In another life, Shashi could have been earning a bigger paycheck if he’d stuck to his original plan to do corporate law. Similarly, I could have pursued my own dream of being in criminal litigation, after interning at his previous firm Harry Elias LLP (now Eversheds Harry Elias LLP).

But in this life, our paths have merged and we share a fundamental belief: grappling with these grey areas of human nature is what gets us going every day.

It’s also what keeps him in business. Out of all the cases his firm gets, he estimates an even split between white-collar and blue-collar crime, with about half his blue-collar cases pertaining to sexual offences.

One of the most interesting things about being a defence lawyer, he says, is getting to observe the emotions of the characters that come before the courts: the accused, complainant, friends of the complainant, family members, social workers, police officers, and so on.

Therefore the best way to practise litigation is to be a keen observer of humanity. In fact, it might be particularly relevant for sexual offences, since many involve ‘he said, she said’ scenarios, where body language might end up being the giveaway clue to pinpoint someone’s innocence or guilt.

When Shashi is not in court, he likes nothing better than to sit at a cafe and observe people from all walks of life. This seemingly mundane act is never boring, since analysing people’s behaviour and learning about what makes them tick is precisely why he calls himself “lucky” to do this job every day.

“I spend a large amount of time observing the witness. When the evidence is being presented, obviously I listen to how it’s introduced. But mostly I pay attention to the demeanour of the witness, how they react to certain questions, whether they’re sensitive to specific areas of the evidence, their dressing and mannerisms, and the way they look at the judge, the accused, or the gallery for affirmation or validation,” he explains.

The information he gathers helps him decide on the style of questioning he uses to cross-examine each witness.

With some witnesses, for instance, he has to first make them feel comfortable with him as the questioner before he delves into more important or penetrative questions. This could mean employing “soft language” or “kid gloves” to get them to open up to the court—tactics that lawyers tend to adopt with “vulnerable” complainants, depending on their age or their relationship to the accused.

As much as it might not appear so, empathy is a crucial skill for any defence lawyer. Shashi believes the defence must be able to empathise with the complainant, their families, what they’ve gone through, and the difficulties of being grilled in court after their ordeal.

Take, for example, a rape accusation that’s been made a considerable amount of time after the incident. He understands that some people need time to digest what happened to them, to do some soul searching, or to stop blaming themselves for what happened. Others might not want the publicity, or there might be a family member involved.

But empathy doesn’t mean giving someone an easy time or letting them off the hook. It’s simply about treating them with fairness, civility, care, and consideration.

“Asking the complainant why they waited so long to make the report is a question that must be asked, because we need to know why. But it should not always be held against the complainant, nor should the case hang on that alone. The courts and defence lawyers should be fair about it; give it the correct weight,” he explains.

And if, at any time, the witness is rude to the lawyer cross-examining them, Shashi says most judges will themselves intervene. There is no need for a lawyer to descend into a line of questioning designed to embarrass the witness or raise one’s voice as they do in TV dramas, even though this has happened in our courts.

“For the whole system to work, we recognise that the prosecution, defence, and the court must work together. We might do different things, but if one of us isn’t allowed to work properly, the system becomes like a tricycle with one wheel broken. It doesn’t become a bicycle after that, right? It simply stops working,” he says.