Billy's knees almost gave in as the judge passed down his sentence - "I sentence you to be soundly flogged with the birch - twelve strokes!"
It was the first time in over seventy years that a juvenile had been sentenced to be flogged. It had been a year since juvenile flogging had been reinstated, but the judge was always reluctant to sentence convicted boys to such punishment, thinking it would cause an uproar in the community if a juvenile were to receive such a brutal punishment.
Billy was different from most other boys seen in the juvenile court. He may only have been eleven-years-old, but he was already a professional in crime. He had burglurized over ten different homes in less than two years, all by himself, and this was his second appearance in court. A few of his victims were in the courtroom when the judge handed the sentence down, I being one of them. Actually, there was quite a bit of cheering from those present as they heard the sentence, that is until the judge quickly called them to order. It was true what everyone said - victims always have their day in court. It was true for me and the rest of Billy's victims. He was to be flogged publicly, and we would all be there to see him get what was due to him.
I suppose I should back up for a moment. My house was the last to be burglarized by Billy. I wasn't home at the time, just like none of his victims never were. Fortunately, one of my neighbors spotted him and notified the police. The little thief was quickly aprehended, and this time he would not be so lucky to get away with his crimes. They knew he was responsible for the other recent burglaries in the area. Sure, Billy was a little boy with a cute face that only a mother could love, but I was glad to see that the little scoundrel was finally going to get what he deserved.
Billy was to be flogged in the small courtyard which separated the juvenile court facilities from the adults. There was quite a large crowd outside the court that morning, all wanting to get in to see this wretched boy pay the price for his crimes, but only a few were allowed in due to the lack of space within the small courtyard. Of course I and the other victims were top priority, so we were all allowed in first and gathered as closely as we could to the area where young Billy would soon be flogged. There were about thirty people total that had been allowed in to witness the punishment, all of them up against each of the four walls surrounding the courtyard.
A door finally opened and Billy was paraded into the courtyard with a large guard on each side of him. He was led into the center of the courtyard, only a few feet away from where I stood. I got a close-up look at him, and it was the first time I could see fear in his eyes. No longer did he look like a hardened criminal, but rather a small, innocent child. I did my best to remain focused on the crimes he had committed to reassure myself that flogging him was the best thing for him.
The judge was present, and once again he read the sentence. "We may now proceed," he finally announced.
One of the large guards knelt down beside Billy and unfastened his blue, cotton pants. He pulled them down to the boy's ankles. He then went on to do the same with Billy's white briefs, leaving both front and back completely exposed. My eyes fastened upon his tiny penis and small scrotum, reminding me once again that he was only just a child.
The two guards positioned Billy on the newly constructed birching pony. His feet and wrists were tied tightly allowing him only minimal movement, if any. A doctor who was present examined his buttocks and anus to make sure he was fit enough to be given twelve strokes. When he finished, he nodded toward the judge in approval.
A guard removed the birch rod from a bucket of brine and shook it off. I had never seen a birch rod before, and it seemed like such a harsh instrument to punish such a small boy with. However, it had been done so for centuries. Billy's small, creamy-white, bare buttocks were sticking outward, awaiting the birch to strike.
The birch rod was raised and came crashing down with all the strength the guard could muster upon Billy's naked buttocks. It landed with a loud crash. I couldn't believe how hard he struck him. A piercing scream came from Billy. Dark red stripes immediately appeared across his buttocks. The strokes were given at ten second intervals. After five strokes blood began to coarse down his legs. My eyes remained frozen in disbelief with what I was seeing. When the twelve strokes had been given the wasn't a single piece of unbroken flesh on his buttocks. Blood poured from his wounds. He was untied, but could not hold himself up on his own. The entire crowd was definately in awe with what they had seen and began to slowly file out of the courtyard after getting a close look at the boy's buttocks.
I stayed behind in the courtyard and applied a cold, wet sponge to Billy's wounds. He was in pretty bad shape, and it was obvious that he wouldn't be sitting anytime soon. It would take awhile for these wounds to heal, and some permanent scarring was more than likely to occur. He had definately learned his lesson, and it was the last the courts ever saw of him.