Almost thirty years ago, in my very early twenties (and yes – sadly you can work out my age from this) I was a witness to a brutal assault at Camden Lock Market.

I was a design and photography student and out photographing all human life for a college project.

There was a scuffle and the sound of glass breaking just near where I was standing. A man had smashed a bottle against a pole to break it and was threatening to “glass up” a man and his wife.

It became clear that the man with the bottle had tried to steal something out of the woman’s bag, and her husband had caught him and seen him off.

But the perpetrator had returned to attack them. It was a violent struggle – smashing into the stalls and spilling out, on to and up Camden High Road.

As I had my camera with me, I thought I would photograph what was happening as evidence for the police. I followed the fight up the road until the police arrived and offered myself as a witness, having seen the whole thing from start to finish.

Not unnaturally, the police asked for the film. To my horror, when I opened the camera, there was no film in it. A great photographer, I was not!

But I had still seen first hand the whole thing from start to finish, film or no film.

I had never been to court. I didn’t have a clue. It was a huge, cavernous room – formal, intimidating and an isolating and alien environment. I had never spoken in public and had no knowledge of court procedure.

The barrister for the defence made mincemeat of me. He said (to put it bluntly) that a girl who didn’t have the wit to put film in her camera was clearly an unreliable witness.

Now, the camera was borrowed from the college and should have been supplied with film ready, but did I open my mouth to defend myself? No.

Did I say – but I was still an eyewitness, I saw first hand the whole thing? No. I was so intimidated and scared and humiliated, I simply burst into to tears and was dismissed as a witness.

I don’t know the outcome of that trial. But it has haunted me down the years that I failed in my duty. And certainly, in the years following, I doubt whether I would have rushed forward the way I did then to give evidence and volunteer to be a witness.

So when I was invited to launch Haringey’s new witness service last week, I smiled a wry smile, and told them that story.

Currently the Crown Prosecution Service, because of refusal to give evidence or attend court by civilian witnesses, discontinues about one in five cases.

This new service will support witnesses, take them to the court to help familiarise them, give them the information they need to understand what will happen and then support them on the day. What a difference that would have made for me.

And how sensible. As a GLA Member of the Metropolitan Police Authority who sits on the performance review pane, I monitor the statistics on ‘judicial disposals’ as they are called.

I will watch those figures with great interest as the Witness Support program – along with its older sister Victim Support – fill the justice gap which has been neglected for so long.

In the end all the king’s horses and all the king’s men are wasting their time if criminals are not brought to justice and convicted. There’s a huge waste of resources going on when, even in cases where the police have identified the likely criminal and gathered good evidence, the case falls apart at the end because a witness does not want to appear or know what to do.

Only a fifth of the five million crimes recorded nationally by police every year end in a criminal being brought to justice. This new service should help raise that number.

Good luck and best wishes to all in the new service. It can be noted, however, that later in life, that I did not become a photographer!