Criminals think rules should apply to you, not them
November 8, 1999
By Marianne M. Jennings

Receiving letters from prisoners is one of the perks of writing a column. Often, threats from those who truly hate your writings are nearly indistinguishable from those of twice-convicted thugs. If my mail from prisoners is any gauge, the joints are full of innocent cherubs fallen victim to a ruthless criminal justice system. Breaching etiquette, I do not respond to inmates.
A recent letter, however, warrants a public response. Donna Belva Marietta wrote from the Estrella Jail in Phoenix proclaiming her innocence and complaining of her public defender's failure to "put in a motion for discrimination." This procedural hoop is not one I learned in law school, but a great deal has changed in the past 23 years. I'm not sure murder is a crime any more and there might be jail affirmative action programs now.
Intrigued, I explored the case of Marietta, a Pima Indian. Marietta was arrested on Dec. 11, 1998, with a blood alcohol level of 0.147, 0.10 being the level of legal intoxication. She left a bar to pick up her son, crossed the center line and struck a police officer on a motorcycle, tossing him against her windshield and then 40 feet, sending him into a coma. Officer Gunter has recovered with permanent damage to his knee and now has a desk job. Marietta says she didn't do it. Accident reconstructionists see it differently and her public defender advised her to plead guilty. She did and got half of the recommended sentence of 15 years despite her lack of remorse. "I know in my heart it wasn't my fault," she writes.
"It's not my fault," like "been there, done that," "don't go there," "at the end of the day," and "agenda," is one of those trite phrases that make me want to say "groovy," so sopping with the age of Aquarius are these worn expressions. Couple "it's not my fault" with a drunken-driving binge that nets a coma for an innocent personand you have discrimination. The "it's not my fault" syndrome has taken on significance Freud would find innovative. "It's not my fault" has subsidized whims, follies and treacherous acts with the theory that, well, we just can't control ourselves. No better than hamsters in heat or lions in a Serengeti drought, we justify with Flip Wilson's comedic line, "The devil made me do it."
Andrew Goldstein, who pushed Kendra Webdale, a complete stranger, in front of a subway car and killed her, raises the defense of psychosis, whatever that is. Mental illness has become a complete defense to all acts, regardless of malice or intent. Find the right syndrome and wreaking havoc is not a problem.
Worse than the no-fault syndrome is the royalty syndrome under which otherwise felonious acts are excused by station in life. Heisman hopeful Peter Warrick paid $21.40 for clothing worth $412.38 at Dillard's with cooperation from a 19-year-old clerk. In Tallahassee, Fla., such a discount is grand theft and Warrick, the clerk and a fellow team member, Laveranues Coles, faced felony charges. Warrick was suspended from the Florida State team, but reinstated after the cruel and unusual punishment of 20 hours of community service was imposed. Coles was kicked off the team owing to previous legal and academic difficulties. Praise the heavens for hard-nosed coaches! What's even better is the reaction of William Dockery, the president of the Downtown Athletic Club that awards the Heisman. "If any candidate is convicted of a felony, he would no longer be eligible to receive the Heisman Trophy." Oh, self-righteous fiend! Oh, judgmental tormentor! But better still are the reactions of some of the 900 voters for the Heisman trophy winner, "It's a hard call," or "I wish we had some guidelines. The Heisman people and others who sponsor awards have left the door flapping in the breeze and haven't given us any guidelines on whether character, or academics, are important."
There was a time when all college students were held accountable for academic performance and suspended for lack of character. Now the biggest college football honor in the nation could belong to a thief. You don't expect perfection and football excellence, but is excluding crooks setting the bar too high?
Lack of enforcement, for whatever unrelated reason, moves the line of right and wrong, of propriety and impropriety, just a bit each time. Each level of tolerance discourages compliance. And each devilish act chips away at the human spirit that once seemed indefatigable. Now the human spirit is no different from the marauding bear, the laughing hyena or the prowling wolf. In this week of whiney prisoners, excused gridironers and contrived defenses to murder, there was a bright spot of reassurance on the human spirit. Eddie Timanus, the blind reporter for USA Today, is a finalist on Jeopardy! Blind since the age of 2, the man bowls, plays baseball and beats the sighted at Alex Trebek's game. No excuses, no rationalizations, no whining, no fussing -- nothing but achievement in a world in which the guilty are excused for far fewer challenges than Eddie faces. Eddie stands as defiant proof of what the human spirit can overcome. He could have listed 100 excuses. Instead, he found a way around them all. I may just respond to all my prison fan mail with one line: Study Eddie Timanus and then get back to me.

Marianne M. Jennings is a professor of legal and ethical studies at Arizona State University, and we are proud to carry her column here on AIM's web site.  You can read the print version of the column in the Deseret News and other fine newspapers.