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THE LAW OF THE BIGGEST DOG |
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January 8, 2004 - Early this fall there was a residential burglary on the University of Illinois Campus. Burglary of campus apartments is not an unusual occurrence in this collegiate town 130 miles south of Chicago. In the typical incident a police report is filed. A cursory crime scene investigation may recover some tool marks, a finger print or two, and produce a catalogue of the property taken in the heist. There are rarely witnesses. The one or two page police investigation report is filed away. Insurance claims are filed by the victims and there the matter rests unless, by some fluke, an unrelated arrest produces a confession and a fingerprint match.
This incident was unusual. There were witnesses. One of the roommates was home at the time of the burglary. Neighbors saw the suspicious activity, several men hauling property away from the darkened apartment, packing it a waiting automobile and then returning for another load. The roommate feigned sleep as the invaders entered his bedroom. Both the victim and the witness recognized one of the burglars. The witness wrote down the license number of the vehicle into which the stolen goods were loaded. In most cases that would have been enough to result in an immediate arrest, a high bond on the Class X felony of Residential Burglary and a quick indictment. But this case was unusual and it was Champaign County, Illinois. Instead of being one or two pages the police investigation report in this case swelled the size of a substantial true crime novel when it was turned over to John Piland, the Champaign County prosecutor. Courthouse wags have it that the most dangerous place to be in Champaign County is between John Piland and the nearest television camera. Under normal circumstances the case offered a tailor-made press conference and photo-op. What better way for a crime fighter to kick off his re-election campaign than to announce the indictment of a gang of burglars? But this was not the usual case. Piland met with the victims. He analogized their situation to the ill-fated Cub fan that had foiled the rally ending catch that might have put the Cubbies in the World Series. He urged them to be merciful. Most of the stolen articles were returned and a lawyer acting for some unnamed clients produced a check to more than make up the value of the goods that were not returned. No charges were filed and the inevitable press conference was delayed until the identity of the perpetrators leaked out. There were lumps in the rug under which Piland had swept the mess. Illinois Basketball coach Bruce Weber suspended three of his players for unspecified violations of team rules. The players missed the first four games of the Illinois non-conference season. Chief among them was starting guard Luther Head. Speculation as to the nature of the rules violations broke into the open when the father of one of the roommate-victims indignantly lifted up the corner of the carpet and pointed to the pile concealed beneath it. It was Luther Head that had been recognized. It was Luther Head who owned the car the witnesses had seen. With two teammates and visiting friends from the old Chicago neighborhood it was Luther Head who had been caught in the act of committing a felony for which Illinois law prescribed a mandatory penitentiary sentence. Piland held his press conference to explain that he was honoring the victim’s wishes that no charges be filed against the basketball star and his team mates. Head sat out the first four Illinois games. It was punishment enough. Tuesday night the crime fighting prosecutor’s exercise of mercy was rewarded. Head was again arrested, this time for driving with a suspended driver’s license – the second time in the last year. In the two years since he came to Illinois he had run up a record of 11 traffic charges. Coach Weber sat him on the bench for the team’s conference opener against Ohio State. When is the second mile just far enough? When is that second chance just one chance too many? When athletic ability and celebrity become a defense to criminal behavior; when fame becomes an excuse for looking the other way whether the defendants name is Luther or Kobe or Rush; we have lost our claim to be a society based upon the rule of law. We have succumbed to the lure of the law of the biggest dog. |
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