3 thoughts on “Charges Against CHS Student Deferred”

  1. “The judge ordered the teenager to talk with her victims about the assault’s impact on them.”

    What if the victims don’t want to talk to the attacker?

    Attacker: Please describe for me how this assault impacted you.
    Victim: Well, the first impact was about the size of a fist on my left jaw, and the second was about the size of a shoe in my ribs, and the third…

  2. What if the victims don’t want to talk to the attacker?


    I think you might be making the same mistake I did (until recently) in understanding the special genius of “restorative justice”, and particularly its (potential) application in sentencing the CHS thugs.

    My mistake was thinking the “victims” with whom the convicted attackers would speak would necessarily be those who suffered taunts, punches, kicks, shoving before a moving car, beating with a wooden pole . . . but I was wrong.

    And I was thinking that if I were attacked in such a brutal way, the last thing that I would want to do sit knee-to-knee (Oprah/Phil-style) and listen to my attackers recount their personal struggle against racism and class oppression and underfunded schooling, or how the thug had been “dissed” at a restaurant earlier in the evening by some folks of similar complexion to mine and therefore decided to stop back, many hours later, in a neighborhood where there lived many people who looked like me, and how they selected – using cell-phones — me and my friends for their attack, and how my attacker(s) felt while they proceeded to kick my ass.

    I, for one, wouldn’t agree to it. The beatings would have been bad enough!

    I’d probably refuse, hope they spent time in jail, and I’d probably consider filing a civil court case if I thought the criminal courts hadn’t done the job.

    But I would then be disappointed to learn that thugs could proceed with “restorative justice” without me. Court-appointed “community” committees would find a stand-in for me, to whom the thugs could open their hearts. This same committee would impress upon my attacker how much the attacker’s actions impacted them, as a community. Perhaps, somewhere in the basement of Mt. Zion, surrounded by “community activists” my attacker would face the surrogate they chose for me, and all three parties would find a remedy that made themselves feel better.

    But, in the end, I think the “restorative justice” process would leave me puzzled. I’d wonder why would my attacker be eligible for a program designed to accept only non-violent offenders? And why would one of my attackers who was an adult at the time he beat me be eligible at a program for only for minors?

    My displeasure with the way my attackers were handled might lead me to think of including new parties in my civil lawsuit. My sharp out-of-town lawyer might name in my suit the City which never alerted me and my neighbors that I was a prime target for CHS thugs, despite the fact that many insiders knew of this ongoing crime spree. And perhaps also the University which never alerted me, my fellow students, or our parents, that Charlottesville was anything but the safe, sleepy, southern college town presented in their glossy brochures when it was courting my pocketbook for tuition, fees, and endowment contributions . . . and then largely ignored me after I was attacked.

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