As the shocking case of Preston Davey shows, unimaginable horrors can lie behind the doors of courtrooms. Journalists covering such terrible cases have to walk an emotional tightrope in order to remain professional while retaining the empathy needed to do justice to the lives and stories of those concerned.
The first time I set foot in a court, I was doing work experience at the Hartlepool Mail. A reporter took me along with her to cover a truly terrible case at Teesside Crown – a toddler had died and his babysitter was on trial for murder. I’d read about his sad, short life and tragic death in the paper and we were anticipating a verdict.
Having had something of an obsession from childhood with ITV’s (sadly long lost) Crown Court, in which real-life cases were recreated for viewing from the sofa, not to mention being a huge fan of Leo McKern’s star turn as Rumpole, I felt I knew roughly what to expect. But nothing could have prepared me for the events that unfolded that day 21 years ago.
What happened when the jury’s guilty verdict cut through the static in the courtroom was that the woman in the dock let out an animalistic howl of pain. A sound I can still recall. That she was later cleared on appeal gave an extra dimension to her grief.
The following year, I did a journalism course in Cardiff and we attended several hearings as part of our learning. Alongside trips to the city’s glorious oak-panelled Crown court, just a stone’s throw from our university building, we learned about contempt and the rules of court reporting. But there was little to no guidance about how the content of the cases might affect a person.
Expressing my own concerns about handling the heavy duty of reporting on traumatic events, I had a conversation with our law tutor, Duncan Bloy, who gave me the best advice I’ve ever had about how to keep a sense of perspective. ‘Remember that out of the millions of exchanges that take place between people every day, you’ll be dealing with the tiniest fraction that go wrong,’ were his wise and comforting words.
During almost 20 years covering courts since then, I have clung to his words at times. I understand all too well that the harrowing and distressing material we’re exposed to as journalists, with little or no support, has a damaging effect. It is of course always foremost in our minds that the people at the centre of the case, and their families, suffer hugely as their lives are upended.
Jurors, who only in recent years have been offered counselling after sitting through distressing cases, are plucked from their lives and have to listen, watch and assess traumatic evidence. Not to mention the lawyers, judges, court staff and others whose daily workloads are heavy and traumatic.
But sitting there day in, day out, reporting on the worst aspects of human life, takes its toll. Especially for journalists who are often overworked and underpaid, and can be tipped into burnout by having little regard for themselves or the vicarious trauma they’ve experienced.
Former colleagues have left the profession altogether after one terrible case too many. And the next generation of court reporters is more reluctant to even set foot in a courtroom. At a symposium on court reporting at Salford University last year, we heard from lecturers at Sheffield University who have encountered the problem of their journalism students not wanting to go to court, fearful of what they may encounter. Their inventive way around this has been to create a film resource, using actors to reconstruct courtroom scenes, which they then watch and discuss to prepare trainees for the real thing.
Coping mechanisms among working journalists vary wildly – one friend stops taking a shorthand note whenever he hears disturbing evidence that he simply wouldn’t ever report, so as not to process it through the act of writing and embed it further in his mind. I have done similar. Talking to colleagues, who understand and can empathise, is also helpful, as is professional counselling.
But if we want to ensure the survival of court reporting – which is fundamental to public understanding of both our justice system and wider society – the media industry must recognise the scale of this issue and take meaningful action. Sending reporters into a hostile environment has to be done with care and consideration. Recognising that the courtroom can be such a place is the first step towards making positive change.
Sian Harrison is a freelance journalist and co-author of McNae’s Essential Law for Journalists
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