Prologue 1: UH-OH!
.
26.10.2016
A. Lagopus reporting:
New court ruling has massive implications for criminal justice system.
.
In what must be the largest shakeup of to Zootopian criminal justice system since the abolition of the death penalty over 50 years ago, the supreme court has accepted the argument that prison sentences are, in fact, a cruel and unusual punishment in and of themselves. The suite, brought in by the families of a large number of prisoners serving extra long sentences, including a large proportion under the third strike law, claim that the separation from society as a whole, and family in particular, is no more cruel and unusual than punishments such as public humiliation, or corporal punishments. The judges accepted this, citing that while separation from the general public was needed in a large proportion of cases, the separation for long periods of prisoners who do not require this is a particularly life changing method of letting them pay back their debt.
Already, the implications of this ruling are being discussed. The chief justices advised that, where possible, a range of punishment options should be open to prisoners. Other pundits are claiming that 'tailored' punishments, designed to fit the crime, could soon be common. There is also interest from a variety of companies in the private sector, who see the opportunity to create tailored punishment programs, competing on the basis of their cost and rehabilitation rate.
Opponents were swift to condemn this ruling though, chiefly lead by ex-mayor Lionheart, the chief opposer of the suite, given it's high support by disgraced ex-mayor Dawn Bellwether. Lionheart is quoted as saying the following. "When the nighthowler crisis struck, I tried to cover the initial savages up on the basis of preserving national security and it being in the public good, a defence accepted by the judges and jury trying me. I spent around four months in jail pre-trial, but under this ruling I, or many other innocents in such a situation, could have been pressured into accepting a plea deal which would involve being submitted to humiliating, degrading or torturous treatment. In addition, I fear the implications of this ruling going further on. Let us not forget that this was a stepping stone Bellwether planned to use in order to get to her long term goal, forced shock collars for all predators."
Ex-mayor Bellwether, currently serving one hundred and twelve concurrent life sentences, one for each predator darted and one each for bio-terrorism, conspiracy, crimes against mammality, conspiracy to commit genocide and high treason, was unavailable to comment.
While the further details of this ruling are yet to be printed, and the full implications unknown, the fact remains that criminal justice in Zootopia will never be the same again.
.
.
12.5.2018
B. Barker reporting:
New punishment options provide triple win for Zootopia.
.
Less than two years since jailtime was ruled a cruel and unusual punishment, and thus the door was opened for multiple different punishments, the change for the better is already apparent. Instead of rotting in jail for decades and becoming institutionalised, at great expense to the taxpayer no less, prisoners of crimes are given intensive but far shorter punishments. Able to resume their lives without the shock break, reoffending rates are far lower, as is the impact on their families.
One elephant, a mister Junior, was open to comment.
"I don't deny that I was drunk. I don't deny that I thought I'd tease a rodent sized drive in theatre, and as a result accidentally crushed a car trying to flee, giving the driver life changing injuries. But the option was jail for fifteen years, a variety of corporal or humiliating punishments, or being restrained to a wheelchair outside of my home and workplace for that amount of time. I took the latter one in a heartbeat. Yes, the ankle tracker I need to wear, to record where I am, make sure I'm complying, and warn me if I'm an idiot and forget, gets a bit annoying a few times. I won't deny that having my mobility limited outside is a dreadful pain on many occasions, but I guess I do need to be punished… Had I gone to jail, the business I inherited may well have folded. My wife and kids would be in poverty… I'd miss seeing them grow up, and come out of the system when they were in the early twenties, fully grown adults who didn't have a father figure to guide them. Now, though, I can support my family, raise my kids to be better, and I guess not cost the taxpayer much too."
For others, particularly those with limited means, the recent extension of the rules to cover fines as well has also worked out. To quote a young deer doe who wished to remain anonymous:
"I was an idiot and lazy. I had some junk, so I thought 'why not tip it'. I was also poor, and the massive fine I got would screw me over. Instead I spent three days in the stocks, having all sorts of gunk thrown at me by school kids. Did it suck? Hella yeah it sucked! But the other option was not paying the fine, getting sucked more into debt, and just gettin' rutted over by the system. At least now I know to call up the council to take away any big junk I have!"
Even the shock collars, feared by many opponents given how they were the final aim of the Bellwether regime, have come across favourable. One anonymous ram had this to say. "I always had anger problems, things just pissed me off. And I was going to spend years in jail, but instead I got this. It sucks, but not as bad as jail sucks, and it even helps me. Hurts me when I'm too angry, and I feel myself raging less now 'cause of it."
Talking of everyone's least favourite ewe, rumours that she'd using this very scheme of hers to get a massively reduced sentence have been confirmed. Reportedly, she took her first operation last Tuesday in what will be an extensive species reassignment operation. While the exact species she'll be reassigned to has yet to be announced, guards have confirmed that it'll be a predator species. Although she'll still eat a sheep diet, she'll outwardly appear as the type of mammal she conspired against, and will have to live with the burdens on her release (on parole) in ten-years' time.
While the support of mammals in the scheme has been shown, along with the support of both victims and the statistics (in terms of reoffence), the support from the taxpayer is also high. Bellwether's operation, though very expensive, is equivalent to just one year's worth of time in the zoo. Millions are being saved up front, not counting the savings from social costs, such as absentee parents. At the same time, large numbers of prisoners who were on 'three-strikes-out' life sentences have been given a new chance, after a few years of catch up punishment that is.
In terms of punishment, new and better tailored ones are created every day, and, in the views of this writer, long may this continue.
.
.
.
"Mr Faux?"
"Yo, What!?"
The mouse attorney stepped back a bit across the table from the sharp reply, shuffling his papers before looking up again. Sitting across from him, in an orange ZPD prisoner jumpsuit and with a paw cuffed to the table, sat a fox.
A fennec fox.
A particularly angry, mean looking, fennec fox. Notably short for his species, but with a mean face that you didn't want to mess with.
"The names Finnick, law mouse," he grunted, rolling his eyes.
He watched as they annoying little guy shuffled his papers again, and looked up to meet him. He scoffed at the idea, just some dumb mouse telling him from dumb stuff. He'd told him himself that he couldn't get out of this, the evidence being too great.
So what?
Finnick knew he was guilty….
.
.
.
Earlier that day.
.
A young deer doe sat down at a commuter station, far out in the meadowlands. The trains only came half an hour, and she had some time until her one, so she picked out a book and began reading.
…
"Mama!"
…
"MAMA!"
…
She pulled her book down and looked about, gasping as she saw a little kit wandering alone. He was looking around, lost, and seemed very scared.
…
"MAMA!"
Finnick meanwhile took his paw off the little recording device in his pocket and smiled darkly. He bit his pacifier tighter as she hurried over, a nice fat bag hanging from the shoulder.
"Oh gosh!" she gasped, kneeling down next to him. "You okay?"
He shook his head and sniffed, beginning to sniff some more.
"Oh no, don't cry!"
He sniffed, then backed away as she leant forwards, arm out.
"Everything's gonna be just fine," she soothed. "You hungry, thirsty?"
Perfect, he thought, as he placed his paws over his crotch and began hopping up and down.
"Oh dear," she said, before smiling. "Looks like a big boy needs to go to the bathroom." She looked over to the little hut on the platform and, holding his paw, they took off.
Inside, and she helped him into the small mammal toilets, letting him close the door and attend to business by himself. Out again, and phase two began. Some mammals didn't bother washing his paws, though that could be helped by pointing towards the sinks, but she was fawning over him like he was one. There was a sink his size, but a bit of fake clumsiness, and getting soap everywhere, soon tried her patience.
"How about I help you," she said, placing her handbag down as she lifted him up onto the edge of a larger sink.
Perfect Finnick thought, watching as a brown blur raced past, plucking up the bag and stealing it away.
The plan had always involved Duke playing a part, which meant that it was a no-go while he was partnered with Nick. He frowned at that thought, barely noticing as the mark helped with his paws. That damn partner, too good for the con life, had only gone over and joined the other team… It wouldn't be so bad, if he didn't make all that effort to help Finnick. Dumb things like job offers, even some that might make more than he did as a con. Even offering him and his bunny friend's unused car park space for his van…
He didn't need that kind of stuff, yet it came every week.
As he was pulled over to the pawdryer, he couldn't help but grimace. Nick may have been a great con partner, but he was a great wuss as well, and just had to spend all the time since just rubbing in how goody two shoes he now was, or tempting himself to follow the same weak path.
"There we go," the doe said, Finnick's paws dry. She placed him down and turned back, pausing as she saw her bag wasn't there.
"Huh…"
He smiled slightly at her confusion, before she turned back to him.
"Have you seen my bag, little one?"
He shook his head.
"Right," she said, kneeling down to pinch his cheek.
He grimaced but accepted it. All he had to do now was get away from her. Easy if Nick was still around, a quick daddy routine and it'd be all over. Still, a quick sneak through a fence when she wasn't looking and…
Click…..
He snapped back into reality as he saw a pair of pawcuffs around one arm, his pacifier dropping out of his mouth in shock. The doe looked down and frowned.
"I think that lack of crying confirms it," she said, harshly. "I've seen fennec kits before, and you may be a runt but you're not one of them."
'Oh crap…'
"Let's get you down to the station, and find out just who you are."
.
.
.
Good con, bad luck.
That's what he thought.
He'd refused to name any names, and would probably get a fine or something before being let go. He could pay them. He had a slush fund…
So what?
The law mouse cleared his throat, and spoke. "Sir, do you know how serious this is?"
"I payz the fuzz a few hundred bucks and go free, can we get dis over with?"
"…Mr Faux, this is your third strike…"
"What does that mean?" he said dismissively.
…
"It means, you're probably going to die behind bars."
Finnick's eyes snapped open, and he turned to face the lawyer. "WHAT!?"
"Forty years minimum," he noted, "so you'd be eighty when you get out…"
….
Oh rut….
.
Finnick had spent two small stints in jail when he was younger, and his cons less good. One was for a bar fight that went out of control, and got him two years. The other was a repeated micro-theft auto, getting him six months… Plus there were plenty of small fines like this one in the meantime…
"Why dis one?" he asked. "Why forty frickin years, for this!"
"New laws came into place, against faking species or age as an attempt to defraud or commit criminal acts," the lawyer noted. "Turns your misdemeanour into a low level felony, which triggers your three strikes. You're out!"
A wave of shock and despair came over him.
No…
This couldn't be happening. This was not happening! He didn't notice as over stuff and jargon was read out, and he was led back to his small cell.
He sat on his hard cot and looked up at the bleak ceiling…
.
.
.
.
Rut him good….
.
.
.
He fucked up.
.
.
.
In that moment, he wished that he'd listened to Nick. Or taken him up on one of his offers…
.
.
.
He hadn't genuinely cried in decades, but in that moment he felt like he might.
.
.
.
He didn't remember much going forwards. His lady friend, a very well endowed (in the tail department) fennec vixen, came to scream at him for lying to her. She worked as a stock mover in a rodent sized warehouse, and as far as she knew he was a freelancer doing car paint jobs…
Now she knew he'd been committing crimes, and was going to jail for it.
He still loved her, as a spunk dump mostly, but she said that even if she would be getting out, she wouldn't wait for him.
In that moment he realised how lonely he was, and he begged her for forgiveness. Even to just be a friend who visited.
She gave him the finger and marched out.
…
He saw Officer Toot Toot once…
He asked if Nick was too mad to see him, and she said that he was mad. He was sad too, loosing a friend, and angry that he hadn't listened or taken up any of the help given. He was also on paid leave, half his tail in a cast after an arrest gone wrong, which was the main reason he wasn't here.
He asked if the two were going to help.
She said they'd try, because despite all the pain he'd caused him, Nick still felt that Finnick was a 'friend'.
…
The trial was quick.
The doe was there, describing what happened. There were the cameras on the station, plus some witnesses who saw her dragging him out. Other witnesses too, from the dozen other times he'd run this con. He said he was guilty, no point in denying it, but he didn't tattle on anyone else.
He grimaced as the gavel hit down, and the judge gave the sentence.
"Finnick Izaiah Faux, you are hereby found guilty of multiple cases of theft, along with misrepresenting your age in aid of criminal activity. Being your third strike, the minimum sentence would be forty years…"
He closed his eyes, bracing for it…
"But…"
His eyes opened again, as a sudden wash of hope came over him.
"Under the alternative punishment ruling, I do have on that would see you serve that in three years."
Three years!
"Based in the concepts of heavy humiliation, destroying any reputation among the criminal elements, along with re-raising in a strict environment, you will be regressed to infancy. It's a fairly common punishment for a wide range of related, or non-related crimes, indeed being frequently given where no obvious alternative punishment exists. Suffice to say though, in your case it seems that it fits very nicely."
"Ummm…" Finnick began. "Can yowz tell me more, huh?"
The judge frowned. "It's usually dependent on a loved one or loved ones who want to bring back wayward children, and in your case two mammals have been approved to act as foster parents for the duration of the sentence. Discipline 'daycare' centers also exist, with many mammals spending their entire sentence in them. You'll be prepped for your punishment there, and have to spend at least a tenth of your sentence in there. In many occasions, your foster parents will also use it as a daycare, while they work or go on their own activities.
…
"So I get to spend three years pretending to be a little kit again, and I'm outta there?"
"That is correct," the judge noted.
Finnick knew that there was probably more to it than it seemed, but he didn't care. If he didn't take it, he'd be three years into the rest of his life and remember that he could be free by now. "Seems like I don't have a choice," he said, shrugging. "Put me down, honour…"
"Very well," the judge said. "Finnick Izaiah Faux, you are hereby sentenced to three years of intense regression punishment. To commence immediately."
There was a bang as the gavel went down, and some cop stood up to lead him out.
"In addition," the judge noted. "I believe your foster parents are in the audience as we speak. They will accompany you as you're prepped for the punishment."
Finnick scowled, angry that he wasn't told that before.
He then heard a whistle, and turned to face its source.
His mouth dropped down, and he suddenly wished he'd taken the life sentence.
Standing up in the audience were Nick and officer Toot-Toot, waving at him. "Wanna give daddy a hello kiss!" he shouted.
Finnick clutched his head and screamed. "I wish I was rottin' in the pound already!"