Court In Roddickton

                                                 By

                                            Chris Decker
 
 
 
       "All rise!"  The Mountie shouted at the top of his voice.

     He looked a bit big in himself in his dress uniform; his .38 calibre revolver strapped on his side, the holster unsnapped, ready to draw at a second’s notice if anyone threatened the magistrate. He looked about sixteen. He stood rigidly at attention as the magistrate sat down on a stool behind the counter.
     The soft drink dispenser was immediately behind the magistrate. There were five flavours: Pepsi, 7-Up, orange, lime and root beer. On one side of the soft drink dispenser there were two small shelves stocked with cigarette papers, tobacco, chewing tobacco, matches and cigarette lighters. A card of pipes and pipe cleaners was hanging near the shelves. There was one pipe gone from the card. The owner of the restaurant had taken it for himself. People just weren’t using pipes as much as they used to. They seem to prefer tailor mades.
     On the opposite side of the soft drink machine there were several shelves of chocolate bars, candy and crackerjacks. The door to the kitchen was at the end of the counter off the magistrate's right.
     A sign in the window explained to patrons what was going on:

                     Restaurant Closed Owing To Court Being Held.

                     Will Open For Business As Soon As Court Is Over.
          A couple regular patrons who hadn’t noticed the sign or just hadn’t bothered to read it, barged into the restaurant, and maybe a bit curious over the strange new waiter wearing a dark suit and black neck tie, shouted their order as they looked for a place to sit: "Two fish and chips, a Pepsi and a root beer!"
     The Mountie yelled, "Someone sit those people own or I'll cite them for contempt of Court!"

     "I'm afraid you don’t have that authority, constable. Mounties can’t cite for contempt, yet.”  The magistrate placed extra emphasis on ‘yet’.
    The audience applauded the ruling. The magistrate called for order and a pair of hands, the size of bear paws, hauled the couple into one of the booths. There would be no fish and chips for a while yet.
     The magistrate spread some papers out on the counter. After reading for a few minutes he called John Henry Tobin to come forward and sit in the defendant's seat.
     "Sit where, your Honour?"

     "On that seat there," said the magistrate, pointing to a Pepsi box stuck up on its end.

     "Now, Mr. Tobin,” the magistrate continued, “you're charged with having a part of a still in your possession. How do you plead?"
     John Henry’s discomfort obvious. It was the first time in his life that he had been in a court room as the accused. Beads of sweat streamed down his forehead, soaked into his eyebrows and ran down both sides of his face. In one hand he gripped his black mackinaw cap; with the other he reached into his wind breaker pocket and took out a red polka-dot handkerchief and wiped his face.
     "I beg your pardon, your Honour?"

     The magistrate notice how uncomfortable the man was and tried to calm him. "There's no need to be perplexed, Mr. Tobin. Just relax and we'll proceed.”
     "Thank-you, your honour.”
     "Mr. Tobin, you are charged with having a still or a part of a still in your possession. How do you plead?”
     "Begor now your honour, it’s not all that clear. It was a part of a still and it wasn’t a part of a still. I don't rightly know what to say."
     "In that case, Mr. Tobin, I take it you are entering a not guilty plea.”
     "I suppose so, your honour.”

     “The defendant pleads not guilty,” The magistrate announced and wrote in his book.
     The Mountie was the crown prosecutor as well as the only witness. He had done remarkably well fighting crime on the streets of Conche on this his first year out of Regina.
     The prosecutor-witness stood erect as he read from a black notebook. "On or about the 21st day of July past I received a telegram advising that moon shine was being manufactured and distributed in Conche.

     “The said informant has requested to remain anonymous, your honour.

     "On or about the 22nd day of July I hastily proceeded to Englee in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police four wheel drive Land Rover. At the before mentioned Englee I acquired the services of a local fisherman who transported me to Conche in a thirty foot fishing boat. We departed Englee at precisely 10.05 a.m. and arrived at Conche at 12.07 p.m. in the afternoon.
     "As soon as the boat was securely fastened to the government wharf in Conche, I sprang ashore, and commenced asking questions to the dozen people who were loitering on the wharf.
     "During interrogation three persons of interest informed me there was nobody making moonshine in Conche. One interviewee said the only time he ever heard of moonshine ever brewed in Conche was by an alleged John Henry Tobin and that was many years before Newfoundland entered confederation with Canada. I immediately realized that if the said Mr. Tobin made moonshine in the past, then there were reasonable grounds for a reasonable person to conclude that he was presently making moon shine.

      "I requested directions to Mr. Tobin's ordinary place of residence and immediately set out at a brisk pace to the said place of this before named person’s place of domicile. I endeavoured to maintain an element of surprise.

     “At or about halfway to the defendant's house I saw a dog glaring at me poised to attack. Forthwith I drew my service revolver and shot the dog which squealed and disappeared behind a wood pile. I did not see any more dogs on that particular visit to Conche.”

     “Stun fool shot my dog which was chained on,” someone in one of the booths whispered, not too softly.

     "Mr. Tobin’s alleged wife came to the door after I knocked. I asked her if Mr. Tobin were home and she forthwith informed me that he was sleeping.

     “I concluded that early afternoon was an unusual hour for a man to be sleeping and advised her accordingly.

     “She explained that her husband had gone out to his cod trap at oh four hundred hours and after returning from the said cod trap went back to bed.”

     The magistrate was writing down all the information as the Mountie continued his recitation.

     "Constable, I wonder could you get to the substance of your case. If I might say so, you're being a little too meticulous with the details.”
     "Sorry, your Honour."
     The Mountie flipped through a few pages of his notebook and began to read again. "I ordered Mrs. Tobin to wake up Mr. Tobin, which she did forthrightly.
     "When Mr. Tobin came to the door it was obvious that Mrs. Tobin had given me correct information. Mr. Tobin had been asleep. His hair was dishevelled and he did not have on any boots."
     "Constable, please get to the point!"
     The constable continued, undeterred. "I confronted Mr. Tobin with the accusation that he was making moonshine.

      "He denied it. I asked if I could search his house although I knew the law permitted me to search his property with or without his consent.

     "He told me to enter his house, and I quote, ‘search to your heart’s content,’ unquote.”
     "While I was in the process of searching the said house, Mrs. Tobin offered to get me a cup of tea. I realized this was an attempt to bribe me so I refused profusely.

     “I did not find any evidence in the domestic residence. Therefore I confronted Mr. Tobin directly and asked if he had a still or even a part of a still in his possession. I learned in training that it is necessary to be specific when questioning the criminal element.  He replied that he had some copper tubing which, I quote, ‘could very well have been a part of a still at some time in the past’, unquote.
     "I ordered him to show me the alleged copper tubing.
     "He led me to a shed behind his dwelling house. Behind the shed door, hanging from a nail driven into a beam, I discovered a coil of copper pipe. I immediately confiscated the pipe in the name of the queen, your honour, and hereby present it as exhibit 'A'.

     I requisitioned the use of a hammer from Mr. Tobin and removed the nail which I subsequently measured and determined to be four inches in length. I present the nail as exhibit B.
     "Upon further interrogation, Mr. Tobin admitted that the tube was indeed a part of a still."
     "Thank you, constable. Do you wish to call any witnesses?"
      "No, your Honour," the Mountie replied, dismayed that the magistrate would even insinuate the necessity of another witness.

     "Mr. Tobin, do you wish to call any witnesses?"
     "No, your Honour, it's all true what the Mountie said, except
about my wife trying to bribe him."

     The court was silent waiting for the magistrate to pronounce the verdict. A priest stood up in one of the booths.
     "Your Honour, may I address the Court?"
     The magistrate was not surprised by this interruption. In his many years as judge he had come to expect clergy, teachers, doctors, merchants and others, to intervene on behalf of a defendant.
     "Of course, Father. Go ahead."
     "Your Honour, Mr. Tobin is not guilty of making any moonshine. The constable has certainly given no proof of such. All he presented to the court was a piece of copper tubing and a rusty nail."
     "As Newfoundlanders, you and I both understand the value a Newfoundland fisherman places on a piece of copper tubing.” The insinuation was clear. The Mountie was an outsider from Canada who didn’t have a clue about Newfoundland culture.

     “Fishermen have many uses for it. They use it for fuel lines for their engines and oil stoves. They cut it up and make sinkers out of it. I would argue that if the constable searched every shed in Conche and every stage in Newfoundland for that matter, he would find pieces of copper tubing in all of them. It is ridiculous to assume that just because a person has a coil of copper tubing on his property, then he is making moonshine. I am not a fisherman, your honour, but I grew up in a fishing family, and I must confess, it is not easy for me to discard a piece of copper tubing." The priest paused for breath.

     "I'm also not a lawyer, your Honour, but I believe this is what lawyers call circumstantial evidence. The man has not been proven guilty. Thank you for allowing me to speak, you honour."
     The priest sat down.

     “And thank-you, father.”
     The magistrate turned toward the Mountie.
     "Frankly, constable, I agree with the priest. I think you arrived at your conclusion too quickly. I must caution you to be a bit more careful before your charge an innocent man.”

     The Mountie couldn’t believe his ears.

     “But your honour…”

     The magistrate turned towards the man seated uncomfortably on the wooden crate, “Mr. Tobin, before I rule on this case, is there anything you wish to say?"
     "Well, your Honour, I have to say that the piece of copper tube on the table there was used on a still. I never used it for that reason, your Honour, but my grandfather, John Henry Tobin Senior, used it on still many years ago. He’s dead now.”
     "Are you sure that this is the same piece of tubing? Maybe your
grandfather's tubing got lost and this is not the same piece of pipe at all."
     "I'm sure, your Honour. I was keeping it for a keepsake more than anything else."
     "I'm trying to help you, Mr. Tobin,” the magistrate replied softly. “Your priest is trying to help you, sir. But you're not making it very easy for us."
     "But your Honour, I can’t deny the truth?"
     "No, Mr. Tobin, I don't expect you deny the truth. And the truth here is very expensive, I fear."
     "What further proof is required, your honour?” The constable had recovered. "The defendant is guilty by his own admission.”

     The magistrate stared at the Mountie and exploded, “constable, shut your ruddy mouth.”

     The court burst into applause. The magistrate didn’t call for order.
      "Mr. Tobin, the law is very clear. It states that it is illegal for a person to have in his possession a still or a part of a still. The law makes no distinction between an old still or a new still. It is evident that you had in your possession a part of a still. I have no choice but to find you guilty as charged. The minimum fine, sir, is five hundred dollars! I cannot impose a lesser fine even if I wanted to. And believe me, I want to."
     Fish was two cents a pound that year.

     "If you want to pay the fine by instalments, Mr. Tobin, just speak to me after the court is over."

     On his way out of the restaurant, the magistrate stopped to shake hands with the priest.

     "I don't give a damn if he never pays it, Father.''
     "Nor do I, your Honour. But we both know he’ll pay even if it takes him the remainder of his life.”