I’m not usually the one talking. My job is to listen. In court, that’s half the battle — listen to what’s said, what’s left unsaid, and what the jury’s faces do when both collide.
But since I’ve been asked to introduce myself, here goes.
I’m Tom Bennett. Criminal barrister. London. My days are lived in Crown Courts that smell of old wood and bad coffee, dressed in a wig and gown that look ridiculous until you realise the weight of them. I cross-examine witnesses, challenge the Crown, and remind juries that justice isn’t as neat as TV makes it out to be.
I wasn’t meant to be here, not on paper. I grew up on a council estate, the kind most people only read about when something’s gone wrong. Nobody hands you a barrister’s wig in those places. You fight for it. You scrape. You make mistakes and learn fast.
That’s the short version.
The longer version is… quieter. I’ve got a flat lined with books that don’t fit on the shelves anymore. A coffee mug that’s permanently stained. Friends who know when to push and when to leave me alone. And, yes, I use a wheelchair. It’s not the headline of my life — just one more fact, like the colour of my eyes or the books on my desk.
The truth is, I don’t usually invite people in. Most see me in court, in control, questions sharp as scalpels. That’s the version I’m comfortable with.
Then Megan Porter appeared on my screen one morning. A name I didn’t know. A friend request I didn’t expect. A message I read twice before deciding how to answer.
I can’t explain why I accepted. Maybe because it was simple. Direct. No angle. Just her.
And if you want to know what happened after that… well, that’s the story.
looking forward to finding out more about a time check out my coming soon page and if you miss Megan instruction check it out