Another vigilante heads for the clink!
It’s an odd subject to write about and one that stirs up the emotions.
Before I begin, let me relay a true story…
I once had the mis-fortune of living next to a convicted criminal. I had left the services and the Royal Air Force had assisted me in finding a house to rent in Devon to be closer to my children. The house looked to be in a nice quiet area, the houses were fairly new and well kept and on seeing the pictures and knowing the area from times past, I jumped at the opportunity of a little two bedroomed semi! In the days that followed I was made in some small way to feel guilty living in said, modest, 2 bed semi on my own whilst he, my next door neighbour, his girlfriend and their eight children were housed by social housing right next door…
His behaviour at best was odd, the cannabis plant that he spent hours working on was openly visible in the back garden and on the rare occasion that I was caught in my own garden and unable to avoid conversing with him, I got an insight into the type of life he led. He was from a broken home and only in his twenties (yup, that’s right, with eight children!) had amassed a brood of children that one can only feel sorry for. I think he was aiming to breed a full cricket team!
Whilst the core subject here is really very serious, sometimes I have to look back and laugh due to the insanity of some of the things he got up to. On one occasion, as I lay in bed looking at the ceiling (for those who don’t know me, I have a major sleep disorder, simply known as “can’t”, or for those with greater vocabularies, insomnia) I was blinded by a light. Now, if I had been one to believe in aliens I might have thought I was about to be abducted. But, actually, since there was no light source outside of my bedroom window, simply our two gardens partitioned from the next road by a wall that stretched across the end to both of them, I thought perhaps I was having a seizure!
I leapt out of bed ran out to the stairs and quickly realised that the light wasn’t some form of early warning of a stroke about to hit me but was indeed a blinding light coming from outside of the bedroom window and intense enough to light up my entire bedroom. I have to say that all sorts of things run through one’s mind when something totally inexplicable that seems to defy logic takes place, and for those who watch horror films and see that stereotypical unfortunate victim allow curiosity to lead them to certain death, and furthermore, shout at the television; “What fool in their right mind would investigate that!”, well, that was me… I headed straight for the curtains… Whilst I should probably be thankful that there wasn’t a band of crazed zombies or aliens waiting for me on the other side of the curtains, I had to rub my eyes several times to ensure I was actually awake as, it appeared that Woodstock was taking place in my back garden. To cut a long story short, he had pinched a full sized projector from somewhere and was honing his projection skills by playing a film about Woodstock from his own bedroom window onto the wall at the end of the garden. It was kind of ingenious, and I don’t mind admitting on that occasion I almost wet myself laughing, but hey ho, it wasn’t always so funny!
He was being treated on a drug called Methadone, for substance abuse, (now there’s a surprise, I hear you sigh!) and he would merrily head off to his Doctor each day for his fix. He saw it as a little more than a freebie, courtesy of us taxpayers. Whilst he was tested on occasion to ensure he wasn’t taking other drugs during his treatment he would borrow people’s urine to hide the fact he was no closer to forgoing his habit and confirming to me that his only motivation for going through the process was free drugs.
Both he and his wife would openly use a ‘bong’ in front of their children, and I suspect cannabis was not the only substance they smoked. Social services seemed completely disinterested in the harm they were doing by allowing these children to passively inhale the drugs. One might suspect even they were also addicted or certainly were being set up to be addicted to those same drugs.
On one occasion, he explained to me that he preferred life in prison, because he would become ‘clean’, only to be turfed out right back into the same social circles, after which he would go full circle and without fail restart his habit.
The last I saw of this unfortunate young man was the evening I was due to head overseas to Turkey for several months. I had become fairly paranoid that on returning my house would have been broken into, trashed, and my belongings sold off to support his habit, but that was not to be. Literally, as I packed for the journey I could hear an incredible ‘din’ from outside and went out to the garden to investigate. The fence between our gardens was fairly inadequate to offer any form of privacy. Not much more than knee high, it was fairly impossible to enjoy a peaceful afternoon without some form of interruption. He had been locked out by his wife and for the first time I saw his ‘other’ side. He was using a plank of wood to batter his way through the double glazed window of his kitchen. More in fear of the fact I was leaving that evening, I attempted to humour him. But, he appeared to be fairly well focussed on the task at hand. He suggested I call the police and I dutifully obliged whilst also watching the plank continually ‘bounce’ off the window although it was bullet proof. His wife and children were not home, and eventually I ran out of time and had to leave him to it. I returned several months later and the house was empty. Unbelievably, it appeared that he eventually succeeded in getting in to his own house as the kitchen window was still broken. I can only presume this was from the evening on which I left. Thankfully, I never saw or heard from him again and was soon myself to move with work to another part of the country… I can only imagine he is currently serving at her majesty’s pleasure somewhere!
I suppose that is the humorous side of the story… Now to the point. At what stage does the phrase “An Englishman’s home is his castle” cease to be true. Indeed was it ever true other than in the middle ages?
We now have legislation, it’s been around for quite a few years actually, which allows a home to be broken into, and whereby, if the Robber, Villain or whatever one would like to refer to them as; trips on the carpet, bangs their head on the door, or electrocutes themselves whilst unplugging the VCR or DVD player with the intent of borrowing it permanently and without permission, the home owner can get sued. Moreover the home-owner will lose the case and have to pay compensation to the criminal… *Hmmm*.
I have to say that, assuming I am woken by the noise of an intruder, whilst I consider myself a very passive individual, I also consider myself to be the last line of defence for my loved ones. So, should I or we be unfortunate enough to be in the house and, should somebody break in, I am going to pick up the closest and heaviest object around and I am going to sneak up behind said intruder and hit them… really, really hard. I am not going to pansy around considering whether or not I might hurt them, that will precisely be my intent, and I will do so with as much force that I can muster with the sole intention of them not getting up again. Why? It seems obvious to me. I don’t know if they are armed, I don’t know their intention and, if they get past me I cannot be sure of the safety of my loved ones. So, I am going to use every trick in the book to plant them on the floor before calling the police…
Unfortunately, one man is reported to have taken this too far recently and on hearing that his son had been robbed of his phone, he sought out said robber, ended up in a fight and more tragically for the father of the victim, ended up killing the robber, who was by all accounts a known criminal and would have been locked up had he simply called the police, who in this case could have traced the robber’s location to within a few meters by the GPS on the phone. Whilst I understand his anger, that is one step beyond rational and sadly for his family he is now spending 6 years behind bars…
But what of other vigilantes, or simply those who seek to protect themselves, their homes, from criminals?
Tamsin McMahon of The Canadian National Post wrote a piece a few years ago and I quote;
Mr. Thomson’s (referring to a man charged with pointing a firearm at individual’s who had thrown at least six Molotov cocktails at his house and was recommended for a jail sentence by the judge) is the latest in a series of high-profile cases in which people have been charged after defending their homes and businesses against criminals. Central Alberta farmer Brian Knight became a local hero after shooting a thief who was trying to steal his ATV. He pleaded guilty to criminal negligence earlier this month. In October, Toronto shopkeeper David Chen was acquitted of forcible confinement charges after he tied up a repeat shoplifter and demanded he stop raiding his grocery store.
Their cases are renewing calls for Canada to introduce a version of the “Castle Doctrine” found in many U.S. states, which allows citizens to defend their property with force.
Do you also remember the case in the UK of Tony Martin who was sent to jail for life for shooting a burglar dead in his own home? Was he supposed to offer them tea and biscuits…
One simply wonders what is wrong with the law today. How is it that criminals can in enjoy, and in some cases look forward to, a trip to jail; 4 square meals a day, a free education, an X-Box and television in their cells and health and nutritionists ensuring their food is of good enough quality. Does anybody else see something wrong with this… Hardly a deterrent methinks!
Whilst I think shotguns may be out of proportion, what if in the act of thumping an intruder over the head, they fail to get up permanently?
But, I refer back to my earlier comment, what is the realistic alternative? Wouldn’t a rational man ‘within’ his own home, feel so threatened as to defend himself… but look what trouble that could get one into!
Just food for thought…
