'Mr Chadwick, you have changed your plea to guilty. That means of course that you admit the assault on Mr Brent. Do you wish to call any witnesses on your own behalf?'
'No, your worship.'
'You may call character witnesses if you wish, or give evidence yourself in mitigation.'
'I wish to call no witnesses, sir,' said Chadwick. 'As to mitigation, I wish to make a statement from the dock.'
'This is your privilege and right,' said the magistrate.
Chadwick, by now standing to address the bench, produced a folded cutting from his pocket.
'Your worship, six weeks ago Mr Gaylord Brent published this article in the newspaper for which he works, the Sunday Courier. I should be grateful if your worship would glance through it.'
An usher rose from the well, took the cutting and approached the bench.
'Is this germane to the case before the court?' asked the magistrate.
'I assure you, sir, it is. Very much so.'
'Very well,' said the magistrate. He took the proffered cutting from the usher and read it quickly. When he had finished, he put it down and said, 'I see.'
'In that article,' said Chadwick, 'Gaylord Brent perpetrated upon me a vicious and immensely damaging libel. You will observe, sir, that the article deals with a company merchandising a product and then going into liquidation, leaving a number of members of the public in forfeit of their deposits. I unfortunately was one of those businessmen who were also taken in by that company, which I, like many others, believed to be a sound company with a reliable product. The fact is, I also lost money by my mistake, but mistake it was. In this article, out of the blue, I was baselessly accused of some ill-defined complicity in the affair, and accused moreover by a slovenly, lazy and incompetent hack who cannot even be bothered to do his homework properly.'
There was a gasp from the court, then a pause. After the pause the pencils in the press box flew frantically across pads of lined paper.
The prosecuting officer rose. 'Is this really necessary for mitigation, your worship?' he asked plaintively.
Chadwick cut in. 'I assure your worship that I merely seek to explain the background to the case. I simply feel that your worship may be better able to judge the misdemeanour if he understands the reason for it.'
The magistrate contemplated Chadwick for a while.
'Defendant has a point,' he conceded. 'Proceed.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Chadwick. 'Now, had this so-called investigative journalist bothered to contact me before writing this piece of garbage, I could have produced all my files, my accounts and my bank statements to prove to him beyond a doubt that I had been as misled as the purchasers. And had lost substantial sums into the bargain. But he could not even be bothered to contact me, although I am in the phone book and the commercial directory. It seems that behind his veneer of pretentiousness this fearless investigator is more prone to listen to bar gossip than check out his facts ...'
&
nbsp; Gaylord Brent, puce with outrage, rose from the back of the court. 'Now look here . . .' he shouted.
'Silence,' roared the usher, also on his feet. 'Silence in court.'
'I understand your sense of anger, Mr Chadwick,' said the magistrate gravely, 'but I am wondering what this has to do with mitigation.'
'Your worship,' said Chadwick humbly. 'I appeal only to your sense of justice. When a man who has led a peaceable and law-abiding life suddenly strikes another human being, surely it is pertinent to understand his motives for such an uncharacteristic act. This, I submit, must affect the judgement of the man whose duty it is to pass sentence?'
'Very well,' said the magistrate, 'explain your motives. But please moderate your language.'
'Indeed I shall,' said Chadwick. 'After the appearance of this farrago of lies masquerading as serious journalism, my business was badly affected. It was evident that some of my associates, unaware that Mr Gaylord Brent's alleged expos6s emerge less from slogging investigation than from the bottom of a whisky bottle, were even prepared to believe the libel.'
At the back of the court Gaylord Brent was beside himself. He nudged the policeman next to him.
'He can't get away with this, can he?' he hissed.
'Shush,' said the policeman.
Brent rose. 'Your worship,' he called out, 'I would just like to say ...'
'Silence,' shouted the usher.