In Memory of Matthew Brunsdon-Tully, 3.6.1984 – 31.3.2026

We shared a room, Matt and I, in the basement of 1 Hare Court. Although it barely fitted two desks and didn’t get much sun, it had the key advantage of being right next to the clerk’s room. It suited Matt perfectly. Every morning, a procession of barristers would pop in to say hello, catching up on latest chambers news or looking to discuss a particularly thorny legal issue. Whether with pupils just starting out or seasoned KCs, Matt was always supportive, curious about others and generous with his time.

Family law suited him. He was a people person, an incredible listener and a problem solver. Although he boasted an IQ of 154 on his LinkedIn profile, it was his EQ that was the standout. One solicitor recently shared with me that she always breathed a sigh a relief when she walked into a big work do and would see Matt laughing amongst the crowd. She knew she could join his conversation, and he would immediately make her feel included, at ease and, as always with Matt, thoroughly entertained. I know exactly how she felt.

Back in our room, we both tried to make it a little nicer. I hung a few artworks and suggested a sympathetic re-paint. Matt, however, did nothing in half measures. That was always part of his appeal as a friend. His vision was greater. In came a set of weights, quickly followed by a clothing rack with a week’s worth of suits on it. Eventually, he ordered a large red vintage chaise longue on eBay.

The chaise longue provided him with a place to rest between long stints drafting his skeleton arguments at his desk, but he also needed fuel. Being the bon viveur he was, a sandwich did not appeal. If we had time, we would go together to Thai Square opposite the Royal Courts of Justice where he would inevitably order the chicken panang. We were both bereft when a red bus crashed into it. No one was harmed but the restaurant had to close down. Matt took his business wholesale to Deliveroo, which he collected from outside chambers several times a day. Within a few months, Matt got a call from Deliveroo’s area manager offering him a corporate membership. They thought he was ordering for the whole chambers.

Shortly after the chaise longue arrived, and quite rightly, Matt decided he needed a bigger room. He suggested I join him in the new 1 Hare Court annex across the road from chambers where the recompense for being away from our HQ was an enormous bright room with high ceilings, but I was keen to remain in the main building so we parted ways. Our two most junior tenants drew straws – one ended up sharing with me and the other with Matt. It was the end of an era.

Matt’s new roommate left shortly afterwards to head a government department. It was befitting that Matt lost a roommate to the government. He was passionate about politics. He interned with an MP before coming to the Bar, and at one point was thinking of going into politics himself before the law drew him in.

Matt was an exceptionally talented lawyer and advocate, and he loved the intellectual rigour of the law. Following his winning of tenancy at 1 Hare Court, he was instructed by many of the country’s best solicitors, some of whom became his close friends. The intelligence, charisma and humour he had in social settings was equally palpable in the courtroom. In a maintenance pending suit application at the Central Family Court one day, he argued that the husband on the other side had a bad case of RAIDS. When the judge enquired what this was, he replied ‘recently acquired income deficiency syndrome’. Surprisingly, the term did not make its way into the Dictionary of Financial Remedies.

I was only ever on the other side of Matt once, but it ended with a 5-day cross-border non-disclosure trial. During closing submissions, and despite having the difficult task of being for the non-discloser, Matt delivered his submissions with the same courage and conviction that characterised the rest of his advocacy. The non-discloser could certainly not complain of not having his best case superbly presented. After the trial, Matt told me that closing submissions were his favourite type of advocacy. At a recent dinner, I recounted the story to a senior junior at another chambers who told me she had the same experience in a difficult trial against Matt and, like me, could not help but compliment him on his powerful closing speech. I was not surprised.

Matt’s struggles with mental health were known by many. He left us and his parents Paula and Paul too soon, aged only 41. But people will remember a truly remarkable human being: a first-class lawyer and a proud Welshman and cricketer, with an infectious sense of humour, a contagious laugh and a brilliant, albeit restless, mind.

A charity fundraiser has been set up in his honour and memory:

www.justgiving.com/page/mbt

His passing is a timely reminder of how important it is to look after each other.

Lily Mottahedan
1 Hare Court