The public furor over Svend Robinson's five-finger discount on a diamond ring is dying away now, but while it lasted I've been mulling over my own criminal career.
My brief dalliance with crime wasn't that different from Svend's. A quarter-century ago, when I was an 18-year-old university student, I stole a $10 item from a department store and got caught.
Like Svend Robinson, I was crushed with remorse and confessed as soon as I was caught, pleading that it was an impulsive act that I deeply regretted. Like Svend, I could only offer the lame excuse that I was stressed (in his case, the stress came from the pressures of public life, while I was having a little trouble making the transition from child to responsible adult). Like Svend, I had no criminal record and was otherwise an exemplary citizen.
Also like Svend, I stole a luxury item that I desired but could not afford. In his case, the luxury was a diamond ring, while in my case it was a tube of mascara - but then the definition of a luxury depends on your financial circumstances.
Unlike Svend, I did not have a public profile nor any famous lawyers among my friends. Instead, I ended up with a bored legal aid lawyer who asked the judge to give me a conditional discharge because I was a university student aiming at a professional career and a criminal record might hurt my future.
Svend's lawyer had good success with a similar argument. But in my case, the judge was having none of that. I still can taste the shame I felt as he stared down at me from the bench with distaste and gave me a good scolding. He told me that my position as a student was a privilege, not an excuse for my behaviour, and that more should be expected of me, not less.
I agreed with every word, and felt his decision to deny me a discharge was just. I never stole again, and the whole humiliating experience also put me off wearing make-up for life.
Like Svend, I was sentenced to probation and community service hours - I forget how many hours, but I spent quite a few afternoons playing euchre and shuffleboard with the old folks at the seniors' centre and scrubbing the cupboards at a non-profit daycare. Unlike Svend, I ended up with a criminal record, which has cost me at least one job. Considering Svend's stolen property was worth at least $50,000 more than mine, it seems unfair that his punishment was so much lighter.
However, my walk on the wrong side of the law has had some unexpected benefits as well. It gave me a sharp lesson in the meaning of the old saying, "There but for the grace of God go I." These days I'm a regular in the Sechelt courthouse, but as a reporter rather than a defendant. At times I become cynical and judgmental about the weekly parade of crimes that range from the silly to the sordid. But whenever I am tempted to write off a criminal as a loser or a bad person, I remember how easy it is to step over that line. I try to muster compassion for a fellow human being who did wrong and must pay for it - even if I don't believe the price is high enough for the particular crime.
So good luck to you, Svend, and make the most of your 100 hours of community service work.
