Chris Kenny: the day I played lawyer and won

I am in Magistrate’s Court 5.1 at Sydney’s Downing Centre and finally putting to good use those hours of watching LA Law.

The Australian’s Chris Kenny. Photo: AAP

“Perhaps I could assist the court, your honour?” Frankly, it was fun just hearing the words come out of my mouth. I had to suppress a smug smile that would betray how much fun I was having — this, after all, was serious.

Here I was playing at being a barrister, representing myself in court and anticipating the chance to put some familiar phrases to good use. It was all I could do to stop myself referring to my ­adversary, the prosecutor, as “my learned friend”. Wisely, perhaps, I scaled it back a notch as I tried to help sort problems playing the video evidence on a big screen. “Your honour, I would be happy for my friend here,” I venture, nodding to the prosecutor, “to show you the video on his laptop as I have already seen the evidence.”

We were in Magistrate’s Court 5.1 at Sydney’s Downing Centre and I was contesting a road traffic charge. This was thoroughly intimidating but exhilarating — like a first date with your future wife or playing a football final.

Finally I was putting to good use those hitherto wasted hours of watching TV shows such as LA Law, Rake and Ally McBeal — not to mention occasional ­reporting on court proceedings as a journalist.

The wheels of justice are in no hurry; I cut short a trip to Perth to make the first appearance, fully prepared to argue the case, but was forced to wait more than an hour simply to enter a plea and be given a date months later. ­Sitting in court, waiting your turn, you watch a passing parade of traffic and minor criminal matters. The magistrates strenuously encourage people choosing to represent themselves to seek ­advice from a duty barrister, and if they face photographic evidence most are wisely ­advised to plead guilty with ­extenuating circumstances to lessen any ­penalty.

My case was about a $325 fine that arrived in the post for “drive in bus lane” with photographic evidence. When I checked the pictures online, sure enough, there was my car, late at night, heading south on the ­approach to the Sydney Harbour Bridge, in a bus lane.

The infringement notice sent to Chris Kenny.

I realised immediately the only reason I was in that lane was because I had been diverted by signs and barricades used when they shut the tunnel late at night for maintenance. It had happened a few times when I was driving home from my Heads Up program on Sky News.

Surely it couldn’t be an ­offence to be in a bus lane when the traffic directions forced you into it? I Googled the legislation. Sure enough, under the Road Rules 158 (1) there are a range of conditions, such as entering or leaving a road, where you can drive in a bus lane for a “permitted distance” of 100m. And under 158 (2) it was clear you could drive in a bus lane to avoid an “obstruction” with no reference to a “permitted distance”.

Cranky about being fined for doing the right thing and driving safely, I was confident I could take it on. There was no reference to distance in my fine but if they presented any evidence to prove I was in the lane for more than 100m I was confident 158 (2) should save me: the lanes to the tunnel were blocked by a traffic management “obstruction” and I was forced to drive across a bus lane to get across the correct lane for my bridge crossing.

Morally right, happy with my legal basis, I relished the ­challenge of playing lawyer.

At my first appearance the magistrate double-checked whether I ­intended to persist with my not guilty plea. I did. “Have you ­received legal advice?” she asked. “Informally,” I fudged (I’d mentioned it to a lawyer friend, who laughed knowingly and left me to my own devices). The magistrate could tell I was serious and set a date.

On the day, I had the chance to walk the prosecutor through my case in an informal discussion. I thought this would prompt him to drop the charge, but when it was called he proceeded at full throttle. He even insulted me by arguing I had provided no proof that the tunnel had been closed that night.

I am not the sort of person who takes kindly to any insinuation of dishonesty, so I retorted sharply, explaining it was the only reason I could have been driving in that situation and suggesting the traffic authorities ought to be the ones to communicate when the tunnel is closed so that people weren’t ­unfairly hit with these fines. His barb increased my determination. Now, it was personal.

His ridiculous angle was crushed when the magistrate ­noticed a sign on the video that indicated the tunnel was closed. Take that, my not-so-learned friend.

I relished the chance to sum up my case, indicating that neither the fine nor the demerit points posed serious problems to me but, rather, I was here to prevent an injustice. I was not going to pay a fine for obeying the traffic directions and the law.

As the magistrate sum­marised the evidence in some detail, the tension built and the themes from LA Law and Law & Order were competing in my mind. Then came the wonderful words that took a moment to sink in: the charge was “dismissed”.

I wanted to punch the air. ­Instead, I said, “thank you, your honour”, bowed my head and turned to leave. I attempted to give a nod of sporting acknowledgment to the prosecutor but he averted his eyes. Goodbye, my learned friend. I bounced out of court eager to tell the world and find out if there was any way I could sit the bar exam.