A decade. That’s what he got for having a gram on his body. Ten years. Ten long, excruciating years spent folded in a cell while the world continued to spin without his presence. His children—become strangers–his wife–aged through recognition. A number in a system that has its mind made up before he went to stand before it. Ten years for something that harms no one but only himself, just to stare him back in the face and label him worthy of the cage. 

However, there’s another man. A man who destroyed a child’s trust. A man who turned the love of innocence into an unhealable wound that will forever remain open. Taking something not meant for him that cannot be returned. Causing a young child to build themselves up from wreckage. Managed to walk away before the leaves had time to change their colors. Suit and tie. Greeted with the firm handshake of freedom from a system reputably known for welcoming creatures like him with open arms as their special guest. 

We take the weight of our scales with one hand, while tipping it with the other. Disguising habit to call it justice. Leaving the comfort of pain in the hands of the powerful who decides what counts and who is just expendable. The pain that is worth the crying and the one who’s kept quiet for years to come forward. We have these constitutions, these rules, these rights and freedoms. But we can’t seem to come together to see that a child’s life is what matters more than confronting the horrors of what happened to her. 

A child can carry the wreckage for their lifetime. Waking up in the middle of the night every day with fear that they can’t escape. Rebuilding themselves the way anyone knows how before they learn how to trust. Showing the progress before it was finished. Our system doesn’t feel the difference between a single gram and a generation of trauma. They only found a way to make them look the same.