The Thief, the Donkey, and the Justice of the Wicked

 
On the side of the road leading to a nearby village, I stood waiting for some friends to attend a wedding of a relative. As I stood there, I noticed a large crowd approaching, accompanied by horrifying screams and distressing cries. Curiosity drew me closer to understand the situation, and what I saw was shocking: a teenage boy, no older than eighteen, with a swollen body, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, some of his teeth broken, and visible signs of brutal beatings on his face. His tattered clothes hung on him disgracefully, and I could see the agony in his eyes as he was mercilessly beaten by the crowd.

Four men surrounded the boy, whom I viewed as a child, tying his hands to the neck of a donkey. Two of them dragged him forward while the others struck him with heavy sticks on his back and neck. It felt as if he was on the brink of death.

I approached these brutal criminals and asked them how they could do such a thing. I implored them that even if he had killed someone, he should not be treated this way. No matter what, he is human, made of flesh and blood. They should have brought him to justice to face the consequences of his actions. They replied that he hadn’t killed anyone-;- he had merely stolen the donkey beside him from the field. I pointed out that since the donkey was with them, the theft had not occurred, and they should present him to justice without causing him any harm. They looked at me mockingly, as if I had uttered something absurd.

I asked one of them if the boy was from their village. He replied that he was a stranger from another town, who had come specifically to steal. They continued to beat him without care, as if inflicting pain had become a sacred duty. I attempted to shout at them to release him and stop the beating until he could reach the police station, but they mocked me again and one of them shoved me in the chest, nearly causing me to fall backward and injure my spine. The crowd moved ahead, showering the boy with blows, and I decided to follow, overcome with sorrow for this unfortunate thief who had fallen into the hands of merciless brutes.

Of course, I forgot about my friends, who I had been waiting for to attend the wedding. How could I think of celebration when witnessing such a vast amount of injustice and tyranny? They beat him as if he had committed the gravest of sins, equivalent to adultery, theft, huge robbery, and all the wrongs in the world. They stripped away what little humanity he had left.

If only I could tell you how the women of the village participated, using shoes and sandals to hit and humiliate him. You wouldn’t believe me if I said even innocent children joined in the torture, throwing stones at his face—what was once a human face now resembled a weathered piece of old, rotting wood. I continued to observe the scene and calmed myself a bit when they finally brought him into the police station. I thought that the police were there to serve the people and would protect him until he faced justice. Surely, they would ask for the names of those who had beaten him and bring them to justice as well. This was my naive belief, a reflection of my innocent mind.

But, dear friends, the boy’s screams grew louder, and when I inquired about his condition, they told me that they would continue their duty by beating him until morning.

This was what I witnessed with my own eyes-;- no one told me about it. What was this that I saw? To what creed´-or-belief do these criminals belong, who tortured, humiliated, and shattered this boy, burning his humanity and trampling his dignity? Isn’t it human to err, to commit some crimes and sins? Naturally, he should face justice without such overwhelming humiliation and destruction inflicted upon a human being who could repent and return to purity.

Why, in our country, do we sentence the guilty to death and deprive them of the chance to repent and seek forgiveness from God? Why didn’t anyone else intervene to save this poor boy from the grip of these criminals? Why do we insist on deepening the criminality of the criminal by showing them no mercy?

In this manner, he would serve his punishment and then emerge like a wild beast, seeking revenge on everyone he encounters. No one showed him compassion-;- no one empathized with him. What culture do these people live in, and from where do they derive their ideas and behaviors? Is it justifiable to kill a person for stealing a donkey? They caught him and retrieved their donkey, meaning the theft had not occurred, which does not absolve him from facing justice, but where is that justice? Where are human rights? Who among these thugs will listen to me? How can the police support what they have done? How can they continue to beat him when he no longer feels alive from the torment he has endured? Is there not something called justice and fair trial for every criminal, according to their crime? Why do people take pleasure in torturing one another? Is this humanity?´-or-is it savagery?

It is known that every society has thieves, murderers, rapists, bandits, and corrupt individuals. It is also known that there exists justice and dignity for human beings, rights that must not be violated under any circumstances.

He was not presented to justice the following day for fear of his swollen body and hardened face. They left him for several days until he could enter the prosecutor’s office unharmed, and this miserable thief dared not speak of what had happened to him at the hands of the people´-or-in the police station, fearing a repeat of his torturous ordeal. Is this the justice that God, the Lord of the universe, desires?´-or-is it a crime and cruelty against truth, against justice, and against human rights? Did I not tell you that what I witnessed was the justice of the mob?
12/10/2009.

Rate the article
Bad	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	Very good
Result : 100%							Participated in the vote : 1