Brought to Justice - Fiction

The Davis house sat quiet in the suburbs, nothing to stand out in the neighborhood, yet this day it was nevertheless remarkable. At the breakfast table, Mr. Jon Davis sat alone reading the morning paper while sipping at his hot cup of tea. His eye was open for a specific item of news. The possibility of seeing his own name in print was a thrill he found amusing. And would Alex be named? That possibility delighted him as well. He had provided relevant information to the reporter. He felt it was a story that should be told.

He found the headline on page 4, North Chicago Gazette. "Six McHenry Vandals Brought to Justice." As Jon began to read the short article, his heart beat a little faster.

On the evening of August 10, 2003, six young people, five males and one female, in a group out roaming the streets of McHenry and under the influence of alcohol, were arrested for vandalism and public nuisance. Though the perpetrators are above the age of majority, all charged pled guilty and were promptly released into the custody of their parents with a date set for the following morning to appear before the judge.

Mr. Davis was not, technically, her parent, but the reporting was accurate enough. Despite what Jon knew of his new charge, it was a shock to have received the call that night as he was preparing for bed. Arrested? After the good long talk they had had that very evening about her recent troubling behavior? She was supposed to be at the movies, a late-night showing of The Fifth Element. He had to get dressed and drive the Lincoln the seven miles to fetch his badass boarder. The fact that she was college age, and he had been providing for her a decent home made this juvenile behavior all the more aggravating. The newspaper article went on to say, 

At 9:38 AM, after a sharp verbal rebuke from the honorable Judge Lawrence Corbin, the delinquents were sentenced to each perform twenty hours of community service. With the verdict in, the young offenders appeared to be in good spirits, however, having talked to several parents, this reporter discovered that one of the culprits had reason to appear more chastened. I was told by one father that, 'Never mind this slap-on-the-wrist, when I got her home last night, I made certain this will not happen again.'

Jon held his breath. His words were printed right there in black and white. He had never been quoted in a public newspaper as widely circulated as the Gazette. The reporter, a young woman, sharply dressed and projecting an aura of professionalism, had approached him after the sentencing. Lily Palmer, apparently, wanting a parent's perspective, had posed several questions to gather some background on the incident. Jon was eager to answer. As far as Mr. Davis was concerned, he was providing a public service announcement. He continued to read. 

The crimes committed last evening resulted in what turned out to be a first arrest, however, Alexis, the young female in the group had not been a stranger to delinquent behavior. She is living at home in anticipation of attending college in the Fall. Her guardian described the situation at home as a break between graduating high school and a higher education. The parent I spoke with, Mr Jon Davis of Lakemoor, characterized Alex as a 'spoilt brat.' Her break from school consists of 'wasting time with her ne'er do well friends,' most of whom are older and yet no more responsible.

There it was, their names for all to see. Though he had not told the entire truth, he was, for all intents and purposes, a parental authority figure. He and Alex were living under an arrangement of sorts, Jon providing room, board and all financial assistance with Alexis Robertson the beneficiary. Her obligation under the contract was to follow Jon's rules and, ultimately, to meet all her educational ambitions. The article had captured the gist of it, and Jon was pleased that Alexis would not be able to hide anything from those thuggish buddies of hers. They would likely all be reading the Gazette today featuring their own involvement in the crime. Jon felt the best way to separate Alex from their bad influence was with the public knowledge that she was not above the parental discipline imposed upon her at home. The article was uncompromising in its characterization. 

There had typically been no clear rebuke of their transgressions, and the perpetrators' rowdy and destructive acts committed on the streets of our fine city, including four broken street lights, six flat tires, and a spray-painted public sidewalk, are indicative of a pattern of misbehavior.

Again it was clear in black and white. Seeing the situation spelled out was a reminder of its serious nature. Long before offering her a sweet opportunity to live free of all financial responsibility, Jon had been aware of Alex's increasing involvement with this wrong crowd, mostly males a year or two older than herself. She was "one of the guys," had, apparently, always been a tomboy. With her short cropped hair and dark androgynous attire, she never looked out of place with the scruffy little gang that Jon had distrusted from the beginning. Alex had lost contact with her family and, in recent years, parental oversight had been sorely lacking. He had made it a point to assure her that, under his roof, he would not be lenient, that this Davis home was built on a foundation of traditional values. Less explicit was Jon's full ambition that, Alexis Robertson, whether fully aware of the fact or not, was in line for a thorough transformation.

As directed, he turned to a back page of the paper. Where the article continued, Ms Palmer had written,

Due to the intervention at home, it appeared one of the vandals in court this morning, her face bearing genuine humility, was clearly not making light of the circumstances. I spoke with the young woman and was told, 'I'm sorry for all the trouble we caused.' Alexis was reluctant to speak further of the incident, however, her father, more forthcoming, revealed the story. After years of disciplinary neglect, there may be an effective deterrent to this kind of delinquency. Where the sorry six were seated for their hearing this morning, one should have been uncomfortably aware of the hard polished wooden bench supporting her as, under a pretty floral dress, she bore the still fresh result of a hairbrush spanking.

Jon was again pleased to see that this young reporter was not afraid to state the uncompromising facts. The puff sleeve shirred frill dress he had picked out for Alex's court appearance was clothing he had ordered weeks before the vandalism incident. He had been waiting for the perfect time to introduce this new look for her, and the startled-to-amused faces on her delinquent co-conspirators could still only be described as priceless. Jon knew exactly what he was doing. A strong dose of humility was the bitter pill to be administered, and the face of an orthodox tomboy had shown bright pink in the crowded courtroom that morning. Her attire shouted the news. She could not be a cool tough member of the gang. No, Alexis was a proper princess, and everyone should know it. This young lady was a rare pretty flower decorating the sentencing bench. How might her seeming inability to sit still be interpreted? The sturdy wooden hairbrush, at that moment, rested in plain sight on the small console table by the Davis front door as a reminder that there is a new sheriff in town. According to Ms Palmer, 

The young woman appeared to be in a state of shock, having been so unprepared for her comeuppance. Drinking... vandalism... an arrest... and then home for a spanking, a consequence nowhere on her list of anticipated possible conclusions to this unruly evening. Asked if she would make that mistake again, Alexis replied succinctly and with apparent sincerity that she would not. Mr. Davis added, 'I would like to thank McHenry law enforcement for bringing this to my attention, so I could handle the issue properly.'

Indeed, on that night, Jon had handled it properly. He held a profound affection for this young woman, and this was for her own good. Before being put to bed on her tomboy tummy, an arrogant wannabe hoodlum was genuinely transformed. Suspended birthday bare over the parental knee, Alexis had made every desperate promise, had shed her entire volume of hot wet tears to signal a sincere commitment to a brand new respect, attitude and much improved behavior. Six had been arrested for criminal behavior---the difference in one case: a guardian who believes in the stringent influence of a real bare-bottom spanking. Jon had made his little princess feel special in a way she would never forget.

As Mr. Davis folded and, with a sense of satisfaction, put the North Chicago Gazette down, his charge entered the kitchen. Alex was up much earlier than normal for her, but then this was only in alignment with the new rules. She was wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and sat at the breakfast table across from her new guardian, who noted that she settled onto her seat with cautious deliberation. With the sturdy wooden brush, he had raised two tender spots precisely where backside meets chair. Aside from that uncomfortable issue, it seemed to him that Alex had something on her mind.

"Good morning, dear," he said. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Everyone's going to the lake," she answered as if it were settled.

"Who is everyone?" Jon had a good idea.

"Just friends," she told him, though her tone suggested it was none of his business.

He was surprised by how her dramatic transformation after the hairbrush had turned so quickly. The night before last, a simple spanking over daddy's knee had put a lie to all her affected toughness. Little girls make such a fuss. "I thought you would be wanting to lay low for awhile," he grinned. After her day in court, was she ready so soon to show her face in public?

The pain on her face was her only answer.

"You won't be going to the lake." There would be no hedonistic partying today — no hard liquor, no heavy metal screeching. He informed his charge that plans had changed. Dressed in her pretty new things, they would be spending the afternoon in the park, where his company was hosting a picnic. The anticipated attendance was large, with full family participation, and he expected her to behave like a proper young lady.

On her face was pure horror. "That's not fair!"

"It is entirely fair," he countered. Her demeanor this morning only served to emphasize the need for a consistent wielding of his special brand of applied psychology.

Alex folded her aims defiantly across her chest, slumped back in her chair, glaring at her guardian with eyes that could kill.

"Would you prefer to go to your room?" He was having none of it. "You can stand in nappies with your nose in the corner. I'll come up in a bit, and we can have a more productive discussion."

"No, Sir," was her quick though reluctant answer. Through gritted teeth she asked politely. "I'll go to the picnic, but why can't I wear my own clothes?"

"The pastel pink party dress and heels I got you are your own clothes," he explained. He thought two pretty pink bows would be set off nicely by her short dark hair. "However, if you're not feeling grown up enough, we can go with something more suited to a baby." Her closet and drawers now contained the wardrobe for this ultimate indignity. The decision was clearly agonizing for her, but the best choice was made.

Jon smiled. "That's my good little girl." He had already envisioned the discussion she had just narrowly avoided, a simple talk with only the palm of his hard hand and a still tender nappied bottom.

"What would you like for breakfast, sweetie?" he asked. The picnic would be alive with activity. This cute tomboy needed her nourishment today.