This week we see the commencement of the Great Charade which will receive as much coverage in the local media as the Red Sox Parade.
If some had their innermost wishes fulfilled, Whitey Bulger would be fettered to a stake on the back of a duck boat and driven through the streets of Boston. Then the great mass of the citizenry could shout out vile epithets at him and children under twelve allowed to throw small stones at him. Instead of this Lady Godiva-like tour, the event will be held in a courtroom and limited to a handful of people. As for the small stones, the ever mindful courthouse security will search all pocketbooks, backpacks and pockets to ensure no one sneaks any in.
Having attended all of Whitey’s trial, I will be sure to miss this tawdry display hearkening back to the Colonial Days of stocks and scarlet letters. But don’t get me wrong, I’ve not a handful of sand’s worth of sympathy for Whitey. It’s the extraordinary absurdity of the event and its effect on the judicial system that bothers me.
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