To err is human, reformation is divine

I saw people rejoicing over a death. The death of a man who attempted an armed robbery of a restaurant filled with patrons in Houston, TX. One of the patrons in the restaurant pulled a gun out and shot the attempted thief. He killed him.

People in the comments of this story applauded the citizen for his actions. I didn’t. I didn’t because the man sitting in the restaurant life was not in imminent danger (I watched the security camera footage). I didn’t applaud due to me perceiving that the person who shot the man had a choice to shoot to injure rather than kill the guy. I didn’t applaud because human life is worth more than earthly goods.

I think some people have been summarily brainwashed to accept and be comfortable with this notion that bad guys or criminals deserve to be recklessly punished. They’ve cozied up with the idea that prisons, designed to rehabilitate criminals, don’t have to house people humanely. There’s this great, American, puritanical idea that justice is in the hands of the dynamically angelic and above reproach, law-abiding, American citizen. To counter that idea, I bring up the case of Tim the Toolman Taylor aka, actor Tim Allen.

Tim Allen, our beloved voice of Buzz Lightyear in the Toy Story franchise, was convicted of drug trafficking in 1978 and did two years in federal prison. According to an article in the Hollywood Reporter, Allen was a self-described fuck up who’d steal from people regularly. Let’s suppose during one of his more dubious episodes, someone took it upon themselves to kill Allen. After all, he was a criminal. In doing so, Allen would’ve been relieved of his opportunity to change or offer anything of value to society. That’s the thing. When this notion of criminality equates to dismissing a person’s humanity, Houston, we have a problem here.

Speeding is a crime. Petty shoplifting, which I did as a child by stealing grape bubblegum from a grocery store, is a crime. Urinating in public is a crime, which the girls on Jersey Shore pretty regularly during their initial run. Who gets to decide what acts make a person irredeemable, a pariah worthy of a bullet?

Breaking a law also does not give law enforcement agents a greenlight to summarily execute people. The job of law enforcement is not to become rogue executioners serving as judge and jury. This notion of Wild West politics, good guys versus bad guys, behooves me.

I often use the example that I could say a random person stole a phone from me. That I saw this person pilfer it and the person may be arrested and booked or summoned to court. The job of law enforcement is to detain that person for court so that a judge can decide guilt or innocence. Not pummel the person; not shoot the person; not summarily execute someone. A person accused of committing a crime is not fair game for execution.

At some point during each of our story, we may be the good guy or what’s perceived as the bad one. Without time being allotted for rehabilitation or change, there’s no possibility of an arc; there’s no time for evolution like in Allen’s case. The easiest way to negate a person’s humanity is to create a narrative where they’re thought of as an, other. Paint them as inhuman; incapable of change. Let’s work to change this. After all, to err is human but the blessing of opportunities to grow and experience a divine character arc is top-tier.