They Paid Their Debt to Society

But the State Wants Another Pound of Flesh

There was a time, in the golden age of common sense, when a man settled his dues with society by serving his time, and once he’d done so, he was handed his walking papers and sent on his way, free to pursue whatever meager prospects awaited him. In our modern era of enlightened governance, the man also receives an itemized bill.

Consider the plight of an unfortunate soul who, after spending eighteen years in the state’s care, found himself the proud owner of an $8,000 medical debt, courtesy of a wrist that prison doctors treated with all the attentiveness of a blacksmith shoeing a mule. He had saved up $400 during his lengthy stay, no small feat considering the going wages, but before he could so much as buy himself a sandwich on the outside, the state relieved him of all but $25—no doubt a generous parting gift meant to help him reintegrate into society.

Not content with this minor fleecing, the state came knocking for the remaining $7,200 with all the enthusiasm of a hungry landlord: “Pay up in thirty days, they said, or we’ll send the hounds.”

Now, the average man, when confronted with such a bill, might at least have the option of pawning the family silver or sweet-talking a wealthy aunt. But for a man just released from prison, whose worldly possessions amount to a battered wrist and a pocketful of lint, such a task is as realistic as flapping his arms and flying to the moon.

And so, a band of well-meaning lawmakers have proposed that perhaps the state should refrain from saddling these ex-prisoners with medical debts they can’t possibly pay, particularly when said debts stem from injuries acquired under the state’s watch. An excellent notion, one might think—until one recalls that the bill doesn’t make the debt vanish into thin air. No, it simply transfers it onto the backs of the taxpayer, already burdened with a fine collection of other governmental expenses.

One is left to wonder at the curious arrangement whereby a man who has committed a crime gets room, board, and–allegedly medical care, only to be released back into the world with a bill he can’t pay, which is then quietly reassigned to the very people he wronged in the first place. It’s a peculiar sort of justice–one in which the scales never seem to balance–unless they are tilting ever so slightly in favor of those holding the ledger.