Has a court finally issued an appropriate sentence?

By Tom Green

Maggie, or Margaret Cousins to give her the name her mother gave her, works for a large regional newspaper. Having done trivial jobs to start with, she has worked her way up and now does a fair bit of court reporting, as well as some crime scene reporting.

Like many people, she is appalled by the people she sees week in week out being tried and having no respect for the rule of law, the court system or the pathetic sentences that the judges hand down. She had been brought up in a strict but loving family and was no stranger to being put over mum or dad’s knee and having her pretty little bottom spanked or slippered if she had been very naughty. Even in her late teens, her mum had spanked her bare bottom when she came in at 3.00 in the morning stinking of booze after she and her best friend had been to a wedding. Telling her mum she didn’t remember it the day after, she was roundly spanked again to make sure she would.

One day she had to attend the conclusion of a 21-year-old woman’s trial; her first name being Kim. She had been making the housing estate where she lived hell for the last 18 months with her antisocial behaviour. The attractive-looking, tall, slim white girl looked like she could do anything in life, but had chosen, like so many others, to just ruin other people’s lives.

Maggie could understand her neighbours’ angst as she herself had been kept awake until nearly dawn by yobs shouting and screaming on her street the night before. Maggie was very much feeling the effects come the afternoon when the jury were out deliberating. It was early August and the temperature outside was in the very high 20s centigrade. The ventilation in the old courtroom was non-existent and even the legal teams had been given leave to take off their formal wigs. The jury was expected back very soon as it was an open-and-shut case and Maggie suspected it would be no cooler in the jury room. As Maggie was sat at the end of the row, she rested her head on the oak-panelled wall whilst she awaited the verdict.

“Will the defendant please rise!” bellowed the usher.

“Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict upon which you all agree?” another usher said.

The foreman, a tall slim lady, stood and said, “We have, sir.”

“Please may we have the verdict of the jury, Madam Foreman,” requested the judge.

“On the counts of antisocial behaviour, in that between 1st April and 18th July the defendant committed 14 assorted acts of vandalism, how do you find the defendant; guilty or not guilty?” asked the usher.

“Guilty on all 14 counts,” replied the foreman.

“And is that the verdict of you all?”

“It is, sir,” finished the foreman.

The judge wasted no time in handing down justice, except for waiting for the affected families to quieten down after the verdict. They might finally get some peace and quiet.

“The defendant will stand. I said, the defendant will stand!” ordered the judge.

Slowly Kim got to her feet, giving the judge a ‘whatever’ sort of look.

“Kimberley Mitchell, you have been convicted of 14 counts of disruptive behaviour in your own community,” the judge began, before Kim interrupted.

“Ain’t my community. Ain’t noffing there for me,” Kim said in a very disrespectful way as her lawyer tried to silence her.

The judge continued, “You have been the blight of many households during that time and I take a very dim view of the whole affair. I sentence you to 6 months in prison.”

Kim’s face fell. She had expected a soft community-based project.

“I do so since serving the community clearly would not work for you as you claim not to belong to it,” the judge added.

The courtroom tittered at that one.

“Additionally, I am also adding a 3-year suspended sentence. Should you reoffend after being released, you would automatically be returned to prison. I hope you understand the seriousness of your crimes and also the repercussions of your selfish actions,” the judge said with great effect.

Kim slumped down on her seat thinking the judge had finished.

“The defendant will remain standing!”

Kim jumped back up.

“Finally, I order you to receive 28 strokes of the slipper for your actions, 2 for each count. Additionally, I order a further 6 strokes as a penalty for your contempt for this court, its duties and its findings. This punishment will be administered immediately. Please clear the court of the public, except those members directly affected by the defendant’s actions. The press and legal teams may remain and so may the jury. Please bring in the spanking horse and summon the special guard,” the judge finished.

Kim was hurriedly speaking with her team, but they shook their heads and said, “You have only yourself to blame,” as the spanking horse was carried in. This was like a school vaulting horse, but had 5 straps, one for the wrists and ankles and one to go over the lower back to hold the prisoner in place. Maggie had never seen this happen before as it usually took place behind closed doors, but today the judge was making an example of Kim.

Once in place and the court cleared, two burly female guards escorted the clearly worried 21-year-old to the front of the court. Dressed in a figure-hugging ‘little black dress’ and white training shoes, and despite her protests and struggling, the female guards one by one fastened the straps. Kim was now bent over the low horse, bottom pointing up and out, and still protesting.

“Officer, we are ready. You may proceed with the punishment,” instructed the judge.

A tall and well-built female officer stepped forwards. Her chiselled looks would have made her a good assistant to a movie villain. Dressed in a boiler suit, she carried with her a large rubber-soled plimsoll which looked more or less new on top, but the sole showed signs of wear from the ball of the foot to the toe area. Clearly, this had been well-used for this purpose alone over the years. The officer smacked the plimsoll against her hand for effect as she walked behind Kim, and then, in silence, carefully and very theatrically, pulled up the hem of the dress up and over Kim’s upper thighs and bottom revealing a pair of very thin black cotton panties edged with black lace. All in all, Kim looked like she was going out on a hot date, not for a court case.

Again, very theatrically, the guard took up her stance, feet a foot apart, to the left of Kim and took aim with the plimsoll, tapping it twice, then twice more, against her pert and perfectly presented bottom.

Whack! The guard’s arm went up and down in a flash, creating a loud whopping, popping, smacking sound as it hit home on Kim’s vulnerable bottom.

“Jeez,” exclaimed Kim, and a mutter went around the injured parties in the courtroom.

“Silence!” demanded the judge as the second whack landed exactly where the first had hit. Three more followed on the same spot. Five down, fifteen to go.

The guard moved a step forward and sent the sixth spank landing on the opposite buttock, as did the next four. The guard was clearly going for effect. The sound echoed around the oak-panelled room, as did the cries of pain and sorrow coming from Kim’s mouth. Half way.

The guard took a step back and repeated the next five on the same buttock as the first five. Finally, for the last fifteen she alternated sides which Kim found almost too much to take. Kim was sobbing as the last stroke hit home. The guard stood back to admire her handywork and instructed her colleague to unfasten the straps.

Kim just lay there crying and trying to gather her thoughts as someone from the back shouted, “Bloody well serves you right! They should do this more often,” and a murmur of agreement went around the half full courtroom. The judge said nothing but nodded in agreement.

After a couple of moments, Kim stood and pulled her tight-fitting dress back down to cover her bottom, and immediately regretted it as a new wave of pain swept over her bottom.

Once Kim was dressed, she was slowly led away by the guards for her transfer to the local prison, about 10 miles away. As she disappeared, shouts of ‘good riddance’ and ‘goodbye to bad rubbish’ could be heard.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Maggie heard and felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. “Are you alright? It’s awfully hot in here, isn’t it?” said a lady sitting next to Maggie. “That didn’t take long. You looked out for the count. Rough night?” she asked, smiling at Maggie.

Maggie shook her head and realised she had been fast asleep for about half an hour and had dreamt the whole thing. She wondered what the judge would hand down in real life as the jury filtered back in.

“How do you find the defendant, Kimberley Mitchell? Guilty or not guilty on all 14 charges?” asked the usher.

The foreman, a small grey-haired middle-aged lady replied, “Guilty, your honour, on all charges.”

“Thank you members of the jury for your attendance and consideration, despite the appalling heat. You are discharged and the court thanks you again,” said his Honour. “Kimberley Mitchell, I sentence you to 3 months imprisonment, suspended for a year, and you will carry out 100 hours of unpaid community work.”

“Rubbish!”

“What was the point of that?”

“That’s not even a slap on the wrist,” came the cries from people in the courtroom.

“Silence! Silence! I will not have disruption in my courtroom. The next one to shout out will go down for contempt!” he bellowed.

‘That’s about right,’ thought Maggie. Kim commits 14 crimes and walks free. Complain about it, and you go to jail. Where was the justice in this?

Maggie wrote a big article on the case, which was a surprise to her editor as he had described it as a ‘something and nothing’ case. She alluded to what had happened in her dream, leaving out most of the details, of course. The newspaper office was swamped with calls, emails and even actual written letters in support of Maggie’s comments and calling for more tougher sentences for this kind of offence.

The End

©Tom Green 2021