Making the punishment fit the crime

- Mike Cicconetti, a US judge with a difference

1. When Michelle Murray was arrested for abandoning some kittens in the forest, she expected to get a fine or a short prison sentence. Instead she was sentenced to spend the night in the same cold, dark forest. In the end it was so cold that she had to spend three hours in the woods, but Judge Mike Cicconetti had made his point. He wanted the 26-year-old Ohio housewife to feel the same pain and suffering as the animals she had abandoned, many of which later died.
2. Judge Cicconetti’s unusual ruling was just the latest example of his unique brand of “creative justice” which has won him national acclaim. He was elected unopposed to serve another six years in Lake County, Ohio last month, and this year won the presidency of the American Judges Association.
3. Cicconetti allows offenders to choose between jail, and an alternative “creative” sentence.

For example, people accused of speeding are offered a choice between having their licence suspended for 90 days, or having it suspended for a shorter period and spending one day working as a school crossing guard. The judge says that offenders who spend a day helping school children across the street never appear in his courtroom for speeding again.

1. The judge also sent a man who was caught with a loaded gun to the mortuary to view dead bodies and ordered teenagers who let down tyres on school buses to organize a picnic for primary school children. He has ordered noisy neighbours to spend a day of silence in the woods, or to listen to classical music instead of rock.
2. Cicconetti attributes his unusual approach to his tough family background. He was the oldest of nine children and had to work part-time collecting rubbish to pay his way through college. He studied law at night school. “I didn’t go to a prestigious law firm,” he says, “I had to get to where I am the hard way. It makes you understand what the working man has to go through, and why some of them commit crimes. I want to give people a positive lesson, not a negative one.”
3. A drawer in his cramped office in the Painesville Municipal Courthouse is full of thank-you letters from both victims and criminals. “Some people will say that my punishments are cruel or unusual,” the judge said. “OK, it’s a little bit of embarrassment and humiliation. But when you have people fulfilling these sentences, you are doing it for them and the victims and the community. And above all, I can remember only two people who have been sentenced to alternative punishments and who have reoffended.”

Cramped – стеснённый, стиснутый

1. Reading for pleasure

  At Dover (by Nigel Balchin)

Nigel Balchin (3 December 1908 – 17 May 1970) was an English novelist and screenwriter particularly known for his novels written during and immediately after World War II.

    In travelling home from Florence it is usual to go to Pisa, and there to change on to the Rome Express. In fact, there is (or was) a carriage which runs all the way from Florence, but you will be told that it is reserved for Very Important People. Too much notice should not be taken of this. Nearly every seat in an Italian train is always reserved for Important People or for men who lost a limb in the war. But very few of them ever seem to travel much, and personally I have never found this carriage from Florence so crowded with great men that it could not take me.
     On the particular occasion that I speak of, it also took Miss Bradley, who certainly did not look important. She looked more like an out-of-work nurse, and I only noticed her because of her surprising ugliness. She was a rather large, heavy woman of about thirty-five, with a big red nose, and steel-framed glasses; and she had one of those unpleasant skin-diseases which had covered her face with spots. It is an important part of this history that I really very much disliked looking at Miss Bradley.
   It is equally important that later on when I went to the dining car, Miss Bradley was already seated, and the man who was attending to us placed me opposite her. Meals on the Rome Express take a long time. This one seemed to go on forever, and I could not help noticing that Miss Bradley found it all very difficult. If you are English, it is almost impossible to speak Italian or French on these occasions, because the waiters are anxious to practise their English on you. The waiter who served us spoke quite good English. Yet Miss Bradley was determined to order her food in unbelievably bad schoolgirl French, though she was red in the face
when she did so, and plainly very ashamed. I had the greatest difficulty myself in understanding what she said, and the waiter soon gave it up and brought her whatever he had ready. One was forced to believe that Miss Bradley was not only very ugly, but very stupid too. I think we may have exchanged half a dozen words at dinner, when passing the sugar or the bread to one another. It is difficult to dine endlessly opposite somebody without making a few polite
sounds. But they were certainly all that we exchanged, and after we left the dining car I did not see Miss Bradley again until we reached Calais.
  She was then trying very hard to get out of the train at Calais Town, where we stopped for a moment, and a man was trying equally hard to explain that she must get out at Calais Port.
This time I certainly spoke to Miss Bradley. I said, “It’s the next stop. This is Calais Town.” And Miss Bradley, with a red face, said, “Oh, I see. Thank you.”
  And then, when we reached the sea, we really began to know each other, and it was my fault. There were plenty of porters to carry the bags, and I called one from the window of the train without difficulty. But as I got out I saw Miss Bradley standing on the station platform. She had two large very old cardboard suit-cases, one of which seemed to be held together by a thick string. She was standing there saying “Porter!” rather weakly and the stream of porters was dividing round her, and passing her by, like water dividing past a rock, looking for richer people.
It was at this moment I went towards her. I am quite sure that had she been an even slightly attractive woman I should not have done it. But she was so ugly and she looked so sad and helpless standing there with her baggage tied together with a string, crying “Porter!” that I was filled with pity - a thing which seldom happens. I smiled at her with a real and pleasant sense of virtue and said, “: "My porter has a barrow. Would you like him to put your cases on it too?" Miss Bradley turned and looked at me. She was even uglier than I had thought.
"Oh — thank you. It is very kind of you."
  My porter, without great enthusiasm, added her luggage to mine; and in a few minutes we found ourselves on board the Channel ferry. Our cases were placed side by side, and Miss Bradley and myself were naturally side by side also. I hope it will be agreed that up to this point I had acted like a gentleman, though perhaps at no great personal sacrifice. I say I hope it will be agreed, because there is no doubt that from this point my usual bad qualities began to take control.

Before the boat had been under way for ten minutes, I realized that Miss Bradley was a remarkable bore. Shyly and hesitantly she kept on talking about nothing, and made no remark worth taking notice of. I learned that she had been in Italy for a fortnight, visiting her sister, who was married to an Italian. She had never been out of England before. At home she was a clerk in an office. The work was quite interesting, but travelling to and from the office was tiring. I do not suggest that any of this in itself was duller than most conversations, but somehow Miss Bradley managed to make it duller.
   I considered that I should certainly have to see Miss Bradley safely off the boat at Dover and on to her train; and after that there would be no reason, except rudeness, why we should not travel to London together. That meant four hours of it. I could not face this; so, excusing myself, I went along to the booking-office on board and bought myself a seat on the Golden Arrow.
Miss Bradley was travelling by the ordinary train, so this would mean that we should separate at Dover. I went back to Miss Bradley, who told me about the flat in London that she shared with
another girl from the office.
  We reached Dover without any interruption in Miss Bradley’s flow of conversation. I hired a man to carry our baggage. I had two expensive suit-cases which had once been given to me as a present, and she had her two pieces of ancient cardboard.
   Usually passengers for the Golden Arrow are dealt with first, because the train leaves twenty minutes before the ordinary train. When the boy asked if we were going on the Golden Arrow, I hesitated and then said, “Yes.” It was too complicated to explain that one of us was and one of us wasn’t, and in any case it would help Miss Bradley because they would deal with her bags quickly.
   As we went towards the Customs Hall I explained carefully to her that my train left before hers, but that I would help her with her baggage first. The boy could then take our cases to the right trains, and she could sit comfortable in hers until it left. Miss Bradley said, “Oh, thank you very much.”
The boy, of course, had put our suit-cases together, and Miss Bradley and I went and stood before them. At the proper time the examiner reached us, looked at the four suit-cases in that human X-ray manner which customs examiners must practise night and morning, and said, "This is all yours?"
I was not quite sure whether he was speaking to me, or me and Miss Bradley, who was standing slightly behind me, and I was just about to say “Yes” for both of us. But suddenly the worst bits of pride in my nature rose to the surface. I did not want to admit that those terrible old cardboard suit-cases with the string were mine, and I replied, “Well- mine and this lady’s.”
The examiner said, “But you’re together?”
“For the present time,” I said rather foolishly, smiling at Miss Bradley. I did not want to hurt her feelings.
“Yes,” said the examiner patiently. “But are you travelling together? Does this baggage belong to both of you?”
“Well, no. Not exactly. We’re just sharing a porter.”
“Then if you show me which things are yours,” said the examiner very slowly and carefully, as if he were talking to a child, “I’ll deal with them.”

I pointed to my cases. I had nothing valuable, and said so. Without asking me to open them, the examiner chalked the cases and then, instead of moving to my left and dealing with Miss Bradley, he moved to the right and began to talk to a man whose baggage covered a space of about seven feet. Miss Bradley said: “Oh dear-” mildly. I started to say: “Listen - could you do the lady’s too, so that -” but the examiner took no notice of me. He was already examining the man on the right.
The boy swung my cases away, and other things were immediately put in the space. The owner gave me a gentle push in the back. I hesitated for a moment, but there did not seem to be much advantage in standing there waiting for Miss Bradley when we were about to separate, so I said: “Well, I’ll say goodbye now, and go to find my train. I expect he’ll come back to you next. The porter will bring all our cases to the trains when you’ve finished. Good-bye.”
Miss Bradley said, “Oh... good-bye and thank you so much.”
We shook hands and I left with some relief mixed with a feeling that I was being slightly rude.
  I found my seat in the Golden Arrow and began to read. Twenty minutes later I suddenly realized that the train was going to leave in five minutes and that the porter had still not brought my cases. I was just setting off to look for him when he came, breathless, carrying them. I asked him rather sharply what he had been doing.
“It was her,” he said shortly.
“Miss Bradley? Well, where is she and where’s her baggage?”
“She’s still there,” said the boy in a hard voice. “And will be for some time, I guess. Examining her properly.”
“But why?”
“Well, they’d found forty watches when I came away, and that is only the start. So I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me to wait.”
The sad part of the story is this: if I had been a nicer and kinder person, and more patient, and had really decided to see Miss Bradley safely to London, or if I had not been too proud about her baggage, it would almost certainly have been carelessly passed with mine; or, if it had been opened, I should have had some very awkward explaining to do. In fact, I seem to have been rude just in time. But I have often wondered whether, when Miss Bradley stood alone and sad on the station at Calais, she had already chosen me as the person to save her, or whether she was just quietly sure that someone would.

  Answer the following questions

1. What is the usual way of travelling from Florence to England? 2. What was the author’s way of travelling home from Florence? 3. Who else happened to take the same carriage on that particular occasion? 4. What made him take notice of the other passenger? 5. What did Miss Bradley look like? 6. How did it happen that the author found himself opposite Miss Bradley in the dining car? 7. What language did Miss Bradley use when ordering her food? 8. Why did this seem unusual to the author? 9. What impression did one get of Miss Bradley? 10. When did the author see her again? 11. Why did he really speak to Miss Bradley this time? 12. Why did the
author believe it to be his fault that they really began to know each other when they reached Calais Port? 13. How did the author and Miss Bradley happen to find themselves side by side on the boat? 14. What did Miss Bradley tell the author about herself during the trip? 15. Why did the author decide to take the Golden Arrow to London? 16. Why were the passengers for the Golden Arrow dealt with by the Customs first? 17. What made the author disown Miss Bradley’s
luggage? 18. What had delayed the porter with the author’s luggage? 19. What had Miss Bradley been trying to smuggle into the country? 20. What made the author fairly sure that he had been deliberately chosen by Miss Bradley as the person to see her through the Customs?

27. Listening

Identifying statements

You are going to hear part of an interview with Alex Seelig, a university student who takes part in identity parades in his spare time. Read through the statements carefully. Decide if these statements are TRUE or FALSE

1. I saw an advert for the job in a local newspaper.
2. I’ve taken part in over 15 parades.
3. I’m not allowed to wear my own clothes.
4. I’m paid extra to work at short notice.
5. I sometimes find it difficult to stand still.
6. I’m sometimes asked to put on a false beard.
7. We don’t see the witness.
8. I’ve never been identified as a suspect.