COURT staff call him “the Smiling Assassin”. And anyone who has seen Judge Keith Cutler over¬ see a murder trial will know why.

His gentlemanly manners seem to cushion a jury as they wrestle with the hefty task of weighing up the grimmest of evidence.

A smattering of quips is prone to make the press bench snigger and stall their shorthand-taking.

Some defendants must be lured into a false sense of security – is Winchester Crown Court’s most senior judge and Honorary Recorder a jovial soft touch?

Errrr, no.

Come sentencing, Judge Cutler swiftly despatches serious criminals down to the cells, condemning them to decades in prison in a brief string of briskly- delivered sentences.

The next error would be to assume that this weighty responsibility is one he discharges with ease, that he’s unshockable after decades of working a caseload punctuated by lethal violence.

Wrong.

Sitting in his chambers, he tells how he recently swept out of court on the verge of tears after hearing the details of a particularly distressing case.

“If I became hardened, I would give it up,” he adds bluntly.

As a High Court, or “Red Judge” (because of the colour of his robes), the 64-year-old hears some of the very worst criminal cases involving murder, manslaughter and violent rape.

“It’s an enormous responsibility,” he admits, leaning forward over his desk.

“You are the judge in the middle and you alone are the one who’s making the decision.

But that’s our job. The slowest and most ineffective judge is one that can’t make up his or her mind.”

He also occasionally sits at the Court of Appeal in London and was coroner for the 2013 inquest of Mark Duggan, the Tottenham man shot and killed by police in 2011.

A final report into the death sits between us amongst towering piles of casework for forthcoming trials, some of which have already been front page news.

The room is a clutter of papers while, beyond the huge window is a sweeping, bewitching view of Winchester, with morning mist still hanging around its towers and steeples.

As he talks of his work, it’s clear Judge Cutler’s quest to get to the heart of every case – to unearth the truth around each alleged criminal act.

What would he change about England’s judicial system?

“We judges all say that the whole system needs more resources,” he explains.

“The police are under-resourced, the CPS are under-resourced. The legal teams for the defence are now reduced in number and the legal aid rates have been tightened and this affects the quality of advocacy and amount of preparation they can do for a case.

“But what I want is for the government to stop talking about money and concentrate on the quality of justice that should be being delivered.”

One change he greets enthusiastically, currently being piloted, is the cross-examination of vulnerable witnesses soon after they file their original complaint with police – thus avoiding an often long wait before the stress of facing a defence barrister.

Judge Cutler has yet to robe for today’s trial, but the photographer and I are perched on the edge of our seats, drawn in by a natural gravitas.

He talks on, and it turns out this judge is pro-press – “it’s no good me making deterrent sentences if no one hears them” and “we have a partnership”.

Photographer Stuart Martin and I, battle-weary from incessant anti- media attacks, outwardly maintain our composure – but inside we’re mush.

The mood then lightens when several other judges drift into the room for what I suspect is a habitual morning chat.

Discovering a media presence, they loiter clutching cups of coffee, keen to tease.

“Did the camera break when it took your picture?!” offers one.

“No, but don’t you think we should have one with all three of us in it,” swoops Judge Cutler, prompting a hasty judicial retreat.

“That got rid of them!” he smiles.

Then we’re off to have a look at Court One from Judge Cutler’s perspective.

Standing at his desk on the bench, the mammoth empty room exudes its habitual sombre air and stretches out before us in a sea of dark, cold wood and glass.

He explains that the design is such for good reason – because it’s far harder to lie in such formal surroundings than if trials were conducted all sitting cosily around a table.

Having watched witnesses quake under sustained verbal attack from barristers, families weep and cry out as verdicts are delivered, and defendants slump seemingly- lifeless in the dock, I know how true this is.

The judge is relaxed and candid throughout our early morning meeting.

What I find most revealing is that, instead of pursuing a career as a QC, he changed tack and went from barrister to circuit judge.

His reason behind this decision was simply the desire to live at home with his wife and children, instead of flitting around the country chasing lucrative high- profile trials.

The pull of family life appears to be paramount, meaning more to him than becoming a London- based High Court judge – another possible route – but one which would also have seen him travelling continuously.

In a cloistered world awash with hefty egos and legal strutting, Judge Cutler’s lack of arrogance is disarming, a profound relief, and provided my faith in our justice system with a jolting fillip.

I suspect he played on us like a harp – but, frankly, I don’t care.