The day after press day on a weekly newspaper is a good one for editors to get out to see a bit of the real world. I spent last Thursday in Court 1, Southwark Crown court, watching the opening stages of what everyone expects to be a lengthy trial concerning alleged deceit in the preparation of company accounts.

It was an uplifting experience.

As I’ve followed the run-up to the case over several years, all I’d better say at this stage is that Stephen Graham, John Whelan and Timothy Whiston deny one count of conspiracy to make misleading statements promises or forecasts, contrary to the Financial Services and Markets Act 2000 and the Criminal Law Act. You’ll see fair, accurate and contemporaneous reports of each day’s proceedings in the financial papers.

But what impressed me on the first day was the painstaking process of swearing in 12 ordinary citizens to try exactly the type of case that some say should be taken out of the hands of juries entirely. After all, I suspect most people on the street wouldn’t even know that the alleged behaviour on trial is a criminal offence and have only the vaguest understanding of the term ‘conspiracy’. More to the point is the expected commitment of time - the case is listed to run four months.

But, in the 20 years since I last reported a long white-collar trial, some things seem to have changed for the better. Judge Leonard, presiding, cut a friendly and avuncular figure as he interviewed individual members of their panel over their availability, and discharged a succession, mainly on the ground of family commitments. While no doubt an ordeal for the people involved, the process looked far less terrifying than an inquisition I once saw conducted in Winchester Crown court by the late Judge Starforth Hill.

Another impressive change was the selection of a 13th and 14th juror, to hear the evidence and be ready to be sworn in, if required. Apparently this is now standard practice in long trials, though it seems a tall order for the individuals concerned as of course they’re not even allowed to discuss the case with the jury proper.

All this was carefully explained in kindly tones by Judge Leonard, along with the instruction to abstain from online snooping about the case. There were no threats, just a matter of fact reminder that ‘there has been some publicity about jurors who have breached these conditions and who have been sent to prison’.

On the press seats, inevitably full for the prosecution opening statement, there were changes, too. Fewer of my colleagues seemed to be proficient in shorthand, but nearly everyone was emailing from their smartphones. Last time I was in court, mobiles were exotic rarities and kept well out of the judge’s line of sight.

One thing that hasn’t changed in 20 years is the quality of the seating, which brought back well-remembered aches. But at least I don’t have to go in every day. I’ll be back, though, to see justice done.

In the meantime, as we have to say, the trial continues.

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