In a stunning display of judicial permanence, a New York appeals court has told Donald Trump to put his chequebook where his mouth is, upholding a $5 million verdict for sexual abuse and defamation. E. Jean Carroll, a woman whose resilience could armour a battleship, is presumably now one step closer to hearing the sweetest sound in American jurisprudence: the rustling of a billionaire’s cash.
But let’s not dwell on the colonies. Across the Atlantic, the British legal system, that grand old dame of wig and precedent, has looked upon this affair and nodded sagely. “Consistency,” it murmurs through a cup of lukewarm tea, “is what separates us from the banana republics.” Indeed, while Trump’s legal team spun the roulette wheel of appeals with the confidence of men who’ve never been told ‘no’ by a mirror, the judges remained unmoved. No last-minute pardons, no executive orders, no tweeting of the verdict into oblivion. Just the humdrum drone of law doing its duty.
The irony is thick enough to spread on toast. Trump, a man who once claimed he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue without losing a vote, has discovered that courts, unlike his supporters, occasionally require evidence. Carroll’s victory is a small, dazzling beacon in a fog of political circus. It proves that even the most formidable circus ringmaster can be tripped by a banana skin of due process.
But what of the UK legal system, you ask? Battered by austerity, scandalised by subpostmasters, and forever wrestling with the ghost of Brexit, it has found a rare moment of admiration. “At least we don’t have elected judges,” mutters the man in the pub, polishing his pint. “At least our appeals mean something.” There is a grim satisfaction in watching a former American president be held accountable, while our own barristers sip sherry and smirk.
Yet let us not be smug. The British legal system is not a flawless diamond. It is a foggy mirror, cracked but functional. It has its own Carrolls, its own Trumps, its own endless appeals. But today, in the warm glow of transatlantic schadenfreude, we allow ourselves a moment of self-congratulation. The rule of law, for once, has produced a result that feels like justice.
So raise a glass of cheap gin, dear reader. Donald Trump will have to find $5 million from somewhere. Perhaps he can sell a few more NFTs or start a new social media platform. As for E. Jean Carroll, she can sleep soundly knowing that in at least one courtroom, the truth was worth more than the cheapest lawyers money could buy. And for the UK legal system, well, it will continue its muddled, inconsistent, but occasionally glorious march towards fairness. Cheers to that.
