The Case of the Prison-Monger - Final

the latter seemed to be struck by a revelation. He turned to the judge and what came out from his throat paralysed the whole court

‘Theirs is a wasted life. Why do you fashion yours accordingly?’

‘They are in prison for what they believe in. That’s their life. Mine: it would have been wasted on the outside. Can you guarantee me work? Do that and I will leave prison with joy.’

‘I am a lawyer, not an employment agent. Maybe when you finish your studies, I could see. Anyway, don’t you feel ashamed to be a burden on the State?’

‘I am not a burden on nobody. The State sends me to prison to punish me. I receive this willingly. Once in prison, I work, and I am now one of the best carpenters in the prison workshop.’

‘You found no job as a carpenter outside prison?’

‘Are you joking? There are hundreds of more able carpenters who are unemployed.’

‘What about as a domestic servant? Or maybe you think that’s a lowly job?’

‘No job is lowly if you need it. The servant field is saturated. Besides, not many people can afford servants these days. Others think maids and servants are becoming spies and are troublesome. So, no job.’

‘Doesn’t it bother you to spend ten years of the prime of your life behind prison walls?’

‘I told you no. you are in prison if you believe it to be so. Your house can be your prison. A palace can be a gilded prison for a king. The monk who shuts himself up in total isolation in a cave is not in prison. In prison, I met very many really free people.’

‘Do you expect us to believe this?’

‘I believe it.’

‘What you want from life seems to be very little.’

‘I yearn not for riches or high positions.’

‘Commendable, indeed. But by being in prison, you try to escape the anguish and pain which gives life its salt.’

‘Life has its miseries wherever you may be. King or beggar, free or a slave – each will get his share, though not equally.’

‘Into each life some rain must fall…’

‘It floods onto the poor. They try to dam it somewhat. My prison is such an attempt.’

‘What sentence do you now expect for your crime?’

‘I should be sent to prison for five years as Article 689 of the Penal Code states.’

‘What if you are set free?’

‘That will be a crime!’ The accused looked really shocked. ‘I have violated the law and I should be punished.’

‘But if you are set free, would you commit a crime again?’

‘I couldn’t avoid it. For the public good and mine, I belong in prison. To finish my studies as well. You know I can’t go to college on the outside with thousands of eligible students still on the university waiting list.’

‘If you commit three more crimes, you will be killed.’

‘Then death will be a relief indeed. Not punishment but real salvation.’ The prosecutor looked pensive.

‘You can cross-examine him,’ said the lawyer to the prosecutor.

‘I think you are insane!’ the prosecutor shot at the accused. The accused kept quiet.

‘I think you are a no-good lazy person,’ the prosecutor added. The accused remained silent.

‘I think you are a parasite who likes being one,’ stated the prosecutor. The accused said nothing.

‘I think you are a fellow-traveler of anarchists and a shame on your country,’ said the prosecutor. The accused just looked back at him.

‘I think being set free will fry your testicles to ashes,’ the prosecutor added in a matter-of-fact way. The accused looked startled but remained silent.

‘I think, Your Honour, I have no more questions,’ concluded the prosecutor.

Judge Aytenfistu exhaled a lot of air and cleared his throat. The ritual over, he spoke.

‘You, the accused, you are a no-good, fast-talking, lazy, strange, crazy person. As the prosecutor said you are a parasite. You are also dangerous. Whoever finds joy in prison, whoever feels free in our jails goes against the order of things, goes against the expected. A cow can’t give birth to a puppy. Prison is punishment, not a source of calm and freedom. If such feelings as yours spread, our society will be in chaos. I agree with the prosecutor, you are hereby sentenced to immediate freedom.’

‘But Judge…’ the accused began to protest.

‘No more! You are freed! Case dismissed!’

‘You can’t do this! You must send me back to prison!’ the accused screamed.

‘Take him away!’ the judge ordered the policeman.

As the policeman signaled the accused to get moving back to the Cage, the latter seemed to be struck by a revelation. He turned to the judge and what came out from his throat paralysed the whole court.

‘You call yourself a judge, you fat pig! You are an ignorant fool! Half the time you sleep on your bench! Your only qualification is your stupidity. I bet you are an impotent sissy. You…’

‘SHUT UP!’ The scream came from the judge as well as from the prosecutor and the defense council.

‘You motherless squit!’ the judge fumed. ‘I will show you who is impotent. You castrated parasite! You can’t insult a judge and get off scot-free. I sentence you immediately to ten years of hard labour in the Robi Desert state farm. Take this dog away at once!’ the judge was beside himself.

‘Your Honour! That’s what he wants!’ protested the prosecutor.

‘That’s what this foul-mouthed son of a slut is going to get! Case dismissed. Court recess for ten minutes!’ The judge got up and walked out of the court angrily.

Well, what can I say? The prosecutor growled at the accused, the defense lawyer did the same, the audience just stared. The policemen manhandled him. And the accused? If I ever saw a smile of happiness and satisfaction, there it was on his face. I wonder if St Gebre would have approved of such unorthodox methods to keep what little one has. The prison-monger went back, not to prison but to a state farm, and no one who knows state farms will say that they are not worse than prisons. The accused will even get anarchist teachers there. What more could he ask – a small over-filled room to sleep in, a piece of bread or two for the day, backbreaking work, possibility of study, no worrying, freedom. He had it made, the lucky prison-monger. Still, I wouldn’t trade places with him. I will cling to my own little world. Who is free; me or the prison-monger? As St Gebre said centuries ago, it’s a world of relative freedom and relative bondage.