Prasanna Jayawardena: Excellence Tempered With Kindness

Justice Jayawardena was a man who was deeply devoted to those who worked for him, and this, in turn, inspired devotion from them. His Arachchi Jagath was family to him, and he would often jovially make plans to take Jagath to his family home in Anuradhapura upon his retirement.

by Sanjit Dias-22019-12-29

 

It is a difficult task to capture the life of such a great and accomplished man in a short tribute. However, I will endeavour to do so by attempting to channel the methodical approach that was integral to Justice Jayawardena’s approach to his judgments and work on the bench.

 

My first interaction with Justice Jayawardena was a phone call to set up an interview at his home. Although I adopted my most formal demeanor, I soon realized this was not a man for unnecessary formalities. When we met, we debated points of law in some of the writing I presented, and then discussed some of his recent judgments. He made it clear that he was looking for someone who was “easy-going” like he was (or as he seemed to think he was), and with whom he could have a good argument – someone who would not “roll over and surrender” at the first word from him. I appreciated, at this early point, that he was humble enough to look for a person who would potentially challenge him and expose his blind-spots. We then discussed his writing. He said his main goal was to write “pretty law”; in short – to write judgments that would be sound law and make for good reading, so that practitioners, students and the public alike might actually read them in their entirety.

 

From my very first day on the job, I was struck by what a deeply devout man he was. He would not leave home without prayers at a shrine. His faithful Arachchi Jagath would bring freshly plucked flowers to his chamber every day, and it was his daily routine (almost without exception) to place these flowers at a small shrine in his chamber and say prayers before he left for the bench – a ritual all too familiar to the junior judges who would wait patiently in the ante-room to his chamber until he finished.

 

We shared a love for wordplay, and he would enliven the courtroom with the occasional well-placed pun. He would return to the chamber after sittings and share the jokes and witticisms he had made, and his only regret was how often the courtroom – perhaps taking matters too seriously – failed to appreciate his wit. On one occasion, after relating a particularly clever bit of wordplay which involved quoting the Bard, he lamented that it was greeted by an utterly silent court! On another occasion, while refining a draft, I remarked of a particular line “But sir, doesn’t this sound like you’re making a value judgment?” to which he replied, “Of course – but I’m the judge aren’t I?” There were many such light moments in his daily routine.

 

That Justice Jayawardena approached his work with such good humour is not to say that he took his work lightly. On the contrary, he felt the burden of office quite heavily, constantly reminding me that we were in the Supreme Court, and that we had to strive for nothing short of perfection and excellence in everything we did. It was clear to anyone who entered his chamber that he was a perfectionist – not a book or pen was out of place, and he would often absent-mindedly attend to an errant chair. He took this perfectionism onto the bench, ensuring that he read every brief coming up before him, studying them in even closer detail whenever he was presiding. In more high-profile cases, at which I would sit in court, his first question upon returning to his chamber was how the bench “looked” – how the judges, himself in particular, had conducted themselves before counsel. He relentlessly pursued perfection in all aspects of being a judge.

 

He took this same perfectionism to his approach to writing judgments. This meant many trips wheeling the trolley to the library to bring back piles of law reports and authoritative texts he had requested, which he would take home with him and pore over late into the night. In terms of the writing, this meant judgments going into fifth or sixth drafts, ensuring that every precedent was quoted exactly as in the relevant law report, and repeated attempts to tighten the language used. We would have disagreements over his writing style and use of punctuation – and while he was flexible on some points, we agreed to tolerate his idiosyncrasies in others! I once confided in him that the worst thing we could do was to finalise a judgment by Friday evening, for he was bound to return on Monday morning with further ‘final’ tweaks which he had decided to make over the weekend!

 

Then there were the long days and late nights at his home, when he was keen to capitalize on momentum he had built working on a draft, in order to finish it. These were fuelled by meals and snacks provided by Aunty Amala (Mrs. Jayawardena) and Banda (his faithful cook of many years), and punctuated by conversations about law and life. More than anything else, Justice Jayawardena was keen to ensure that he fulfilled his part in avoiding law’s delays by making sure his judgments went out in time. For this purpose, he maintained a book with a table of cases he had reserved for judgment, with the dates of argument and written submissions. He strove to ensure that the judgment would be handed out within a reasonable time from the date of argument. The multitude of judgments to his name in about three and a half years on the bench stand as a testament to his relentless work ethic. Even as we walked into his chamber at home on the tragic day of his passing, what should we find on his desk, but an open brief on which he had no doubt been working in the hours before being admitted to hospital?

 

Justice Jayawardena took a great deal of personal pride in his work, but he never let his ego or his own sense of personal legacy get in the way of justice. When dealing with an area of law in which he knew one of his brother or sister judges had more expertise, it was not uncommon for him to send them his drafts to see if he had treated the law well – this, even if they were not on the bench before which the case was argued. This humility invited other judges to share drafts with him, and he would always ensure that he promptly gave them feedback. Similarly, on several occasions, he chose to play the role of unsung hero in the greater interest of justice and the rule of law.

 

Justice Jayawardena was a man who was deeply devoted to those who worked for him, and this, in turn, inspired devotion from them. His Arachchi Jagath was family to him, and he would often jovially make plans to take Jagath to his family home in Anuradhapura upon his retirement. Jagath many times related with pride how Justice Jayawardena had paid him a visit to his village when he was recovering from a serious illness. Justice Jayawardena once told me that one must always take care of those who take care of you, and he set the standard by his kindness to all who surrounded him on a daily basis – from Jagath, to his driver Indika, to the police officers assigned to him. We all received gifts from him for the Sinhala and Tamil New Year, and chocolates whenever he returned from foreign travel. We too were wise as to how to give him gifts – on his birthday we would stream into his chamber, wish him and gift him chocolate – a personal weakness known to many!

 

Amidst this busy lifestyle, he was deeply committed to his family, and would make his best effort to free himself for family events and trips. He had the ideal companion in Aunty Amala, with whom he would debate points of law in his judgments and rehearse his speeches on their morning walks. My thoughts go out to his family, who will miss the many roles he played in their lives.

 

I was fortunate to have worked with Justice Jayawardena for a year preceding his untimely passing, and these memories therefore represent a mere fraction of what was a full life and illustrious career. His death is a loss to the legal profession and to this country. However, he leaves behind an example for each of us to aspire to: of sacrificial service to profession and country in leaving behind a far more lucrative private practice to accept a judicial appointment; of setting the highest standards in administering justice on the bench with fierce impartiality; and above all, of kindness, gentleness and humility in his interactions with all. In death, as in life, he is now safely numbered among the “bold spirits” of whom Lord Denning spoke, and we are all fortunate to have been served by him in this fleeting life. May he rest in peace.