A Serious Trial with a Difference
— by Peter Howden
If you have never sat in a courtroom during a murder trial, and most people have not, often the atmosphere in the room is constantly overlaid by strong emotion. Not always, sometimes the victim was in on a drug deal gone bad, and the witnesses, including the victim, had been engaged in a lifetime of crime that had exhausted any caring or grief of family long before.
This was decidedly not the case here. Tom Coffin was a respected police officer, only 31 years of age, with a young family.
In any event, throughout this trial in 2000, emotion was close to the surface much of the time. This trial was unique in that a member of the very board that regulated the local police had been charged with impaired driving by Officer Coffin in 1995. That person, Allan Macdonald, was now charged with the murder of Officer Coffin in May 1997. Not many know about the incident in the trial that I am about to recount.
During the third week or so of the trial, the prosecutor called several witnesses from the local community who knew Allan Macdonald in the months before the shooting. None had ever been called as a witness before this, and so the prosecutor as well as defense counsel would try, when they could, to keep a certain informality despite the formal requirements of the trial. Witnesses unused to court need to feel they are not walking on eggshells with every word.
One of these witnesses was Cyril Knightley (not his actual name), a local businessman and a director briefly with Macdonald on the board of the Chamber of Commerce before the incident occurred. The following is an exchange as I remember it.
Prosecutor (“P”): Mr. Knightley, you may sit if you like.
Knightley: Thank you. I think I’ll stand, thank you.
After some formal questions about the witness’s occupation and family, Knightley described a time he spent with Allan Macdonald a month or so following his trial on an impaired driving offence that Macdonald felt he should have been exempted from. He blamed Coffin for the loss of his position on the police board and for all that had gone wrong since, and told Knightley so.
Mr. Knightley and Allan Macdonald met again a month or so later and he again uttered a threat against the officer.
Knightley: I said, “You can’t mean that, Allan. Come on. That is not right.” “Well,” he said, “you ain’t in my shoes. Ever since that charge, I have lost almost everything.” He became angrier, and I finally said, “I have to go, Allan. Just carry on with your life. You have much to give, and I know things will get better for you.”
I left. That was not the last time I saw him. I saw him once more. He was shouting at the other side of the restaurant, it was not at me. I was just there and heard him. He uttered a threat again and left.
Defense lawyer: Objection. Part of that evidence was opinion, and this witness is not qualified to give opinions.
Judge: Objection overruled. Ever since Chief Justice Dickson in the Graat case, opinion evidence about animus, hostility, is admissible from a lay witness.
P: What were the circumstances of this last encounter?
CK: I am a director of the Chamber of Commerce, and I was at a restaurant, the World Famous Dock Lunch. I was arranging with the management for the next directors’ meeting to be held there. While I was there, a customer started to talk in a loud voice.
P: Were others present?
CK: People are always at the World Famous Dock Lunch, and that time was no different. The World Famous Dock Lunch is a place we…
(I, as the judge, should have known better, but the first time those four words were mentioned, I had missed part of them, so when they came up again, I needed to get the name exactly, and I was not getting what I thought was the name of the establishment. I had visited Midland over the years but not Penetanguishene.)
Judge: Excuse me, Mr. Knightley, but would you get to the name of this place you are talking about? I keep hearing what sounds like a commercial for a place. I don’t need to know what it is famous for, its dock, or whatever. Just give me the name.
CK: I am telling you the name, Your Honor. There is a burger and breakfast place in Midland called The World Famous Dock Lunch.
Judge: (I still was not quite getting it, and I was like a dog with a bone, couldn’t leave it alone) Look, I don’t know about its dock or its lunch, what was the name?
CK: I guess you’ve never been there. Actually, it’s in Penetang on its main street, down by the town dock and all. It’s a restaurant called The World Famous Dock Lunch. That’s its name. Been there as long as I can remember.
Judge: Oh. (Laughing) Well, I won’t ever miss it again!
The suspended tension and emotion burst. It all released. The whole courtroom erupted with laughter at the judge failing to believe there was such a place in Simcoe County. I dutifully wrote it out in my bench book, the large red book that all judges are given to make our notes of the proceedings. I looked out ruefully over the courtroom and thought, now is the time for a strategic retreat.
Judge: “I thank you, Mr. Knightley, and please forgive me if I sounded a bit annoyed. I am not, and I thank you for patiently spelling it out.”
With all the dignity I could muster, I said, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the court is adjourned for 15 minutes. Be back then, and believe me, I will never again forget The World Famous Dock Lunch.”
After calling another two witnesses, the Crown’s case was completed. The lawyer for Allan Macdonald, Dan Brodsky, called a psychiatrist as the only defence witness.
The jury was carefully instructed by me. After deliberating for at least a day, and it may have been more, I received the written message from the foreperson of the jury that they had reached a verdict. That is all the message said, and all a judge gets before returning to court. When I walk in to take a verdict, I know no more than anyone in the courtroom what that verdict would be.
When everyone was seated the verdict was announced: “Guilty.”. Dan Brodsky, Mr. Macdonald‘s counsel, asked for a poll of the jury. Each juror replied without difficulty, “Guilty as charged.”
On the final day, after the foreman had read the verdict and the jury was thanked and dismissed, I walked slowly to my chambers. I let out a long sigh, as if I hadn’t breathed for a month, closed the door, and was about to turn on one of my favourite discs, Midnight Special by Credence Clearwater Revival. Another major trial was done, and the verdict was in. As I sat down, I heard a knock on my door. It was my court officer, Eamon, a man of quietly acerbic wit.
“Your honor,” he declared, “You have an invitation. Please follow me.” I hesitated, thinking he was joking. He motioned for me to come.
I followed him. He stopped at the door to the jury room. I always spoke to each juror, thanking them personally for their service, but usually that came after a few minutes for them to relax one last time and get their things together. But this time was different. We entered, to be met by the foreperson. He took my extended arm and led me to an area where all the jurors stood in a circle. He said, “Your honor, we invited you here for a special reason.”
He reached behind him, and another juror handed him a package.
I turned toward him. He started opening the package. “I am presenting this to you from all members of the jury.”
I took it and spread it out. It was a T-shirt. Emblazoned on the T-shirt were the words, “The World Famous Dock Lunch”.
The card with it I have kept all these years. It was a ‘Thank You’ card signed by each member of the jury, saying the trial was one of the most significant events in their lives. And I have worn that T-shirt.
The trial had focused on a terrible tragedy. It closed on a note of kindness. I thanked the jurors. I could hardly reach my chambers before tears came to my eyes. Eamon had prepared some tea and one other thing for me. I came through the door just as John Fogerty’s raspy voice sang, “Let the Midnight Special shine its everlovin’ light on me.”
Adapted from a book to be published soon under the title A Judge’s Casebook: A Retrospective by Peter H. Howden.