Sir Geoffrey Cox

I should declare an interest at the beginning. I am a member of the Bar—that is not uncommonly known—I still practise at the Bar, and I have the honour to be a criminal barrister and a member of the Criminal Bar Association. I have spent 44 years at the Bar. I have defended and prosecuted in some of the largest criminal trials that this country has ever seen—and some of the longest. I have been experienced in seeing how juries react to circumstances of adversity and circumstances that challenge and test the very boundaries of humanity in the appalling nature of the crimes they are forced to adjudicate upon. Without exception, they have responded in a manner that I think generally gives rise to the hugest admiration, not to say awe, from those who are otherwise engaged in the administration of justice. There is something about the gathering of 12 ordinary citizens, chosen at random and brought together into the crucible that a criminal trial produces, that strips away ideological and racial prejudice or preconception, and that causes them to focus upon a single question: is the allegation true, or is it not; and can we be sure, or is there any doubt? Again and again, throughout our legal history, the wisdom and capacity of juries have been repeatedly vindicated every time they have been analysed, tested or sought to be examined by those who research these matters.