Thirsty Work and Chaos Theory: A Day in the Life of the Duty Lawyer

Tucked away at the far end of the first floor of the Magistrates Court in Hobart sits a small office that every day plays host to many tales of outrageous calamity and misfortune. Occasionally the tales are hilarious. Sometimes they are of great foolishness. Mostly they are just sad.

You may know the office to which I refer. The only window is a glass wall perpetually closeted by aluminum venetian blinds. They are of the old dusty kind that, in addition to slivers of nervous faces and moving shadows, will occasionally let in some dappled morning light.

Inside the office, the walls close in on you as soon as you enter. A harbinger of the day to come… strict focus and very little room to move. Between the three chairs, the large desk and the oversized printer, the furniture-to-office ratio is high. So too is that of clients-to-duty lawyers.

Arriving at the court at 9:00am the many friendly faces of security are juxtaposed against the eerie quiet and sombre mood of the early arrivals. A calm before the storm? Unquestionably. The storms at the Courts of Petty Sessions always seem to blow in late.

The walk down Liverpool Street is a sweaty one – it is hard to find shade, and when I am on duty I have taken to carrying three water bottles in my bag for backup. Did you know that there is no drinking water available to duty lawyers?

By some sorcery, the walk down the length of the public foyer towards the duty office is longer than the one down Liverpool Street. As I do it, all the people sitting anxiously awaiting their fate look up and stare. I try to smile reassuringly, but also try to get a read of the room. I am anxious too. Will any of you be my clients today?

We received two-weeks of training from Peter Dixon. Mr Dixon is a fantastic teacher. I am grateful for his continued contributions to the development of young lawyers in Tasmania. I know my duty lawyer colleagues and many others in the profession are too. We are lucky to have him supporting us.

But nothing can properly prepare you for being a duty lawyer.

The day is chaotic, and it moves fast. Too fast? Not always, but sometimes. Magistrate C Webster has dealt with my client before we have even walked through the door. She came to the office not two minutes ago. I think she has a hearing impairment, and did she say something about a suspended sentence? I do not have her priors, but her name was just called over the intercom. She starts to panic.

I try to reassure her. We have got this. I close my eyes momentarily and…

…Don’t forget to breathe.

I have learnt not to panic, but I am worried about this suspended sentence. Should I tell her that? She seems worried enough. We walk into the court. I lead the way. His Honour says something I do not fully understand. Often, I do not need to say anything in reply. The prosecutor shoots me a smile – she does not seem bothered by the suspended sentence. Mr Webster says something else. I turn to the client and give her the thumbs up. All good. You are free to go.

Sometimes all I can do is throw submissions up at the bench and hope they stick. Young man, driving, dumb… Some days it is the same thing repeated over again. Young man, driving, dumb… Do you even need to hear me say it, your Honour? Young man, driving, dumb… I am a young man, I am driving this plea, is what I am saying dumb?

Being a duty lawyer is thirsty work.

I am ready to do another plea. I tell my client to wait outside until his name is called. I silently slip into the court and take a seat at the back. Another man is alone on his feet, looking up towards the Chief Magistrate. He seems lost. She seems exasperated. I know what happens next.

The Chief tells him he needs to go and see the duty lawyer. I stand up. Your Honour, I am here. Her Honour seems relieved. I approach the man and ask him to please come with me. He still does not quite know what is going on. Do not worry mate, neither do I.

I have encountered this water shortage before – at the UTAS Law Faculty Library where there was no place but the bathroom sinks to fill up a bottle. Those bathrooms reeked and there was always soap on the faucet. What is with the legal fraternity not watering young lawyers? We are all thirsty.

My other client is still sitting outside, he sees me walk out of court. Like many before him, he seems like a nice enough guy who has been doing some stupid things. He moves to get up, thinking it must finally be his turn. Not yet I am afraid mate, I need to spend some time with this other bloke. I will be back as soon as I can. We will get it done then. Thanks for being patient. It is going to take a while.

Some clients are ungrateful and uncooperative and rude, but a lot of clients are easy and forthcoming and appreciative. Social distancing protocols appear to be in place at the court, but I still cannot refuse an earnest handshake from a kind and forlorn stranger who is truly thankful to me for helping them out of a jam.

I suppose a water cooler might be too much to ask for. Perhaps a law firm interested in some pro-bono thirst quenching might like to donate one. That would be very much appreciated. It would certainly make it easier to speak in court, and I’m sure the Magistrates would prefer not to listen to the raspy voices of dehydrated duty lawyers.

Scott Ashby
Hobart Community Legal Service
2022 Co-President Southern Young Lawyers Committee

The Duty Lawyer Program run at the Magistrates Court in Hobart in conjunction with Hobart Community Legal Service and the Tasmanian Legal Practice Course is an enormous asset to the Tasmanian legal profession. It is an essential service for some of our community’s most vulnerable people. It provides early-career lawyers with perhaps the best training and practical experience we can receive and is an experience no other employer can replicate. It challenges novice lawyers by throwing them into the deep end of the Magistrates Court to fend for our clients with very few resources and no prior knowledge about what is going to happen on any given day. It teaches young lawyers to distill issues quickly, think on their feet and advocate with confidence. And it provides help to people who often have nowhere else to turn.