Author Topic: Crime and Punishment  (Read 104340 times)

G M

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Crafty_Dog

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Re: Crime and Punishment
« Reply #151 on: March 13, 2018, 05:31:05 PM »
Heh heh.

DDF

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Re: Crime and Punishment
« Reply #152 on: March 17, 2018, 08:44:34 PM »
Great work GM. Very interesting.

Crafty_Dog

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G M

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Re: Bail, and Bail Bondsmen
« Reply #154 on: April 02, 2018, 05:51:42 AM »


https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/31/us/bail-bonds-extortion.html?nl=top-stories&nlid=49641193ries&ref=cta

And then they will push bail bonds companies out of business. Coming soon, a NY Times expose on how poor defendants can’t get bail.

Crafty_Dog

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DougMacG

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Re: Separate prison for illegal aliens
« Reply #159 on: March 15, 2019, 09:25:03 AM »


https://www.newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/a-new-study-uncovers-troubling-information-about-immigrant-only-prisons?utm_campaign=aud-dev&utm_source=nl&utm_brand=tny&utm_mailing=TNY_Daily_031319&utm_medium=email&bxid=5be9d3fa3f92a40469e2d85c&user_id=50142053&esrc=&utm_term=TNY_Daily

Instead of investing in better health care and better treatment for illegals, how about we try to keep them out.

New Yorker: An epileptic illegal died in custody without getting needed medicine.  What is learned from a tragic human story?  We should have fully stocked pharmacies at the border?  Did he have medication when he arrived and we took it from him?  He should have immediate high quality healthcare for free awaiting his arrival just for crossing illegally?  That won't lure people in.  What was he in prison for?  Did he communicate his medical need before the seizure?  In what language?  Do we need interpreters awaiting the illegals crossers too?  Would he have died if was in his country?  Would have an American have died in the same situation? 

The more we send free [stuff] to the illegals including healthcare, food, clothing, housing, transportation, all the essentials of life, the more illegals will come.  If a man brings a purchased, trafficked, hostage underage girl with him that he has raped, we welcome them as a family?  What is wrong with this escalating cycle? 

The way to have fewer treatment issues of illegals is to have fewer illegals coming in.

G M

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Re: Separate prison for illegal aliens
« Reply #160 on: March 15, 2019, 02:44:37 PM »
Yeah, but the dems can't vote-farm them if they aren't here.



https://www.newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/a-new-study-uncovers-troubling-information-about-immigrant-only-prisons?utm_campaign=aud-dev&utm_source=nl&utm_brand=tny&utm_mailing=TNY_Daily_031319&utm_medium=email&bxid=5be9d3fa3f92a40469e2d85c&user_id=50142053&esrc=&utm_term=TNY_Daily

Instead of investing in better health care and better treatment for illegals, how about we try to keep them out.

New Yorker: An epileptic illegal died in custody without getting needed medicine.  What is learned from a tragic human story?  We should have fully stocked pharmacies at the border?  Did he have medication when he arrived and we took it from him?  He should have immediate high quality healthcare for free awaiting his arrival just for crossing illegally?  That won't lure people in.  What was he in prison for?  Did he communicate his medical need before the seizure?  In what language?  Do we need interpreters awaiting the illegals crossers too?  Would he have died if was in his country?  Would have an American have died in the same situation? 

The more we send free [stuff] to the illegals including healthcare, food, clothing, housing, transportation, all the essentials of life, the more illegals will come.  If a man brings a purchased, trafficked, hostage underage girl with him that he has raped, we welcome them as a family?  What is wrong with this escalating cycle? 

The way to have fewer treatment issues of illegals is to have fewer illegals coming in.


Crafty_Dog

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« Last Edit: July 17, 2019, 06:00:26 PM by Crafty_Dog »

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ccp

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Dan Horowitz crime already going back up
« Reply #165 on: November 26, 2019, 09:02:02 AM »
Look at Alabama:

https://omny.fm/shows/the-conservative-conscience-with-daniel-horowitz-1/ep-535-this-attorney-general-has-had-enough-of-the

Yeah Jarrod got an agreement for crime bill
and Trump can go around saying

"I helped Black people ";

For some reason Dan does not state the elephant in the room:

prison reform from the point of view of the right is mostly if not solely to get more votes from minorities

Fine, but that said

I agree with him. Crime will go up at the expense of the rest of this.

We shall see , and I promise I will not say I told those who are excited about this : I told you so!




G M

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Re: Dan Horowitz crime already going back up
« Reply #166 on: November 26, 2019, 05:03:10 PM »
You are on your own for protecting yourself and your loved ones. Plan and train accordingly.


Look at Alabama:

https://omny.fm/shows/the-conservative-conscience-with-daniel-horowitz-1/ep-535-this-attorney-general-has-had-enough-of-the

Yeah Jarrod got an agreement for crime bill
and Trump can go around saying

"I helped Black people ";

For some reason Dan does not state the elephant in the room:

prison reform from the point of view of the right is mostly if not solely to get more votes from minorities

Fine, but that said

I agree with him. Crime will go up at the expense of the rest of this.

We shall see , and I promise I will not say I told those who are excited about this : I told you so!





Crafty_Dog

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Bill would send Non-violent Elderly to serve house arrest for rest of sentence.
« Reply #171 on: February 09, 2020, 12:54:42 PM »
House-passed bill would allow more nonviolent elderly prisoners to serve the rest of their sentence at home, instead of in jail
GovTrack.us
GovTrack.us
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Feb 7 · 3 min read

Rep. Ted Deutch (D-FL22)
More people aged 60 and older could get a “get out of jail free” card.

Context

The Second Chance Act of 2007 allowed some elderly prisoners to serve the remainder of their sentence at home, if they were at least 65 and had served either 10 years or ¾ of their sentence — whichever was longer.

The First Step Act of 2018 expanded the number of prisoners eligible, by reducing the age from 65 to 60, and reducing the time served to either 10 years or ⅔ of their sentence — still whichever is longer. Terminably ill prisoners were also made eligible.
However, the program doesn’t factor in time off a prisoner’s sentence for good behavior, which under federal law can be reduced by up to 54 days per year of the original sentence.

That’s a departure from the standard practice of the federal Bureau of Prisoners, which factors in time off for good behavior when — for example — deciding whether to move a prisoner to a lower-security facility.

What the bill does

A House bill would reduce the home stay of a nonviolent elderly prisoner eligible for the early-release program, factoring in their accumulated time off earned for good behavior.

Unlike most congressional legislation, this one does not appear to have an official title.

It was introduced in the House on July 25 as bill number H.R. 4018, by Rep. Ted Deutch (D-FL22).

What supporters say

Supporters argue the recidivism rate for elderly prisoners is much lower than for younger prisoners, making their release to home much less risky — and that it would save taxpayer money in the process.

“We are making an important clarification to the pilot program that allows elderly prisoners to transition to home confinement for the remainder of their sentence,” Rep. Deutch said in a press release. “As elderly prisoners are among the most vulnerable populations in prisons, this fix to include good time credit will allow more of them to benefit from this program. Not only is this the right thing to do, but it will also reduce federal costs in our prison system.”

GovTrack Insider was unable to locate any explicit statements of opposition, although eight House Republicans opposed the bill in committee without saying why.

Odds of passage

The House Judiciary Committee approved the bill on September 10 by a 28–8 vote. Democrats voted unanimously 21–0, while Republicans narrowly opposed it 7–8.

It then passed the full House on December 3 by a voice vote, a procedure usually used for noncontroversial legislation in which no record of individual votes is cast. Considering that a number of Republicans opposed the bill in committee, it’s unclear why a voice vote was used in the full chamber.

But no Republicans spoke against the bill on the House floor, after lead sponsor Rep. Deutch gave his speech in favor.

This article was written by GovTrack Insider staff writer Jesse Rifkin.
« Last Edit: February 09, 2020, 02:38:05 PM by Crafty_Dog »

Crafty_Dog

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G M

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Re: Bail
« Reply #173 on: February 13, 2020, 04:48:04 PM »

Crafty_Dog

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WSJ: NY No Bail Fiasco
« Reply #176 on: March 07, 2020, 08:29:20 AM »
The ‘No Bail’ Fiasco in New York
Crime is breaking out again amid a get-out-of-jail-free law.
By The Editorial Board
March 6, 2020 7:09 pm ET


You know New York has a problem when even Mayor Bill de Blasio admits it. On Thursday the New York Police Department held a press conference to report that major crime is up 22.5% this February over a year ago. Both the cops and the mayor attribute the spike to the bail reform pushed through the state Legislature in Albany last year, which is releasing people who have been arrested for one crime to go out and commit another.

“There’s a direct correlation to a change in the law, and we need to address it, and we will address it,” Mr. de Blasio said of the increase in crime. The mayor also said he was “absolutely confident” it will be addressed in Albany in the budget due April 1.


The Democratic Legislature, with the backing of both Mr. de Blasio and Gov. Andrew Cuomo, ended cash bail last year. The goal was to prevent cases such as that of Kalief Browder, a 16-year-old charged with stealing a backpack. Because his family could not afford bail he spent three years in prison on Rikers Island—much of it in solitary—without being tried or convicted of a crime. After his release, he ultimately committed suicide.

The sensible part of bail reform was aimed at preventing injustices such as this one. The non-sensible part was to deprive judges of the discretion to keep behind bars criminals who remain a menace to the community.

The law went into effect on Jan. 1, and the NYPD numbers are sobering: “In the first 58 days of 2020, 482 individuals who had already been arrested for committing a serious (felony) crime such as robbery or burglary were rearrested for committing an additional 846 crimes. Thirty-five percent, or 299, were for arrests in the seven major crime categories—murder, rape, robbery, felony assault, burglary, grand larceny and grand larceny auto—that is nearly triple the amount of those crimes committed in the same 58 days in 2019.”

Police Commissioner Dermot Shea underscored the main point: “Each number represents a victim.”

Some on the political left, including a coalition of public defenders, claim the cops are deliberately manipulating the figures as “scare tactics.” Ditto for Assembly Speaker Carl Heastie, who is blaming the New York Post, which refuses to take dictation from the city’s progressive powers. Mayor de Blasio is having none of it. “They’re wrong,” he says.

Another crime problem that Mr. de Blasio doesn’t acknowledge is the explosion of minor offenses since the City Council decriminalized such antisocial behavior as urinating in public, smoking marijuana in public, and turnstile jumping on the subways. This creates a culture of tolerance for lawlessness that the bail reform has compounded.

Polls show support for the bail reform dropping fast, and New York’s chief judge says it is the only state in which judges do not have the ability to consider whether a defendant poses a credible risk of danger before releasing him. There is a simple fix that would take care of the biggest problem: Give judges the ability to weigh this risk before letting people out. If Albany doesn’t fix this, we hope the voters run them all out office.



Crafty_Dog

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Orwell: A Hanging
« Reply #178 on: July 20, 2020, 07:40:46 AM »


A HANGING
George Orwell: Burmese Days
This material remains under copyright and is reproduced by kind permission of the Orwell Estate and Penguin Books.

It was in Burma, a sodden morning of the rains. A sickly light, like yellow tinfoil, was slanting over the high walls into the jail yard. We were waiting outside the condemned cells, a row of sheds fronted with double bars, like small animal cages. Each cell measured about ten feet by ten and was quite bare within except for a plank bed and a pot of drinking water. In some of them brown silent men were squatting at the inner bars, with their blankets draped round them. These were the condemned men, due to be hanged within the next week or two.

One prisoner had been brought out of his cell. He was a Hindu, a puny wisp of a man, with a shaven head and vague liquid eyes. He had a thick, sprouting moustache, absurdly too big for his body, rather like the moustache of a comic man on the films. Six tall Indian warders were guarding him and getting him ready for the gallows. Two of them stood by with rifles and fixed bayonets, while the others handcuffed him, passed a chain through his handcuffs and fixed it to their belts, and lashed his arms tight to his sides. They crowded very close about him, with their hands always on him in a careful, caressing grip, as though all the while feeling him to make sure he was there. It was like men handling a fish which is still alive and may jump back into the water. But he stood quite unresisting, yielding his arms limply to the ropes, as though he hardly noticed what was happening.

Eight o’clock struck and a bugle call, desolately thin in the wet air, floated from the distant barracks. The superintendent of the jail, who was standing apart from the rest of us, moodily prodding the gravel with his stick, raised his head at the sound. He was an army doctor, with a grey toothbrush moustache and a gruff voice. “For God’s sake hurry up, Francis,” he said irritably. “The man ought to have been dead by this time. Aren’t you ready yet?”

Francis, the head jailer, a fat Dravidian in a white drill suit and gold spectacles, waved his black hand. “Yes sir, yes sir,” he bubbled. “All iss satisfactorily prepared. The hangman iss waiting. We shall proceed.”

“Well, quick march, then. The prisoners can’t get their breakfast till this job’s over.”

We set out for the gallows. Two warders marched on either side of the prisoner, with their rifles at the slope; two others marched close against him, gripping him by arm and shoulder, as though at once pushing and supporting him. The rest of us, magistrates and the like, followed behind. Suddenly, when we had gone ten yards, the procession stopped short without any order or warning. A dreadful thing had happened–a dog, come goodness knows whence, had appeared in the yard. It came bounding among us with a loud volley of barks, and leapt round us wagging its whole body, wild with glee at finding so many human beings together. It was a large woolly dog, half Airedale, half pariah. For a moment it pranced round us, and then, before anyone could stop it, it had made a dash for the prisoner, and jumping up tried to lick his face. Everyone stood aghast, too taken aback even to grab at the dog.

“Who let that bloody brute in here?” said the superintendent angrily. “Catch it, someone!”

A warder, detached from the escort, charged clumsily after the dog, but it danced and gambolled just out of his reach, taking everything as part of the game. A young Eurasian jailer picked up a handful of gravel and tried to stone the dog away, but it dodged the stones and came after us again. Its yaps echoed from the jail wails. The prisoner, in the grasp of the two warders, looked on incuriously, as though this was another formality of the hanging. It was several minutes before someone managed to catch the dog. Then we put my handkerchief through its collar and moved off once more, with the dog still straining and whimpering.

It was about forty yards to the gallows. I watched the bare brown back of the prisoner marching in front of me. He walked clumsily with his bound arms, but quite steadily, with that bobbing gait of the Indian who never straightens his knees. At each step his muscles slid neatly into place, the lock of hair on his scalp danced up and down, his feet printed themselves on the wet gravel. And once, in spite of the men who gripped him by each shoulder, he stepped slightly aside to avoid a puddle on the path.

It is curious, but till that moment I had never realized what it means to destroy a healthy, conscious man. When I saw the prisoner step aside to avoid the puddle, I saw the mystery, the unspeakable wrongness, of cutting a life short when it is in full tide. This man was not dying, he was alive just as we were alive. All the organs of his body were working –bowels digesting food, skin renewing itself, nails growing, tissues forming–all toiling away in solemn foolery. His nails would still be growing when he stood on the drop, when he was falling through the air with a tenth of a second to live. His eyes saw the yellow gravel and the grey walls, and his brain still remembered, foresaw, reasoned – reasoned even about puddles. He and we were a party of men walking together, seeing, hearing, feeling, understanding the same world; and in two minutes, with a sudden snap, one of us would be gone – one mind less, one world less.

The gallows stood in a small yard, separate from the main grounds of the prison, and overgrown with tall prickly weeds. It was a brick erection like three sides of a shed, with planking on top, and above that two beams and a crossbar with the rope dangling. The hangman, a grey-haired convict in the white uniform of the prison, was waiting beside his machine. He greeted us with a servile crouch as we entered. At a word from Francis the two warders, gripping the prisoner more closely than ever, half led, half pushed him to the gallows and helped him clumsily up the ladder. Then the hangman limbed up and fixed the rope round the prisoner’s neck.

We stood waiting, five yards away. The warders had formed in a rough circle round the gallows. And then, when the noose was fixed, the prisoner began crying out on his god. It was a high, reiterated cry of “Ram! Ram! Ram! Ram!”, not urgent and fearful like a prayer or a cry for help, but steady, rhythmical, almost like the tolling of a bell. The dog answered the sound with a whine. The hangman, still standing on the gallows, produced a small cotton bag like a flour bag and drew it down over the prisoner’s face. But the sound, muffled by the cloth, still persisted, over and over again: “Ram! Ram! Ram! Ram! Ram!”

The hangman climbed down and stood ready, holding the lever. Minutes seemed to pass. The steady, muffled crying from the prisoner went on and on, “Ram! Ram! Ram!” never faltering for an instant. The superintendent, his head on his chest, was slowly poking the ground with his stick; perhaps he was counting the cries, allowing the prisoner a fixed number – fifty, perhaps, or a hundred. Everyone had changed colour. The Indians had gone grey like bad coffee, and one or two of the bayonets were wavering. We looked at the lashed, hooded man on the drop, and listened to his cries – each cry another second of life; the same thought was in all our minds: oh, kill him quickly, get it over, stop that abominable noise!

Suddenly the superintendent made up his mind. Throwing up his head he made a swift motion with his stick. “Chalo!” he shouted almost fiercely.

There was a clanking noise, and then dead silence. The prisoner had vanished, and the rope was twisting on itself. I let go of the dog, and it galloped immediately to the back of the gallows; but when it got there it stopped short, barked, and then retreated into a corner of the yard, where it stood among the weeds, looking timorously out at us. We went round the gallows to inspect the prisoner’s body. He was dangling with his toes pointed straight downwards, very slowly revolving, as dead as a stone.

The superintendent reached out with his stick and poked the bare body; it oscillated, slightly. “He’s all right,” said the superintendent. He backed out from under the gallows, and blew out a deep breath. The moody look had gone out of his face quite suddenly. He glanced at his wrist-watch. “Eight minutes past eight. Well, that’s all for this morning, thank God.”

The warders unfixed bayonets and marched away. The dog, sobered and conscious of having misbehaved itself, slipped after them. We walked out of the gallows yard, past the condemned cells with their waiting prisoners, into the big central yard of the prison. The convicts, under the command of warders armed with lathis, were already receiving their breakfast. They squatted in long rows, each man holding a tin pannikin, while two warders with buckets marched round ladling out rice; it seemed quite a homely, jolly scene, after the hanging. An enormous relief had come upon us now that the job was done. One felt an impulse to sing, to break into a run, to snigger. All at once everyone began chattering gaily.

The Eurasian boy walking beside me nodded towards the way we had come, with a knowing smile: “Do you know, sir, our friend (he meant the dead man), when he heard his appeal had been dismissed, he pissed on the floor of his cell. From fright. –Kindly take one of my cigarettes, sir. Do you not admire my new silver case, sir? From the boxwallah, two rupees eight annas. Classy European style.”

Several people laughed – at what, nobody seemed certain.

Francis was walking by the superintendent, talking garrulously. “Well, sir, all hass passed off with the utmost satisfactoriness. It wass all finished – flick! like that. It iss not always so – oah, no! I have known cases where the doctor wass obliged to go beneath the gallows and pull the prisoner’s legs to ensure decease. Most disagreeable!”

“Wriggling about, eh? That’s bad,” said the superintendent.

“Ach, sir, it iss worse when they become refractory! One man, I recall, clung to the bars of hiss cage when we went to take him out. You will scarcely credit, sir, that it took six warders to dislodge him, three pulling at each leg. We reasoned with him. “My dear fellow,” we said, “think of all the pain and trouble you are causing to us!” But no, he would not listen! Ach, he wass very troublesome!”

I found that I was laughing quite loudly. Everyone was laughing. Even the superintendent grinned in a tolerant way. “You’d better all come out and have a drink,” he said quite genially. “I’ve got a bottle of whisky in the car. We could do with it.”

We went through the big double gates of the prison, into the road. “Pulling at his legs!” exclaimed a Burmese magistrate suddenly, and burst into a loud chuckling. We all began laughing again. At that moment Francis’s anecdote seemed extraordinarily funny. We all had a drink together, native and European alike, quite amicably. The dead man was a hundred yards away.

First published in The Adelphi, August 1931 | Reprinted in The New Savoy, 1946

Crafty_Dog

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