A few years on, we set up the Mason Institute in Ken’s honour. We named the Mason Institute blog ‘the Motley Coat’ after Ken’s inaugural lecture entitled ‘Ambitions for a Motely Coat’. I am sitting with a copy of the transcript of that lecture, delivered on 28th February 1974, open beside me as I write. Ken borrowed the title, taken from Shakespeare’s As You Like It, in which he starred as Jacques in a school production many years earlier. Ken reminded those attending his lecture that in the play, Jacques met a jester who impressed him, upon returning to his friends, Jacques proclaimed:
‘and in his brain,
which is as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage,
he has strange places crammed with observation,
the which he vents in mangled form
‘Oh!’, said Jacques, ‘oh! That I were a fool; I am ambitious for a motley coat.’
Ken concluded his lecture with the following words:
‘I have tried to show you some ways in which I would hope to justify my appointment by transforming the rather monochrome, unvarying cloth of traditional forensic medicine into what I believe to be a fresh, multicoloured and multi-directional motely coat of community service, resting on a broad base of service to the community in general and the police in particular, fed intellectually by contact with the students of many disciplines and extending arms which genuinely welcome and are anxious to provide a full service of co-operation’.
Given the numerous and vast contributions which Ken made throughout his academic career, it is safe to say that he was certainly successful in his endeavour of transforming forensic medicine into a fresh, multicoloured and multidirectional coat.
Ken was also very much successful in extending his arms out to students and colleagues alike. He was particularly generous with his students, whom he inspired, adored and indulged with endless patience and enthusiasm. I’d often leave his office with another book which he thought I might find interesting, or a new angle to explore in my work, and always with the feeling that my own thoughts and perspectives mattered too. He was constantly encouraging and very much open to genuine debate. He taught me that even after 97 years, it is perfectly acceptable to say ‘I don’t actually know the answer to that’ or ‘perhaps I have changed my mind’, and the importance of listening to others, always with respect.
I remember the first time that I visited Ken in his office, no longer as a student but as a colleague, the year following completion of my LLM. I knocked on his office door one lunchtime, and was greeted by Ken, sitting in his chair, with the cricket blaring on the radio in the background. He was
nibbling away at some of his favourite Jamaican ginger cake. Every so often he would like to have a little rant (ranging from deeply philosophical musings, right up to trivialities on the diminishing quality of Jamaican ginger cake). Often such rants were premised with ‘the only bee in my bonnet is...’.
It transpired that Ken had quite a few bees in his bonnet, all of which were a delight to hear about. His reflections and observations were so insightful and more often than not, injected with a good dose of Ken’s signature humour. Alongside his ability to laugh and to make others laugh, in all of our conversations, no matter what the topic, no matter how Ken was feeling, he approached his colleagues and students with openness, humility and kindness. What also struck me about these rants was that Ken would often end them with a question, he honestly wanted to know what others thought, he was just as interested in listening to and learning from others as he was in sharing his own opinions.
I was always so impressed with Ken’s eagerness and tireless efforts to keep abreast of the latest developments in medical jurisprudence, particularly when office visits turned into home visits. He was keen to discuss the latest case law or journal articles over a few glasses of Bombay Sapphire (indeed that’s when the discussions became even more interesting!)
Ken had so many bees in his bonnet because he genuinely cared, he genuinely wanted to make an impact, to continue in his service to the community. This was evidenced after his ‘official’ retirement, which really only meant that he ceased teaching and continued to write from home. Ken never ceased in transforming the motley coat. I look forward to working with colleagues within and beyond the Mason Institute, in continuing Ken’s legacy, inspired by his dedication to transformation, multidisciplinarity, dialogue, engagement with students, open arms and community service. Now what bee is in your bonnet?....
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