I’ve been a legal aid lawyer for 28 years and I’ve just had my first shed case. The tenant, a 22-year-old care leaver, had a video on his phone of the place he lived in. The small screen showed the outside of a shed he shared with the rats at the bottom of his landlord’s garden. He was paying £650 per month.
Inside was worse. There was no heating and very basic bathing facilities. He told me the plumbing didn’t work properly and the toilet was frequently blocked. His only cooking appliance was a microwave. It was cold and damp and it was summer. All was fine until he lost his job and his landlord wouldn’t let him claim benefit. How could he – it was a shed.
The people I help are the real Daniel Blakes. They sit on the outside of everyday, acceptable society, they are invisible and unheard. I try to give them a voice.
I work in a law centre representing people who are at risk of eviction and homelessness. It’s a mixture of casework and advocacy in court. I’m the duty solicitor at the local county court every Friday, representing tenants who are facing eviction.
In the past 10 years I’ve helped at least 5,000 people try to keep their homes. I’m pretty successful but it’s challenging. I’ve got maybe 15 minutes to meet the tenant, gain her trust, assess the case, make representations to the landlord, try to agree terms of payment and then go before the judge. I usually represent at least seven tenants in one morning. It’s fast-paced but rewarding. I know I make a difference.
I see lots of evictions and I’ve heard many stories. Like the tenant with one light bulb who moved it from room-to-room at night. Her benefit had been stopped and she was relying on a food bank to eat. Or the tenant who was being evicted for rent arrears because of the bedroom tax. Her housing benefit had been reduced because she had a spare room: her daughter had died earlier that year, while on holiday with her grandparents, leaving her bedroom empty. When I heard this I wanted to cry. I couldn’t believe she’d ever got out of bed again, let alone made it to court.
I never get used to the stories. They are increasingly desperate. Most of the rent arrears cases I see have a benefit problem at their heart, but there’s no legal aid for advice or to challenge these decisions. In 2013 the government cut legal aid, removing access to advice for most areas of law. If I’m able to get the court to adjourn the case to sort out benefit issues there is nowhere to send the clients for help. Housing possession days are crisis management as tenants are unable to find a solicitor beforehand. It’s like trying to fix a leak with a roll of sticky tape.
This government proposes to deal with the rising cost of possession cases in court by reducing the amount solicitors are paid per case. As I write, the government is “consulting” on competitive tendering which will drive down the price and, with it, the quality. It won’t be cost-effective to send an experienced solicitor like me to court.
But legal aid lawyers are, if nothing else, resilient. We look for creative ways to keep people in their homes, using public law, equality and human rights legislation to challenge decision making. And it can be a lot of fun. I’ve met some weird and wonderful people: the nun with the 4ft replica of the Virgin Mary who told the judge she fancied him.
I often get asked how I keep doing what I’m doing. I suppose the answer is that I’m still passionate: about social justice, about my clients, about how the law can be used to make people’s lives better and change society. I think what we learnt from the film I, Daniel Blake is it can happen to anyone. You never know what’s happened to that person, so don’t judge. There is always a story beneath the story.
This series aims to give a voice to the staff behind the public services that are hit by mounting cuts and rising demand, and so often denigrated by the press, politicians and public. If you would like to write an article for the series, contact kirstie.brewer@theguardian.com
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