Judge David Aubrey KC’s final day in court after half a century in the legal profession
Judge David Aubrey KC sits at his desk on the fourth floor of Liverpool Crown Court beside a window overlooking Chavasse Park on a warm and sunny Friday afternoon in July. The walls and shelves around him now sit bare, stripped over the past few weeks and months of the various photographs, paintings and trinkets which had been accrued during his half-a-century in law.
That is because today marks the final day of a 50-year career which has taken him from labouring on building sites to being recognised as one of the northern circuit’s most respected legal minds. Within his private chambers a few short paces from his courtroom, court 42, he is shorn of his ceremonial wig and robes.
Hours away from his impending retirement, the judge casts his mind back a couple of months previously to another Friday afternoon. It was followed, as all good Fridays are, by a Chinese.
READ MORE: Landscape gardener accepted £500 from customer for extra service and ended up in jailREAD MORE: Man admits killing pensioner who died following ‘assault’ in city centre
“In my view, every offence is different and every offender is different. You are there to sentence the particular person for that particular offence.
We use your sign-up to provide content in ways you’ve consented to and improve our understanding of you. This may include adverts from us and third parties based on our knowledge of you. More info
“I can tell you this story. I sentenced someone to a very merciful sentence about two months ago, having called his mother [to give evidence to the court]. That is something I have done on frequent occasions because you learn so much about a defendant. It was a merciful sentence, but mercy is commended provided that it is justified…
“That was a sentence I imposed on a Friday afternoon. That evening, I was in a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown with my wife. A family came in just before I was leaving. I recognised that family, and I went over to the mother of the family and said ‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’.
“She looked at me bewildered, thinking she had met me somewhere but couldn’t think where. I said to her on my way out, ‘I spoke to you in court’.
“It was the mother of the male defendant who was also there with his stepfather, his younger brother and his girlfriend. I emphasise that they weren’t there celebrating, they had just gone out for a family meal. She broke down in tears, and then the defendant came up to me and said ‘I won’t let you down’. I felt that the merciful sentence hopefully will be and is justified.”
Judge Aubrey concedes that not every defendant he has happened to bump into in the wild has been quite so happy to see him, in particular those who he prosecuted during his time at the bar and who were sent to prison. But this chance meeting at the Chinese restaurant was nevertheless a perfect example of how, in his words, he is “wedded not only to the law but also to the city of Liverpool and in particular its people”.
Although born in the northernmost reaches of London in Barnet, it was Liverpool that was the making of him. He arrived in the city as a young man in 1970 to study law at the University of Liverpool – his mother asking “Why are you coming here?” as she drove her son over the Runcorn-Widnes Bridge – before being called to the bar in 1974, having secured pupillage in Oriel Chambers “over a pint”.
David Aubrey soon built his reputation within the Queen Elizabeth II Law Courts, the imposing monolith of a brutalist building which towers over Derby Square and which he describes as a “living, breathing body”. It was in 1998 that the then 46-year-old was appointed as Queen’s Counsel – now King’s Counsel, or KC – and then became a full-time judge in 2005, having sat as a Recorder since 1995.
The profession also brought with it his family life. He married a fellow barrister, Gail Owen, and their lives were enriched by a son and grandson. But had fate not intervened, it could easily have all been so very different.
Not only was Liverpool his second choice for university behind Bristol, but he may never have gone into law at all. He said: “I was the first of my family to go to a university. I was reluctant to read law, in truth.
“At the time, I was considering doing a degree in sociology or psychology. But, in the end, I decided to read law and, therefore, I came to Liverpool. I had never set foot on Liverpool soil until the day before the beginning of term.
My father died when I was 18 years of age, and so it was that money was tight. I paid for my first wig by working on a building site for a few months, in between completing the bar professional course and commencing pupillage. And so, the journey began.
“It wasn’t any predetermination whatsoever, it just so happened that that’s the way it happened. I almost woke up one day and said I would apply for a law degree, and that’s what happened.
“I have always stumbled into wherever I have gone. I moved through chambers, went into silk and then onto the bench. At the time that I went onto the bench, I was even undecided about that. I was enjoying my time in silk.
“I was playing the number nine. Now I had become a referee and that indeed concerned me, but I moved on.”
That is not to say it has always been plain sailing. The grandiose dress code can easily mask the fact, but there is a human being underneath the robe and wig and a judge can have the same frailties as any other person.
Judge Aubrey is candid about the fact that, shortly after he was appointed a judge, he was afflicted by mental health issues that led to him taking months off work. It may well have been a battle that left scars, but it also perhaps led to greater room for compassion within his work.
He said: “Liverpool is a village. My wife and I made the decision that we would explain precisely what was the problem, rather than allowing those to speculate.
“I wondered whether I would other return to the law at all. But, having taken some time off, I trod carefully for a little while and progressed from there. I’ve always been acutely aware of those with mental health issues, to the extent that I have lectured on Judicial College courses about mental health – indicating that it could happen to anybody at any time. We are all human.”
The final day at work
It is perhaps Judge Aubrey’s grounding and life experiences that have led to a particular penchant for giving back. Exactly 50 years and one day since he was called to the bar, Judge Aubrey’s last day in post begins with the pomp and ceremony of a valedictory.
Courtroom 41 is packed to the rafters with barristers, fellow judges and court staff – some of whom have to settle for a seat within the dock – as the Honorary Recorder of Liverpool Judge Andrew Menary KC pays homage to an “outstanding judge” who is “loyal, kind and truly inspirational”. The senior presiding judge for England and Wales Lord Justice Edis meanwhile cites Judge Aubrey’s knack for “doing justice in a calm, empathetic way”, having taken the trouble to travel up from the capital.
Poignantly, Dr Gee Walker was also present – a nod to his work with the Anthony Walker Foundation. Another of the many testimonials given came from Everton in the Community.
Judge Aubrey, for his sins, also became “wedded to Everton Football Club” when he moved to Merseyside and, fittingly, the Blues do their best to spoil his big day. His face is aghast when the topic later turns to the news, which had broken only an hour previously, that his beloved side’s prospective takeover by the Friedkin Group had collapsed.
But perhaps his lasting legacy will come through his integral role in establishing the Maddison Internship, which enables a way into the world of law for those who may have previously found the door “very firmly shut”. The two participants from the first year of the scheme are now reading law at university, while a third will set out on the same path in September.
Judge Aubrey tells the amassed crowd, including an overflow contingent in courtroom 42 who are following along via video link, in his own speech: “With half a century under my belt, it’s now time to leave – to leave the Queen Elizabeth II Law Courts, to leave court 42 and to leave colleagues and friends. My extended family, as I call them.
“I have loved every moment. I have loved it because every day has been different, and a judge in a criminal court sees the very best and the very worst of human nature.
“It has been a privilege, and sometimes a challenge, to interact with people before me – whether it be advocates, witnesses, defendants and their mothers, on occasions, from all walks of life. The criminal jurisdiction is about people’s lives, how we treat people and how the law treats people.
“That is what this building and all those who work in it strive day in, day out to get right. For many, it is the most important day in their life.
“We must never forget that. I have loved the drama, the theatre, the raw emotion of it all playing out before my very eyes.”
The judge’s voice begins to crack as he thanks his long-serving usher and falters even further when speaking of his family. But, as a seasoned public speaker, he persists and is greeted by rapturous applause which is probably only now abating.
In the afternoon, the final day’s work belatedly begins. As you might as expect for someone who needs to clear their desk by the end of play, the workload is relatively light. Judge Aubrey’s to-do list consists of two mention hearings and three plea and trial preparation hearings. He will be done within the hour.
As ever, the courtroom is a rich tapestry of life. A convicted fraudster is ordered to hand over £2,050, a sum raised by the sale of his Nissan Qashqai, to his victim under the Proceeds of Crime Act.
The next defendant pleaded not guilty to being concerned in the supply of cannabis after the police seized £36,000 of the class B drug from a premises of which he was the alleged occupant. A third similarly denies possession of cannabis and cannabis resin with intent to supply, further illicit substances having been found at an address where his dogs were found.
The sight of defence counsel Daniel Travers causes the judge to pause to reflect: “Mr Travers, you can leave this court – my court – in the knowledge that you were the only counsel during 18-and-a-half years that successfully appealed a conviction over which I presided. You may not even remember the case – it was many, many years ago.”
Judge Aubrey casts an eye at the courtroom clock. “Two more to go”, he says and rises while awaiting the barristers who will be appearing for his final cases.
They arrive within a few minutes. Next on the list is a defendant facing a charge of conspiracy to supply cannabis, who is appearing to change the firm of solicitors representing him.
When asked what his profession is, the man replies “I’m a scaffolder mate”. It is a far cry from the accused who once called him “your majesty” although, in fairness, he does address the judge as “your honour” as he thanks him upon leaving court.
Judge Aubrey’s final case concerns a dad and son, both of whom share the same name. They plead not guilty to assault occasioning actual bodily harm, with the younger of the two also saying “thank you” as he exits.
The judge retorts: “And I thank you, everybody. And so, goodbye and may God go with you.” Judge Aubrey shuts his laptop, stands tall and departs stage left for the last time. Now aged 72, a quieter life of travelling the world, walking the dog and choral singing awaits.
