Veterans of the "Court Beat" can usually figure out what’s happening in criminal cases. Goodness knows how they do it. The lawyers and the judge speak in code half the time.

"Another adjournment, Mr. Jones, and Ms. Smith will Askov you." Case names are used as verbs to refer to the principles established in the precedents. "If Crown proceeds, I’ll Kienapple counts 2 and 4," says defence counsel (referring to the rule against double jeopardy). "Did she say ‘pineapple’?" asks a bystander.

Case names are only part of the problem. There is Latin, of course. Why would lawyers use a simple word like "intent" when they can speak of mens rea? Why would they talk of a higher court "overturning" a ruling, when they can slur through the Latin, certiorari (pronounced, by me, ser-shor-are-eye). Even if you can find the word in the index to an annotated Criminal Code (why would you look under the letter "c"?), where does that get the average observer? Half the time, it’s not even good Latin, so the meaning is doubly obscured.

Then there’s the French. "Is this a Kienapple or an "autrefois acquit" application?" I say whaaat? "A pineapple or an outrefwa I quit," suggests the bystander. A voir dire (note the verbs as a noun) is not a "look see," but it’s a full-blown trial, within a trial, often about whether evidence is sufficiently reliable, whether admissions were pressured and such things.

Another part of the problem is antiquated language. Our Criminal Code was derived from a 19^th century English Code. To be sure, it is amended repeatedly every year. But it’s a patchwork, and it still has all sorts of antiquities and anomalies that make the initiated giggle but further obscure the proceedings. How many Canadians would think that "uttering" means selling? Some would, I suppose. How many would think that an accessory is some kind of accomplice? Fewer, as time passes, but the Code is frozen. "Cattle" includes horses and pigs, according to the definition, but "witchcraft" remains undefined.

Then, of course, there are the documents. There are warrants (for committal (at least 7 types), to search, for arrest, remanding, etc.), particulars (one type with a capital "P" and the other type with a small "p"), there are Informations (to obtain a search warrant and others), Writs (lots of types), Summonses, Subpoenas, Orders (of many sorts), Endorsements, Depositions, Recognizances, Receipts, Challenges, Indictments, Convictions, and on and on. The reasonably intelligent listener often can’t tell if the lawyers are talking about the document or the event that it reflects or records – and they are different.

To the uninitiated, this quagmire must be similar to landing in a foreign country. Everyone speaks pig-latin, or something more like pig-gibberish. Then they talk about the "open court" principle. Justice must be seen to be done. In reality, it’s not much of a spectator sport. It’s mostly talking heads, and there really should be a simultaneous translation service. More and more we need it. Journalists perform the translation, miraculously putting the substance in plain language, but face an increasing challenge as time passes and the apparently separate dialect of court-speak continues to diverge from plain English.

There is no purpose served by all this gobbledygook. None whatsoever. Under the law, we’re all "deemed" to know the law. That’s a great principle, but it’s increasingly nonsense. Access to "open courts" is important, to be sure, but courts should also be accessible, by which I mean intelligible, to ordinary people.

There is another daunting challenge on the Court Beat. The lawyers and the judge and maybe the witnesses and jurors all have copies of the documents. Typically, the reporters don’t. So a lawyer directs the witness’s attention to the first paragraph on page 2.

Did you write that?

Yes I did.

Is it true?

I don’t know.

Did you think it was true at the time?

I think so, I don’t remember now what I thought then.

Well, you wouldn’t lie in this letter, would you?

Not intentionally, but as I say, I can’t remember, so I could have made a mistake.

Well it’s a pretty important point in terms of safety, isn’t it?

Yes.

Hundreds of people could die?

Yes, they could.

You knew they were at risk?

I don’t remember, as I said, what I was thinking.

May I have this marked as Exhibit 10?

[Fictional.]

Now the journalist has no idea what this testimony is about. The judge, the jury, the lawyers, the witnesses, are all on the same page and the journalist is in the dark.

About two years ago in Campbell River, a journalist, identified in the case only as "Mr. Dodd from the Campbell River Courier Islander newspaper," had the temerity to stand up and ask for a copy of Exhibit 10 in the trial (provincial court) of Dennis Carmichael John. Very quickly, Crown counsel produced a Court Services Circular number CRMC 3/94, which purported to guide the Registry staff on access to 30 types of documents arising in provincial court criminal matters. For exhibits, it said:

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