Document Service, Straight Talking Barry (extracted from Busted Again, By Ron McQuilter)

The man could not furnish corroboration of his claim. The case therefore progressed to the High Court in Auckland for the hearing to adjudicate the man bankrupt.

Barry had never given evidence in court before, but he was not fazed. I took him aside and briefed him as best I could on court protocol, just as I do for any new witness, telling them what to expect and to just answer the question and provide nothing more.

“No worries, boss. I got that.” He always called me “Boss.”

We arrived in court, and the man was sitting in the front with his lawyer. I had to pull Barry away when he walked up to the man and told him he was “a prick.”

The case started, and Barry was called to the witness stand. He took the stand looking fresh in his best rugby jumper, collar and tie, and he swore the oath on the Bible. The lawyer who had instructed us asked Barry if he could see the person he had served in court.

Barry pointed to the man in question and said slowly: “That’s the wimp right there.”

“Objection!” shouted the man’s lawyer.

“You’re right, mate, he is objectionable, the cowardly f…ing wimp.” Again Barry pointed to the man. “Mate, why don’t you man up? You know I served you. I have my notes here. I have served you plenty of times. You are nothing but a low-down coward trying to hide behind your lawyer.”

The judge cleared his throat for all to hear. “Mister (Barry), can you please just stick to answering the questions from Mister (the lawyer)...”

Barry raised his hand towards the judge like a stop sign. “Hold on a minute, Judge, I’m just telling this piece of shit here that he needs to stop wasting your valuable time and fess up to the fact I served him. I know I served him, he knows I served him, but he’s just a lying piece of crap and does not deserve our respect.”

I slid down the bench trying to hide my face. The lawyers were speechless. He had only been in the witness box for about two minutes.

Barry then turned to the man’s lawyer: “OK, Dumb Ass, any lies you want to add?”

The man’s lawyer stood there, gobsmacked.

Not the way anyone had expected this to play out.

The judge interrupted Barry. “Are you 100 per cent sure you served the man on that date and at that time?”

“Mate—Judge, I have my notes. I make them every time I go to my car, immediately after serving someone. My dog will testify to that.”

There was not a word to be heard in the court.

“Does anyone have anything further to add?” asked the judge.

Silence.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” said the judge. “Although I have never had evidence presented to me in such a colourful manner, Mr XX, you are hereby declared bankrupt.” He slammed his gavel down.

Not to be outdone, Barry replied: “Good on you, Judge, you made the right decision, mate. He’s a piece of shit.”

One Final Note

Each Friday, the process servers would meet in my office in Newmarket, Auckland, at 12 noon, and there they would be paid. I paid by cheque, but they would bring enough cash with them for lunch. Once they’d been paid, they would go to a Chinese smorgasbord lunch place where they would tuck into a feast for a set price. Yum cha had recently become available in Newmarket, so they decided to give it a try.

Barry ordered several of everything on the menu. When presented with the bill, between them, the process servers did not have enough money to pay it.

Soon I received a call from the woman who owned the restaurant. “You must come now. You must pay.”

I had to quickly get into my car and go to bail them out.