THE LAST STRAW/Frank McNally: Justice in Texas has sometimes been a law unto itself, as anyone who saw the film, The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, will know. Judge Roy held court in a saloon and declared himself "the only law west of the Pecos". But the colourful traditions of Texan jurisprudence seem to be continuing, if a recent court case there - in which a man was sentenced to 30 nights in a dog-house - is any indication.
The case could set a worrying precedent. Until now, spending time in the dog-house was just a figurative expression popular with married men. It describes the probationary situation a man occupies when found guilty (or just made to feel that way) of non-capital offences ranging from (a) forgetting an anniversary, to (z) causing the accidental death of a mother-in-law. The offences need not even be specified, and sometimes you may be required to remain in the dog-house until you correctly guess what it is you're accused of; but the good thing is, you usually get out on appeal.
Now the expression has taken on a new meaning, thanks to the judgement given last month in a case in Orange County - 600 miles east of the Pecos - involving a man accused of mistreating his 11-year-old stepson.
His guilt was beyond doubt. But a crucial piece of evidence was that, locked out of his home by the accused, the 11-year-old had been forced to shelter in a dog-house. And although the boy later withdrew this claim, the idea stuck, and the judge accepted the prosecution's suggestion that a period of nightly kennel boarding would be appropriate punishment.
This alternative to jail meant the guilty party could continue working, so he agreed and began his sentence last weekend - at his own house, but in full public view. The case provoked debate about whether such a punishment fits the crime. It certainly doesn't fit the criminal. The dog-box provided for him measures only 2ft by 3ft, which the prosecution claimed was the largest available. But in what passes for leniency in Texas, the authorities accepted that either his head or feet could protrude at any given time during the 10p.m.-5a.m. incarceration, and have also allowed him a pillow, sleeping bag, and mosquito net.
At a stretch, the sentence could be described as community service. According to reports, the community has been deriving considerable entertainment value from it, and police assigned to check the accused's compliance have also been busy directing traffic. But the question arises as to whether the Texan approach could be applied to other cases.
Consider art theft, for example: could a person convicted of stealing paintings be sentenced to make an exhibition of himself in a gallery? (The judge would say: "I direct that you shall be taken from this place and hanged".) Or take the case in Britain over alleged cheating on Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Would it be sufficient punishment for someone found guilty of quiz-show fraud to spend a period, as the phrase goes, helping police with questions?
Roy Bean was famous for his colourful judgements. He was also famously slow to dispense change to travellers drinking whiskey in his saloon while their trains took on water. When the whistle blew, his trick was to convene the court and fine them the change owed before ordering them out of town. And although his early life, dominated as it was by "bragging, duelling and gambling on cockfights", clearly marked him out for a career in law, he always relied less on legal precedent than on his revolver, which tended to discourage appeals.
I'm tempted to say that his fiercely independent spirit is alive today in Texans like George "the only law west of the Euphrates" Bush. But that would be getting into politics, so I won't. Instead, I'll just mention another wacky story from the US last week.
This one was in upstate New York, where a woman using a laundrette early in the morning was shocked to find a man's body in one of the giant dryers. She suspected murder, but when police investigated, the man climbed out and yawned. It turned out he'd been drinking the night before, dropped into the laundrette on the way home to warm up, and got into the machine - the way you do - before falling asleep.
If this had been Texas, the woman might have assumed he was serving a sentence for money laundering, put a coin in his meter, and switched it to "high". Luckily it was New York, so he was just let go. The story didn't say if he was married, but if he is, I know where he's sleeping now.