Representing criminal clients can pose all kinds of ethical dilemmas and doing somebody a favour can carry inherent risk, reflects James Morton.

The principal danger with a criminal defence practice comes from the clients themselves.

At the lower end of the scale, many of them simply will not give instructions and will not bother even to attend appointments.

In fairness, some are making arrangements to ensure that no instructions will be necessary because there will be no principal witness.

As for the others, I found that double or even treble booking might produce one of them within a half-hour of the scheduled arrival time, but it could not be guaranteed.

It was only when afternoon racing was televised that things looked up.

I installed a portable set in the office, and indicated to clients that if they arrived early enough and gave clear instructions, they could watch the three o'clock and there would be tenpenny sweeps on the result.

Winner to have one of the first three in the frame.

Punctuality improved markedly.

Should I have charged this extra time to the legal aid fund?

Unfortunately, this led me into bad habits.

Some time later, I met a solicitor in a magistrates' court.

'Do you remember me?' she asked.

'I came for an interview and we had to watch the two-year-old sprint from Doncaster before we started.'

The only day when clients could be guaranteed to appear and bring a whole collection of friends was on a Friday, which - in the days before security cameras, glass screens and the like - was bank robbery day.

Raids always took place around 11am and appointments were kept faithfully.

The client would be keen to introduce a whole series of cousins and uncles who would sit patiently while he gave his story, sometimes murmuring in support like a Greek chorus.

Somewhere about eleven o'clock they would ask the time or consult their Rolexes before standing, saying, 'Didn't know it was as late as that.

Got to meet a man,' and making for the door.

Another perfect and genuine alibi, and another black mark against the solicitor.

It was this that began to cause the rift with my employer Simpson.

Here were these large men reading the Greyhound Express, smoking rollups and generally frightening his elderly lady clients whom Simpson hoped were going to leave him money in their wills.

My clients were ordered to sit on the stairs, something that did not seem to disturb them in any way, and that actually made them far more menacing.

They were not allowed to use the upstairs lavatory, being sent to one through the telephonist's room.

It was this that caused a small ethical problem.

After some had availed themselves of the facilities, the petty-cash box, which she kept, was discovered to be missing.

The old trick had been worked of asking to look at a telephone directory and when she turned her back removing the cash.

The telephonist was not sure which of them had done this on a busy afternoon.

It was not a question of the money, very little was kept.

Worse was the loss of the petty-cash vouchers that would have to be reconstructed.

I suppose it could make an interesting practical question in an examination.

Should I report the matter to the police? Should I, at considerable cost, sack my clients some of whom were undoubtedly innocent? Or should I do nothing? In the end, the matter was disposed of agreeably.

I told each of them that my cashbox had been stolen and while I accepted it had nothing to do with them, there would be a 5 levy from each of them to cover the loss as well as the inconvenience.

Not one even murmured.

But occasionally, clients will be happy to compromise their solicitors if they think it may benefit them.

The trick is to avoid the traps.

Years later, when I was grand enough to have a trainee, I sent him to see a client in a provincial prison where security was not highly developed.

Now, I accept this was my mistake.

The client was a major and talented confidence trickster.

My trainee was far outmatched and he arrived back with a bundle of letters, which included two to Air Canada, to post together with 5 for the stamps.

'He asked whether I would do him a favour, and I said "Yes".

I couldn't really back out then, could I?' pleaded the trainer.

When a criminal client asks 'will you do me a favour' the correct response is neither yes nor no but 'that depends on what the favour is'.

Do not agree to go to their weddings and christenings of their children.

You will only find yourself in a photograph being handed a cigar by a gold be-chained client.

Anyway, back to the main problem.

What was I to do with the letters and the money? Take them back myself? Make my trainee take them back? Tell the police? Report the matter to the governor? Post the letters? Do nothing except put the money in the client account? Do nothing except donate the money to charity? Other? For the purposes of the question, the present provisions relating to money-laundering may be disregarded.

Answers on a plain post card to the editor please.

My answer and the subsequent denouement the next time I write.

James Morton is a former criminal law specialist solicitor and now a freelance journalist