Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Court case blog – end of chapter one!

Court case blog – end of chapter one!

My apologies for the long delay in writing this ‘final’ piece to wrap up the coverage of the case that ended nearly a week ago.

A lot has happened since then. First, there was a rush of TV and radio appearances organised for me and our press officer, something which we spent considerable time organising only to have virtually all of them ‘pulled’ at the last minute when the broadcasters’ legal departments warned them that the CPS decision to go for a retrial made any interviews with BNP spokesmen about the case potentially sub judice.

Curious that, for it doesn’t seem to have stopped every anti-British scribbler in the mainstream media from having a pop at us, in a tirade of hate that still hasn’t stopped. Just this afternoon, the vicar from Abu Hamza’s area was on Radio Five Live spouting his view that the things I said were worse than anything Mr Hook came out with. Do they breed these creatures on some special liberal-farm?

Then there was a backlog of urgent internal organisational work to be done. Incidentally, ‘backlog’ is a splendid old English word. It was used in mediaeval times to describe the undone work that built up in a big household while the yule log was burning on the great hearth. The servants were relieved of many of their normal duties while it blazed away during the Christmas holiday, so often they would soak it in water before hauling it to the fireplace in order to get extra time off. The only trouble, of course, was that they had to do the work that had built up – the backlog - once the last piece of it had been burnt away. The word skipped the Atlantic with English settlers in the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, and then died out on our side of the Pond, only to be reintroduced via American business English in the 20th century.

The work continues

Anyway, there was certainly a backlog to be sorted out, and this work continues. Then there was the time I just had to spend with my family, for whom the trial was probably even harder than it was for me (Mark tells me he feels the same). So I’ve been cooking, trying out a few new recipes, walking, being with them and just lazing around. And I make no apologies for doing so.

So back to the tail end of the case – what a day that was. In some ways waiting for a verdict once the jury have retired is a terrible anti-climax. Released from the dock, but bailed to stay within the confines of the court, all you can do is sit around in the canteen (hello to any of the smashing dinner ladies there who happen to be reading this – thanks for all your kindness) and wait. And wait. And wait.

We had a false alarm near the end of the first day, when we were called in to be discharged for the night so early that everyone thought it was actually for a verdict. This would almost certainly have been a ‘not guilty’ result, as not enough time had passed for each charge to be looked at it detail. Then we had another on the final day.

Being called back into court like that is really hard going on families and supporters, and, for Mark and I, the adrenaline sets the heart going wildly. It’s not fear, because we’re quite willing to go to prison if that’s what fate demands, but the tension is indescribable.

As the clock ticked away on the second day of the jury being out, it began to look as though we’d have to wait another night. We’d already decided that such a development would probably indicate a split jury that couldn’t agree a verdict at all (always the most likely result, in our view, on account of the highly political nature of the case), whereas a verdict on this second day would be more likely to be a result, one way or the other.

We were called back into court just after lunch for what we assumed would be simply for the judge to tell the jury that he would accept a majority verdict, only to learn that they had reached a verdict on at least some of the charges. Mark and I stand as the foreman of the jury (Mr. Liberal-Note-Taking-Man., as predicted) also stands to deliver the verdicts.

Unanimous decision

On a number of the charges, no verdict, but on the four charges arising from two of Mark’s speeches, they have unanimous verdicts! “We find the defendant .... not guilty”. There is a huge sigh of relief from the public gallery each time the sentence is repeated, four times in all. Perhaps Mr. Liberal-Note-Taking-Man isn’t so liberal after all? Even the Muslim has agreed that Mark is innocent on half of the charges thrown against him by the New Labour-run CPS.

Then, having instructed the jury that he will now accept majority verdicts of 10-1, the judge sends them, and us, out again.

Just as the afternoon of waiting draws to a close, we are called back once more. Surely this is to send us all home for the night? But no, they have a majority verdict on one of us. Charges 11 and 12, this is my Morley Town Hall speech. Given the fact that my other speech was all about Islam, and this is about the clearly ‘racial’ problem of media bias against the white victims of racist murder, I had all along regarded this short speech as being the only one of the two which could even be considered as in possible breach of the thoroughly bad law under which we had been hauled before the court.

The first of the pair of charges – intent to incite racial hatred – is deal with first. “We find the defendant .... not guilty.” That’s really no surprise, as to prove ‘intent’ is well nigh impossible and it would have been a most perverse decision in the light of all the evidence we had presented in court, not least by continual insistence to the audience on the night that such injustices had to be remedied through peaceful political action.

Then, on the lesser offence of ‘likelihood’ – “We find the defendant,” perhaps there is no delay here except in my head, but it seems like an age “... not guilty.” I hear the response from my family just a few feet away behind the smoked glass screen. It would be easy to cry.

It’s not just that the 10-1 verdict in my favour destroys that charge, it’s what it tells us about the frame of mind of the jury. How on earth can a group of 11 people who have already found unanimously in Mark’s favour on half of the charges against him, and 10-1 in my favour in half of the charges against me, go on to do the 180% turn that would be required to convict us on the remaining counts?

So what of the other charges? The judge asks the foreman if there is any possibility of them reaching verdicts on the remaining charges? On the intent ones? “No.” On the likelihood ones? “Very little.”

The judge’s ears prick up and he explores the difference in response. “Would more time allow you to reach a verdict? Is there a chance of a verdict” The foreman glances at his fellow jury members and shakes his head, “No.”

Hung jury

That’s it! A hung jury. This means that the remains of the case is about to collapse. I suspect that many of those in the public gallery don’t realise this yet. The judge confirms it, discharges the jury, and tells Mark and I that we are free to go. A spontaneous cheer from the public gallery infuriates the judge. I understand his position , and his need to maintain the dignity of his court and his office – he must see some real low-life trash through this place, complete with irredeemably scummy relatives. But this is different, and everyone immediately calms down.

Jameson is on his feet, telling the judge that the CPS have already decided to apply to the Attorney-General for a retrial in the outstanding charges. Mr. Justice Norman Jones is, however – as I wrote some time ago – a wise old owl, and tries to give the CPS time for cooler heads to prevail. Especially as the not guilty verdict against me has only just been announced, there is no possibility that the question of what to do now can have been properly thought through.

He suggests accordingly that the question can be dealt with ‘administratively’ (in other words by the judge and the lawyers, and without the Griffin/Collett showtrial media circus) at some stage in the following week.

Mark and I round the smoked glass screen that divides the room. We’re back with the free men, women and children who are there to support us, and out of the realm of ‘crime’ and punishment. Our lawyers have been fantastic, but they’re welcome to that world in my opinion.

Hugs all round. What a feeling. The media jackal pack look glum, but not as glum as the three cops who helped initiate the case. They’ve been sitting near the press throughout the case, gradually looking more and more depressed. That should be tinged with shame as well; they’ve wasted thousands of man hours and hundreds of thousands of pounds on this persecution.

We go downstairs to the foyer. Outside we can see to the left the wildy waving flags of our loyal crowd of supporters. And a bank of TV cameras and still photographers like I’ve never seen before. This is going to be wild!

Victory

We come out of the doors, I grab Mark’s hand and raise our twinned hands in victory. There are ‘V’ signs everywhere. When I first used this back in 2001 in Oldham there was a predictable whine from a few old hardliners about using the symbol popularised by Churchill. That’s not a moan I’ve heard for some time now. I think all but the most obtuse and or moronic Hollywood Nazi clowns have finally grasped the massively powerful symbolic value this salute has with the older generation, and the extent to which we have now almost made it ours (in this country at least).

As the parallels grow between the West’s pathetic surrender to Islamic extremism (typified this week by the British media’s refusal to reprint those cartoons), and the long policy of appeasement of Nazi and Bolshevik ambitions by an earlier generation of our leaders, the Churchill myth becomes more and more important to us.

The actual history of those times, the details of gambling debts and unjust treaties and all the rest of it are irrelevant, it’s the symbolism and the psychology that counts. Here is a weapon we can use to help our people survive and regain their freedom. As someone once said: “Whatever it takes”!

Our crowd is ecstatic. “Freedom, freedom, freedom” rings out across the precinct. The flash bulb barrage matches the wild mood. A tiny demoralised handful of far-left/Islamic extremists behind the police cordon add a touch of comedy before slinking away. Mark and I and our families are handed huge bouquets of red-white-and-blue flowers, then we’re with our supporters. More hugs and handshakes. Friends who have stood so loyally in the bitter cold day after day have tears streaming down their faces, and no-one gives a damn.

The media have to wait for a bit, but then we head down to where they are pressing against a police cordon and give them a few off the cuff soundbites. I think everyone in Britain saw them played over and over on all the TV news broadcasts (“extraordinary scenes outside Leeds Crown Court” was how one of them summed it all up) so I won’t repeat them here. But we know from the public response since that my words, and our ordeal, struck a deep, deep chord with a British public who have thought for years that no-one had the courage to stand up and say in public what so many millions feel in private.

Some of my message is almost drowned out by the cheering crowd. This trial has seen another first – day after day, the noisy, ugly, hate-filled ranks of the far-left and their Islamist allies have been outnumbered by good-humoured, thoroughly normal, British patriots demonstrating in support of freedom.

Sky TV, ITN, Channel 4, Channel 5. They all want, and get, their slice of the media action. The BBC ask if they can have a few words? What a nerve! This whole trial has been the result of their attempt to put us in prison. But hell yes, we’re in a generous mood this evening, and I want to rub their noses in it, so I even do a bit for the Blatant Bias Corporation. Some of this footage, one can sense at once, is iconic. We’ve just made the leap to a new level in British politics.

And then, flanked by our “burly minders/unsung heroes/shaven headed thugs/essential lifesavers in the post Van Gogh world” (delete as applicable), we head for the people carriers and we’re away.

It’s been breath-taking. And, being followed by the extraordinary series of events arising from the Danish cartoon frenzy, it has transformed our standing among many millions of our people. If only we had European Elections this June, we’d walk them. The ‘Kilroy factor’ – being seen by the public as the people the liberal Establishment most hate – is now with us. Just as present, the BNP in general, and Mark Collett and Nick Griffin in particular, are icons for millions whose long-suppressed and growing anger at the undemocratic transformation of our entire society is now approaching boiling point.

Future of Europe

Make no mistake, other stories will come up which put Islam/multi-culturalism and the destruction of the West on the backburner again for a while from time to time. But there will come a time, perhaps sooner than anyone thinks, when those closely related set of questions about the future of the whole of Europe will finally have to be decided. And when that time comes, in Britain at least, the remarkable ‘coincidence’ of the Griffin/Collett and Abu Hamza trials, and the trouble caused by some very mild cartoons published in a quiet little country on the other side of the North Sea, will re-emerge as powerful factors in the mind of the British people as they finally give their verdict on what the liberals, the Tory traitors and the left-wing social engineers have done to our poor, poor country.

Until then, we need everyone who has followed this blog to make up your minds, right now, to get involved in some way and to help us to build the political machine that we will need to mobilise the resistance of our people along constructive and effective channels. We have, for a start, only a couple of months in which to improve our capability to take advantage of the Crown Prosecution Service’s Charge of the Stupid Brigade decision to prosecute us all over again.

They are about, yet again, to ignore the famous First Law of Holes (“when in a hole, stop digging.”) Come along and help us to use this stupidity to bury them.