The historical courtroom one at the Auckland High Court has housed many of Justice Paul Davison’s most significant memories.
Six decades ago, the 11-year-old watched his father, Sir Ron Davison, take Silk. Seeing for the first time a full bench of scarlet-robed judges in their full-bottom wigs, Davison remembers the drama and the atmosphere of the courtroom made a lasting impression on him.
Later, while studying law at Auckland University, Davison would slip away from campus to watch the leading counsel of the day conduct their cases in courtroom one, the same courtroom where he would later be admitted as a lawyer; the same courtroom in which he would run his first criminal trial, the same courtroom where his father, in 1978, would be sworn in as New Zealand’s 10th chief justice.
Nearly 40 years later, courtroom one would hold Davison’s swearing-in ceremony as a judge of the High Court; the same courtroom where he would sit for the very last time.
In full flight
Speaking at Davison’s valedictory sitting on behalf of the Crown, former Auckland Crown prosecutor Brian Dickey thanked the judge for carrying out his judicial duties “fearlessly and with great respect to the rule of law”.
Before becoming a judge, Davison’s career as a barrister had been one of the most extraordinary, Dickey said. “I don’t know or cannot think of anyone who has appeared at the very highest level in the biggest criminal cases for both the Crown and for the defence, some of which stick in the public consciousness as part of our social history.”
Cases such as the murder trial of Scott Watson, after the disappearance of Ben Smart and Olivia Hope in the Marlborough Sounds in the early hours of New Year’s Day in 1998; the 1989 trial of David Wayne Tamihere for the murders of Swedish tourists Urban Höglin and Heidi Paakkonen; and the trial of dominatrix Renee Chignell, who was eventually acquitted for the bondage-and-discipline death of English cricket umpire Peter Plumley-Walker.
Davison also served as counsel for the estate of Captain Jim Collins during the Royal Commission of Inquiry into the Erebus disaster. Collins, who flew Air New Zealand flight 901 on 28 November 1979, was initially blamed for causing the accident through pilot error. However, Justice Peter Mahon’s inquiry report cleared Collins and the flight crew of blame. Instead, the airline had altered its flight plan without telling the crew and then, as the judge controversially opined, covered its tracks “with an orchestrated litany of lies”.
As a courtroom adversary for more than 20 years, Dickey had observed Davison in “full flight”, including his closing statements, at times so persuasive that he had nearly convinced Dickey at times. “To hold [the jury’s] attention and to speak in that melodic and rhythmic cadence that you have…to witness that on a number of occasions, it was a privilege to do,” Dickey said.
‘Sense of the ridiculous’
Representing the New Zealand Law Society, former president Chris Moore said there was “more than a murmur of approval” across the profession when Davison was appointed to the bench. “If there was any sense of surprise, it was only that it had taken so long for the powers-that-be to finally sway you that this was a good move. It has certainly proved to be just that.”
Moving seamlessly between prosecuting and defending clients, Davison was many barristers’ co-counsel of choice: he was “humble and self-effacing”, he knew his cases inside-out and left defendants and their witnesses with “nowhere to hide” during cross-examination. “Judges and juries loved you,” Moore said. Judicial service was in Davison’s DNA. How many judges must contend with “the patrician, slightly baleful downward gaze” of their late father when sitting in court? Moore asked. Good judges were empathetic, kind and balanced and, where necessary, firm and direct. Davison showed “all those qualities in abundance” early in his judicial career without losing his sense of humour, he said.
You have an infectious and delicious sense of the ridiculous.
Chris Moore
The rockstar
Sangro Chambers barrister William Akel, speaking “as a very dear old friend”, shared his insights into what might have influenced Davison throughout his career.
The pair became friends at law school in the 1970s. “Even then you had a natural charm, warmth, charisma – there was something sophisticated about you,” Akel said. While there was little doubt that Davison was born to be a lawyer, he could’ve been a star at the Pacific Music Awards, given how “beautifully you played the guitar and your incredible singing voice”, Akel remembered. “I can’t resist saying that as you became the rockstar of our generation.”
But above all else, two judges would’ve had an “immeasurable” influence on Davison’s approach as a lawyer and as a judge. “The first was your father, Sir Ronald Davison QC, referred to by us as ‘RKD’…Like your father, you’ve always had that common touch about you. You appreciate the resilience and character of the average New Zealander,” Akel said.
The second was Justice Peter Mahon, whose portrait Davison displayed prominently in his chambers, “such was your close friendship with him after his [Erebus inquiry] report was delivered”. Akel shared what the late broadcaster Sir Paul Holmes wrote about Davison, in his book Daughters of Erebus: “‘Throughout the royal commission, all through the transcripts, you can see in his interrogation and his cross-examination how patiently and lethally Davison stalks his prey’.”
“Next quote: ‘The brilliant, carefully researched, and tactically savvy young barrister’. Next quote: ‘Maria Collins [Captain Collins’ widow] knew nothing about barristers, but she was starting to realise that Paul Davison was immensely capable. He worked hard, he was sharp and his skills as an interrogator were strongly backed by research and comprehension’,” Akel said.
“And finally: ‘In the final submissions, Paul Davison delivered a moving oration that burned with the anger of a young man who believed in justice.’”
Closing the circle
Sitting before family, friends and members of the profession, and flanked by his judicial colleagues, Davison started his address with a mihi – the same one he gave when he was sworn onto the bench in 2015.
“Despite so much that has happened since then, it’s remarkable just how quickly those years have passed. Today, I find myself at the end of what, for me, has been the most demanding but nevertheless fulfilling chapter in my life in the law,” he said.
A career in the law might have been the “natural consequence” of a childhood exposed to the legal lives of his father and his contemporaries, Davison said. “While in hindsight that may seem obvious, growing up I never thought I would one day become a barrister and Queen’s Counsel, let alone a judge. Inevitably I was influenced by my family environment and by the attitudes and principles of my parents and family.”
Davison spoke about his grandfather, Joseph Davison, whose family had emigrated from Lincolnshire in the east of England and settled in the Ōtaki/Levin area. Sharing diary entries of his grandfather’s service in the First World War, the judge recited one entry made in late December 1917: Joseph, while recovering in a hospital in England, shared a poem the American Ralph Waldo Emerson had crafted.
“This is what he said: ‘Not gold but only men can make a nation great and strong’ – this is a 25-year-old Taranaki boy – ‘Men who for truth and honesty stand fast and suffer long. Brave men who fight while others sleep, who dare while others fly. They build a nation’s pillars deep, and raise them to the sky’.”
When Davison was working as a barrister, Sir Ron asked him several times whether he was interested in becoming a judge. “I now realise he was quietly encouraging me and hoping that I would take on a judicial role and make a contribution to our community as he had done as a judge, and indeed as Joseph had also done by his war service and to build a nation’s pillars.”
Davison changed his mind after his father died in July 2015, realising it was time he stepped up. He was sworn in six months later, “under the familiar and somewhat detached – Chris, you said ‘baleful’, I wouldn’t have used that word. It crossed my mind – expression depicted in my father’s portrait,” he said to chuckles from the court. “An expression by which he appears to be asking me either ‘What’s taken you so long?’ or perhaps, ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to do this?’”
The courtroom had seen so much of the retiring judge’s life, from when he was a boy and a law student, to when he was a lawyer, a Queen’s Counsel, and then a judge. “So it’s entirely fitting that the circle is closed and here, where it all started, is where it comes to an end,” Davison said. “Mr Registrar, I shall retire. Will you please adjourn?”
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