By Sophia Franco
Managing Editor of Features
This past week, the sentencing in the trial of a Stanford University student convicted of rape sparked outrage across the country and on social media.
Brock Turner, a student at Stanford University, was spotted by two passersby raping an unconscious woman behind a dumpster in January of 2015. Last Thursday, Santa Clara County Superior Court judge Aaron Pesky gave Turner six months with probation after he was found guilty on three counts of sexual assault.
This sentence, considered by many to be just a “slap on the wrist”, has incited a flood of criticism and a petition on moveon.org to have the judge recalled. Pesky cited the fact that Turner had no “significant” prior infractions on his record, reasoning that he posed no danger to others. But behind this lenient sentencing, another force is at play. That force is privilege.
It’s already been pointed out that the case of Corey Batey, a black student at Vanderbilt University who raped an unconscious woman, will end with a sentencing of at least 15 years in prison, a stark contrast to Turner’s six months. While the point is not to argue that Batey’s sentence should be reviewed, it is important to note that the shorter sentence may be owed to Turner’s white privilege.
When looking at crimes committed by white men, we tend to be more forgiving, more willing to look for an excuse. We use labels such as “troubled” or note how the offender had a “promising future” in order to evoke sympathy and to diminish the crime.
Turner’s record as a D-1 swimmer was latched onto by the media with some articles going so far as to list his best times, suggesting that his athletic accomplishments should impact how the case should be viewed.
It is important to remember that no matter how sad it is to lose a scholarship they worked hard for, the offender was the one who made the decision that ultimately jeopardized it. Humanizing the rapist is a problem because it distracts from the real, long lasting pain felt by the victim. As was apparent in this case, sympathizing with the rapist rather than the victim gets in the way of a fair trial and sentencing.
In his justification for the short sentence, Judge Pesky explained that “[a] prison sentence would have a severe impact on [Turner]”. But isn’t a “severe impact” what is called for? The point of imprisonment is to deter others from committing the same crime and to correct the offender’s behavior by sending a clear message that what they did was wrong.
Rape is a serious crime that is motivated by power and fueled by a sense of entitlement towards another person’s body. One doesn’t break this sense of entitlement by conceding a sentence that is more convenient for the rapist.
It is important to remember that no matter how sad it is to lose a scholarship they worked hard for, the offender was the one who made the decision that ultimately jeopardized it. Humanizing the rapist is a problem because it distracts from the real, long lasting pain felt by the victim.
Additionally, statements from Turner and those around him clearly show that he still lacks a sense of responsibility for his actions, a serious issue if he is indeed going to re-enter society in half a year.
In a letter to the court, Turner writes, “I’ve been shattered by the party culture and risk taking behavior that I briefly experienced in my four months at school. I’ve lost my chance to swim in the Olympics. I’ve lost my ability to obtain a Stanford degree. I’ve lost employment opportunity, my reputation and most of all, my life.”
Although he expresses some remorse at the beginning of the letter, Turner also shifts much of the blame onto his environment rather than on himself. He faults drinking culture for somehow contributing to his choice to rape instead of accepting responsibility for his actions. He also chooses to focus on the pain this trial has brought him, rather than on the pain felt by his victim. All these sentiments expressed in the letter indicate that Turner still isn’t ready to simply acknowledge the horrible impact his actions have had on others.
Turner’s father also gave a statement on his son’s behalf, sparking uproar for his description of the crime as “20 minutes of action”. He reasoned that because the crime occupied so little of his son’s life, the judge should have been lenient in his sentencing. This logic is clearly warped.
The length of one’s sentence is not determined by the time taken to commit the crime. After all, shooting someone takes mere seconds.
Another point of contention is Turner’s use of the word “action”, which implies his son and the victim had consensual sex, diminishing the malicious nature of the crime. The father’s attitude toward the crime demonstrates his expectation that his son’s situation would receive special consideration, an entitled view to say the least.
In the end, Turner is receiving punishment for a crime that he chose to commit. He doesn’t need coddling, protection, or excuses. He needs to receive justice. The truly disturbing effect of this short sentence isn’t just that it won’t rehabilitate Turner, but that it may send the message that similarly situated individuals are above the law. If we want to do all we can to prevent crimes like rape from happening again, and to respect the pain felt by the victim of such a crime, we must work to keep privilege from becoming a factor in our justice system.
This article depicts the opinions of a single party and in no way represents those of Denebola as a whole.
