The Cat Trial of the Century

On this blog, I have covered several cases revolving around disputed identity: is person “X” really person “Y”, or aren’t they? I have a great fondness for such stories, as they can make some of the most fascinating riddles.

So, you can imagine how pleased I was to come across one famed court case where the center of the mystery was a cat. And when I learned the feline in question bore the glorious name of “Marmaduke Gingerbits,” I knew I had been blessed by the Blogger Gods.

The tale of this four-legged Martin Guerre began in Woodford Bridge, Essex, in August of 1983. Marmaduke was the beloved pet of PC John Sewell and his wife Anna.

When the Sewells went away for vacation, they left Marmaduke in the care of a friend. On their return, they were met with the worst news a pet owner can receive: soon after they left, the cat disappeared!

Immediately after Marmaduke vanished, a large, handsome ginger cat began visiting Doreen Smythe, one of Sewell’s neighbors. One evening, she saw another neighbor, Monty Cohen, trying to catch the cat. He told Mrs. Smythe that he thought it was his missing pet, Sonny. Although she noticed that the animal displayed a curious aversion to Cohen, Smythe allowed him to take the cat. Or try to, at any rate. “The cat wouldn’t go near him,” she later testified. “He crouched and was spitting and laid on the floor, all hunched up.”

Soon after this, she noticed a flier in a shop window offering a reward for Marmaduke’s return. It included a photo of the fugitive. Mrs. Smythe saw that he was a dead ringer for Mr. Cohen’s “Sonny.” She immediately contacted the Sewells.

When the couple went to Cohen’s house, they noted that the neighbor was “hostile,” but Cohen reluctantly showed them the cat. “The cat immediately turned his head and we knew at that moment that it was our animal,” said Sewell. “He was struggling to get free and get away from Cohen towards myself and my wife.”

Despite this, Cohen refused to hand over the cat. Sewell and his wife got hold of the cat’s front legs, but Cohen stubbornly refused to let go of the rest of the animal. The constable whipped out his warrant card, showing that it was now a matter for Her Majesty’s law enforcement. A friend of Cohen’s, who said he was a black belt in karate, responded by throwing kicks and punches. Cohen and Sewell began pounding each other. The constable called for backup and put Cohen in an armlock.

It was war.

Sewell promptly had Cohen arrested on charges of cat-napping and assault, and the case of Sewell vs. Cohen--quickly dubbed by the British press as “The Cat Trial of the Century” and "The Love-Tug"--was heard in Snaresbrook Crown Court in February 1984.

The Guardian, June 15, 1984, via Newspapers.com

Judge G.N. Worthington opened the proceedings by ordering that the disputed cat be shown to the jury. “What is his name,” he asked.

“Marmaduke Gingerbits, Your Honor,” Sewell replied.

“Marmaduke, who?” Worthington said bemusedly. He eyed certain areas of the cat’s anatomy. “Where are the ginger bits?”

Sewell struggled to answer the question in a manner befitting the dignity of a British courtroom. “Unfortunately, he was christened before he had his operation…”

Cohen continued to insist that Exhibit A was his “Sonny.” Sewell pointed out that Marmaduke has a distinct mark on his right eyelid that was identical to the cat now in court. Marmaduke’s vet gave testimony, agreeing that the cat was “very likely” to be the same one he had treated. Photographs of Marmaduke were introduced into evidence, and compared carefully to the Claimant.

The jury found Cohen guilty of assault, but punted on the matter of the cat. Judge Worthington decided that his court had no jurisdiction to decide whether the Claimant was Marmaduke or Sonny. Ever since Cohen’s arrest, the center of the dispute had been kept in neutral territory--a local cattery--and the Judge expressed concern at the escalating public cost of keeping the cat in custody. It had already amounted to three hundred pounds. Cohen’s counsel immediately asked for the cat to be given to his client. He pointed out that when police officers arrived at Cohen’s house, they learned that his rival was a policeman. “From start to finish Mr. Sewell, working with other police officers, was on the inside rail, so to speak...There was no proper consideration of Mr. Cohen’s account.”

“I am not going to deal with the question of access to a cat,” the judge sighed.

The Guardian, February 28, 1984

Both sides were determined to fight on. In early March 1984, in the presence of cameras from both the BBC and ITV--the issue of this cat’s identity had by now become a nationwide cause célèbre--Cohen and the Sewells went to Redbridge Magistrates Court, each side applying for custody of the cat. A date was set for later that month, but when the magistrates heard that the Sewells had already started proceedings in the County Court, the case was dismissed.

The issue of the cat’s ownership had become a complicated legal puzzle. The Sewells had adjourned the civil case pending the outcome of the criminal proceedings against Cohen, because, no matter what the civil court decided, the cat would have to remain with a third party until the criminal trial was over. If Cohen had been convicted of theft, the cat would be automatically given to the Sewells, making the civil case unnecessary. In the meantime, Cohen went to the Police Complaints Board, alleging that when he was arrested, police officers “mishandled” him. He announced that he would file an injunction if the Sewells were allowed access to “his” cat. (Cohen accused Sewell of paying secret visits to the feline and giving him biscuits to win his affections.) Cohen would have also liked to take civil action against the enemy camp, but he could not do so on legal aid, and, being unemployed, could not afford the costs himself.

Finally, in June 1984--after months of the UK holding its collective breath over the true identity of this mystery cat--these two (in the words of Philadelphia Inquirer reporter Jane Shoemaker) “otherwise sane and normal men” appeared in Bow Street Courthouse to learn which of them would have the honor of residing with the UK’s most controversial cat. Marmaduke/Sonny was present as well, reclining in a cage on a “fur-flattering” white blanket, and no doubt thinking uncomplimentary thoughts about human intelligence.

Marmaduke’s vet made another appearance, giving the vital testimony that Sewell’s cat was not allowed to drink milk. It disagreed with him.

The pivotal question: ”Did the cat present in the courtroom drink milk?”

A tense silence fell over the packed courtroom. They knew the cat’s destiny rested on the answer.

His current custodians testified that he did, but it gave him indigestion.

Game over. Registrar John Platt awarded the cat--now legally established as “Marmaduke”--to the Sewells. He stated that the Sewells produced sufficient evidence to show this was their cat. He believed that there truly had been a ginger cat named “Sonny,” and that Cohen genuinely, but erroneously, believed this was his lost pet. An honest mistake rather than sinister catnapping. He also ruled that Sewell had trespassed on Cohen’s home, and that he had had no right to put an armlock on Cohen when they had tussled over the cat. He ordered the Sewells to pay Cohen fifty pounds for the assault and trespass, and two hundred pounds of his costs. In return, Cohen was ordered to pay 80 per cent of the Sewells’ court costs. (In a separate matter, Cohen was also fined for puncturing the tires on four police cars.) The hearing was estimated to have cost over a thousand pounds, in addition to the five thousand pounds for the Snaresbrook hearing. This was, of course, not counting the expenses of keeping Marmaduke in custody as a material witness for months.

This hitherto humble ginger had become the costliest cat in Great Britain.

The Guardian, June 15, 1984

Marmaduke and the Sewells had a tearful reunion in the courtroom, covered in loving detail on BBC radio. As for Cohen, he too cried, but in sorrow, not joy. He fled the court, too upset to even speak to reporters. The Sewells left without comment, as well. A tabloid had bought their life story, and their contract barred them from speaking to anyone else.

I believe the court made the right decision. This cat who, in the manner of Helen of Troy, launched a thousand lawsuits, almost certainly did indeed belong to the Sewells.

However, I also have sympathy for Mr. Cohen. He would not have gone through this long legal hell if he had not been sincerely convinced this was his cat. So we are left with one mystery that, I fear, is fated to go unsolved: Where, oh, where, is his Sonny?

#OnThisDay 1984: The trial of the century reached its thrilling conclusion: Who was the real owner of Marmaduke Gingerbits the cat? pic.twitter.com/OznZLDFcQ0

— BBC Archive (@BBCArchive) June 14, 2019