299 Days: The Stronghold

Chapter 109 Crime and Punishment (May 10)

“OK,” Rich said to Grant, picking up their Pendleton whiskey-influenced discussion, “you talked about jail and the death penalty for crimes. How would we do that?” Rich had been meaning to get a plan together for a jail and—this sounded so weird—a court system out there. Was he being premature? Or would this be necessary before they knew it?

Grant thought. “Well, first we have simple laws. Stealing is jail time that goes up with how serious the theft is. Same for assault. Rape is the death penalty and, of course, so is murder. That way, people know the general price they will pay. When it comes to the specifics, like how much jail time, we let a jury of our neighbors decide the exact amount of jail time. And restitution: if you steal, you have to pay back the person three times as much. I think that’s in the Bible or something. Not that I want to turn this into a religious theocracy, but that three-times thing makes a lot of sense. Practical sense. It means crime won’t pay.”

Rich was glad to hear that Grant wasn’t one of the religious people who wanted to do everything by the Bible. Rich was a Christian and thought the Bible was a great guide for life, but not an instruction book dictating everything for every detail of running a society.

Rich asked, “I know how to run a jail, but where do we put it?” They talked for a few minutes and decided that having it at the Grange wouldn’t work because that was already shaping up to be a central location for the community. In addition, Rich planned on keeping extra guns there in a makeshift armory, which made having prisoners right next to the armory a bad idea. Rich suggested an abandoned house a few hundred yards from the Grange. They could get a couple of the less fit guard volunteers to be the jail guards and use the older and overweight volunteers for jail guard duty.

“How do we feed them?” Grant asked. “I mean, I know we need to feed them, but I don’t want scarce food to go to prisoners. Explain that one to hungry residents. People will decide to steal and then get free meals.”

“Well, that’s a problem,” Rich said. “We have to feed them something. Maybe we’ll have them work for their meals. If they’re too dangerous or it becomes too hard to guard them, they just stay in the jail. Maybe we feed them the food no one else wants. Hey, maybe we have them test food that’s beyond expiration dates. Sounds cruel to use prisoners for human experiments, but hey…”

“Sounds good to me,” Grant said.

“OK, we have a plan for the jail,” Rich said. “What about the death penalty?”

“I hope we don’t have to find out,” Grant said, “but odds are that we will.” Grant had actually thought about this quite a bit, but didn’t want to appear morbid to Rich. “I read a great survival novel called One Second After. In it, they had a court system kinda like we’re talking about. They had a judge, but he didn’t execute people. The idea was that the guy imposing the sentence shouldn’t be affected by the fact that he has to do the deed—whether he likes it too much or hates it. So, they drew lots from volunteers and the volunteer shot the convicted person. Although, I think hanging would be a better way. It’s more civilized.”

“OK, we hang them,” Rich said. “We have a judge. I guess that’s you, since you’re the only lawyer we have out here.”

Grant knew that he would be the judge. He didn’t want to do it—he didn’t want to mistakenly punish an innocent person—but he had special skills and training and could perform a job no one else out there could. “Yep, I’m the judge unless anyone else wants to do it,” Grant said. “I’ll be elected, I guess.”

Grant thought a little more and said, “The guiding principle, besides fairness, is the Constitution. We honor the Fourth Amendment prohibition on unreasonable searches. We respect people’s property. We even honor the Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination, as much of a pain in the ass as that is. People have the right to confront their accuser.”

Grant started going through the Bill of Rights by memory. “OK,” he continued, “no cruel and unusual punishment, either, which is, I seem to recall, the Eighth Amendment. Jail time and hanging is not cruel and unusual punishment for a serious crime. Having hungry people test expiration dates on food isn’t cruel in my book—they should be glad to get any food at all if they’ve stolen or hurt someone. Let’s see. Oh, people have a Seventh Amendment right to a jury trial. That’s a big one.”

“A jury shouldn’t be too hard to come by,” Rich said. “We call on adults who are not directly connected with the defendant. We give them lunch. That’ll draw them in.”

“Yep,” Grant said. “As the judge, I would make sure the jury is a fair one. No one can be on the jury who is related to the defendant or has a beef with them. I’ll need local people who know everyone to help me with that since I don’t know all the connections people have out here.”

Grant thought for a moment and then said, “Hey, I know how we can draw random people for jury duty. The lot numbers. Draw them from a hat so people can see this is fair.”

Rich liked that. “Yeah, fair is the key to this. People have to see everything we’re doing. The process has to be open for public view. People are so disgusted by the way the old government did things with favors for people and groups that we need to be extra transparent and fair.”

Exactly, Grant thought. Man, he and Rich were like two peas in a pod.

“We’ll have simple rules of evidence,” Grant said. “No hearsay testimony, but other than that, we have simple, common-sense trials so we find out what happened and people can understand what we’re doing and why.” This is how Grant thought the justice system should be. It was how it used to be before a billion lawyers and bureaucrats created a zillion laws that no one could possibly understand.

Grant said, “We have a chance to start over with a new justice system. A tiny little justice system here at Pierce Point. It will be opposite of all the corrupt shit I saw in the old government’s system. We will build the new system our way, the fair way, guided directly by the Constitution. People will see that Patriots have a better system and will gravitate toward it.”

“Exactly,” Rich said, feeling the Pendleton in him. “We’re decent to people, we solve problems, we’re Patriots—pretty soon, everyone will want to be a Patriot,” he said with a big grin. He and Grant were on the same page. Thank God.

Grant was thinking about the other parts of governing other than the justice system. They had the medical down: Lisa, the nurses, and EMT would provide free services. Donations were encouraged, but they wouldn’t turn anyone away.

“What about taxes?” Grant asked.

“Taxes?” Rich asked. “Are you crazy?”

“No, not taxes like the government has been doing,” Grant said. “‘Taxes’ was a poor choice of words. I mean, how do people contribute for what they’re getting, like the security? How do we keep the things we are doing for people going?” He made a mental note to never use the word “taxes” again.

“I dunno,” said Rich. “No one has any money; we couldn’t spend it on anything, anyway, and I ain’t asking anyone for their money.”

“No,” Grant said, “I mean people should give things to the effort. Whatever they can spare. Nothing formal, but I’d like a way to prevent slackers from just leaching off of the rest of us. You know—all the leaching that got us in the situation we’re in.” Grant decided against it, but wanted to say, “Don’t kid yourself. We’re in a rural semi-self-reliant area, but there are plenty of welfare shitbags out here, too. Like everywhere in America.”

Both Rich and Grant were quiet for a minute, thinking. Nothing was coming to mind.

Rich spoke. “Maybe we keep it pretty informal. We just mentally keep track of who is contributing. Maybe we worry about it if we don’t have enough to feed the guards.”

Mentally keeping track of things wasn’t good enough. Grant said, “We could keep a formal record of what people are contributing and give them public acknowledgment for it. Encourage good behavior. My father-in-law, Drew, is a former accountant. He’s inventorying things for us on Over Road. He could keep track of things people donate.”

Rich said, “Hey, my wife is a bookkeeper. She and Drew could keep track of who’s contributing and what they’re providing. I like the idea of rewarding good behavior.”

“If supplies get tight,” Grant said, knowing that they would, “we can look at who’s not carrying their weight and decide what to do. Of course, we will take care of the old, disabled, and those who can’t take care of themselves. But able-bodied freeloaders will be a problem. Those contributing will be pissed at them, but I’m not sure how we can cut people off of security services or medical care. That’s a community-wide thing. Maybe there will be other things we can offer to people and withhold from non-contributors.” It sounded cruel, but this was a survival situation.

Rich thought some more. “You know, I bet a lot of this works itself out. I know most of the people out here. They will share with neighbors and work to help each other, for the most part. They’ve had to do this over the past few years with the economy.”

Rich paused and looked at Grant. “You know, most people are still pretty decent. A few aren’t. We let the majority work together on their own, and we deal with the minority. Be a decent human being and you won’t have any trouble from us.”

Grant laughed, “That could be our motto.”

Rich laughed. He realized they had polished off about half that bottle of whiskey. He was feeling it.

“I think I should head home,” he said, jingling his keys. “We need to have a law against drunk driving. We’ll put it into effect tomorrow.” They laughed.

“Nah, I’m kidding,” Rich said. “I have a cot here. I’m fine. A couple hours of napping and I’ll be fine. My wife is used to me being here all night sometimes. How are you getting home? Mark left a couple of hours ago. I can call my wife.”

“Don’t waste the gas,” Grant said. “I’ll walk. It’s only about two miles. I need to stay in shape. And it’s a beautiful night, the stars are out, I have my walking companion,” Grant said pointing to his AR leaning against the wall nearby, “and I have a buzz. Perfect walking conditions.”

Grant and Rich shook hands. This was a great partnership. They were exactly the right people to be leading this community. They had a plan.

Grant left and started walking…home. “Home.” That’s right. Not to the “cabin,” but to “home.” Wow. He let that sink in.

The walk home was one of the best of Grant’s life. He thought about how all the “coincidences” were coming together and how they might actually make it out there at Pierce Point. He thought about how he just knew that he needed to talk to Rich that night, how he brought the whiskey that seemed to lubricate this important conversation, and how they were on the same page. He kept thinking about the mini republic at Pierce Point.

A mini republic. It wouldn’t be easy to pull off. He remembered that famous line from Ben Franklin. When he was leaving the 1787 Constitutional Convention, a woman asked him what they had created. “A republic. If you can keep it,” he said. Human beings seemed to love tyranny for some reason. No, it would be more accurate to say that they feared freedom and settled for tyranny, especially soft tyranny where they were taken care of. It would be hard to make a republic work, even a small one.

Grant thought about this Pierce Point mini republic and his life. He had spent his adult years seeing the corruption and injustice and learning how not to run a society. Now they had a chance to start all over again and do it the right way. A mini republic.

This is just a dress rehearsal out here. For something bigger.