DOES THIS SENTENCING MAKE SENSE?

Kirby Richardson's 30-day sentence sparks heated discussion over
java.

Well, it seems that the long, strange saga of Kirby
Richardson and the "turn lane upgrades" has come to an end. After
initially facing a whopping 82 felony charges, with maximum prison
sentences stretching into the triple digits, Richardson accepted a
plea bargain and was sentenced to 30 days in jail and a $15,000 fine.

Does anyone else think that sounds odd? Let's look at the "tale of the
tape" again. Initial charges: 82 alleged felonies, carrying possible
jail time stretching well beyond the rest of Richardson's life. Final
sentence: 30 days in jail. I haven't heard whether Richardson will
have to serve the full 30, or if he'll get the usual "day for a day"
arrangement for good behavior, and be out in 15 days. Of course, two
weeks in jail is nothing to sneeze at! But ... still. Eighty-two
felony charges and a guilty plea to some of them gets one ... a few
weeks inside? Of course, there's always the whopping $15,000 fine.
Nothing to sneeze at, either.

The seeming disparity in the crimes he was charged with and the
punishment he received was as the centerpiece of a fevered discussion
at Mill Mountain Coffee and Tea one Tuesday night earlier this month,
and I thought I'd pass a bit of this food for thought on to those of
you who couldn't be out among the nighthawks, solving the world's
problems over java jitters.

After the mix of confusion and outrage over Richardson's "slap on the
wrist" as one patron called it, the conversation took a turn into an
interesting first-hand account. It seems it's not just Kirby
Richardson who has experienced the inconsistencies in modern American
(and Roanoke Valley) jurisprudence. Forget the 82 felony counts for a
moment. Tell me if anyone out there has a problem with this:

One friendly fellow in the midst of our caffeine-fueled discussion
group 'fessed up to having spent three months as a guest of the county
a few years ago. Seems he had a problem with drinking . Strike that:
He had a problem with not drinking. After he proved deaf to the pleas
and protestations of his friends, family and various and sundry loved
ones, it finally took the authoritative voice of a Roanoke County
judge to convince him to get off the sauce. He ended up serving three
months of a six-month sentence for driving under the influence. It's
an old, old story that isn't all that engaging in and of itself, but
it did give the guy a unique perspective on the ridiculous nature of
modern sentencing and plea bargaining.

To the majority of those out there who have never been inside the
Roanoke County Jail, its living quarters are arranged in a way that
can somewhat awkwardly be compared to a college dorm. Each cell houses
two inmates, and groupings of two cells - called a pod - share a
bathroom. The guy one shares a cell with is, quite naturally, a
"cellmate," while the two other guys sharing the toilet are one's
"podmates." Got it? Good.

According to our ex-jailbird buddy, during his time inside, he shared
space with two convicted felons awaiting transfer to federal prison.
His cellmate, he told us, had killed a guy. Another old, old story; it
was a cheatin' lover situation - the sort of sordid tale that inspired
Johnny Cash ballads. Anyhow, this gun-toting jealous hubby copped a
plea to manslaughter and received a sentence of four and a half years.
Our pal's podmate, on the other hand, had purportedly received his
second conviction for "possession of cocaine with the intent to
distribute." For his crime, felon number two received a sentence of 15
years in the federal pen.

Did you get that, folks? According to an insider report, and depending
on circumstances and plea agreements, shooting a guy gets you four and
a half years, but selling that same guy some cocaine can get you 15?
As the bumper sticker says, "If you aren't outraged, you aren't paying
attention!" Or, maybe, if you aren't outraged, you don't suck down as
much caffeine as I do.

Either way, one thing's for certain. Kirby Richardson should thank his
lucky stars he was only charged with 82 counts related to alleged
conspiracy and forgery of public documents. If, instead of allegedly
betraying his elected office and encouraging his secretary to lie to
investigators, he'd sold her a gram of cocaine, he might have had to
do some real time.