He has a very small head, with a sharp, down-turned nose and dark beady eyes. His skin is of a sallow, waxy complexion with a permanent five o’clock shadow despite his cheeks being closely shaved. His wig seems too new and overly brushed and is much too large for his head. He is tall and extremely thin with a hunched back and an angularity that makes his limbs seem more bone than flesh. Gathered up as he is in his black robes, he looks for all the world like Mr Micawber of storybook fame.
Those who know and care about such things might conclude that a ‘touch of the tar brush’ might well have lurked somewhere in his distant past. This is not seen as a good sign by Richard Runche, who confesses to Moishe that it often makes them more racist, a sort of backhanded compensation for their appearance.
Moishe shrugs. ‘If I looked the way I do and had a touch of the gentile in me, it wouldn’t make me an anti-Semite.’
‘You’re quite right, I’m getting grumpy in my old age,’ Runche confesses. ‘Although, in my experience, a tincture of colour seems to reserve for itself an especially volatile emotion in the would-be Caucasian.’
The judge calls the two barristers into his chambers to discuss the procedure and to explain his manner of conducting himself in court. Shortly afterwards, to a gallery consisting only of Mary and Jessica, the case begins with Richard Runche’s opening remarks.
‘Your Honour, I intend to show that my client, Mrs Mary Simpson, has been deeply prejudiced against by the Aborigines’ Protection Board of the State of New South Wales. With your permission, Your Honour, I shall in future refer to my learned colleague’s client simply as “the Board” or simply “Board”?’ ‘Permission granted,’ the judge says.
‘Furthermore, I shall set out to prove that my client’s four children have been unjustifiably removed from her care and made wards of the State.
‘In the process I hope to prove that the previously mentioned Board has been guilty of gross negligence to the point of endangering the lives of at least two of Mrs Simpson’s children.
‘I intend also to ask that the court direct the Board to reveal the whereabouts of Mrs Simpson’s two other children, who have been placed into foster homes. Despite a court order stating that she is entitled to visit them, and frequent requests by her solicitor, the Board has continually refused to tell my client the names of the foster families and their places of residence.
‘Finally I intend to ask that the two Simpson children at present incarcerated in the Cootamundra Domestic Training Home for Aboriginal Girls be released back into the custody of their mother. And in a separate deposition, I propose to ask that this court direct that the two youngest Simpson children also be returned to her care. I thank you, Your Honour.’
The judge turns to the senior counsel representing the Aborigines’ Protection Board. He is the well-known Sydney barrister and racing identity Francis Codlington and assisting him in preparing his case is none other than the redoubtable Narrandera lawyer Bruce McDonald.
Codlington is a big man, broad around the girth and well over six feet in height. He wears a perfectly tailored London suit of blue serge designed with a narrow white pin-stripe and a silk cravat over spotless white linen. He sports a pair of white spats covering the insteps of his highly polished boots, which completes the ensemble but for a red carnation in his buttonhole. At the exposed end of his personage is a shock of shining white hair which serves to nicely offset his immaculate spats at the other end. Immediately below his hirsute glory resides a pair of dark, extremely bushy eyebrows and, further down still, a bristling moustache which appears to have been blacked to match his eyebrows. Codlington gives the impression of a man of altogether superior status and seen as he is beside his crumpled English opponent in his cheap country-shop suit smelling of mothballs, he has an awesome presence.
The stark comparison between the two senior counsel is almost comical, but Francis Codlington and Richard Runche do enjoy a single feature in common — their noses both testify to a more than passing fondness for the bottle. Though again the comparison seems odious — the most likely tipple for a gentleman of the Sydney barrister’s standing is the finest malt whisky and not the cheap claret Runche’s enforced sobriety has caused him to forsake.
Francis Codlington rises to outline the case for the defendant. ‘Your Honour, in the parlance of horse racing, I hope to show that this case is essentially a one horse race.’ He turns to indicate the seated Bruce McDonald. ‘My assistant, Mr McDonald, has had the privilege of hearing out the arguments of my learned colleague’s own assistant, Mr Goldberg, in the police magistrate’s court in the town of Narrandera.’ Codlington now turns to look directly at the seated Richard Runche. He smiles and then says, ‘We are extremely confident that the law of the land will survive the onslaught of the dark forces which may be ranged against it.’
Codlington obviously enjoys his ambiguous emphasis on the word ‘dark’ and, still wearing the shadow of his previous smile, he turns back to the judge. ‘It is my intention to prove that my client has always acted strictly within the letter of the law and that Mrs Simpson’s children have been treated no differently from thousands of Aboriginal children, all of whom have been saved from neglect and hardship by being removed from the parlous influences of their wayward and ignorant parents. We anticipate no surprises here, Your Honour. The law remains, I am thankful to say, quite clear on these matters.’ Codlington, every inch a man in control, nods at the judge and sits down.
Judge Blackall thanks Codlington and turns to Runche. ‘Senior counsel for the plaintiff may proceed to state their case.’
Richard Runche, wearing a borrowed wig and gown, both somewhat the worse for wear, rises and addresses the court. ‘Your Honour, I am delighted to hear that my learned colleague intends to keep the law safe from an onslaught at the hands of the dark forces which threaten to undermine it. However, in my experience, justice is best served when good men seek constantly to challenge the law, to ensure that it leads to a just and fair outcome. I am sure my learned colleague would agree with me that throughout the twisted history of the law there have been unjust as well as just laws, and that it is these unjust laws which history will later refer to as the workings of dark forces within the land. As for the clever ambiguity suggested by my learned colleague with his play on the word “dark” to mean the Aboriginal people, how pleasing it would be if the dark people of this land represented any kind of force to oppose the injustices to which they and their children are subjected by the laws of this government.’
The judge brings down his gavel. ‘That is enough! Both counsel will henceforth refrain from ambiguity, innuendo or any play on words. You will not trivialise my court in this manner, do you understand me?’ He turns to the clerk of the court. ‘You will strike counsel’s opening remarks from the records, Mr Hanson.’
Richard Runche bows towards the bench. ‘Yes, thank you, Your Honour.’
Francis Codlington shows a reluctance to come to his feet, but now he half rises and nods his acknowledgement to the bench. It is obvious his intention is to dominate the proceedings and in the process attempt to intimidate the inexperienced judge.
‘The counsel for the defence will recognise me and address me as “Your Honour” when he is spoken to from the bench,’ Judge Blackall now says sharply.
Codlington rises again, this time a little further into an upright position. ‘Er ... yes, Your Honour.’ The supercilious smile appears once more on his face.
‘The senior counsel for the plaintiff, Mrs Simpson, may proceed,’ the judge instructs.
Runche grins inwardly — he has made his point and is even pleased that he hasn’t succeeded with the judge because this shows him that Blackall remains firmly in control. He clears his throat and speaks.
‘Your Honour, as I had previously stated in my opening address I would like to prove to this court that my client, Mrs Mary Simpson, is a woman who has always taken care of her four children as a responsible and caring mother. I intend to use the major criteria set out by the Child Welfare Department of New South Wales for the creation of a ward of the State. The child, or children, must be deemed to be neglected and the indications of neglect used by the Department are as follows: The child must be certified by a physician to be undernourished as a consequence of the extreme poverty or deliberate neglect of the parent, or parents. The parent, or parents, must be seen to have neglected the child’s safety. The parent must be seen to have deprived the child of the education and of those medical services commonly available to children of this State. The parent must be of unsound mind and mentally incapable of taking care of the child. Finally the child must be found to have been physically and/or sexually abused by one or both of its parents or others, so that its welfare is endangered in both a physical and moral sense. ‘I put it to you, Your Honour, th
at none of these circumstances may be said to prevail in connection with my client and her relationship with her children. On the contrary, I will now submit for the perusal of the court documents to testify to Mrs Simpson’s past care and concern for her children.’
Moishe hands Runche the first three documents, from the schoolmistress Mrs Mavis Cross of Grong Grong Infants and Primary School. They are the children’s end-of-year school reports. ‘Please note that these documents relate to the two older children, Sarah and Polly Simpson,’ Runche begins. ‘They show that both children were in the top bracket of their class. Polly is noted as having been absent from school for just four days in two years up until the time she was removed by the Board. In the case of Sarah, who spent her first year in school prior to also being forcibly removed, she was absent for a total of two days with a severe cold. I should point out that the children would walk six miles either way to attend this school. Their report cards also state that they were always clean, neatly dressed and well behaved. The next document I submit is from the School Medical Service and against both children’s names the examining medical officer has placed the words In good health. I also submit a written testimony from their schoolmistress, which states that the children were never seen to bear bruises or marks on their bodies that indicated any form of physical abuse. If I may read just one paragraph from her statement .. .’ The barrister takes the letter handed to him from Moishe and begins to read.
‘Dear Mr Goldberg,
‘You have asked me if the two children Polly and Sarah Simpson showed signs of physical -neglect or abuse. I can only answer by saying that I pay particular note to such indications, which are lamentably common among the children at this school and, I should say, are shared in an equal proportion between the white and Aboriginal children. Polly and Sarah have always exhibited excellent health and while it is not common for Aboriginal children to be plump, I have never seen any sign that the Simpson children were either hungry or bore the marks of abuse. I shall miss them both in my classroom.
‘I remain, yours faithfully: