Every once in a while, a case comes along where so much went wrong, so many bad decisions were made by those involved, that it has a lesson to offer at almost every turn.  The  case of 25 year old Patricia Marilyn Spottedcrow in Oklahoma is such a case.

On Dec. 31, 2009, Spottedcrow and her mother, Delita Starr, 50, sold a “dime bag” of marijuana to a police informant at Starr’s home in Kingfisher, court records state.  Starr handled the transaction and asked her 9-year-old grandson — Spottedcrow’s son — for some dollar bills to make change for the $11 sale.  Two weeks later, the same informant returned and bought $20 of marijuana from Spottedcrow.

The two women were arrested for drug distribution and because Spottedcrow’s children were in the home, an additional charge of possession of a dangerous substance in the presence of a minor was added.  “It just seemed like easy money,” said Spottedcrow, who says she is not a drug user but has smoked marijuana.  “I thought we could get some extra money.  I’ve lost everything because of it.”

At  Just Say Now (via Ed. of Blawg Review) follows the headline of the Oklahoma news story, taking the spin that a $31 of pot bought a 10 year sentence.  The gist is to compare the cost of imprisonment at an average of $16,202 to show how the war on drugs takes its fiscal toll on society.  It’s certainly a valid point, but one that fails, in this case, to tell enough of the story to be helpful.

As the story notes, it wasn’t mere possession of $31 in pot, but sale.  It wasn’t mere sale, but sale that peripherally involved a 9 year old child, who apparently was the cashier for the enterprise. Spottedcrow sold pot because it was easy money, as do many who take risks committing crimes for easy money.  It was a poor choice, but not her last poor choice.

The women were each offered plea deals of two years in prison.  But because neither had prior convictions and the drug amounts were low, they gambled and entered a guilty plea before a judge with no prior sentencing agreement.

A 2 year prison deal for first offenders is steep, so they decided to roll the dice and leave it up to the judge.  Not necessarily a bad option, but one that required them to grasp the nature of what they were doing and make some effort to show their sentencing judge that they would not be back in business the next day.

A presentencing investigative report prepared by the Department of Corrections rated Spottedcrow’s risk of re-offending as “high” and recommended substance abuse treatment while incarcerated.  “It does not appear the defendant is aware that a problem exists or that she needs to make changes in her current behavior.”

Spottedcrow was unemployed and without a stable residence when arrested, the report states.  The family lost their Oklahoma City home for not paying bills.  “When she needed money … this is the avenue she chose rather than finding legitimate employment,” the report states.  “The defendant does not appear remorseful … and she makes justifications for her actions.”

Just as she appears to rationalize her choice of selling pot because it was “easy money,” she showed no recognition that it was a crime.  This puts the judge in a very difficult position.  What’s a judge to do when a woman, one with four children, a first offender, puts her life before the court for committing a relatively low rent crime, but demonstrates no recognition that there’s any problem here?

Former Kingfisher County Judge Susie Pritchett, who retired in December, said the women were conducting “an extensive operation” and included children in the business.  “It was a way of life for them,” Pritchett said.  “Considering these circumstances, I thought it was lenient.  By not putting the grandmother in prison, she is able to help take care of the children.”

“This was a drug sale.  When I look at someone in front of me, I’m thinking, ‘What is it going to take to rehabilitate this person?’  We look at their attitude and other factors.”

It’s a stretch to call a ten year sentence over pot, no matter how bad an attitude and how little grasp of the concept that one doesn’t engage in crime merely because it’s “easy money.”  Ten years is a very long time, and proportionally, it’s a massive sentence for pot.  But to the extent Judge Pritchett might have had regrets over her sentence, Spottedcrow soothed them.

When Spottedcrow was taken to jail after her sentencing, she had marijuana in her jacket. 

It’s unclear how best to characterize her arrogance, to come to court for sentence on a sale of marijuana with pot in her pocket.  Regardless of one’s stance on whether pot should be legal, it was a crime that day, and Spottedcrow was there to be sentenced on it.  Among the many things one shouldn’t do, possess more pot is a biggie.

So $31 in pot resulted in a monumental sentence, for a recidivist no less a first offender, at a staggering cost to the taxpayer.  All true, even though the judge believes she was being lenient.  Leniency, like severity, is subjective, and one finds it along the spectrum of what each of us believes to be reasonable.  As stupid, arrogant and self-serving as Spottedcrow was, it was still pot.

But neither Spottedcrow, nor I, get a vote in the manner in which Judge Susie Pritchett imposes sentence.  To presume, as she did, that she could engage in a crime because it was good for her at the moment, and continue to make choices that were so cavalier is tantamount to begging a judge to whack her as hard as she could.  Spottedcrow had pretty much every objective factor a pot dealer could have weighing in her favor, and yet she exacerbated her situation at every turn.

While a two year, or five year, sentence would likely have been more than sufficient to drive home the point that a person can’t put her own financial benefit ahead of society, or that if you’re going to commit a crime, keep your kid out of it. Or even that one regrets getting caught, if not engaging in the crime itself, as a reason for expressing remorse, it’s not terribly hard to see how Spottedcrow pushed the wrong button at every turn.

Apparently, even a ten year sentence in Oklahoma doesn’t mean ten years, so the headline itself exaggerates the situation somewhat.

In a year, Spottedcrow will have a review and hopes to shorten her time in prison.

“I’m already changed,” she said.  “This is a real eye-opener. I’m going to get out of here, be with my kids and live my life.”

So maybe this is what it took to enlighten Spottecrow?  Or maybe she’s just figured out the right thing to say to get out of prison and back to selling pot. 

H/T Doug Berman