Meticulously researched and sparklingly written, this engrossing book is as much a social history of Britain in the last hundred years as a collection of gripping courtroom dramas.
We're reminded of the sheer, sometimes hilarious, weirdness of the past. In a bizarre trial in 1918 for criminal libel of proto-fascist agitator and MP Noel Pemberton-Billing, as war raged on the Western front, a defence witness earnestly explained for the benefit of the spellbound court that the clitoris is "a superficial organ that, when unduly excited or over-developed, possesse[s] the most dreadful influence on any woman". "An exaggerated clitoris", he added helpfully, "might even drive a woman to an elephant.” (In a characteristic dry aside, Grant observes that "Manfully, the [all-male] jury took this revelation in its stride".) The jury bought Billing's crazed conspiracy theories (a secret coterie of establishment fifth-columnists, rootless Jews and depraved homosexuals were, he claimed, working hand-in-glove to undermine Britain's moral fibre and bring about German victory), and he was acquitted. It would all be highly entertaining if it were not such an salutary reminder of how tub-thumping nationalist scoundrels can, in febrile times, overawe and intimidate the forces of sanity.
Indeed, a constant that emerges from these fascinating case histories is the power of moral panics, popular prejudices and press-inspired mass outrage of one sort or another to cloud both reason and judgment, even in the most prominent courtroom in the land. Marguerite Fahmy shot her Egyptian playboy husband dead after a blazing row in the Savoy Hotel in 1923. Defending her in Court One of the Old Bailey in her trial for murder was Edward Marshall Hall, the most celebrated criminal barrister of the age. It looked like a slam-dunk for the prosecution, until Marshall Hall got to work on the jury. His client, he explained, had made "possibly the greatest mistake any woman can make: a woman of the West married to an Oriental ... if you strip off the external civilisation of the Oriental, you get the real Oriental underneath and it is common knowledge that the Oriental’s treatment of women does not fit in with the idea the Western woman has of the proper way she should be treated by her husband.” The jury, persuaded that no decent white woman could be expected to submit to the "unnatural practices" demanded of her by an "Oriental", duly acquitted her, not only of murder but also of the lesser charge of manslaughter.
Miscarriages of justice the other way abound, and are compellingly anatomised. Poor, inarticulate Timothy Evans, hanged in 1950 for murders in fact committed - as was discovered three years too late - by the prosecution's oh-so-respectable star witness, John Christie, is the most famous. The tragic story of Ruth Ellis, a victim of cruel abuse hanged - in special anti-prolapse canvas pants, we are gruesomely informed - in 1955 for a murder of which she would today certainly be acquitted, is expertly and movingly told. Some cases remain controversial, at least among lawyers: wartime broadcaster of Nazi German propaganda William Joyce (popularly known as Lord Haw-Haw for his affectedly drawling English accent) had never held British citizenship, and so was not a subject of the Crown, but was nonetheless convicted of capital treason on the tenuous legal basis of his brief possession of an (unused) British passport. For all its majesty, the process of a criminal trial can, or at least could, sometimes appear to be little more than a judicial lynching attended by vengeful tricoteuses in the public gallery.
The book is a powerful riposte to the lazy belief that justice was better served in the "good old days" of quick, no-nonsense trials unburdened by elaborate safeguards of defendants' rights to fairness and due process. The account of the notorious Soham child-murders trial in 2003, unflinchingly but sensitively told, illustrates the remarkable and altogether admirable progress that has been achieved even within our lifetimes in the administration of justice. There is much still to be improved and reformed, but we have come a long way since the days, not that long ago, when sneering and cynically biased judges, bullying advocates and humiliated witnesses were the norm in the Central Criminal Court.
Grant's tone is erudite, urbane and highly engaging (occasionally, perhaps, just a touch florid), but there are passages that will move the reader to pity and, now and then, outright anger. The detailed accounts of the forensic thrust-and-parry of the actual trial with which each chapter culminates are exemplary in their clarity, humanity and sense of drama, and as a distinguished practising barrister (albeit not a criminal one) himself the writer is able to throw a fascinating light on the advocates' tactics, ruses and thought-processes; nor does he hesitate to identify professional ineptitude or judicial inadequacy when, as they frequently do in these eleven cases, they manifest themselves in the courtroom. The book is pitched at and perfectly accessible to the intelligent lay reader, but will (as this reviewer can vouch) equally entertain and inform those with knowledge of, or who practise in, the law. For anyone with an interest in criminal justice, fallible human beings in extremis and the madness of crowds, it's a highly rewarding and thought-provoking read.