The Sacrificial Man Read Online Free PDF

will commit.”
“You’re lucky they didn’t sack you outright.”
The cup in my hand clashes with the granite counter. “Lucky? Is that what you call it? I’m a first rate academic, and they’re not letting me have any student contact. It’s ridiculous! As if I’m a threat to anyone.” I feel heat bloom in my cheeks, and remember that it isn’t wise to be so transparent. I have to turn away, back to the kettle. My face is distorted in the stainless steel. We say nothing more as the water boils. I fill the two cups.
At the table, seating myself opposite her, I say, “So, what do you want to know?”
“As much as you want to tell me. More, probably. I have to recommend a sentence to the judge. The courts aren’t obliged to follow the proposal of a pre-sentence report, but they usually do.”
“That must make you feel quite powerful.” I push a cup and saucer across the table. “Mind, it’s hot.”
She sips her tea. “It makes me want to be sure I’m right.”
“And do you always get it right?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead she says, “Did your solicitor explain what a pre-sentence report is, Alice?” I notice she uses my name without asking. Impolite. “He did, Cate. But I’d still like to hear it from you.”
“It’s a report that can be requested by a judge after a conviction has been secured, and it’s to help him, it usually is a man, decide on an appropriate sentence. My job is to make enquiries and assess the case so that I’m able to propose a suitable outcome.”
“Suitable for whom?” I ask, taking a careful sip of my drink smelling the rising aroma of lemons.
“For everyone, hopefully. I have to consider what is commensurate with the crime. I look at what is usual for similar cases, and consider the victim, and his family… ”
“There was no victim!”
At my outburst, her face nips into itself, her mouth tight. She doesn’t believe me. Why is it so hard for her to understand? “It was a voluntary death. He was the one who sought me out. Don’t you believe in the right to choose life or death?”
She speaks slowly. “In the eyes of the law, David Jenkins is a victim. You may feel that helping him to commit suicide was morally defensible, but it was illegal.”
Are we not to question laws, which are made by people we elect? Who is to say that laws must always be obeyed? I don’t say this. Not yet. I bite back the words I would have used in a different place and time. Instead I say, “And what is the usual sentence for a crime like this?”
She lifts her biro from the table, moving it between her fingers. “Well, this is not exactly a common crime, so ‘usual sentence’ doesn’t really apply. Most cases of assisting suicide concern a partner, or other relative, helping a loved one who is terminally ill to die, as a release from suffering. Euthanasia, if you like. Since the 2009 laws on assisted suicide cases like that don’t result in any prosecution.”
“I shouldn’t have been prosecuted either! You’ve just described the situation between Smith and myself… ”
“Why do you call him that,” she frowns at her jotter, reads her notes, “when his surname was Jenkins?”
“It was what he wanted me to call him – but you interrupted. We may not have been married, but we were in love. It was euthanasia. The term derives from the Latin. It means an easy death. And last June that is what I gave him, just by being with him when he overdosed.”
“But he wasn’t unwell,” she clarifies. “That’s what makes this case different. As well as the way he died. That’s why you were prosecuted.”
“He may not have been ill but there are more reasons to wish to leave this earth than physical suffering. You must try to think more creatively, Miss Austin.” Her hand tightens on her pen. I’ve said too much but I can’t stop. “You said there were other considerations in deciding a sentence. What might those be?”
“Well, your needs for one. It’s routine to consider