I read a bit about the Rutgers philosophy professor who was sentenced to prison and lost many things because of a conviction for sexual abuse of a disabled man who lacked the capacity to consent. One article talked about her letter to the judge prior to her sentencing, and its opacity about the situation facing her due to her choices. I heard a radio spot about the adults who spent decades in prison after murder convictions as minors. The United States Supreme Court recognized these offenders have a right to seek parole after being convicted as minors and sentenced to life in prison without parol before reaching adulthood. I read a lot about a remarkable trial in Canada in which a capable cross-examining defense lawyer dissected the prosecution's witnesses, under circumstances suggesting that the women were less than candid with the police and prosecutors. The twitterverse went alight with people suggesting, in essence, that effective cross-examination of witnesses with contradictory stories should not be permitted in trials. Sadly, such witnesses discourage those with less complicated tales from coming forward. All these stories put together in some melange in my mind give me some unformed but percolating ideas about personal responsibility, culpability, and leniency.
But I will let them simmer more for now.
When I walked Beatrice on Sunday, she saw two moms sitting on a park bench in the little swingset park area. She went up to them, put her front paws on the bench between them, and reached her head out to each in turn to be petted. She was not puzzled about the meaning of life at all.