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Some things just don’t make much sense. On February 1, 1997, a young family of three was burned alive in a fiery Los Angeles area freeway accident. On April 17, 1998, two men accused of staging the accident each pled guilty to voluntary manslaughter and were each summarily sentenced to 11 years in prison. Let’s see. Given time off for “good behavior” (perhaps the cruelest of oxymorons), each of the men will serve slightly more than six years behind bars. Divide that by the three dead bodies, and it translates to a paltry two years per human life.
Or how about the Colorado slip-and-fall artist who confessed to staging more than 200 bogus “accidents” in order to assure an ongoing source of income. He served fourteen months, and there was never any mention of restitution.
I could go on and on – ad nauseum – if there were room, but there’s not and surely you get the picture.
What kind of a message are we sending to the great unwashed who participate in such criminality? “Hey, Joe (or Pablo, Tran, Mohammed, Sergei, Tyrone), here’s a great, nearly risk-free way to score some big money. If you don’t get caught, you’ll reap big profits. And if you do get caught, no sweat … even if you end up killing somebody, we’ll have you out in two years!”
Something stinks in Los Angeles … and in Chicago, and in Baltimore, and in Atlanta, and in Kansas City, and in Detroit, and in Miami, and in New York City. In fact, something stinks in Little Town, USA, because the price tag on life – as it applies in cases of insurance fraud – is a disgrace.
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