An Open Letter to the Chief Justice Sir Richard Wild:

Recently while pursuing a matter of private research, I found myself drifting in the direction of the Supreme Court building in Brandon Street. My purpose was to obtain a copy of a Court of Appeal judgement on a matter of both personal and professional interest. I broached the subject with the desk clerk, who looked very doubtful and summoned his superior, a broad and impassive young man, who politely informed me that such a request was impossible. The judgement, he said, was confidential, the property of the judge. I would have to write to him for permission. Would the case be published in the Law Reports? No; he didn't think it would. Thank you sit.

Your Honour I do not wish to question the New Zealand Justice system, or assail the ranks of officialdom. Not lightly would I unfurl the banner of change, or raise my voice in reforming zeal. Bureaucrats can be as possessive as anyone else: it is not to question their privileges—even their minor ones — that I write this letter. Who would seriously seek to create unemployment?

Nor do I mind the ritual that precedes the process in appeal cases. To the outsider it may seem wasteful but you and I see the importance. Could anyone really want to reduce the appearance of N.Z. Justice in the eyes of the public?; to make the lawyers feel equal to the judges?; to demistify the proceedings in the eyes of the appellant? No; appearances are important; the myth is vital. Silver wigs cover many a shaven head, while scholarly glasses hide the gleam of satisfaction. It's all necessary.

Neither can I bring myself to criticise any particular judgement, that I know. It is with dedication sir that you have served, not only in the protection of property, but in the maintenance of decorum, and the eradication of deviancy. With admirable zeal you have meted justice to offenders, caring little for their fate, or for those minor rules of law enforcement and legal procedure that work only to protect the criminal. Your determination sir is a model to us.

What actually concerns me, sir, is a minor point, against which I raise my voice not in strident demand, but in humble plea. The problem is the unavailability of Supreme Court Judgements to the public. When Common Law frequently creates offences that did not previously exist, it seems to me to be almost cruel to deny knowledge of them to potential offenders. Ignorance is no excuse for lawlessness, as we all know, but if only we knew what is a crime and what is not we might be less likely to commit them. Rising crime figures are of course as useful to lawyers and judges as they are to statisticians, and I don't want to undermine your trade, which, under you sir, has grown so large. All I ask is that appeal judgements be made available to the public. I would hasten to suggest that in order to compensate for any loss you might fear, these could be sold at a slight profit. Please your honour consider my humble request in the light of what it could do for the public. Indeed, I am not unaware of the price of my proposal. The effects of a loss of power on minor officialdom would be catastrophic. Swarms of civil servants would be loosed onto the streets, their egos made redundant. Divorces, suicides, and mental breakdowns would greatly increase. Worst of all, the legal trade would [unclear: los] business. However the economic loss could be absorbed by the public health institutions, and thus national employment and economic turnover could be maintained.

Well Sir Richard, do you fancy your self in a [unclear: whie] coat? [unclear: I] insult you by offering [unclear: ra] ponsibilities. People's [unclear: li] be in your care. And [unclear: y which] your former associates [unclear: rently] continue your old [unclear: relat] Richard, consider this [unclear: nes] mine. Above all you could bring your old skills to bear on the mental hospitals, introducing a long overdue discipline.