Worzel's World: An unexpected trial

 

It was the proverbial straw that broke the metaphorical back of this allegorical old Camel.

Over a long period of time my interactions with the courts of New Zealand have been many and various. I have observed that the behaviour of many, maybe even most of those who are ostensibly engaged in the administration of justice in this small lovely country of my birth, has been less than scrupulous. They have lied, made mistakes, put pragmatism above both the high ideal of justice and the lesser standard of the acts and  statutes of our legal framework.

In response to questions I have asked I have been either fed misinformation or stonewalled. I suspect this is because I have always had a fairly logical and enquiring mind. I enjoy solving problems. I don’t mind particularly being wrong provided  that  in  the  process I can learn how to be right. Consequently, I often ask difficult questions. Sometimes the answer to some of these difficult questions can only be,  ‘Sorry  what  was  done was wrong’. The modern New Zealand public servant will do practically anything to avoid making such a statement.

Over recent times individuals employed by the Ministry of Justice, Whangarei District Court, and New Zealand Police have committed offences under the Summary Proceedings Act, Privacy Act and sundry other legislation intended to safeguard the rights of individuals. I have proof of this but no-one is interested.

I was with  a friend  in Whangarei. She recently had knee surgery. As well as doing a little shopping, I also made myself useful by carrying her groceries. Due to modern compliance issues her son, studying in Dunedin, required a copy of his birth certificate. This was so he can prove  that  he  is  an  asset  (bondsman)  in  the  account of the New Zealand Corporation. The copy had to be witnessed by someone with a title and a stamp presumably because the average kiwi is too stupid and dishonest not to misrepresent their identity. She thought that the courthouse would be able to discharge this minimal service. I told her  I  had  my  doubts: ‘You’ll  only  get  access  to clerks and other  functionaries who hate putting their name to anything in case they have to take some responsibility’.

On  declining  registering to be traced she was denied entry by a security person. I was surprised that a member of the public could be denied access  to  a  public  building on such flimsy grounds. I endeavoured then to enter myself. I was rudely ordered to stay outside.

“What law allows you to deny a member of the public entry to  a public  facility, and what authority do you have to do this?” I enquired.

No answer was forthcoming but another security person was. I repeated my enquiry to him. “It’s all under Covid,” he said.

“Covid is supposedly a virus, not a law,” I said, and repeated my question.

“I don’t want to get into that, we are under directives,” he replied.“Directives aren’t laws,” I informed him. “It is my understanding that preventing a member of the public from entering a public building or public  place  is  unlawful  under the Bill of Human Rights Act. If you get directives that instruct you to act illegally then you have a duty to disregard those directives.”

“Oh  I don’t  want to get into that,” he repeated.

These  exchanges  took place whilst he stood in the courthouse doorway and  I stood outside  on the pavement. Another four security personnel had, during the course of our brief and fruitless conversation, materialised in the foyer inside the front door. Surely the Whangarei  District  Court  must  be one of the most secure facilities in the country. I expect I was identified as a clear and present threat armed  as  I was with good health, a pen, paper and questions that no-one present would answer.

“If you received a directive to execute any member of the public that comes to the door, would you?” I asked. He paused as if seriously considering the question but offered no answer. The packed throng of uniformed security persons glowered at  me  all  the  while  as  if I was some sort of threat.

What did they suspect me of? Wanting to come in and steal some justice perhaps? Fat chance. I believe Lady Justice, due to workplace abuse, had packed up and left the place years ago. “Can I have your name please,” I asked. “No,” he replied. “Can  I  have  the  name of who is responsible for issuing the directives that you reference?” He  lost  no  time  dobbing in the boss.

“Andrew Kibblewhite, MOJ, Wellington.” I  wrote  down  the  name and thanked the fellow with what I hoped was a detectable hint of sarcasm for being such a conscientious public servant.

So, Mr Kibblewhite, perhaps you can tell me what law prevents me from entering a public building unless I ‘register’? And what authority does your security staff have to act in the manner described above?

I have sent the above questions to  Mr Kibblewhite but predictably have yet to receive a reply.

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