The disciplinary case involving claims of sexual assault made against a former Russell McVeagh partner has further tarnished the firm’s reputation, while also offering a reminder of the everyday harassment women face. Sam Sachdeva sat through the week-long hearing, and writes about some of the most notable themes to emerge
Analysis: A boorish, over-exuberant man with a drinking problem who mistakenly crossed the line during a night of revelry – or an opportunistic predator who had overseen a misogynistic team culture and repeatedly lied about his actions?
That was the question facing the disciplinary body tasked with deciding the fate of a former partner at the high-powered law firm Russell McVeagh, although ultimately it will not need to resolve those contrasts to mete out punishment.
By the end of a week-long hearing in front of the Lawyers and Conveyancers Disciplinary Tribunal, the man had admitted to ‘unsatisfactory conduct’ over four of the seven charges laid against him by the national lawyers standards committee.
Three more charges are left for the tribunal members to determine, as well as whether any of the seven meet the higher standard of ‘misconduct’ that would bring more severe consequences – including, potentially, the end of his ability to practise law in New Zealand.
It is a disciplinary case almost without precedent for the legal profession, and one which could have wide-reaching implications.
‘A foreboding, horrible thing to do’
But the hearing, first and foremost, was about the four female complainants who alleged the partner had groped them at Russell McVeagh’s firmwide Christmas party in 2015, and a fifth summer clerk who engaged in consensual activity with the partner at his house but did not take part in proceedings.
They have waited a long time for the wheels of justice to turn, and now had to recount, in great detail, the moments that have left many of them still requiring counselling, mistrustful of senior male colleagues, and forever changed.
A screen shielded them from seeing the man as they gave evidence, and some broke into tears at points as they re-lived the night; shown a Google virtual ‘walkthrough’ of the venue where the party took place, the first complainant said: “Rewalking those steps feels like a really foreboding, horrible thing to do.”
Dale La Hood, presenting the standards committee’s case, described them as “very impressive young women…[who] gave impressive accounts, coherent, sensible, fair accounts of what happened to them” – and it was hard to disagree.
Aside from minor details, which several fairly attributed to the passage of time, the women – and other witnesses who supported their claims – were consistent on both the partner’s actions and how they made them feel.
The man’s lawyer, Julian Long, did take a respectful approach to their cross-examinations, apologising at the outset for the circumstances they found themselves in – but he nonetheless challenged them on some of their claims.
Why had the third complainant described the man as variously grabbing, caressing, and moving his hand across her bottom when those motions weren’t all the same? Couldn’t the man have just been “trying to be fun” when he allegedly kissed the fourth complainant on the side of her face?
But aside from minor details, which several fairly attributed to the passage of time, the women – and other witnesses who supported their claims – were consistent on both the partner’s actions and how they made them feel.
“We all know when something is appropriate and not appropriate intuitively, and this was something that made a group of people, myself included, feel uncomfortable,” as one male summer clerk said of witnessing the man touch the breast of the second complainant.
An ‘unreserved’ apology with strings attached
In contrast, it became abundantly clear by the end of the week that the partner’s own recollection of events was not as sound as he may have wished it to appear.
The man sat quietly by his lawyers throughout proceedings, following the written evidence on his computer and taking copious notes of the witnesses’ testimony.
When it came time for him to take the witness stand, he talked of growing up without a sense of fitting in anywhere, and of developing a dependency on alcohol which ultimately became his undoing.
“They, the clerks, deserve my unreserved apologies. I apologise unreservedly to them,” he said at the start of his evidence.
But early in a methodical, gruelling cross-examination by La Hood which ran for more than four hours, the partner conceded his apology did in fact come with strings attached; “I cannot apologise for something, for the aspects that I do not think happened or that may have been misinterpreted,” he put it.
Given the ex-partner confessed to being “10 out of 10 drunk… probably 11” by the end of the night, La Hood poured scorn on the idea he was in any position to credibly rebut the claims made against him.
“I accept that risk, I accept that piecing together the jigsaw puzzle I’ve done it in the most favourable way.”
Fielding a question from tribunal member Paul Heath QC, the partner essentially admitted that his recollections were based more on how he wanted to have behaved, than how he actually did.
“I accept that risk, I accept that piecing together the jigsaw puzzle I’ve done it in the most favourable way.”
There were also some lines of defence which could charitably be described as curious, to say the least.
A physiotherapist offered evidence about an injury to the man’s left hand which meant he had limited sensation in most of his fingers – but subsequently agreed the damage would not have had affected his ability to reach out and put his arm out around something (or someone).
Then there was the suggestion that the ex-partner had not asked one of the summer clerks to come home with him, but to “come to The Horn” – an alternative name for El Horno, a bar on the Courtenay Place strip popular with some of the lawyers at the time.
It may have been plausible given his slurred speech – but as La Hood pointed out, that did not excuse the fact he made whatever comments while attempting to force his way into a taxi with the woman, having earlier touched her on the breast without consent.
It was also a testing week for Russell McVeagh.
A reasonable amount of what was raised during proceedings has previously been disclosed in some form, but reliving it all in greater detail was nonetheless bruising: during the course of the week one former Russell McVeagh lawyer remarked to Newsroom, (mostly) tongue in cheek, that the person was planning to redact the organisation’s name from the person’s CV.
The complainants and other female lawyers who supported them spoke of their concerns being brushed aside, of being treated as “broken and hysterical” as one woman put it.
Worse, another witness said she had been warned about the consequences of bringing the man’s actions to the attention of the firm.
Both sides argued, albeit to different ends, the man was a product of Russell McVeagh’s culture.
La Hood said the intent of his behaviour towards the summer clerks was made clear by the sexualised team culture he had overseen, with a sense of entitlement encouraged by the fact he had seen similar behaviour from other partners and senior staff go unpunished in the past.
It would be unfair to suggest Russell McVeagh was a bad apple unrepresentative of a wider problem, when other firms – and indeed, other professions altogether – have had to reckon with their systemic deficiencies when it comes to sexual harassment. But equally, that does not absolve it of the very real failures to protect the staff under its care.
Long argued Russell McVeagh had provided his client no meaningful mentoring or professional development, with the partners instead all too eager to exploit his reputation as a socialiser to help win clients and attract new hires over drinks.
The partner spoke of attending his first firm Christmas party at an island venue, with dancers for entertainment and dwarves as wait staff.
He likened it to something out of a James Bond movie – but the debaucherous excesses depicted in The Wolf of Wall Street also sprang to mind.
It would be unfair to suggest Russell McVeagh was a bad apple unrepresentative of a wider problem, when other firms – and indeed, other professions altogether – have had to reckon with their systemic deficiencies when it comes to sexual harassment.
But equally, that does not absolve it of the very real failures to protect the staff under its care. Earlier this year, the firm claimed it had addressed close to 95 percent of the recommendations from the Bazley report – but there seems to be scepticism in some quarters, not unreasonably, about whether it can and will change its practices to the degree that is needed.
Despite the serious subject matter, there were small moments of levity.
Speaking about the atmosphere on the dance floor at the Christmas party, a male summer clerk mentioned Wagon Wheel as one of the night’s singalongs.
“Oh yeah – how’s that one go?” Long asked (any karaoke performance was nipped in the bud by tribunal chairwoman Judge Dale Clarkson, who pointed out they were already running tight on time).
“It’s not expected that you would get groped when you go out to town but it’s not uncommon,” the first complainant said, explaining why she took issue with an HR manager likening the man’s behaviour to “what happens in a pub on a Saturday night”.
The same clerk elicited some stifled giggles from the public gallery when he recounted getting so drunk at one Russell McVeagh function that he passed out on the train to his parents’ house, then again on their kitchen table; “I recall this well because my grandparents were staying with us when this happened and they were very unimpressed.”
There was some discussion of the summer clerks’ costume for the Christmas party: they donned cricket whites and handyman tools to go as ‘match-fixers’, in a nod to the high-profile court case that year involving former Black Cap Chris Cairns.
More depressingly, there was a reminder of the sexual harassment (and worse) that for women is a predictable feature of their lives.
“It’s not expected that you would get groped when you go out to town but it’s not uncommon,” the first complainant said, explaining why she took issue with an HR manager likening the man’s behaviour to “what happens in a pub on a Saturday night”.
“I wanted to make that really clear, because the fact that this happened at a work function – I mean this shouldn’t happen at all, right? This absolutely is horrible, but it’s part of being a young woman and I hate it – but the fact it happened at a work function is the really damaging thing.”
The male summer clerk had a similar appraisal: “To be totally frank, it’s not surprising to go out for a night out and have one of your friends get groped by someone in a nightclub or whatever.”
Where to draw the line
It may be unsurprising, but it is also unacceptable, as La Hood said in his closing address.
“The fact that indecent assaults happen in nightclubs around the country every Friday and Saturday night doesn’t mean they’re not indecent assaults.”
But there still seemed to be some wariness on all sides about exactly how far the tribunal could and should go in its ruling, given the potential to set a precedent for subsequent charges.
Would a lawyer putting their hand on another lawyer’s waist be grounds for discipline, and what if it was their shoulder instead? Should any consensual acts between a senior lawyer and one more junior lead to action, or only in cases of a serious power imbalance?
“This is the first occasion this sort of issue has had to be looked at – we’re going to have to be very careful in the way we express ourselves as to where lines get drawn … there’s still the need for some care in not making it, not putting the standard too high,” Heath said.
They may steer away from setting a standard altogether, with La Hood noting they could simply make a decision based on the specific context before them, rather than a “guideline case”.
That may be little consolation for the young women who were so badly supported when they needed help – but it is a tribute to their courage that so much change – and hopefully meaningful change at that – has taken place.
That could disappoint some wanting a brighter line for misconduct, but the consequences for the partner remain very real nonetheless, including being struck off as a lawyer in New Zealand.
Another complication, as Long pointed out, is the fact the partner’s actions occurred at a time when the Law Society’s rules of conduct were unclear and ineffective, as a working group led by Dame Silvia Cartwright concluded.
New, more stringent rules are due to kick in at the start of July, including a requirement for law practices to notify the Law Society within 14 days if a lawyer is issued a written warning or dismissed for bullying, discrimination or harassment.
“Tribunals in the future will be able to confidently not have the arguments that we’re having, because the spectrum of bad behavior in this area, from unsatisfactory through to misconduct, is now clear,” as Long put it.
That may be little consolation for the young women who were so badly supported when they needed help – but it is a tribute to their courage that so much change – and hopefully meaningful change at that – has taken place.
