Judicial Punishment Lottery

Judicial Punishment Lottery

This story is inspired by the Judicial Punishment stories of authors such as 'Jdb12399' and 'writingsomethingnew' and I very much recommend their work.

Any similarities between this story and their material is entirely deliberate.

Cheers for the inspiration guys.

By the way, this is the longest story I have ever written. But if it's not too boring I might do a sequel if folks would like such a thing.

I very much appreciate feedback as I am new to writing and am looking for any guidance I can get.

All the best

Gortmundy

Judicial Punishment Lottery

Shona Strachan waited with trepidation for her name to be called and her punishment to begin.

She was a twenty-five-year-old nurse working at the Accident & Emergency Department at the local hospital and two weeks ago, after a nightshift from hell, she had fallen asleep behind the wheel of her car on the drive home, at which point the vehicle had crossed lanes and collided head-on with an oncoming SUV.

Both cars were totalled and everyone, including herself, sustained at least some kind of injury.

Her injuries, as well as the injuries to the driver and front-seat passenger of the SUV, were fairly minor, primarily bruising caused by the airbags that had probably saved them from anything more significant. However, a young child travelling as a rear seat passenger had suffered more extensive injuries, including whiplash, a broken wrist and a choking injury that would probably have been life-threatening had Shona not staggered from the wreck of her car and performed first-aid that dislodged the sweet that was stuck in the back of her throat.

Shona's relief when the young girl coughed up the malignant confectionary and started gasping in huge lungfulls of air was palpable, but she was still sickened by the thought of what could have happened and was sitting on the kerb, weeping openly when the Police arrived, and she was arrested.

Shona was taken to hospital in handcuffs, escorted by an armoured Police Constable where she was checked out by one of the early-shift nurses. Given the minor nature of her injuries, she was deemed fit to be kept in Police custody and released from hospital care.

In keeping with the new guidelines for streamlining court procedures and given her case involved serious personal injury, she was locked up to appear in court the next lawful day.

The Police holding facility was modern and clean, and the booking-in procedure fairly simple. She had no history of drug abuse or mental illness so other than bagging and cataloguing her phone, purse and other personal belongings, and asking a number of standard welfare questions she was simply given a routine pat-down search and escorted to a holding cell by one of the civilian wardens on duty. Her shoes were left outside her cell, and she was locked in and left to her own devices.

The cell was clean and consisted of a mattress placed on a low concrete shelf, a metal toilet and a combined water dispenser and sink that he been recessed into the wall.

It was warm enough, if not particularly comfortable, and the food was terrible, but it had been a loud, scary place with strange shouts, moans and cries heard from other adjacent cells. It smelled of bleach and antiseptic and the cameras in her cell afforded no privacy, even on the toilet, and she had blushed and wept with shame when she had to ask for toilet paper so she could use the loo.

The nurse at the facility and even the other staff had been quite kind, if distant. She had been given some paracetamol for pain and a cup of tea and they checked on her regularly. They even gave her a book, some trashy well-thumbed romance novel that had become her most prized possession given its magical ability to distract her mind if only a little.

The cells were timeless, always lit, with no way of telling the hour, or even what day it was. In the morning she spoke to a court-appointed solicitor but given her intention to plead guilty there was very little he could do but reassure her and try to present her character as positively as possible. He told her the Procurator Fiscal had shown leniency by only libelling a charge of causing injury by Careless Driving as opposed to the considerably more serious charge of Dangerous Driving.

She was escorted to the dock of the Sheriff Court in handcuffs by a hard-faced policewoman who appeared vigilant to her movements but otherwise ignored her.

Once the formalities of confirming her identity and reading out the charge were concluded the Sheriff stirred and at a gesture from the clerk she stood.

"Shona Strachan, you have heard the specifics of the charge, do you wish them repeated?"

"No sir," she whispered.

"I'm sorry Miss Strachan, I appreciate this must be quite daunting, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to speak up."

She took a breath and answered as firmly as she could, "No sir."

"Thank you."

The Sheriff looked at her over the rim of his spectacles, "I see you have entered a plea of guilty. Can you confirm that this is indeed the case?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well, please be seated."

Once she had resumed her seat the Sheriff gave a brief nod to the assortment of black-caped solicitors sitting at the large table in front of her. One of them stood, an attractive young woman in a dark grey business suit with a loose black cape worn over her shoulders. She was a brunette, with a figure that could turn heads at a bar or other event, but today she was all business.

"Sir, the circumstances are not in dispute and are agreed by both the Fiscals service and the defence. I can reiterate them in full if requested but otherwise the prosecution has nothing further to add."

"Thank you, Miss Jamieson, I've read the reports and I am familiar with the circumstances."

The woman nodded respectfully and resumed her seat.

"Would the defence care to add anything?"

"Sir, you will have seen the character reference and all other materials. I would however be remiss if I did not point out that at the time of the collision my client's first thought was the safety of the passengers in the other vehicle and despite having sustained some albeit minor injuries herself, she immediately went to check up on them and in doing so performed lifegiving aid on a young child that may quite possibly have preserved her life."

The Sheriff smiled, "Indeed, however, it is also the case that her life might not have been endangered in the first place save for your client's earlier actions."

Thinking of the small body in the car Shona began to cry.

"Madam Fiscal, would you care to offer any rebuttal?"

The pretty lawyer stood and steadfastly ignored the weeping woman, "No sir, as previously stated this is one of those rare cases where both the Fiscals Service and the defence are in agreement."

"Very well."

The Sheriff turned to her and at a curt gesture from the female cop next to her she stood to face him.

He cleared his throat, "Shona Strachan, you have pled guilty to a charge of careless driving, in contravention of Section 3, of the Road Traffic Act 1988, the circumstances being that you fell asleep, or lost concentration while driving, lost control of the vehicle you were travelling in whereby it crossed into the path of oncoming traffic causing a collision. As a result of that collision injury and damage were caused. Do you understand?"

Shona nodded, "Yes sir."

The Sheriff looked at her for a long moment, "Interestingly enough, despite appearing from custody I have already received a letter as to your good character from medical staff at the hospital where you work, and it would appear you are well thought of there."

Shona glanced at the public gallery where she recognised at least two of her fellow nurses trying to smile encouragingly.

The sheriff continued, "However, I'm afraid this document, while a credit to you, is unfortunately irrelevant as to the particulars of this case as no one has impugned your good character in the first place. Both the Procurator Fiscal, the defence, and I agree that this is likely an isolated incident and more a woeful lapse in judgement rather than an act of criminal intent or malicious stupidity. However, it cannot be ignored that your actions caused significant and potentially life-threatening injuries to a young child. Though the court does recognise your efforts and skill in dealing with those injuries at the scene."

The Sheriff plucked a page from the extensive file in front of him. "There is however one document I am willing to consider, and it is this one I have here in my hand. It was added to the case file by a Police witness who obtained statements from the passengers of the vehicle you struck. This is a letter from one Abigail Marshall, aged seven. I won't read it all out, but essentially it says that you are a 'very nice lady' and goes on to say, and I quote, 'When I do bad things, I sometimes get punished and made to sit on the naughty step and I do not like this. Please do not punish her too much or be mean to her.' There is, ahem, a crayon picture of you that goes with the letter."

Shona's shoulders were shaking by now as tears tripped down her face.

"I think it might be in order for this letter to be added to your personal items before you leave if that would be acceptable to you Miss Strachan."

Unable to speak Shona could only nod.

"Very well, I have decided that while taking into account all the relevant facts and circumstances of this case there are sufficient grounds for some leniency to be shown you. Had a charge of Dangerous Driving been libelled against you it might very well merit a custodial sentence of between seven and ten days in a short-stay prison however you will be glad to know that this is not applicable on this occasion.

The normal minimum punishment for an offence such as this would be sixty strokes with a cane on your nether regions, thirty for the Careless Driving and thirty for the injuries caused. This would entail at least an overnight stay in a custodial facility as the maximum number of strokes it is permissible to administer at any one time is thirty. I stress that this is normally the minimum penalty applicable in a case such as this.

However, taking into consideration your good character, lack of any previous convictions, your selfless behaviour at the scene and, most particularly the letter from young Miss Marshall, I will instead sentence you to be taken to a place designated for such purpose and there publicly shamed for a period of eight hours with appropriate randomised lottery punishments being applied for two of those hours. That punishment is to be carried out fourteen days from today.

Further, if between now and your appearance for punishment you write a letter thanking young Miss Marshall for her kindness, I will reduce that period of public shaming to four hours."

The Sheriff leaned forward, his unblinking gaze transfixed the weeping woman, and his voice carried a definite air of menace that made her shiver, "I should stress that this is the most lenient sentence I could possibly apply in a case such as this. As such I have shown you great clemency. If I should later find that my charitable gesture has been misplaced Miss Strachan, then you can expect a significantly different outcome on any future appearance before me. I do hope I am making myself clear."

"Yes sir."

"Good. In that case, I order you to be released from custody in the meantime."

"Good day Miss Strachan."

Shona was escorted back to the holding cells where she had a final meeting with her solicitor prior to her property being returned and her release.

Despite her terrified expression, he seemed cheerfully optimistic, "Phew, that could have gone differently, you were damned lucky the Sheriff liked that letter from the kid. You better remember and write back."

"I definitely will. Can you tell me what's going to happen to me? I've never been in a situation like this before."

His expression sobered, "Well, it won't be pleasant, but it could have been a lot worse. At some point in the next few days, you will receive your correction citation by registered post. It details the designated time and place for your punishment and contains some other documentation and helpful advice on what to wear and suggestions on personal grooming etc."

"Personal grooming?"

"Well, for instance, it might be advisable to remove any piercings prior to the punishment. That sort of thing."

"Oh."

"I'm afraid personal shaming means being stripped and secured on display in the public pillory or stocks, usually outside the court building, or town hall."

"Oh, dear god."

"It's unpleasant and embarrassing and while people can photograph you and verbally mock you there will be a Police presence at all times, and they are not permitted to throw things or for the most part to touch you."

"For the most part?"

"Well, you will have heard the Sheriff mention the randomised lottery punishment?"

"Yes, what does that mean."

The lawyer sighed, "To be honest it's something of a way of generating revenue, I think. What it entails is that members of the public may buy lottery tickets of a sort online via the corrections website. Every thirty minutes of the period designated a ticket is drawn by computer and the 'winner' has the option of punishing you in person, in certain prescribed ways."

Shona felt sick, "What ways?"

"Unless some addition is requested by the court, and that's not the case in this instance, they have the choice of administering twenty spanks with the bare hand, a dozen lashes with a leather strop or tawse, a similar number of strikes with an approved paddle or six strikes with a cane or crop."

"Fuck."

The solicitor held up his hands placatingly. "It could be worse, a lot worse, you could have received sixty strokes with a cane administered by a trained corrections officer and compared to that this is a lot easier, it's not even in the same ballpark to be honest."

The solicitor leaned closer, "Look at it this way, the lottery winner might be a sixty-year-old pensioner who fancies copping a feel of a young pretty woman. Or it might be some young woman looking for a thrill. Now in either of those cases, they won't be hitting you with anything like the force of a corrections officer, so that's good for you."

Shona slumped in her chair as the lawyer continued, "The Sheriff stipulated two hours of lottery punishments, that's four punishments which could be a maximum of twenty-four strokes with a cane, though that would be pretty unfortunate, but even so, it's still less than half of what you would have received otherwise. Now there will be a corrections officer present and any winner can request that officer to administer the punishment they choose, but that almost never happens, especially in cases where the accused is a pretty young woman. I'm sorry, it's sexist as hell, but it's the truth. Here's my card, you can contact my office at any time if you think there is something I can help you with."

As predicted a thick envelope containing sheaves of official-looking documents arrived by post three days later. Her punishment was to be at noon, in front of the court building, almost right in the centre of town. There were clear instructions as to what time she should attend and advice regarding dress and stuff like that. She could wear what she liked but it advised comfortable loose clothing. It was not permitted for her hair to fall down and obscure her face, so it recommended either some kind of short hairstyle or tying long hair up in a braid or something similar, so it could be easily moved aside. She would receive a brief medical prior to her "chastisement" to ensure she was "fit for punishment" and there would be medical staff on hand in case of any untoward emergency.

There was a dire warning about taking any non-prescribed or undeclared medication up to twenty-four hours prior to her attendance. A blood sample would be taken and if it later showed she had buggered about then it could be considered, "an attempt to defraud punishment" meaning a minimum of thirty days in a short-stay prison aimed at "behavioural correction". That sounded more than a little ominous, oh and after that delightful episode her original punishment would be repeated.

"Note to self, no booze and no drugs,"

she thought.

The letter indicated that once her punishment had been successfully concluded she would be released from custody and after another brief examination to ensure no unexpected harmful effects from the procedure she would be free to go about her life. A record of the incident would be kept for two years but providing she kept out of trouble it wouldn't count as a criminal conviction and would be expunged after that time expired.

"It all sounds jolly simple, in a fucking horrible nightmarish kind of way."

There was a bunch of other crap about how the procedure could be delayed in the event of inclement weather but given there was a canopy to protect from sun and rain "inclement" weather meant temperatures below freezing or very high winds.

The words on one of the last pages made her eyes widen. She knew the procedure went up on the big wall screens placed nearby but she didn't know it could be televised or put on the bloody news! Oh, and if she wanted to pay a fee, she could pre-purchase a DVD or download of the procedure,

"The cheeky bastards!"

And she was prohibited from purchasing a lottery ticket for her own punishment. "

Like duh!"

The days leading up to the appointment were a nightmare of nerves and trepidation. The other nurses and doctors at work all knew about it, hell one of them had treated her when the Police brought her in after the crash. She burned with embarrassment every time she caught them looking at her and whispering, but most were sympathetic, it's not like she had been caught stealing or taking drugs or anything. Funnily enough, a few of her workmates came round to her flat a couple of nights before the appointment with bottles of wine and boxes of chocolate, one of them had even mocked up a fake "get well card" showing her over Henry Cavill's knee getting a right seeing to and with a great big grin on her face.

Patricia, a pretty little paramedic got sloshed on the wine and slurred, "Don't worry bout it Shona, it's not that bad. I remember when it happened to me."

They all turned to her in fascination as she giggled at the memory, "Yea, I was doing a 'walk of shame' after that works night out, I had a stinking hangover and looked like I'd been shagging all night, which was fair enough, so I bought a bottle of water. Of course being the dumb hint I am I drank it and dropped it on the pavement. The cop gave me a ticket for littering. I ended up getting a fixed penalty, so I just took the beating. Bastards gave me six with the cane. It stung like a motherfucker but afterwards, I went home, covered my ass in cold cream, drank half a bottle of prosecco and the next day I was pretty much fit as a fiddle, a bit tender maybe but my boyfriend just fucking loved the marks on my ass. Couldn't keep his hands off me the dirty bastard."

"You still got the marks?"

"Nah, they faded within a week, I think."

Shona gave the woman a smile, but tears started to form at the corner of her eyes, "Thanks, but the idea of being up there with my bits on show in front of all those people. It's just horrible."

One of the others piped up, "Wonder if it's worse for guys?"

The general conversation was halted when Marcia announced, "It happened to me."

"Huh?"

"The public shaming thing. I was a student and me and a friend tried to nick a traffic sign, fuck knows why but it was all the thing then. Anyway, two pished students wandering the street with a luminous "GIVE WAY" sign apparently wasn't hard to spot, go figure."