Digging deep on the “yarn farm”
Court reporting offers journalists the opportunity to witness and interpret the justice system on behalf of Australians, but the role comes with challenges, writes Adam Cooper.
Pick a courtroom and there’s a story behind every door. From murder trials to watching a victim regain their voice, court reporting is journalism at its purest: telling people’s stories, documenting history and witnessing first-hand every aspect of the justice system.
Covering courts can be daunting but it’s also extremely rewarding, emotionally challenging and always surprising. Just when experienced reporters think they’ve heard it all, along comes a made-for-movies heist or a bizarre civil suit.
The “yarn farm” is an apt description a colleague has for the precinct around William Street in Melbourne, where at least 60 court rooms are in session every day.
Those of us who cover courts cherish the round and value its importance.
“If court reporters didn’t exist the public wouldn’t ever know what happens, literally, behind closed doors,” says Sharnelle Vella, who covers Melbourne’s courts for Channel Seven.
“We hear the facts and the outcomes first, and sometimes they’re complicated. It’s our job to translate them out of judicial jargon into something the public understands.”
Karen Percy, one of the ABC’s court reporters, loves that the round is free of media managing and notable for its brutal honesty.
“There’s no gatekeeper, little if any spin. It’s a true witnessing of history,” she says. “It is the ultimate ‘holding of people to account’ for their deeds.”
Highlighting systemic problems — everything from hospital failings in inquests to the flaws in the parole system — can also lead to meaningful societal change.
The buzz of hearing something not previously disclosed is adrenaline for court reporter: whether at the start of a trial, when a prosecutor outlines a case, or when a jury is to deliver its verdict.
Telling the story well — and above all, accurately — means something, as does the occasional expression of gratitude from families who have come out the other side. I’m often amazed how people find any words in front of cameras when a loved one has been taken from them.
Court reporting is a job that requires sensitivity in what we write and ask, and even how we act, given those involved are at their lowest point.
As for how we do it, that’s the tricky part. Being at the right court at the right time is a knack that comes with experience, preparation and, occasionally, luck. Court lists are scoured daily for notable names and significant crimes, and reporters keep diaries feverishly so they can keep tabs on an accused person and their case..
Tips from readers or contacts are heavenly, but mostly the job requires asking questions and reading the play. Recently AAP reporter Karen Sweeney was on hand to witness a killer confess to murder because she heard he might give evidence, which is rare for an accused in a murder trial (the confession even surprised the judge).
Often the daily logistical jigsaw of settling on which cases I cover — in consultation with The Age’s news editor — is the most challenging part of the day. Some days it’s obvious what the biggest story is. Other days feel like a game of roulette, hoping your opposition doesn’t pick red when you’re on black.
There have been incremental improvements in the courts assisting reporters in my six years on the round, through making sentencing remarks and transcripts available, and occasionally allowing cameras to film judges handing down sentences. But overall, the obstacles have become higher.
Courts and media are constantly at loggerheads on what material we can access, and Victorian courts are notorious for issuing more suppression orders than any other state. These “gag” orders and similar restrictions — such as redactions from documents — frequently impede what we can report, and contradict the law that courts be open and transparent.
For months last year reporters covering George Pell’s sex abuse trial couldn’t report a case — and subsequent conviction — of enormous public interest because of a suppression order that wasn’t lifted until 10 weeks later.
While the order was necessary to ensure Pell a fair second trial (later aborted), reporters wage a daily battle in accessing information. The threat of contempt charges now hang over a handful of journalists, over reports that obliquely referred to the Pell verdict before the suppression order was lifted.
Vella rues the lack of trust courts show towards dedicated court reporters who know the nuances the role requires. She has lost track of the number of stories that have been scuppered because courts have refused requests for CCTV footage and other exhibits.
“It feels at times as though the courts fight the media, and they forget they’re actually fighting the public by not allowing us to report,” she says.
The biggest frustration for Percy is the difficulty in reporting cases accurately without access to the evidence and exhibits before lawyers, jurors and the judge.
Sometimes covering crime and courts can take a toll, too. Recently, a judge found in favour of a former Age reporter, YZ, who reported on dozens of murders over a decade of covering crime and courts. The judge awarded YZ $180,000 for psychological injury after hearing she wasn’t given support and training to deal with covering traumatic events.
Reporters deal with the emotional impact in different ways. Hearing Adrian Bayley’s crimes against women underlined to Vella the importance of counselling, even if it’s with other court reporters “because no one else gets it”. She switches off through time with family and friends.
High-profile crimes can be harrowing, but so too can everyday cases.
Culpable driving matters are a reminder that even ‘good’ people make terrible decisions, and the devastation caused by sexual abuse is all too prevalent. I previously asked to be spared from covering an inquest into a child’s death after sitting through several, and to this day I hate seeing an empty tin can, based on stories about a boy who cut his foot in his squalid home and died from illness. I’m lucky to have a busy life outside work to focus on outside work.
Among the many cases to have affected Percy was hearing the testimony of so many people hurt by Bourke Street killer James Gargasoulas.
“So many courageous people laying bare their pain and loss,” says Percy, who draws on the ABC’s peer support program (she also supports colleagues). “It aims to give staff the support they need to deal with this kind of vicarious trauma and to build resilience. I have my go-to colleagues who will hold my hand and listen, and hug me and help me wipe the tears, then encourage me to get back on that horse. They will also check in on me down the track.”
In light of the YZ judgement, newsrooms will put a greater focus on reporters’ wellbeing. That is welcome for those of us covering courts, given the round’s challenges.
Adam Cooper is has been a reporter with The Age since 2011, and previously spent a decade with Australia’s news wire service AAP. Read Adam’s stories for The Age. Follow Adam on Twitter @acooperjourno.
Andrew Dyson is an artist for The Age. View his recent cartoons and illustrations here.
