1.7 Conclusion
In criminology, we try to understand crime by examining it from a variety of different perspectives using the scientific method. Doing so leads to a lot of different possible explanations or theories. Theories look at who is genetically or physically predisposed to commit crime (biological theories), or what happened to them that made them commit a crime (psychological theories), or what outside forces led someone to commit crime (sociological theories). Through these theories, we can identify risks (criminogenic factors) that make it more likely a crime will happen. Criminology helps us to better understand the goals of different laws, the courts, and law enforcement. The field of criminology has a big responsibility and a lot of work to do.
Activity: Human Statistic by Sterling Cunio
When Sterling Cunio was 16 years old, he was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. As we have discussed in this chapter, criminal behavior is not simple and is rarely easy to understand at first glance. Keeping in mind what you have learned in this chapter about the difference between a criminological perspective and a criminal justice perspective, and also considering possible criminogenic factors, listen to (figure 1.17) or read this poem by Sterling and then answer the discussion questions that follow. Many students find it helpful to read the written words at the same time they are listening to him perform the poem.
Human Statistic
by Sterling Cunio
Born to a woman shackled to a hospital bed,
I am the child of the female prisoner seemingly fated to captivity.
I am that baby raised by maternal grandma because every other adult was too dysfunctional for a child, the nephew of alcoholic criminally active uncles, the bastard of an unknown father.
I am the marvelous mulatto who, as a mixed kid, never fit in anywhere I went.
The gifted student who excelled at learning in stifled classrooms.
I am that 12-year-old boy in insufferable pain,
a sudden orphan after the angels called Mama to Heaven where she’s supposed to be as some hope dope pusher preacher man told me.
The traumatized child laying quietly on strange couches
listening to men beat women in chaotic homes.
I am that runaway dropout who found belonging among unloved kids roaming the streets looking for excitement in risky arousals.
The foster child with brown-blonde mixed afro and freckles
picked on by everybody until I started punching.
Then I got whipped by adults for being violent.
Sent to juvenile detention for delinquency,
gave probation instead of therapy.
The short-sighted peer pressured wannabe struggling for identity
quickly learning the maladaptivity of criminality and the productivity of spilling.
The boy feeling like a macho man because of a real gun in hand,
instant mechanicalized power.
No more squirt pump water gun cap and pop for Xbox.
The real deal steel boom pop firepower like every TV hero got.
I was that teenage car thief GTA p