The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 23

October 22, 2012

 

It was the Friday after the funeral when I got the details in the post from the Stockport Police Station about my court case. I was to appear at Stockport Magistrates Court on Monday October 22^nd at 10 a.m. And now that day has come.

The court is on Edward Street, in the middle of Stockport, very close to the railway station. I had to take the letter from the police station with me to show at the desk and they were to tell me which court to go, to which turned out to be Courtroom 3.

I was let in by the court usher, who was wearing a black legal gown, but not a wig. There were three magistrates, none with wigs or gowns, sitting at a long desk in the front of the court – called The Bench. There was a Chief Clerk in front of them at a desk taking notes. There was seating for interested observers, although nobody had come with me. I had not appointed a solicitor, but was told that there would be a duty solicitor if I hadn't brought my own. I don't think that I know enough about the law to represent myself. There was no jury.

My case was brought by the crown prosecution services who had a representative in court to prosecute the case. P.C. Reilly, the policeman who had come to the house to get me, was there too.

My name was called, and the charge from the public prosecutors' office read out. Basically it said that between August 31-September 16^th, I had entered Miss Jones' house using a key that she had told me the whereabouts of – and stayed there, not knowing that she was dead, and assuming that she was visiting relatives. Whilst staying there, I found some petty cash and her bank card, and helped myself to about £120 of her money.

I was asked how I pleaded.

“Guilty,” I said. No point in trying to pretend otherwise now.

“I take it, Mr. Barber, that this is your first offence.”

“Yes, your honour.”

“Do you have a solicitor?”

“No.”

“As a defendant, you do have some rights. These are,

• The right to have any unused evidence disclosed to you before the trial begins.
• The right to cross-examine any witness that the prosecution has bought into court to support their case against you.
• The right to object to any written statements being read out in court unless you or your solicitor have already been given copies in advance.
• The right to enter the witness box to defend your case.
• The right to call any witness in your defence.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honour.”

“Do you have anything to say in your defence or any witnesses to call before we pass judgement?”

“I didn't know that Miss Jones was dead when I went into her house. She had offered for me to lodge with her, and I needed a place to stay and knew she wouldn't mind. I had problems getting out my money from the bank, so needed some money, so when I found hers, I knew she wouldn't mind that I used it. I intended to pay her back.”

The questions now came at me from the barrister from the public prosecutor's office.

“However, I understand that you took money from her bank account.”

“Yes, but only £20.”

“That was after you had managed to access your job seekers' allowance, was it not?”

“Yes.”

“So why did you take that out, if you didn't need it?”

“Well, it sounds stupid, but it was just sort of to see if I could. I found her card and thought I would make a guess at her pin number being her birth date – and so I was trying it to see if I was right, and I was.”

“So you didn't intend to take out all her money.”

“No, as I told you, I didn't know she was dead and I kept expecting her to come back.”

“And you thought she would be okay with you spending her petty cash and taking money from her bank account?”

“Well, I hoped she would have understood, and I would have paid her back. I am very sorry that I did it.”

“Did you take anything else from her house?”

“No.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“The place is a dump. There wasn't anything worth taking except maybe the books, but I wouldn't read that sort of stuff.”

There was a brief lull while the magistrates conferred together. Then the main one said,

“Mr. Barber, all petty theft cases can have long term consequences. Because of that it is important for a defendant to get the best possible result in court to minimize the damage. Here we break it down for you.

“Petty theft can lead to a custodial sentence.

“Petty Theft, Theft, and Embezzlement are crimes in a special class called 'Crimes of Moral Turpitude', which generally means crimes involving dishonesty. This status means that a criminal record with a theft conviction is a red flag for any potential employer. 

“Most employers evaluating potential employees will automatically disqualify a person with a recent theft conviction because it is a crime of moral turpitude. And a theft conviction can keep a person from getting a professional license such as one for an estate agent or bank employee, or even a security clearance. It can make you ineligible to enter certain countries, such as the United States.

“A theft conviction record can be publicly visible on background investigation reports for ten years or more.

“Considering that this is your first offence, and that you appear to show some remorse, I think that on this occasion we will not consider a custodial sentence for you. We have decided that you will have to pay back the money you stole, plus court costs, and you will have a conditional discharge for one year, and two months of community service. If you should re-offend within this year, your next sentence would no doubt include a custodial period.

“I suggest you contact legal aid to find out if they can help you with the legal costs of this case.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

“You will continue to reside with your step-father and mother, or if you move, you must let the Marple Police station and the court office know your new address. That is all. Next case.”

So I walked out of the court, an almost free man. When I stopped at the reception desk on the way out, they said that details of my assignment for community service would be sent to me in the next day or two.

January 7, 2013

No need to detail my life during this period. I was given the tasks of doing minor gardening type jobs at Brabyns Park in Marple Bridge. we community service staff were dressed in orange suits and we raked leaves, dug soil for new plantings, picked up trash, things like that. We were a team of four of us with a supervisor. I continued to live with my parents and was unable to sign on for job seekers' allowance, as I couldn't take on paid employment during the two months period and the community work had to be done without pay. My mother kindly paid my fee regarding the money I had taken from Minnie – with the proviso that I pay her back as soon as I was eligible to earn money or benefits again. Legal Aid covered the court costs.

I was celebrating my return to normal job seeking activities when returning home one afternoon, I found a letter for me. It was dated January 5^th.

Dear Mr. Barber,

You may not remember us, but we met you after my cousin, Miss Wilhelmina Jones' cremation a few months ago. We have now completed probate and have been accepted as the legal owners of her house. We have the key to the house, but have not yet gone to see it.

We remembered that you offered to do some work for us regarding getting Aunt's house ready for sale, and also said that you would check with your step-father to see what he would consider a sensible asking price for the house.

We will be in Marple on Friday, January 18^th, and hope that you and your step-father might join us at 2 p.m. at the property so that we can discuss the matter more fully with you.

Yours sincerely,

 

Mrs. Edna Mills

 

After he returned from work, I showed the letter to my step-father, Sam, who looked at it with interest. “I guess there's no problem with us going along to give an estimate,” he said. “Do these people know about your part in taking that old lady's money?”

“I don't think so. They'd hardly think about employing me if they did.”

“Well, if they do offer you a job, you might do better to come clean with them – rather than having them find out from the neighbours.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Friday came and Sam and I drove to Marple and I gave him directions of how to get to Minnie's old house. The Mills were already there, and opened the door when we knocked.

We shook hands and I introduced my step-father to them.

“So what do you think this house is worth then?” said Mr. Mills, foregoing all small talk.

“I'll just have a quick look around,” said Sam. He took his distance metre with him and his clipboard to fill in the various details as he went on the short trip through the house.

“Where's the second bedroom?”

“Up in the attic space, apparently. Not really a bedroom at all. We're too old to go up that ladder, but I can't imagine that you could honestly describe that as a useful bedroom.”

“I've been up there,” I said. “There's a velux window, but no electricity or heating. There's rough flooring but no ceiling or proper walls. It just looks like an attic space with a floor and a window.”

“Any idea what the maximum height of it is?”

“I could stand up easily in most of it. Probably an area of two metres square. There's furniture up there, but nothing of much interest, I don't think.”

After working out his calculations, Sam went back into the living room and told the Mills, “Given the current climate, I think the most I could suggest you might be able to ask for the house  is £150,000. It's a nice spot, but the house will need a lot of money spending on it to bring it up to what people in this sort of area expect in a house. You might get another £5,000 if it was decorated and tidied up, but you'd have to spend at least £2,000 on having that done – so you have to balance the one thing off against the other.”

“What do painters get these days?” asked Mr. Mills

“I reckon on £20 to 25 an hour for any handymen these days,” said Sam. “So if it takes him eight hours a day for three weeks, that comes to 40 x 3 x 20, or the best part of £2,400. It might take more than three weeks, of course, depending on how thorough a job you want doing.”

“Stan here, said he would do the job for us at a good price because he was so fond of Minnie,” put in Mrs. Mills.

“I could do it for £1,500 including all the paint,” I said, having no idea whatsoever, but thinking that I needed a job so badly that I would somehow make it all work, even if I didn't make much money out of it after I bought the essential paint and such like.

“Before you hire Stan, he has something to tell you that might make you not want to have him,” said Sam – putting me very much on the spot.

“When I knew Minnie, she suggested that I might come and live with her – be her boarder – so I have actually lived in this house for a few days, before I knew that she'd died. And I took some of her money that was in the fake book there,” I said, showing them the spot. “The police found out because I found her bank card and just for fun tried to get some money out of her account, but I was let off with a conditional discharge and did my community service, and paid back the money that I took.”

I expected that we would both be sent flying after that revelation. But surprisingly, Mr and Mrs. Mills were smiling.

“We did know all that,” said Mrs. Mills. “The solicitor found that out, and warned us about you. But we decided we would give you a chance to see if you would admit to it yourself, and if you did, that would be a mark in your favour. Sure, what you did was wrong, but you have paid your debts and I, for one, am willing to give you another chance.”

“Thank you very much. You are very kind.” I said.

“Well, I think we can agree that you can have the job of getting the house ready to sell. I don't think we'll have a house clearance person in just yet – as I think houses sell better if there is furniture, no matter how old and battered, in place. But if you could see to getting the curtains washed, and the place clean and tidy. Maybe get rid of the extra bits in the attic, so that if anybody goes up there, they'll just see an empty attic space.”

“I know that it's a very cheeky thing to ask, but do you think I could live in the house while I'm doing it up? I'd do it for even less then – as I wouldn't have rent costs or transport costs, so I could put it at £1000 – but I would need some money up front to buy paint and equipment.”

“How about if we make up a contract drawn up for you by our solicitor, and send it for you to sign and return. Then if he agrees, we can give you the key. We have to trust you with the key anyway, and as you say, you can do the job quicker if you're on the site.”

So we all shook hands again, and Sam and I left.

“Looks like you did yourself a real favour there, sonny – being honest for once. Let that be a lesson to you.”

“I thought they'd kick me out as quick as a wink - but I guess some people are willing to give a bloke another go.”

“Just don't abuse your trust this time, or the law will come down on you like a ton of bricks.”

“I won't.”