The Privileges of a Killer’s Courtroom

The Victorian Court of Appeal has seen its share of dramatic moments, but last week’s hearing in the Adrian Basham case took a disturbing turn. During proceedings, Basham began to disrupt the court and stare down at his victim’s family. This was not just a routine appeal – it was an exercise in entitlement.

Basham, 49, has been serving a life term with a non-parole period of 30 years for murdering his ex-wife, Samantha Fraser. He had repeatedly raped her during their 10-year marriage and then killed her in a gruesome attempt to stage the death as a suicide. What’s disturbing is how Basham was allowed to behave in court, turning around multiple times to glare at Fraser’s family while his lawyers argued that his sentence was “manifestly excessive.”

The grounds for this appeal have some merit. The sentencing judge did determine the case to be in the worst category of murder, and Basham’s lawyers argue that he was wrongly denied the presumption of innocence on certain allegations. However, prosecutor Stephanie Clancy pointed out that the judge had made multiple directions to the jury regarding these allegations – it’s a matter of interpretation, but not necessarily a miscarriage of justice.

Basham’s behavior in court highlights the problematic relationship between convicted killers and the justice system. His actions were a display of contempt for those who are meant to bring him to account for his crimes. His outbursts and glares were an attempt to intimidate and silence those affected by his actions.

The fact that Basham was allowed to remain in court despite his behavior raises questions about the rules and protocols in place for these types of hearings. While Court of Appeal president Justice Karin Emerton ultimately told Basham to leave, it took several interventions – including a warning from the judge herself – to get him to calm down.

This incident is not an isolated one. There have been numerous cases where convicted killers have been allowed to behave disruptively in court with little consequence. It’s as if we’re still grappling with how to treat these individuals in a way that balances their rights with the need for justice and accountability.

In this case, it’s not just about Basham’s sentence – it’s about the message he’s sending to others who might be inspired by his actions. We need to take a hard look at our justice system and ask ourselves: what are we doing to prevent these types of cases from happening in the first place? How can we better support victims and their families during the trial process and afterwards?

This case raises fundamental questions about the values we hold dear as a society. Do we believe that those who commit heinous crimes should be treated with dignity and respect, even when evidence against them is overwhelming? Or do we prioritize the needs and feelings of victims and their families?