Deixe A Punição Adequar-se Ao Crime [FICTOID]

“Deixe a punição adequar-se ao crime,” Judge Armando Siqueira said.

“This is inhumane!” said Sir Reginald Farquhar. 

“Indeed it is,” said Judge Siqueira.

“It’s cruel and unusual!”

“Decidedly so.”

“You can’t do this!”

“The fact we are here and you are in my custody is ample proof that yes, I can indeed do this.”

“It’s unjust!”

“Ahh, now there you have spoken falsely, my friendly fiend.  Do you deny you are guilty of the charges leveled against you?”

“I do!”

“Oh?  How then do you explain the suitcase filled with seventeen severed left hands discovered in your closet?”

“I…I found them and was going to bring them to the attention of the police.”

“Mm-hmm.  And the photos and video files documenting your commission of your crimes?”

“…uh…AI generated fakes.”

“They were found on your computer and post on all your social media.”

“Somebody hacked my accounts!”

“Fingerprints and DNA evidence left at the crime scenes?”

“Botched lab tests!”

“Victims’ bloodstains and DNA found on your clothing?”

“My cleaner washed my garments together with the clothes of the actual murderer.”

“The still living victim -- minus their left hand -- we found chained up in your basement who positively identified you as their attacker?”

“Misidentification!  You know you can’t rely on eyewitness testimony.”

“The taped confession at police headquarters where you said -- and I quote -- ‘Bwa-ha-ha!  Yes!  I did it!  I killed them all!”

“I was tricked into saying that.”

“Nonetheless, a jury of your peers found you guilty.”

“It was not a jury of my peers!  There wasn’t a single serial killer on it!”

“There, you just admitted to being a serial killer again.”

“My lawyer should have told me not to say that.”

“He would have -- if you hadn’t killed him.”

“Proof of inadequate defense!  I demand a new trial!”

“We assigned you a new court appointed attorney, the best lawyer on the planet.  Counsel, what say you?”

“Nail the bastard,” Perry Mason said.  “His check bounced.”

“So here we are,” said Judge Sequeira.  “Prepare yourself for the sentence to be carried out.”

“You can’t execute me!  Portugal outlawed capital punishment in 1867!”

“Indeed we did,” said the judge, “but one of your victims was an exchange student from this island.  We have brought you here for them to do unto you as they see fit.”

The heavily tattooed tribal chieftain stepped forward and snapped his fingers.  Two muscular warriors seized Farquhar and dragged him to the massive gates in the wall barricading the human community from the rest of the island.

Teams of tribal people pulled back the huge crossbars that kept the gates shut.  They opened them just enough for the two warriors to drag Farquhar up the stone steps to the altar above, tying him spread eagle between two stone pillars.

The altar had not been used in decades, not since the discovery of the island by the outside world.  Scientists came to study the island’s unique wildlife and through gifts and aid persuaded the tribe to stop their annual sacrifices, instead feeding their island god huge bags of roasted coffee beans.

“No!  No!” Farquhar whimpered.  “I don’t want this!  Dying, yes, but I don’t want to be turn ed into monkey poop!”

One of the warriors slapped Farquhar on the back of his head.  “Don’t go dissing monkey poop,” he said.  “We harvest it to sell as kopi luwak, a major source of income for our tribe.”

He and the other warrior hurried down the steps and through the gates.  The massive wooden doors creaked shut behind them and the giant crossbeams slid home.

Atop the wall another tribe member – the brother of Farquhar’s victim – began slowly beating a huge drum with a mallet.

Through the jungle, Kong approached…”

© Buzz Dixon