My year in the Old Bailey
The BBC's Jeremy Britton, who covered the trial, explains. BBC online Wednesday, 2 May 2007Lost holidays, leaving cards from defendants - the fertiliser bomb plot trial was the UK's longest terror case, so little wonder the usual courtroom barriers eroded.
Courts are a cloistered world at the best of times, far from the noise and bustle of the city that surrounds them. In hushed rooms, a unique drama is played out.
For the past year I have had to spend my life sharing a room with seven men accused of terrorism. I have spent more time with Omar Khyam and his friends in Court Eight of the Old Bailey than with my own family.
Over the past 12 months, I have written down every word they had to say, and at times I wondered if the so-called Operation Crevice trial would ever come to an end.
As months rolled by, holidays were booked and then ruefully cancelled as the trial chewed up more of the lives of lawyers, court staff, police and journalists. Medical treatments were delayed. Time passed.
But the many months I spent with these people - five of whom were jailed for life for a bomb plot which could have killed hundreds in the UK - have been an eye-opener.
Normally there is a strict dividing line between reporters and defendants - and for good reason. Rapists, murderers, psychopaths and terrorists are generally not people you'd want to approach for a chat.
They often remain silent, impassive figures who are just faces in the dock. The Crevice trial, though, was a bit different.
Defence lawyer Baroness Kennedy summed it up neatly. She described them as being like any other British youngsters "who speak estuary English, who wear Nike trainers and sports kit, and who fancy girls, and for the most part like movies and music and McDonald's". Except, of course, most British youngsters don't discuss the virtues of jihad and how the Madrid bombings, which killed 191 people, could have been improved on.
Parallel world
The accused spent much of their time joking together or with the security staff( Prison Officers and NOT OLD BAILEY SECURITY STAFF < the-old-bailey comment>), and seemed to treat the dock as their living room, which I suppose it was for the duration of the trial.
Several things combined to erode the usual emotional barriers between the defendants and the court.
Any ordinary trial might be over in a matter of days or weeks, but the sheer length of the Crevice trial immersed all the participants in a parallel universe. It was possible to get to know the individual quirks and mannerisms of the accused.
Nabeel Hussain, who was acquitted of all charges, regularly chatted with reporters outside court, passing the boring moments by asking them to explain how shorthand worked or talking about his plans to write a comic book.
When one of my court colleagues announced he was leaving to join a national newspaper, a card was arranged and passed around the court. Mr Hussain wrote in it: "Good luck, from your friendly neighbourhood defendant."
They were certainly characters. Jawad Akbar, who hit the headlines for suggesting blowing up the Ministry of Sound nightclub, had the jury rolling with laughter when a bug in his flat picked him up singing the soul classic Stand by Me.
Of course there were grave and serious moments in the trial. The court went deadly quiet as Omar Khyam - who was convicted - praised the Taleban as "amazing people", and said he was "happy" when he initially heard about 9/11.
Moments like that brought in a cold reality check.
Pictured painted
For two months Khyam and his friends were followed by a team of MI5 officers and police who wrote down their every move.
This evidence was read out day after day and week after week in court, and audio tapes played of them chatting together. As a result, we became familiar with their daily routines - which chicken and burger restaurants they visited in Slough and Crawley, the names of their friends' pets - and listened in on their marital disputes.
Big Brother was watching them, and as in the TV programme, all their everyday prejudices were on display.
In the same way, the characters of the jurors began to come through. It was possible to see friendships developing.
And keeping the jury happy soon became the judge's main preoccupation as it became obvious that instead of the expected six-month trial, they would have to sit through double that.
When one of the older jurors had problems with his hearing aid, the judge - who also wore one - offered his own consultant to get it fixed.
Another time the jury sat late into lunchtime and arrived in their canteen to find no food available. They refused to return until food was sent out for. The judge sympathised and adjourned court until 3pm. This was a gift for the headline writers: "Twelve hungry men".
Media interest ballooned during the trial. At the beginning there were five journalists - by the end there were up to 100.
Jury watched
The length and cost of the trial were firsts for British justice, and the 27 days of jury deliberations set a record.
The men and women of the jury had bonded into a team. When the judge asked them after many days of deliberation how they were doing, they simply said they were progressing fine.
But the journalists, and in all probability the lawyers, watched hawk-like for any sign that they might be about to reach a verdict. Body language was scrutinised. What did crossed arms mean? What did glances at defendants mean?
Dress was scrutinised intensely. Did dark clothes mean they were leaning towards guilty verdicts? Did smart clothes mean a verdict would be delivered?
When the end came on Monday, instead of fleeing the court at the first opportunity, the jury chose to stay on and witness the sentencing, the end product of all their months of patient sitting and listening.
If there was a sigh of relief that Crevice was over, it was not audible.
CREVICE TRIAL
Started 21 March 2006
Ended 30 April 2007
Jury out for record 27 days
105 prosecution witnesses
Omar Khyam, Jawad Akbar, Salahuddin Amin, Waheed Mahmood and Anthony Garcia jailed for life.
For the past year I have had to spend my life sharing a room with seven men accused of terrorism. I have spent more time with Omar Khyam and his friends in Court Eight of the Old Bailey than with my own family.
Over the past 12 months, I have written down every word they had to say, and at times I wondered if the so-called Operation Crevice trial would ever come to an end.
As months rolled by, holidays were booked and then ruefully cancelled as the trial chewed up more of the lives of lawyers, court staff, police and journalists. Medical treatments were delayed. Time passed.
But the many months I spent with these people - five of whom were jailed for life for a bomb plot which could have killed hundreds in the UK - have been an eye-opener.
Normally there is a strict dividing line between reporters and defendants - and for good reason. Rapists, murderers, psychopaths and terrorists are generally not people you'd want to approach for a chat.
They often remain silent, impassive figures who are just faces in the dock. The Crevice trial, though, was a bit different.
Defence lawyer Baroness Kennedy summed it up neatly. She described them as being like any other British youngsters "who speak estuary English, who wear Nike trainers and sports kit, and who fancy girls, and for the most part like movies and music and McDonald's". Except, of course, most British youngsters don't discuss the virtues of jihad and how the Madrid bombings, which killed 191 people, could have been improved on.
Parallel world
The accused spent much of their time joking together or with the security staff( Prison Officers and NOT OLD BAILEY SECURITY STAFF < the-old-bailey comment>), and seemed to treat the dock as their living room, which I suppose it was for the duration of the trial.
Several things combined to erode the usual emotional barriers between the defendants and the court.
Any ordinary trial might be over in a matter of days or weeks, but the sheer length of the Crevice trial immersed all the participants in a parallel universe. It was possible to get to know the individual quirks and mannerisms of the accused.
Nabeel Hussain, who was acquitted of all charges, regularly chatted with reporters outside court, passing the boring moments by asking them to explain how shorthand worked or talking about his plans to write a comic book.
When one of my court colleagues announced he was leaving to join a national newspaper, a card was arranged and passed around the court. Mr Hussain wrote in it: "Good luck, from your friendly neighbourhood defendant."
They were certainly characters. Jawad Akbar, who hit the headlines for suggesting blowing up the Ministry of Sound nightclub, had the jury rolling with laughter when a bug in his flat picked him up singing the soul classic Stand by Me.
Of course there were grave and serious moments in the trial. The court went deadly quiet as Omar Khyam - who was convicted - praised the Taleban as "amazing people", and said he was "happy" when he initially heard about 9/11.
Moments like that brought in a cold reality check.
Pictured painted
For two months Khyam and his friends were followed by a team of MI5 officers and police who wrote down their every move.
This evidence was read out day after day and week after week in court, and audio tapes played of them chatting together. As a result, we became familiar with their daily routines - which chicken and burger restaurants they visited in Slough and Crawley, the names of their friends' pets - and listened in on their marital disputes.
Big Brother was watching them, and as in the TV programme, all their everyday prejudices were on display.
In the same way, the characters of the jurors began to come through. It was possible to see friendships developing.
And keeping the jury happy soon became the judge's main preoccupation as it became obvious that instead of the expected six-month trial, they would have to sit through double that.
When one of the older jurors had problems with his hearing aid, the judge - who also wore one - offered his own consultant to get it fixed.
Another time the jury sat late into lunchtime and arrived in their canteen to find no food available. They refused to return until food was sent out for. The judge sympathised and adjourned court until 3pm. This was a gift for the headline writers: "Twelve hungry men".
Media interest ballooned during the trial. At the beginning there were five journalists - by the end there were up to 100.
Jury watched
The length and cost of the trial were firsts for British justice, and the 27 days of jury deliberations set a record.
The men and women of the jury had bonded into a team. When the judge asked them after many days of deliberation how they were doing, they simply said they were progressing fine.
But the journalists, and in all probability the lawyers, watched hawk-like for any sign that they might be about to reach a verdict. Body language was scrutinised. What did crossed arms mean? What did glances at defendants mean?
Dress was scrutinised intensely. Did dark clothes mean they were leaning towards guilty verdicts? Did smart clothes mean a verdict would be delivered?
When the end came on Monday, instead of fleeing the court at the first opportunity, the jury chose to stay on and witness the sentencing, the end product of all their months of patient sitting and listening.
If there was a sigh of relief that Crevice was over, it was not audible.
CREVICE TRIAL
Started 21 March 2006
Ended 30 April 2007
Jury out for record 27 days
105 prosecution witnesses
Omar Khyam, Jawad Akbar, Salahuddin Amin, Waheed Mahmood and Anthony Garcia jailed for life.
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