Portland, Oregon
No Editing, Shot with Canon DSLR with 70-200mm 2.8
Click to Enlarge
Thursday, July 5, 2018
Monday, July 2, 2018
Photo Journal 6/30/2018
Blue Lake Regional Park, Oregon
Shot with Canon 80D with 50mm 1.4, Kenko Extension Tubes,
70-200mm 2.8 and 14-24mm 2.8 Lenses
Edited with PhotoScape X Pro (free version)
Click to Enlarge
30 Days of Fiction: 22
"Can you tell me what happened on the night of July 5th, Mr. Meeks," a lawyer named Jim asked a very sweaty man named Walter Meeks who sat in the witness seat looking up into the rafters. Walter was now staring off into space and looking nervous with the audience's gaze bearing down on him like a dozen firehoses trying to put out a raging fire.
"Mr. Meeks," the kind looking judge leaned toward Walter and calmly yet authoritatively asked, "Mr. Meeks, can you please tell us what happened on July 5th? Tell us about what occurred at your house that led us all to be here."
With that, Walter perked up, focused on the lawyer who had asked the original question and began, "I'm sorry. I haven't slept in a few days. It's actually fairly straightforward now that I have had some time to think about it. I was attacked by three armed men who broke into my house intent on doing my family harm. They were not there to simply steal our things. I know this because they must have seen our cars outside and most likely had cased my house to get to know what we had, who we were and when we would be there or not."
Walter paused for a moment to look around at the audience whose attention was wrapped.
He continued, "I was asleep in bed with my wife, our 9-year-old son Erik was in the room next door when I woke up and heard someone in the house. I woke my wife up, who wanted to get our son but it sounded like they were already in the house and would have heard if we went for him then. I got my Glock 17 out of my safe and told her to go into the bathroom and call 911. I had to get my son, so I slowly opened the door to the hall and could see that Erik's door was still shut. I looked through the crack in the door and could see a man in a mask with a pistol in one hand coming up the stairs. I knew I had no choice. I opened the door, leaned out on my side and shot him three times in the chest."
Walter's head bowed as he talked about killing the first robber, visibly shaken by recounting the night.
"What happened next," Jim asked when Walter had remained silent for too many moments.
"It was so loud," Mr. Meeks said looking back at the lawyer and the audience. He continued, "I got up and rushed into Erik's room but he wasn't in there. I panicked and started calling his name softly. 'Erik, Erik' I called and then he came out from under the bed and I grabbed him. 'It was so loud' he said as I started for the door. I went to open the door but as I did they started shooting at the door. I jumped back and had Erik hide under the bed again. I lay on my back with my gun trained on the door ready to shoot but they didn't come. Instead, I heard them rush into my bedroom, where my wife was. I got up immediately and rushed after them. I opened the door and saw two men but then I heard shots. At least 4 of 5 loud bangs and I saw my wife holding her Glock 19 and one of the men goes down. The second one is in front of me so I put my gun up to the back of his head and fire one shot."
Walter goes back to staring at the rafters, this time slightly rocking back and forth.
"What happened after that," the judge interjected the silent fog filling the room.
Mr. Meeks slowly turned his head and looked down at the floor before saying, "My wife and I got our son, put our guns on the bed, went downstairs and waited for the police."
"Is that everything Mr. Meeks," asked the judge.
"Yes," Mr. Meeks said softly without looking up.
"Alright, with that we will take a short recess and the prosecution will begin their cross-examination in 1 hour," the judge said before hitting his gavel.
One hour later the judge was sitting behind his bench, the lawyers were behind their desks, Walter Meeks was in the witness chair, and the audience started filing in the room. After a few moments of murmurs and shuffling the gavel struck again.
"Alright, the prosecution will now cross-examine the witness," the judge said as the state's prosecuting attorney slowly made their way up to the witness.
Walter sat in his chair, this time focused on the attorney as they meandered around the room, stopped at the juror box for a moment and then finally came up to him.
"How long have you owned a gun, Mr. Meeks," the attorney asked.
"Objection, relevance," Walter's lawyer said calmly.
"I just started your honor, I have to start somewhere," the attorney pleaded with the judge.
"Overruled, answer the question please," the judge said.
"I've been shooting most of my life, my dad taught us how to shoot, " Walter began but was cut off.
"Answer the question, how long have you owned the gun that you used to shoot two men. One, in the back of the head," the attorney said with disdain.
"Two years," Mr. Meeks replied looking up at the ceiling.
"And where did you buy that gun," the attorney asked.
"Objection, relevance," Walter's attorney said without looking up.
"I'm getting there, your honor," the attorney explained.
"Overruled," the judge said looking at Mr. Meeks.
"I bought it from a friend," Walter replied.
"Why did you buy it from a friend and not at a store," the attorney asked.
"Objection, why does it matter how my client acquired the gun he used to defend his family," Walter's lawyer said, now fully annoyed.
"What is the point of this, Ben," the judge asked the attorney.
"It goes to the defendant's mental state during the incident and his violent nature," the attorney answered confidently.
"Permission to approach the bench," Walter's lawyer asked already rising out of his chair.
The judge gestured the two suit-wearing men to him and they began to talk for a moment. Walter stared at the ceiling while they talked and when they finished the lawyer sat back down and Ben walked back over to the witness.
"Have you ever been committed to a psychiatric ward," Ben asked.
Mr. Meeks slowly brought his gaze back down to earth, looked up at the judge pleadingly, but when he saw no reprieve, he answered, "yes."
"How many times, Mr. Meeks," the attorney asked while pacing around the room.
"Three, times," Walter answered.
"Can you tell us about when and why you were taken to a psychiatric ward three times, Mr. Meeks," Ben asked as he stopped at the jury box to rest and look over the jury.
"Once when I was 14, once when I was 17 and once when I was 23," Walter said and then paused before continuing, "The first time I got into a fight with another boy at school. The second time I jumped out of a moving vehicle, and the last time I was..." he couldn't finish the sentence and looked down.
"Please continue, Mr. Meeks, what happened when you were 23," the judge asked with a soft tone.
"I, uh," he stuttered, "I was manic and went walking around the city at night with a 22 rifle. I guess I shot it off a few times, and then I was taken into custody."
"You aren't allowed to own a gun are you," the attorney asked, but before Mr. Meeks could answer he said, "and when you were 14, that fight you were in, you bit the other boy's finger off, didn't you?"
"Objection, badgering," Walter's lawyer interjected.
"Sustained," the judge said.
"I'll rephrase the question," the attorney replied and with a smile asked, "Are you allowed to own a gun in this state, Mr. Meeks?"
"No," Walter answered softly.
"And you take medication for manic depression, bi-polar, and schizophrenia, is that correct," Ben asked.
Walter looked over at his lawyer who nodded for him to answer.
"Yes," Walter replied.
The attorney leaned up against the witness stand and leaned over to ask, "And you enjoyed shooting that man in the back of the head and watching his brains splatter all over the wall, didn't you?"
"Objection," Walter's lawyer exclaimed and stood up astounded at the attorney's tactics.
"Sustained," the judge said and added, "Do not answer that Mr. Meeks. That was highly unprofessional and if it happens again you will be done here."
Walter was staring at the ceiling and rocking back and forth dramatically now as the judge banged his gavel to silence the uproar in the audience. A few moments past before the judge announced to the court that they would have another 30-minute recess where he would tell the jury how to deal with the most recent information and speak with the lawyers in his chambers.
45 minutes later the courtroom was filled and the gavel struck again marking the beginning of the next set of arguments.
"Does the prosecution have anything more," the judged asked.
"Not at this time, the witness is yours," Ben replied.
"Do you wish to redirect," the judge asked looking at Walter's lawyer.
"Yes, I do your honor," he said before standing up and walking over the Walter who was not looking at the ground or ceiling at the moment but directly forward. He asked, "do you feel that you did everything a reasonable person would do in the situation you were in?"
"Absolutely, I had no choice," Walter said confidently.
"And do you feel that your mental state was clear and focused during the events that night," the lawyer asked.
"Yes, sir. I take my meds, and they work for me. I don't know what else I can say," he said with tears starting to come down his face.
"Thank you, Walter," the lawyer said before adding, "No further questions, your honor."
"You may take a seat next to your lawyer Walter," the judge said gesturing for Walter to leave the witness stand.
After a moment he continued, "The prosecution will now make their closing statements, followed by the defense."
Ben stood up swiftly and strolled toward the jury to begin his monologue, "I am not here to tell you that Mr. Meeks is an evil man. Or that he shouldn't have defended himself. What a horrible situation he was in. But he admits that he illegally obtained a firearm and he has a history of violence. He has an unstable mind and engaged in a level of violence that goes beyond self-defense. His wife owned a gun legally so why did he need one? Because he wanted to use it! He pushed the barrel into the back of a man's head and pulled the trigger. Could you do that? I know I couldn't, and we can not afford to have a man like that out on our streets. Who knows if his medication will continue to work? And what he is capable of when they stop working?" He finished his speech pointing at Mr. Meeks and then sat back down at his desk.
"The defense will make it's closing statements," the judge explained.
Walter's lawyer shuffled some papers before standing up. He too strolled over to the jury and said, "This man was put into the worst possible situation anyone could ever deal with. Three armed men, in masks, broke into his house intent on who knows what kind of horrific acts, and he defended himself and his family. It's that simple. The prosecution wants to make him out to be a danger to society but from what I see he is exactly the kind of person I would want living next door. Someone who admits their faults; learns from them and acts heroically in the face of overwhelming terror. The prosecution wants you to be distracted by irrelevant details about his past, and the gun he used. He wasn't supposed to have a gun but thank God he did because his child and wife are alive because of it. So, when you go into that room to deliberate just ask yourselves one question, 'What would I do to save the ones I love?"
Walter's lawyer concluded his speech and sat back down. The judge told the bailiff to take the jury to deliberate and as the last of the jurors left the room silence fell on the court.
"Mr. Meeks," the kind looking judge leaned toward Walter and calmly yet authoritatively asked, "Mr. Meeks, can you please tell us what happened on July 5th? Tell us about what occurred at your house that led us all to be here."
With that, Walter perked up, focused on the lawyer who had asked the original question and began, "I'm sorry. I haven't slept in a few days. It's actually fairly straightforward now that I have had some time to think about it. I was attacked by three armed men who broke into my house intent on doing my family harm. They were not there to simply steal our things. I know this because they must have seen our cars outside and most likely had cased my house to get to know what we had, who we were and when we would be there or not."
Walter paused for a moment to look around at the audience whose attention was wrapped.
He continued, "I was asleep in bed with my wife, our 9-year-old son Erik was in the room next door when I woke up and heard someone in the house. I woke my wife up, who wanted to get our son but it sounded like they were already in the house and would have heard if we went for him then. I got my Glock 17 out of my safe and told her to go into the bathroom and call 911. I had to get my son, so I slowly opened the door to the hall and could see that Erik's door was still shut. I looked through the crack in the door and could see a man in a mask with a pistol in one hand coming up the stairs. I knew I had no choice. I opened the door, leaned out on my side and shot him three times in the chest."
Walter's head bowed as he talked about killing the first robber, visibly shaken by recounting the night.
"What happened next," Jim asked when Walter had remained silent for too many moments.
"It was so loud," Mr. Meeks said looking back at the lawyer and the audience. He continued, "I got up and rushed into Erik's room but he wasn't in there. I panicked and started calling his name softly. 'Erik, Erik' I called and then he came out from under the bed and I grabbed him. 'It was so loud' he said as I started for the door. I went to open the door but as I did they started shooting at the door. I jumped back and had Erik hide under the bed again. I lay on my back with my gun trained on the door ready to shoot but they didn't come. Instead, I heard them rush into my bedroom, where my wife was. I got up immediately and rushed after them. I opened the door and saw two men but then I heard shots. At least 4 of 5 loud bangs and I saw my wife holding her Glock 19 and one of the men goes down. The second one is in front of me so I put my gun up to the back of his head and fire one shot."
Walter goes back to staring at the rafters, this time slightly rocking back and forth.
"What happened after that," the judge interjected the silent fog filling the room.
Mr. Meeks slowly turned his head and looked down at the floor before saying, "My wife and I got our son, put our guns on the bed, went downstairs and waited for the police."
"Is that everything Mr. Meeks," asked the judge.
"Yes," Mr. Meeks said softly without looking up.
"Alright, with that we will take a short recess and the prosecution will begin their cross-examination in 1 hour," the judge said before hitting his gavel.
One hour later the judge was sitting behind his bench, the lawyers were behind their desks, Walter Meeks was in the witness chair, and the audience started filing in the room. After a few moments of murmurs and shuffling the gavel struck again.
"Alright, the prosecution will now cross-examine the witness," the judge said as the state's prosecuting attorney slowly made their way up to the witness.
Walter sat in his chair, this time focused on the attorney as they meandered around the room, stopped at the juror box for a moment and then finally came up to him.
"How long have you owned a gun, Mr. Meeks," the attorney asked.
"Objection, relevance," Walter's lawyer said calmly.
"I just started your honor, I have to start somewhere," the attorney pleaded with the judge.
"Overruled, answer the question please," the judge said.
"I've been shooting most of my life, my dad taught us how to shoot, " Walter began but was cut off.
"Answer the question, how long have you owned the gun that you used to shoot two men. One, in the back of the head," the attorney said with disdain.
"Two years," Mr. Meeks replied looking up at the ceiling.
"And where did you buy that gun," the attorney asked.
"Objection, relevance," Walter's attorney said without looking up.
"I'm getting there, your honor," the attorney explained.
"Overruled," the judge said looking at Mr. Meeks.
"I bought it from a friend," Walter replied.
"Why did you buy it from a friend and not at a store," the attorney asked.
"Objection, why does it matter how my client acquired the gun he used to defend his family," Walter's lawyer said, now fully annoyed.
"What is the point of this, Ben," the judge asked the attorney.
"It goes to the defendant's mental state during the incident and his violent nature," the attorney answered confidently.
"Permission to approach the bench," Walter's lawyer asked already rising out of his chair.
The judge gestured the two suit-wearing men to him and they began to talk for a moment. Walter stared at the ceiling while they talked and when they finished the lawyer sat back down and Ben walked back over to the witness.
"Have you ever been committed to a psychiatric ward," Ben asked.
Mr. Meeks slowly brought his gaze back down to earth, looked up at the judge pleadingly, but when he saw no reprieve, he answered, "yes."
"How many times, Mr. Meeks," the attorney asked while pacing around the room.
"Three, times," Walter answered.
"Can you tell us about when and why you were taken to a psychiatric ward three times, Mr. Meeks," Ben asked as he stopped at the jury box to rest and look over the jury.
"Once when I was 14, once when I was 17 and once when I was 23," Walter said and then paused before continuing, "The first time I got into a fight with another boy at school. The second time I jumped out of a moving vehicle, and the last time I was..." he couldn't finish the sentence and looked down.
"Please continue, Mr. Meeks, what happened when you were 23," the judge asked with a soft tone.
"I, uh," he stuttered, "I was manic and went walking around the city at night with a 22 rifle. I guess I shot it off a few times, and then I was taken into custody."
"You aren't allowed to own a gun are you," the attorney asked, but before Mr. Meeks could answer he said, "and when you were 14, that fight you were in, you bit the other boy's finger off, didn't you?"
"Objection, badgering," Walter's lawyer interjected.
"Sustained," the judge said.
"I'll rephrase the question," the attorney replied and with a smile asked, "Are you allowed to own a gun in this state, Mr. Meeks?"
"No," Walter answered softly.
"And you take medication for manic depression, bi-polar, and schizophrenia, is that correct," Ben asked.
Walter looked over at his lawyer who nodded for him to answer.
"Yes," Walter replied.
The attorney leaned up against the witness stand and leaned over to ask, "And you enjoyed shooting that man in the back of the head and watching his brains splatter all over the wall, didn't you?"
"Objection," Walter's lawyer exclaimed and stood up astounded at the attorney's tactics.
"Sustained," the judge said and added, "Do not answer that Mr. Meeks. That was highly unprofessional and if it happens again you will be done here."
Walter was staring at the ceiling and rocking back and forth dramatically now as the judge banged his gavel to silence the uproar in the audience. A few moments past before the judge announced to the court that they would have another 30-minute recess where he would tell the jury how to deal with the most recent information and speak with the lawyers in his chambers.
45 minutes later the courtroom was filled and the gavel struck again marking the beginning of the next set of arguments.
"Does the prosecution have anything more," the judged asked.
"Not at this time, the witness is yours," Ben replied.
"Do you wish to redirect," the judge asked looking at Walter's lawyer.
"Yes, I do your honor," he said before standing up and walking over the Walter who was not looking at the ground or ceiling at the moment but directly forward. He asked, "do you feel that you did everything a reasonable person would do in the situation you were in?"
"Absolutely, I had no choice," Walter said confidently.
"And do you feel that your mental state was clear and focused during the events that night," the lawyer asked.
"Yes, sir. I take my meds, and they work for me. I don't know what else I can say," he said with tears starting to come down his face.
"Thank you, Walter," the lawyer said before adding, "No further questions, your honor."
"You may take a seat next to your lawyer Walter," the judge said gesturing for Walter to leave the witness stand.
After a moment he continued, "The prosecution will now make their closing statements, followed by the defense."
Ben stood up swiftly and strolled toward the jury to begin his monologue, "I am not here to tell you that Mr. Meeks is an evil man. Or that he shouldn't have defended himself. What a horrible situation he was in. But he admits that he illegally obtained a firearm and he has a history of violence. He has an unstable mind and engaged in a level of violence that goes beyond self-defense. His wife owned a gun legally so why did he need one? Because he wanted to use it! He pushed the barrel into the back of a man's head and pulled the trigger. Could you do that? I know I couldn't, and we can not afford to have a man like that out on our streets. Who knows if his medication will continue to work? And what he is capable of when they stop working?" He finished his speech pointing at Mr. Meeks and then sat back down at his desk.
"The defense will make it's closing statements," the judge explained.
Walter's lawyer shuffled some papers before standing up. He too strolled over to the jury and said, "This man was put into the worst possible situation anyone could ever deal with. Three armed men, in masks, broke into his house intent on who knows what kind of horrific acts, and he defended himself and his family. It's that simple. The prosecution wants to make him out to be a danger to society but from what I see he is exactly the kind of person I would want living next door. Someone who admits their faults; learns from them and acts heroically in the face of overwhelming terror. The prosecution wants you to be distracted by irrelevant details about his past, and the gun he used. He wasn't supposed to have a gun but thank God he did because his child and wife are alive because of it. So, when you go into that room to deliberate just ask yourselves one question, 'What would I do to save the ones I love?"
Walter's lawyer concluded his speech and sat back down. The judge told the bailiff to take the jury to deliberate and as the last of the jurors left the room silence fell on the court.
Friday, June 29, 2018
Photo Journal 6/29/2018
Blue Lake Regional Park, Oregon
No Editing, Shot with Canon 80D with 50mm 1.4, Kenko Extension Tubes,
70-200mm 2.8 and 14-24mm 2.8 Lenses
Click to Enlarge
Monday, June 25, 2018
30 Days of Fiction: 21
IN a car dressed in black a man sat, or nearly sat, as what he was actually doing was bouncing up and down on the seat. His eyes starred forward never blinking. His hands clutched the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him from flying out of the moonroof and into the sky. 'Come on, Come on,' he thought as he watched the house on the corner with the one light on in its upstairs window. He was the moth to the light's flame and just as the light went black so did the man stop bouncing. His grip slowly released from his anchor and his hands took on a new task. His face went serious as the mask came down.
The door opened without a sound and closed without a peep. He stood at the front door for a moment admiring its ornate wooden artwork. He felt the grooves in the wood for what felt like forever before hopping the fence designed to keep out small dogs. He was not a small dog but instead, a large hungry cat pouncing into the backyard where the glass on the back sliding doors was only held together by tape and boards. It had been the victim of a senseless act of vandalism the evening prior. Unfortunately for this cat, there was another animal waiting for its prey in that very yard.
The cat never made it in the house but was instead sitting in a chair feeling the pain from both his head and his wrists. He looked down at them to find that they were connected to the arms of his new chair with steel handcuffs made all too tight for his liking. The dim lighting only revealed a few details as he looked around the room. Brick walls all around, stairs leading upward off in the distance, one all too powerful light that blinded anyone who looked directly at it as one might do if they were confused about their situation.
As his eyes adjusted from to the darkness he saw another thing. It was a dimly visible shape of a large podium or desk. Just then an overhead light flashed on and a door could be heard from somewhere off in the distance. The stairs ached under the weight of the loud footsteps descending them and soon another figure could be seen. He wore a long black judge's cloak and was eating a small orange as he came into the view of the man in the chair and then, without looking over, took his place behind the tall desk.
They stared at each other without speaking. One with wide eyes that didn't blink and one with eyes that seemed to have no other concern than of the orange he was eating.
"Who are you," the man in the cuffs asked calmly.
The man continued to eat his orange.
"You're not going to like how this turns out," the cat said sternly with all sincerity and seriousness.
After the final slice orange matter was devoured, a wet wipe was pulled out of a nearby drawer and the man cleaned his hands and mouth, still staring at the man making threats. His hand disappeared into a drawer and as the hand came back into view a large wood gavel could be seen but in an instant, it was being slammed into the desk.
CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!
The gavel banged down reverberating around the small stone room like a thunderstorm.
"You, Albert May Hughes, are accused of committing the following offenses on the date of June 1st, 2018: trespassing, breaking and entering, burglary, and mayhem," the Judge said with authority.
"What," Albert attempted a rebuttal.
"AND, the following offenses on today's date June 15th, 2018: trespassing, attempted burglary and general mayhem. How do you plead," the Judge asked.
"Fuck off," Albery replied abruptly, "What the fuck are you talking about? I didn't do shit. You can't do this. Who the fuck are you?"
"You are Albert May Hughes of Salt Lake City, Utah. Are you not," the Judge asked.
"What," Albert asked and then continued, "Well, I mean, yes, that's my name but how do you..."
He couldn't finish before the Judge broke in, "Alright then, how do you plead?"
"Not fucking guilty, obviously," Albert said, starting to play along, not sure where this was leading.
"It is noted. You have five minutes to begin your defense. If you can not produce a reasonable defense within those five minutes you will be deemed guilty of all charges and sentenced accordingly," the Judge explained dispassionately.
"What," Albert said still quite confused.
"You have five minutes to explain yourself starting now," the Judge said looking at his watch and then back at Albert.
"Uh, fuck. Ok. You said I was robbing someone on June 1st," he asked but was met with only silence as the judge stared back at him. "Ok, that's easy, I was out of town visiting my friend in Vegas that weekend. Let me call them and they will tell you everything."
The Judge did not reply.
"Fuck you man! I was out of town. My friend will confirm it. We were in Vegas all weekend getting fucked up!" Albert said as sweat poured down his face. "Come on!"
"And what about tonight, do you have any explanation?" The Judge asked.
"Uh, uh," Albert stumbled over his words.
"And what about these?" the Judge asked, holding up large black and white printed photos. One Albert sitting in a car at night, another of Albert putting on a mask inside the car, another of Albert walking up to a house, a photo from behind the house where could be seen entering a broken out back sliding door, one of him leaving the same house with a bag. Then he showed him a couple photos taken from that night just before he had been taken to the basement.
"That's not me," he exclaimed. "Fuck you!" Albert was less than calm now and began the rage against his bondage. The Judge simply watched as Albert struggled and then gave up.
"You have failed to defend yourself against these charges. Myself having witnessed you committing all of these crimes deem you guilty on all charges," the Judge said as Albert lifted his defeated head.
"What now," he asked meekly.
The Judge stood up, walked out from behind the desk and knelt in front of Albert as to look him in the eyes.
"Now the sentencing," the Judge said with a slight smile just before plunging a needle into Albert's neck, rendering him unconscious once again.
Albert opened his eyes slowly as the bright sun started to leak in where he found himself unable to move his limbs. He looked down to see the tops of cars rushing past him at an alarming rate. His heart began to race as he realized where he was.
From the perspective of the oncoming drivers passing under the bridge, he looked like a kind of living graffiti. A naked man spread out against the cold concrete of the overpass with the words thief written many times and in many colors all over his body. Soon, the police would take him down and find the photographs that were in an envelope duct-taped to his chest and the news would report that a new vigilante was out there "cleaning up the streets".
Restitution Then and Now
America made a costly compromise in allowing slavery but I believe that they believed that it was the best way to compete with other large countries. When they decided to end slavery and rightly so they should have paid restitution to the aggrieved parties, both the slaves and slave owners. In my mind, the slave owners would not get nearly what the slaves would but just enough to recognize that the government is to blame for the hardship that will ensue*.
The problem is that the government didn't do enough to own their responsibility for slavery and to make it right when they could have. The problem is that with time restitution becomes impossible to calculate. When the aggrieved party is deceased who should the money go to? Their children? And in what amount? And what can people now do with random amounts of money thrown at them for no reason? This is what the government did with welfare and that isn't working out very well. The government should have treated freed slaves as citizens who are wrongfully imprisoned and paid as a lump sum or periodic payment but with terms and conditions. Such as the money ends with the individual. It would not be welfare for all but specific restitution for a specific person for a specific crime inflicted on them.
What should happen if you are taken out of your home and enslaved today? When you are freed it would be reasonable to allow you to sue for damages in restitution and the kidnapper would be held accountable. They would be jailed but the problem comes when your government is the kidnapper. You can try to sack members of the government or the government in whole but they are a loyal crew and not easily other thrown. It may be cost many lives to cause an effective coo and in the end, there have been no real solutions to the issue and measures taken to ensure it doesn't happen again.
So the peaceful way to hold the government accountable is to have them pay for their crimes in restitution. The downside to this is that the cost to the government due to this kind of grievance is really the cost of the people through taxes or debt.
If the government is to act as the countries ultimate leadership then it must take responsibility for everything that occurs within its scope of control. In the modern state, this means that when it unjustly imprisons people for crimes that should never have been crimes, such as marijuana possession, and if that crime is decriminalized, they should release those whose crimes were only that, and then pay restitution in an amount that is reasonable based on what an average person in that city would have made plus a penalty fee paid from the personal pockets of the tribe that caused it, the politicians. This might incentivize the government from taking laws more seriously or it might incentivize them to never change laws. I am not sure.
Here is the last problem I see in regards to restitution now for slavery back then in the form of racially based special programs. I don't think it can be done logically, financially or effectively and so the crimes of the past must remain in the past. There are plenty of new crimes that we should hold the government accountable for. If the government displays some Extreme Ownership (as described by Jocko Willink and Leif Babin's book by that name) as a foundational guiding standard then we might see real change and real leadership from the government.
To explain the previous paragraph:
It is not logical because it is too far removed from its original recipients and too complicated to make work. It is not financially possible due to the same reasons and due to inflation, current living conditions and the massive population that exists compared to those originally aggrieved. Either you would have to spread the money too thin or too thick on those that would have gained from it had it been distributed thoughtfully in the past. It wouldn't be effective for same reasons.
It is not logical because it is too far removed from its original recipients and too complicated to make work. It is not financially possible due to the same reasons and due to inflation, current living conditions and the massive population that exists compared to those originally aggrieved. Either you would have to spread the money too thin or too thick on those that would have gained from it had it been distributed thoughtfully in the past. It wouldn't be effective for same reasons.
And of all the descendants on either side of the issue whom would be to blame and whom would be entitled to compensation? In mind, it is either all descendants, 1 descendant or none. This is all hypothetical and really just an exercise in thinking about restorative justice, I suppose. I do not think that anyone is actually promoting giving restitution now to descendants of people who were enslaved. Maybe someone is but I doubt it is more than a few people. This is not a debate against a real opponent. It is just a thought experiment about what can be done to ensure that African Americans feel that their government is on their side just as it is on the side of all its citizens.
The government has done what it will do about slavery and the Native American conquering (as another example of complicated political crimes), and it does seem that if it is too late for restitution for slavery so I am not sure what else the government can do to appease the descendants of the aggrieved. I certainly do not see the government succeeding in unifying the country as a citizenry that works together toward a common cause.
I also see many people blaming others for their problems and not taking it on themselves to be successful. I see people who want to use the government to enact their self-interested justice instead of holding the government accountable for its crimes. It also seems that people forget the difference between the private and governmental sectors as more wish to adopt a governmental control over all aspects of life. I do not see people working to come up with counters to power run amock and remembering to keep freedoms from being lost in the chaos.
I also see many people blaming others for their problems and not taking it on themselves to be successful. I see people who want to use the government to enact their self-interested justice instead of holding the government accountable for its crimes. It also seems that people forget the difference between the private and governmental sectors as more wish to adopt a governmental control over all aspects of life. I do not see people working to come up with counters to power run amock and remembering to keep freedoms from being lost in the chaos.
*Revision on 6/29/2018: Slave owners that profited from slavery should not receive compensation for losing their slaves because they have already benefited so much. I suppose I just wanted a symbol of responsibility from the government. It is not the fault of the slave owner that they were able to own slaves, as the government allowed and facilitated it and I don't know how to justify taking the money from the slave owners to pay the restitution because they did nothing illegal at the time. They certainly benefited from something immoral but at the time was not seen as immoral by many.
Photo Journal 6/22 to 6/24/2018
Sunset Falls, WA
No Editing, Shot with Canon 80D with 18-55 Kit Lens
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