goes: “The National Institute of Health announced this week it would start using lawyers instead of rats to conduct its laboratory experiments. The American Bar Association has objected, but the NIH says there are three good reasons why lawyers are better than rats for laboratory work. Firstly, there's a lot more of them. Secondly, laboratory staff don't become so emotionally attached to them, and thirdly, there are some things even a rat won't do for reward."
In the early hours of the morning following Australia Day last year, 26 year old Patrick Slater was found dead in a Perth railway station, a 25cm chest wound had penetrated his aorta and both lungs. Last week, in the WA Supreme Court, five young adults and one teenager were found guilty of his murder. But not all those allegedly involved in the incident actually went on trial. The youngest – just 11 years of age at the time – remains in legal limbo, awaiting his fate. At that tender age, he achieves the unenviable record of being the youngest person ever to be charged with murder in Australia.
The circus is in town.  A crazy new phenomenon is sweeping across the US, Europe, and now even Australia. It trumps the Trump, it’s scarier than Ruddy’s run at the UN, and it’s so weird it even out-weirds planking, if that’s actually possible. Scary killer clowns have taken to lurking on our streets, hiding in the shadows and around corners, waiting to maniacally leap out and scare the living socks off us.
G men love stoolies. It’s a fact of life. Over the centuries, the one thing that has most frustrated the work of ‘government guys’ – the regulators of all shapes and sizes, the G men, the Jacks, the fuzz, the heat, the traps, the Johnny Hoppers, federalies, wallopers, flatfoots, boys in blue, whatever you want to call them – the one thing that has most frustrated their valiant efforts to rein in the miscreant criminal milieu has been the unshakeable conspiracy of silence that has long existed between partners in crime.
Today’s news that six NRL stars will be interrogated over alleged match fixing, and face jail if they refuse to co-operate with investigators, brings into sharp focus a recurring issue for professional sports people. Having endured the debacle that was the recent ASADA doping investigation into the AFL and NRL, and more recently still match fixing allegations in the sport of basketball and the greyhound industry live baiting scandal, it is very clear to me that few sports administrators, and virtually no sports men and women, have any real appreciation of the concept and purpose of the right to silence, and the interplay between contractual and legislative obligation as it affects statements against interest.
In Australia we have some of the strictest telemarketing laws in the world and we need to. I’m sure everyone who reads this blog has received a telemarketing call at some stage or another from someone in India, the Philippines or even South Africa.
When I was a kid my brothers and I used to watch those corny old black-and-white midday matinee movies on TV, and one of my favourites was an action adventure called “Boom Town”. It starred Clark Gable and Spencer Tracey as “Big John” Masters and “Square John” Sands, a couple of handsome wildcatters chancing their luck on the California oil fields. Together they carve out an empire in a rollicking western town where the saloons are overflowing with cowboys and dancing girls, and everyone is prospecting for something.
Today’s news out of the Broncos Rugby League headquarters about an alleged “drunken incident” involving star centre James Roberts has let more than a few old spectres out of the closet. Newspapers today reported that an allegation Roberts verbally abused a barmaid in a drunken rage at the Normanby Hotel has been referred to the NRL’s integrity unit, which reportedly imposed a 12 month alcohol ban on Roberts in 2014 following his sacking at Penrith.
At festivals like Splendour in the Grass and Greazefest, music lovers have become accustomed to seeing police routinely searching people suspected of having drugs in their possession. In certain circumstances police are entitled to do that, but it’s not just open season. Police are not entitled to just randomly stop and search people for no good reason. Unless a police officer has an actual search warrant, then they’re not entitled to detain and search a person except where they suspect on reasonable grounds that person has drugs in their possession.
I was just a kid when OJ was publicly apprehended by the LAPD. I knew little of the man known as ‘The Juice’, and had no understanding of his place in the psyche of 20th century USA. I had no idea he was so revered by the American public, or why, and had no inkling of the bloodshed that had defined LA’s racial divide in the decades preceding the case. I merely saw another celebrity on trial.