Authors:LAG
Created:2013-06-01
Last updated:2023-09-18
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The secret diary of a legal aid solicitor: the day-to-day story of a high street practitioner
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Description: jun2013-p06-01
Following the introduction of the legal aid provisions of the LASPO Act, an anonymous legal aid solicitor writes:
Visiting some commercial solicitors just off Fleet Street I was rather blown away by the size of their atrium. Huge, empty, over-priced modern art on the walls, an installation in the corner. No clients. A reception desk the size of a battleship, smiley receptionist or, I should say, a meeter and greeter. The phones were tucked away in another part of the building completely. The space was very quiet.
I have a small, extremely busy reception area. The receptionist meets, greets, turns away and answers the telephones and the front door. He has to sift the eligibility documents that the legal aid clients have to bring with them, photocopy them and take them through to the fee-earners. Reception can get quite crowded. Clients seeing the family department solicitors often leave their children there rather than talk about messy matrimonial matters in front of them. New clients have to fill in forms giving basic information such as names and addresses etc.
Since 1 April, clients have been desperately popping into reception with disrepair issues, welfare benefits issues and straightforward divorces, literally begging to see someone for advice. ‘But we saw you three years ago on legal aid – why can’t we see you now?’ ‘We have been to see five other solicitors, no one wants to take us on; are you just wanting to do paid work now?’ And so it goes on.
The phones appear to have got busier. More clients are ringing up desperate to book an appointment with a solicitor. We are having to say a firm ‘no’ rather too much for my liking. We have been telling people to visit their local councillor, MP, or on some occasions we have pointed them in the direction of the rather shiny National Pro Bono Centre on Chancery Lane.
What is palpable is the fear and anger of those that we have to turn away; the sense that they are no longer important, that nobody cares about their predicament. I worry about what will happen to them, how their problem will be solved, if it will be solved?
The receptionist came to see me the other day. He said a client had told him that his housing officer had said that legal aid was dead in the water and there was no longer legal aid for possession actions and disrepair. Obviously I corrected this misinformation but the fact is that the LASPO Act changes have come with a body of mythology, untruth and vagueness. The public is beginning to get the impression that if legal aid has not yet been abolished, it soon will be.
Which brings me back to that huge solicitors’ atrium off Fleet Street. Why are some solicitors having to make do with cramped and crowded reception areas and large volumes of clients while other firms have these vast, palatial atriums? Is this fair? Is this what we want of our legal profession?
Legal aid lawyers have always been a second class, an underclass, but increasingly we are becoming marginalised and forced out of business. Has the time come for larger, more profitable firms to take us under their wing, mentor us, provide some funding and ensure that the essential service we provide continues?
Individuals, advisers, organisations and practitioners are invited to submit their accounts of the impact of the LASPO Act 2012, particularly on people who are socially, economically or otherwise disadvantaged, for publication in this column. Submissions of up to 500 words will be published in full and, on request, anonymised. E-mail: vwilliams@lag.org.uk using the message title ‘Legal aid cuts impact statement’.