No savings, no income, no option but to plead guilty: The poor people being fined hundreds of pounds for stealing food

Magistrates are reluctantly handing out court charges to those who can't afford to pay them. Emily Dugan sees first-hand the people affected

Defendant Keith Smyth has no income whatsoever. His solicitor called the charge 'a nasty government tax' (Micha Theiner)

Keith Smyth has no savings, no income and a serious addiction to opiates. He also has what he describes as “full-blown Aids”. Yesterday, the 40-year-old, from Haringey, north London, was in the dock at Highbury Corner Magistrates' Court for stealing a few steaks and a couple of 70p Drumstick lollipops from Sainsbury's.

For generations, magistrates have imposed financial penalties by balancing the severity of the crime with the defendant's ability to pay. This year, that changed. In April, the coalition introduced the Criminal Courts Charge, meaning anyone convicted of a crime has to pay a compulsory flat fee for the upkeep of the courts.

Smyth pleaded guilty, meaning the court charge he faced was £150, a fraction of what it would have been had he denied the crime. Smyth has been assessed for sickness benefits but they have not yet come through, meaning he has no means of paying any fines.

The magistrates decide to give him a community sentence for 12 months and order him to take part in six months' drug rehabilitation. But that cannot be the end of his punishment; they have no choice but to impose a hefty bill on him.

Toby Simon, chair of the three magistrates, adds up the numbers on a pad in front of him, pausing to ask the clerk for advice. “You can't do anything about the court charge,” the clerk cautions under his breath.

The reasons for their reticence to give Smyth a financial burden are obvious. With his shirt hanging off and strikingly sunken cheekbones, Smyth looks unlikely to find employment any time soon.

After a while Mr Simon reads out the list of fees, reaching £295. A £60 victim surcharge, costs of £85 and - the biggest penalty of all - the £150 court charge.

Smyth's lawyer, Robert Kaim, who had been trying to explain that Smyth had no income whatsoever to pay, stands to make his final comments to the bench on the charge: “It's a nasty government tax, but there it is,” he says, with a look of resigned frustration.

The Independent revealed yesterday that around 50 magistrates have already resigned in protest at the charge, which is widely seen as punitive by those working within the criminal justice system. Judges and senior lawyers are among those joining a growing opposition to the penalty, which they say encourages the innocent to plead guilty and unfairly penalises those whose crimes are motivated by poverty.

The idea was to make criminals pay for the upkeep of the courts but the charge's inflexibility has prompted one leading barrister to warn that it could actually “trigger more crime” by putting impossible financial burdens on those with no means of paying.

Spending the day in Court One at Highbury Corner magistrates' court yesterday it was clear that the majority of petty offenders passing through have no hope of paying. The north London court serves four boroughs that include some of the most deprived pockets of Britain: Haringey, Enfield, Islington and Camden.

George Harding, 76, represents himself. It was his first-ever court appearance and he looks abashed as he walks slowly up to the stand using a wooden stick. Dressed in a smart blue suit, with his white hair and long grey beard combed, he pleads guilty to a charge of drink driving. His income is around £14,000 a year, which the magistrates take into account - along with his guilty plea - as they impose a £270 fine and ban him from driving for nine months.

The real sting comes next. “But I'm afraid there are other charges on top,” Mr Simon warns. “There's £85 for the Crown Prosecution Service, a £27 victim surcharge and a £150 criminal courts charge, which pays for all this lot. So the total payable is £532”. After accepting the fees with dignity, Harding thanks the court for being “so polite and pleasant” to him and makes his slow way out.

Shortly after Harding's case comes a man accused of stealing a car. He had a serious chest infection on the day of his hearing last month and the court ruled in his absence, meaning he faces a £1,000 court charge - on top of other penalties. His solicitor, Harry Price-Smith, successfully manages to get a new hearing booked after producing medical evidence of the man's visit to hospital on the day of the previous court date. Mr Price-Smith looks visibly relieved: “He couldn't afford £1,000, that's for sure.”

Next up is Charles Miller, 29, a homeless man who shoplifted some meat from a Co-op garage. He is at St Mungo's homeless shelter and is trying to turn around a serious drug addiction problem. Mr Simon says: “We're going to take a lenient attitude in the hope it will help you stay on the straight and narrow”. The magistrates opt not to make him pay a victim surcharge or the prosecution costs, but they are stuck with £55 compensation to the shop and the criminal courts charge, meaning he is still ordered to pay £205.

One of the last cases of the day is Sally Davin Easey, a 38-year-old with mental health difficulties who is recovering from addiction with the help of several charities and a long-suffering mother. Easey is charged with breaching an Asbo which specified there were certain streets she could not walk down.

At a hearing just a few weeks ago a judge lifted the Asbo, saying it was no longer necessary as she was on the path to recovery, but according to law the breach still has to be punished.

Rocking slightly in the dock, with a pinched face and her cardigan falling from her shoulders, she listens as Mr Simon explains the penalties he has to award. He waives costs and sets the fine low - at £50, with a £20 victim surcharge. But on explaining the next part he appears at his most uncomfortable. “I'm afraid the court has to apply the law as instructed by government,” he intones regretfully, stating that she must also pay a £180 criminal court charge.

At this point Easey's mother, who has remained silent at the back, clambers to her feet. She explains her daughter is in debt for her housing benefit and council tax and that she is just getting on top of her finances. Can't they do anything to bring down the £250 in charges?

The best the magistrates can do is suggest it is deducted from her sickness benefits at a “small amount” of £5 a week. Standing in the dock, Sally Easey shakes her head and says, as politely as she can: “Five pounds is quite a lot to some people.”