This story tells of an episode that occurred in a tiny village in Brittany. It is here, in Tréguennec, that we now spend much of the year and where we witnessed a series of events that brought feelings of pride and shame in equal measure. Although the episode is now over, thoughts about it resurface each time the man at its centre – Ill call him Jean – walks past our house with his new dog.


 As a community, Tréguennec is very French. It has around 300 inhabitants of whom most have lived there, or thereabouts, since childhood. It has a village school, a public playground, a town hall, a gardener/odd-job man and a clerk, and all are overseen by an elected Mayor supported by eleven councillors.


Jean, who lives alone, was made redundant in his fifties. Broke and hungry and with his water and electricity cut off, he started to steal food, first from houses in the village then from those further afield. During his last burglary he was caught on camera. He was identified and arrestedby the police who, on discovering his circumstances, took him to the Mayor and requested that the council deal with the issue and oversee his rehabilitation.


The Mayor, a thoughtful, kind and social-minded man immediately convened a committee. With money from the mayoral budget, financial and general support from social services, help and advice on how to obtain money from various state-funded schemes, and his household services re-connected, Jeans life was soon made bearable and his thieving stopped. Then, with the Mayors help, Jean found a dog who he was soon taking on walks around the village and in the surrounding countryside. By now recovery was essentially complete.


When I learnt this story I felt very proud, in every way our community appeared exemplary.  However, this warm feeling soon changed to one of shame when I learned more of the background to Jeans arrest and how, as a community, we had actually failed him for years.


The effect of his redundancy was made worse when, soon afterwards, his mother, to whom he was close and upon whom he had heavily relied for everyday support, died. Without her and without a wage packet and seemingly incapable of obtaining state aid on his own, his debts mounted and his services were cut off. His circumstances were made worse, first by his fear of bailiffs – knocks at the door by social services went unanswered, and secondly by the loss of his firstdog, a longstanding and close companion.


In desperation, Jean started by stealing jams, later it was tinned foods generally; never anything else. People in the village knew who was stealing the food and more than one householder reported it to the police, but for years there was no serious attempt to help. Our close-knit community turned its back and, were it not for the intervention of the Mayor, his committee and social services, Jean might well have died.


 Jeans experience has taught me a lesson. When I originally heard that, by dint of the officers discretion, the proper legal procedures had been bypassed, I was angry. Jean had repeatedly burgled, two people at least had complained to the police and, burglary in France, as in the UK, is a criminal offence. Surely the courts should have been involved.


My anger reflected the position I have held for over twenty years – allowing such discretion was anathema. This view was based on three principles. First, a bedrock of the legal system is that those committing an offence should be judged and sentenced by an open process in a public court. Second, there is a risk of bias if an officers discretion is swayed by the offenders skin colour, gender, class or influence. Third, discretion may fossilise bad law. If officers protect offenders from an aspect of the law that is misguided and so the breach is never heard in court, that law may never be challenged or changed.


I now see things differently. In Jeans case, going through the formal legal channels would have involved delay and might have resulted in a fine and possibly imprisonment, all with no guarantee of success. In a small, close-knit community, how much more humane and effective was the intervention forged by the officer and our Mayor.


When it comes to police discretion, I have made a volte-face. In exceptional circumstances and where there are sensitive and competent officers, discretion is a valuable commodity. Jean too has made a volte-face and I imagine that it was not by chance that he called his new dog Volte. Some in the village say that it is his regularly walks with Volte, rather than the other support, that eventually pulled Jean through.


For help in writing this blog I would like to thank Carolyn, Charlotte, Claude, Annie P, Vivien and Rohan.

5 thoughts on “One Man and his Dog

  1. I read recently that justice should be fair, and either every one reprimanded and told to do better next time, or everyone judged and fined, or imprisoned. The book’s next line was that poor usually get imprisoned for minor crimes, while the top bankers and other upper management often are let off ( with reference to the global financial crisis of some years ago.)
    I like the practical approach in this case. The Mayor did the right thing.


  2. The exercise of this kind of humane and empathic discretion is something so much more possible in a small community.
    And maybe it is representative of some of the special human qualities that draw you to live in a tiny community in Brittany.
    But I’m guessing. I’d love to read an essay called perhaps “Why are we living here?”


    1. Dear Rob and Heather, Thank you both for you comments. Notwithstanding my change of heart for Jean, it remains my strong conviction that police discretion, as in this case, can only be allowed in small, stable communities with trained and competent officers closely in touch with that community. Moreover, the act should be recoded so the ‘state’ has a record. Joe


  3. My view is discretion can lead to discrimination… or discretion can be a supportive and pragmatic way to deal with a person where imprisonment doesn’t rehabilitate, but is purely used to punish. The use of a conditional discharge can be a powerful ‘disposal’, as it marks the offence but does not act on it unless another offence is committed, and in Jean’s case he needed that support.

    If an offence has been committed, brought to court and guilt found there is to my knowledge, always a sentence or outcome that is marked on a criminal record… perhaps Heather is referring to a conditional discharge, but this would not be because they were better heeled than a poor person, but due to the individual facts and circumstances.

    I fully support the view that those in positions to make these decisions must be sensitive, unbiased and competent.


  4. Dear Carolyn, Many thanks for your cmmentary – very helpful indeed. In my piece I rather suggest that by going through the courts, discretion, and therefore discrimination, can be avoided. Sadly, this is not always the case. Judges use their discretion and have often made decisions that are discriminatory. The difference is that these judgements, and their reasoning, are usually made public. Joe


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