It was not a spectacular case on the cause list for the twelfth division at the High Court for Eastern Denmark. The turnout confirmed this. The presiding judge ran his eye over the prosecutor, the defence lawyer and the defendant. He did not seem affected by the fact that the public galleries were deserted but looked longingly at the bright sunshine outside the windows. Spring has certainly arrived in Copenhagen, he thought and pushed the half-rim glasses up from his nasal ridge, signalling to his two assistant judges that the final plea of the day from the defence lawyer could proceed. The subtle signal was lost on the court usher seated at the back of the room as he suppressed a yawn resting his head against the wall. The jurors, too, had clearly lost interest in the proceedings.
One stared at the ceiling as if this would make time pass faster. Another mouthed the word crook to the person beside him, while raising his eyebrows at the man in the dock. A younger, unshaven man in an expensive-looking suit – probably Armani – looked bored by it all. Maybe because he was convinced that the jurors had long since decided on the verdict: guilty of stripping a string of companies of liquid assets rightfully belonging to the tax 13authorities. That the panel of judges was very much in agreement with this conclusion was unquestionable. The presiding judge repeatedly interrupted the defence lawyer and let it unequivocally be known that he had more pressing matters to see to after lunch. However, this did not throw the defence lawyer off his game. He had prepared his closing remarks and was determined to deliver them perfectly. Form over substance; his performance mattered more than the outcome. No one was going to accuse him of not doing his best. Even though he, too, agreed that his client was guilty as accused.
‘…and this, my Lord, concludes the case for the defence,’ said Holger Berg in a well-prepared tone and glanced confidently around the courtroom now that he had concluded his oral argument.
You could hear a needle drop after the concluding words: they had told everyone that they would soon be able to leave the room, which injected a palpable energy. The presiding judge abruptly removed his semi-rimless glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose and straightened his back. The youngest of his assistant judges frantically jotted down the defence lawyer’s closing arguments on his yellow notepad. He was acutely aware that the presiding judge, in a moment, would remind him that being the youngest on the panel meant that he would be the first to cast his vote and would thus have to argue the verdict before his more senior colleagues. Though the guilt had undoubtedly been settled in advance, it was important for his career prospects to present the arguments for the verdict as thoroughly thought through. This new breed of cases, dubbed the asset-stripping shebang by the press, had attracted much political attention. Although the courts were, of course, 14independent from the political system, the young judge could not free himself of the prevailing political sentiment. Holger gathered his papers and stuffed them into a briefcase, glancing reassuringly at his client. The young man stared at the tabletop, experiencing no apparent elatedness over his lawyer’s performance. The presiding judge replaced his spectacles, gathered up his notes and looked at the jurors:
‘Following the closing arguments, the summing-up is postponed until tomorrow at 9 a.m.
‘Court adjourned,’ he said in a loud, clear voice.
He scribbled a note on the bottom corner of the yellow case note cover. He nodded at the assisting judges and pushed back his chair, standing with energy while adjusting his robe. Then the three judges turned right and headed for the door leading to their office. The court usher had now kicked into gear and was scrambling to his feet as he signalled for everyone to rise. The room was buzzing with the feeling of break-up, and Holger nodded briefly at the prosecutor as he hurried out of the courtroom. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw a couple of police officers escorting the Armani suit out of a side entrance for further remand in custody. On his way down the stairs to the ground floor, Holger passed several young men and women clutching their briefcases while studying the daily cause list for the different divisions. He remembered going to the High Court as a clerk with a small law firm while being a student. Reaching the bottom steps, he caught himself whistling. It went really well today!