Morning:
20°c
Secret deal hatched by News of the World to hush up details of phone-tapping was sealed in a tiny room at the Royal Courts of Justice
More...
This week, Constance Briscoe, senior barrister and author of the best-selling memoir Ugly, got her life back. Over the course of an extraordinary 10-day libel case brought by her 74-year-old mother, Carmen Briscoe-Mitchell, the very fabric and pattern of Briscoe's childhood memory has been examined and cross-examined by lawyers in the high court. Yet on Monday this week, the trial, over Briscoe's descriptions in Ugly of terrible child abuse, ended with victory for Constance.
"I'm feeling very, very relieved," she says now, speaking from her chambers in Bell Yard near the Royal Courts of Justice. "I didn't know whether I'd be packing my bags today or preparing my next case. Over the weekend, while we waited for the jury to return its verdict, I actually got terribly depressed. I couldn't get out of bed, and when I did, I hit the bottle."
She laughs wryly. "Suddenly I realised just what it's like to be a defendant in that situation And I started to feel that we hadn't played it right, that maybe we hadn't done everything we could"
It's no hyperbole to say that, over the past few weeks, 51-year-old Briscoe's high-flying career as a lawyer and judge, indeed, her very reputation, has been hanging perilously in the balance. "If I'd lost, I'd have had to leave the Bar - maybe not immediately, but in the end," she says. "My partner [Anthony Arlidge, QC] and I had a plan to go to France. I was thinking of becoming a gardener." She is not totally joking here, I think.
The legal fees alone would have crippled her. She estimates the total bill of both sides' costs at more than £1 million. Her mother, a pensioner originally from Jamaica, who, it seems, has never worked in her life, had a "no win, no fee" arrangement with her own legal team but must still pay her daughter's costs.
"She will certainly have to think about how she can pay it," says Briscoe briskly. "But I've made it clear that whatever happens, she should never be thrown out of her home. Maybe they can put a charge on the property but I don't want her on the streets." There's an irony to this, of course, since Briscoe-Mitchell apparently thought nothing of abandoning several of her own children, including Constance, and letting them fend for themselves without adult care, money or even food.
The Briscoe trial was undoubtedly a landmark case, centring not on individual details of cruelty contained in Ugly but on its fundamental premise: that Constance was abused as a child living in Camberwell, south London, at the hands, primarily, of her mother.
This was a trial questioning Briscoe's basic truthfulness. The abuse she describes in Ugly was sickening, and frequent. Constance, called Clare by her mother (as well as "Ugly", "Black Bitch" and "Miss Pissabed"), was beaten with a piece of wood, cut on the arm and face, and humiliated verbally and physically. She was made to sleep in urine-soaked bed sheets and locked in a cellar. Briscoe-Mitchell twisted her nipples so hard that Constance had to have the resulting lumps removed from her breasts.
In the end, her mother simply left her 13-year-old daughter and two older sisters to look after themselves (Briscoe-Mitchell has 11 children in all), a move that the utterly disoriented Briscoe greeted with joy, as if her life were starting again.
Her father, George, also from Jamaica, seems to have come and gone as he pleased; a stepfather called Garfield Eastman was also a cruel, violent man, who once put out a cigarette on her hand.
Published in 2006, Ugly quickly became a best-seller, shifting more than 400,000 copies in the UK. It's widely regarded as the best British contribution to what's often called the "misery memoir" genre. Yet her mother called it a "piece of fiction", and Constance a "fantasist". What if it wasn't true? For the past month, the publishing industry has been holding its breath, too.
Briscoe's vindication comes at a poignant moment as child abuse dominates news agendas. "I got a pile of emails from children during the trial telling me how I could get rid of my horrible mother," she says. Over the past two years, she has received hundreds of letters and emails from victims of abuse, and felt passionately that she "could not let them down".
"If I'd been a liar, if I'd made this up, all those people would have felt horribly deceived by me: 'Oh my God, she's a complete sham!' That's why I was never going to settle with my mother, I was never going to write this book anonymously and why I had to identify people in it."
Throughout the trial, a group of 12 women, eight black and three white, sat in the gallery watching, she says. "At the end of the first week, they came up to me and said: 'we're here because you speak for us. You are our voice. We've been through your trauma and we'll come and support you every day.' One of the ladies showed me the scars on her legs where she'd been whipped as a child."
It's clear that the trial has completely demolished whatever affection Briscoe felt towards a number of her siblings, some of whom lined up with her mother to deny that abuse took place. She has never felt love for her mother, she says, matter-of-factly. Briscoe talks as eloquently and clearly as you'd expect from a senior barrister, yet a note of bitter outrage at her family's behaviour is never far from her voice.
Did she ever look at her mother in court and see not an abuser but a vulnerable old lady? Is forgiveness remotely possible? "Vulnerable?" she exclaims. "Hah! I looked at her in court and thought she was wicked. She had come to tell a pack of lies about me, and she had set up my brothers and sisters against me when I had no issue with them at all. That is unforgivable. I am sure she did it to destroy me and my career."
But I wonder whether the legal process, the questioning and cross-questioning, helped her gain an understanding of the reasons for her mother's cruelty all those years ago. Constance always believed, and indeed writes, that she was particularly singled out for abuse; that, for example, her siblings were given proper presents at Christmas while the same old toys were always re-wrapped for her. Her mother's belief that little Clare was "ugly" - with a big broad nose - appeared at least in part, to motivate the violence. Briscoe-Mitchell, of course, denied all this in court.
"In a very odd sort of way I was looking forward to the trial," says Briscoe, "because, yes, I thought I might get answers. I might just understand why it was me, and I went along thinking my lawyers would ask her questions that she would have to answer.
"But in the end that didn't happen. I quite expected my mother to come to court and lie, that's what she's always done, and in a very odd way, again, I thought actually that's OK. I'm not surprised by that. But what I could not imagine was that sister after sister after sister after sister - and my brother - would come to court and also say that I was a fantasist. A liar. That was what made this really quite extraordinary for me."
And it's possible, of course, that this united front might have caused the case to go against Briscoe. Yet three days before proceedings began, she and her team were issued with archived social services files dealing with past incidents of abuse directed at other siblings by her mother - clearly disproving Briscoe-Mitchell's happy family claims.
"And when I got those records, I thought, oh my God! It wasn't just me," says Briscoe forcefully. It was a moment of clearly painful revelation.
That Briscoe recovered from her childhood is testament, of course, to her strength of character. That she became so successful seems extraordinary, a one-off. As a young teenager, Briscoe took several jobs alongside school to keep herself in food and clothes, and to pay her (absent) mother rent.
On a school trip to Knightsbridge Crown Court, she buttonholed Michael Mansfield, the Left-leaning QC, who, perhaps impressed by her chutzpah, told her to come back to him when she was ready to become a barrister.
Despite her mother's utter lack of sympathy ("only clever people go to university"), she secured a place studying law at Newcastle and was eventually called to the Bar in 1983. Thirteen years later she became a part-time judge in the crown court, the eighth black judge to be appointed. She lives in Clapham with the QC Anthony Arlidge, and has two children from a first marriage to a solicitor, daughter Francesca, who's still at school and son Martin, at university.
It's the childhood memoir, though, that has made her famous. When Briscoe reads from Ugly, particularly at London events, it often seems to unleash a wave of emotion from the audience, and especially from Afro-Carribean listeners.
"When I did a reading at Clapham Junction," she says, " one woman stood up and took her shoe off. She showed us where she'd had three toes amputated. My mother used to pinch my breasts, but this woman's mother twisted her toes until the circulation stopped and she had to have them amputated. Can you imagine?...
"I still think I'm very blessed," she goes on. "I have a good job, a good partner, my children are doing very well. I've got so much to be proud of." Her voice hardens: "And I look at my mother and think: you are the sole cause of all the hurt and harm in our family. And you came to court and lied about it."
But does Briscoe ever think that the independence and perhaps the simple will to survive, forced upon her by her mother's cruelty played a part in her later ambition? She pauses, thinking carefully. "If I'm honest? Probably it has. The fact is I'm the most successful of my siblings and had I not had my past, I'd not have had my future. So yes, perhaps I do owe something to my mother." She laughs again.
But if Briscoe gains consolation from anything, you feel, it is from the revenge she has taken on her mother, both in print and in court. "It is so important to believe the victim," she says at the end of our conversation, "and then do something about it." And perhaps there are lessons here that stretch well beyond the confines of one deeply dysfunctional family.
Reader views (18)
Here's a sample of the latest views published.
Could tell a better story? There is no competitive element here. Furthermore, If everyone continued to adopt a policy of secrecy, and brushed issues under the carpet then they would never be addressed. In order for governments to act, there must be awareness. Abused children (Baby P) already have enough going against them in the form of sluggish bureaucracies which bog down action without people trying to cover these issues up. Heather Swap - I disagree with you.
- Martos, Bath
Well done girl! The thing is that parents go on to abuse the child-turned-adult in other ways than using the stick and this is a prime example. Her mother used the law courts to beat her up and how ironic that the very profession Constance chose would also cause the demise of her abuser, both morally and financially.
- Jessica, london
Excellent story, very interesting, honest and moving. She transformed her pain and suffering into a passion for justice for others.
- Neil, london uk, Airstrip ONE .
'Throughout the trial, a group of 12 women, eight black and three white, sat in the gallery watching ... '
Someone can't add up ...
- Wonderer, Toronto, Canada
My wife read your book and was really moved. Anyone who overcomes such obstacles deserves applause. It's hard enough to achieve that status in life even when you're well sponsored, let alone dejected, abused and abandoned by someone who clearly has no remorse. Since the mother brought the case to sue her own daughter (presumably seeking to benefit financially after abusing her so badly) one finds it difficult to have a great deal of sympathy with the mother, as the daughter was again defending herself from the attacks of the mother. Her attempts to defame the daughter and blight her career, was devoid of morality and the natural love of a mother for her child. Instead of being regretful the mother was brazen and opportunistic, but fate has a funny way of resolving injustice, this is a clear case of belated justice via fate. You have my utmost respect Constance and you are a beacon of hope for so many who suffer in silence. Bless you.
- Timmy Summers, Basingstoke
Constance I applaud you and wish that the good Lord will continue to be your guide. You did a really unselfish and unvindictve thing by not allowing your mother to be thrown on the streets. I cannot begine to imagine what you have through. I know I have suffered rejection by both my parents but at least my grandparents who loved me were there for me. I wish you all the best.
- Jacqui, sydenham, london
It's a shame Ms. Briscoe's mother had such self loathing that she was compelled to scapegoat her children. We see that everyday, just read the news, just think about little baby P who had clear signs of abuse and no help. That some of Ms. Briscoe's siblings stuck by their abusive parent is not surprising. However, that shouldn't be Ms. Briscoe's concern, it is on them to live with that decision. Meanwhile, hopefully all recent events will help Ms. Briscoe truly let go of the anger, and greatly reduce the hurt so she can fully savor and enjoy the lovely moments in her life, and the real love and affection being offered her by people who care.
- Karvictho, nyc, ny
'So she drinks eh! I would have thought that a good barrister can handle stress.
I'm with the mother here.
- Steve, London'
You are an idiot, abuse isnt a joke and people handle it in different ways. If you havent been through abuse as a child then you have no right to condemn her. Think before you say stupid things...
- Saska, Liverpool, uk
Read the book such a sad true story
maybe a few more people should write a book to flush out all this evil in the world good on you Constance well done.
- Amanda, London
Well done Ms Briscoe.
I have read your book and you are a true inspiration to me. You have shown that in the face of adversity and hardship, your determination and human spirit prevailed!
The fact that you did not want your mother to be "homeless" even after all that she put you through, shows that you are a person of exceptional character.
I wish you all the best!
- Ryan, London
I didn't believe Constance Briscoe, i thought her book was fiction, how wrong can you be. I apologise to Ms Briscoe for doubting her veracity, perhaps we should believe children a bit more.
I'm sorry she was abused, I am delighted she is now a successful barrister and I hope a happy mother.
- Kerry, Purley
So she drinks eh! I would have thought that a good barrister can handle stress.
I'm with the mother here.
- Steve, London
...Some evil people never know when to stop. Now she has got a big bill to pay, this might, just might send out the message. I wish Ms Briscoe every success, and hope she can put the evil machinations of her mother behind her once and for all.
- Joannie, London, England
Ms Briscoe feels no gratitude for her mother's tough love, only pain, but, in defiance of her adult siblings, she exploited her mother's character in her best-selling book and then destroyed it in her new place of work and, too, she is, in her remarkable self re-invention, its beneficiary. If the legal fees would have crippled her, how will they not put her mother on the street? Monster begets monster-consuming monster.
- Bloke, London
I want to say well done to her, she represents so much black peolpe who suffer at the hands of there parents ignorance. She makes me proud.
- Verona Campbell, Englsnd Londom
All her siblings lined up to testify against her? But the well-connected lawyer won the day? Is this case really over?
- Mdj, Leyton, e10 london
I've read this lady's book. Very touching, and it must have taken a lot of courage to write about something so terrifying. A very brave child and woman. Good luck to you. Your mother deserved nothing after the life she gave you as a child. Chris
- Chris, London, UK
This is so sad, Many,many, black children are abused by their Family. My Brother and I could tell a better story. But for the sake of our Children/grand children who have very high powered jobs, we would not. We have decided to brake the circle of abuse. I can say this to Briscoe is that she is full of hate and still are. She should in fact seek help for her self and family also her mother It can be mended and the scar removed.
- Heather Swap, Central London
