Life as a judge in Britain: 'I think I've heard it all - then a case shocks me with a new level of depravity'

First, let me make it clear that I’m not complaining. I am conscious every day that it is a privilege to sit as a judge.

I’ve now been one for more than 20 years and currently sit in the Crown Courts in South Wales dealing with serious offences - including murder and sexual crimes.

The job is rewarding and worthwhile. As one of those who chose to specialise in crime and family work at the start of my career, I was under no illusions that it would be difficult and harrowing.

I’m often asked how I cope. People want to know: have I lost faith in human nature, having been faced with the worst behavior people are capable of?

So I understand why the head of the judiciary in England and Wales, Lord Chief Justice, Lord Thomas, recently said that we judges are increasingly coming under emotional strain from constant exposure to ‘depravity’.

It’s “beyond the understanding of most people” he added – referring to the harrowing testimonies we must listen to day-in, day-out and the explicit images we’re forced to engage with.

He’s right. After more than 40 years as a barrister, and now a judge, I sometimes think I’ve heard it all. Then a case will come along that involves a new level of depravity – and I’ll react with shock and disbelief.

Recently more and more perpetrators have been using cameras to record the abuse they inflict, either to increase their own gratification or for distribution to others. The court often has to watch it as evidence.

Then there are victim impact statements, which are read out at time of sentencing, either by the victim themselves, a relative or the prosecutor. During murder trials the family of the deceased will usually be in court for sentencing,  like that of murdered teenager Becky Watts after which the trial judge broke down in tears after sentencing.

Sometimes, the family of the defendant will be  present too, obviously distressed at the prospect of a custodial sentence.

In other words, tensions and emotions run high in a courtroom and the judge is not oblivious to the fact that the outcome, the verdict and sentence matter deeply to those present.

You would have to be inhuman not to be moved by their grief and distress - but we can’t and don’t let it affect our impartiality.

I have time to consider such papers in advance, and approach my task dispassionately. You cannot allow sympathy to move you away from what has to be an objective analysis.

I am married to a doctor and there are some similarities in the professional challenges we face. A good doctor has empathy and care for their patients - but to be effective, he or she must remain objective.

Likewise a judge dealing with criminal and family work will probably have chosen that area because they’re interested in people and deeply concerned for the welfare of children, the victims of crime, the vulnerable and abused. They will also be committed to the principles of fairness and justice.

Have I lost faith in humankind? On the contrary.

Although, day-after-day, I see the worst side of people; I see the best side too. I see the courage of a complainant who has suffered appalling abuse and I see how determined they are to tell their - however painful that may be.

Over the past decade or so, we have seen a welcome sea change in the treatment of witnesses, with the introduction of special measures to make their experience less painful. But even with all these safeguards, one can only imagine how difficult it must be - especially for children - to talk about a traumatic experience, sometimes bottled up for years, in front of strangers - and for their story to be challenged by a lawyer, however politely and carefully.

Time and time again, I am heartened that ordinary members of the public step in, selflessly, to intervene in an assault or robbery.

I admire the dedication of those jurors who sit on long trials without complaint. Those 12 ‘ordinary’ members of the public, chosen at random, have to cope with their first experience of a criminal trial and hearing awful things which are likely to be outside their experience or contemplation. It is remarkable how such strangers seem to form a bond, supporting each other through difficult evidence.

The largely unsung heroes of the Crown Court - the ushers - quietly reassure the jury and when a complainant is giving evidence by video link, the usher is most often the person sitting next to him or her experiencing at close quarters: the shaking, the tears, the physical and emotional distress.

Judges are a resilient bunch. But as resident judge for South Wales, responsible for allocating cases, I do my best to try and ensure they have variety. If a judge has sat on a particularly harrowing case, we give them a break from that type of work.

But, increasingly, the reality is that up to half our trials in any week will be related to sexual offending, so any break is likely to be short lived.

Unlike the jurors and witnesses, we at least have experience in what to expect. Although running each case is our individual responsibility, and we reach our decisions on our own, we do support each other. There’s almost always someone you can talk to over a sandwich at lunch, or down the corridor in the Court.

Most of us are also fortunate in having the support of partners or family. But personally, I try not to take my work home. Would you?