And Justice for all?


I should have known when we got to the waiting area in court that hoping for justice was a waste of time.

I should have seen it coming from my last meeting with the justice system when my Dad was accidentally killed. It didn’t even get to court, the guys who pushed a tree onto my Dad’s car were free to keep chopping down trees and not even get their tree lopping licences suspended.

I should have known that as we waited in the lobby for the hearing to proceed and I analysed the painting on the wall: Three Kookaburras sitting atop the lion and the unicorn.

The lion and the unicorn of course being the royal coat of arms, when I first admired the painting this morning it was a lofty statement of the Australian judicial system, the kookaburras almost seemed to represent the three monkeys of see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil. An apt painting to adorn the walls of the courthouse.

I should probably tell you we were there to seek justice for a dog act, an atrocity against civilised, diplomatic society. Three oafs full of beer decided to follow Xavier back to his Nan’s house, the first punch was to the side of his head, Xavier didn’t even see it coming – a king hit. I think they should also rename this type of hit to a “dog shot” – there’s nothing regal about it. Then one of the huge dudes held Xavier’s arms behind his back as the other two declared it open day on his head. They then turned on his Uncle and cousin, all the while Xavier’s Nan watched on, helpless as her boys got the shit punched out of them by a bunch of methed up thugs.

So today was to be our day in court. Our day for justice. The day we had all been waiting for to see those fuckers pay.

Well, like I said earlier, I watched eagerly as the judges walked through the lobby this morning, full of pomp and pageantry, I admired the painting that was a pictorial tribute to justice in Australia.

The day continued… The meat heads walked through the lobby with their chests sticking out and angry glares, we glared back – our day for retribution has finally come.

By 11am I was starting to look at the painting in a new light, some of the charges had to be dropped, one of the offenders was going to be able to walk free because at the time of the assault none of the victims had known him for any amount of time. The kookaburras on the painting began smirking, their heads at awkward angles hiding their smug smiles.

12 O’clock the court went to lunch.

12.50pm we were back in the courtroom, expectation building.

1.10pm the case was adjourned until 2pm. The kookaburras in the painting are actually laughing now.

2pm and the two remaining scum bags get nothing more than a slap on the wrist – a tiny fine disproportionate to the crime, even though they’ve had charges brought against them previously.

Even though they’re known to Police.

They’ve managed to get away with it.

Each and every time.

Before the sentence was given the judge was lovely to them, said that he believed they’d learned their lesson, the defence gave the court sob stories about the lives of these pricks.

Meanwhile, my gentle honey who has always been loved by everyone, who didn’t even think about trying to defend himself as he was held down and beaten by a bunch of bottom feeders, my Xavier has been changed forever. How many more people are going to get bashed before these bastards pay? Are they going to give someone brain damage? Are they only going to pay when they kill someone? They stood there before the judge and the entire court not even looking contrite.

As we walked out of the court room and the scum paraded past us thumping each other on the chest and eyeing us with gloating daggers, I looked once more at the painting on the wall.

The mythical unicorn is now a representation of my hope that justice would be served, the three kookaburras fall about laughing atop the coat of arms at the joke that is our justice system.

And justice for all? I don’t think so.


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