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Note: I have heard this riddle presented in many forms. Most recently, I read this version in LABYRINTHS OF REASON by William Poundstone.
The jury found the prisoner guilty of the worst sort of murder. Well within his rights to sentence the prisoner to death, the judge could not indulge himself and have the manner of the murderer's death exceed a simple hanging. Nevertheless, the nature of this specific crime filled the judge with outrage, and he struggled within the bounds of his mandate to find a way to make this particular hanging slightly more painful.
The day of the sentencing arrived, and the prisoner, along with his counselor, appeared before the judge.
The judge said, "I am tempted to order your immediate execution and wash my hands of this heinous crime once and for all. However, I find you to be a heartless, cold human being, and nothing would please me more than to pierce your hardened caul. Therefore, here is your sentence: Because an immediate hanging would cut your anxiety short, while an extended wait would only allow you to enjoy your life longer than you deserve, I sentence you to hang at sunrise on one of the seven days next week. I further instruct your executioner to make sure you have no way of knowing in advance what day you shall die. Thus, you will approach each night's sleep with the fear that this may be your last night on earth. Then, come sunrise, the executioner will walk you to the gallows, hang the rope about your neck. Perhaps he will then remove the noose and return you to your cell for another day. Or perhaps the door below your feet will vanish, and you will die. However it should happen, it will come as a complete surprise, I guarantee you this, upon my honor and my life. You will not know the moment of your death."
The murderer found himself startled and suddenly afraid of the cruelty of the sentence. But to his anger, he found his counselor smiling with relief. The murderer turned then and snarled, "What happiness can you find here?"
"Well, it's just this: the judge cannot hang you now, or ever!" the lawyer crowed. "Consider: you are supposed to hang one sunrise in the next seven, but you cannot know for certain which day. So they cannot hang you next Saturday morning. It is the last day within the sentencing period, and if you walked to the gallows on that day, you would know you would hang. That very knowledge was prohibited by the judge himself. Are we agreed? You cannot hang on Saturday."
The murder nodded his head, and said, "So? Who cares? It will not be Saturday, but it might be Friday or Monday or any other day."
The lawyer shook his head. "Suppose you live to see Thursday afternoon. You will realize then that the only remaining mornings are Friday and Saturday. However, you already know it cannot be Saturday. But if it must be Friday, then it cannot be Friday, either! And now you must see that this holds true for any day of the seven. On Wednesday afternoon you will know that Thursday is the only possible day; and then, of course, it cannot possibly be Thursday! So on, so forth. The judge must release you or break his solemn oath as a judge!"
Slowly the prisoner began to smile. That night he slept like a baby, and walked confidently to the gallows on Sunday morning, and just as he suspected, he walked back to his cell. He walked again on Monday morning, felt the rope secured about his neck, but he smiled nonetheless. Sure enough, the rope was removed, and he strolled back to his cell yet again.
On Tuesday morning the executioner led him to the gallows and secured the noose. That morning gave birth to a piercing sunrise, and silhouetted the murderer like a frame around a photograph, as he hanged by a stout rope--quite unexpectedly.
Did the judge fulfill his sentence?
Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 Joshua Suchman. All rights reserved.
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The jury found the prisoner guilty of the worst sort of murder. Well within his rights to sentence the prisoner to death, the judge could not indulge himself and have the manner of the murderer's death exceed a simple hanging. Nevertheless, the nature of this specific crime filled the judge with outrage, and he struggled within the bounds of his mandate to find a way to make this particular hanging slightly more painful.
The day of the sentencing arrived, and the prisoner, along with his counselor, appeared before the judge.
The judge said, "I am tempted to order your immediate execution and wash my hands of this heinous crime once and for all. However, I find you to be a heartless, cold human being, and nothing would please me more than to pierce your hardened caul. Therefore, here is your sentence: Because an immediate hanging would cut your anxiety short, while an extended wait would only allow you to enjoy your life longer than you deserve, I sentence you to hang at sunrise on one of the seven days next week. I further instruct your executioner to make sure you have no way of knowing in advance what day you shall die. Thus, you will approach each night's sleep with the fear that this may be your last night on earth. Then, come sunrise, the executioner will walk you to the gallows, hang the rope about your neck. Perhaps he will then remove the noose and return you to your cell for another day. Or perhaps the door below your feet will vanish, and you will die. However it should happen, it will come as a complete surprise, I guarantee you this, upon my honor and my life. You will not know the moment of your death."
The murderer found himself startled and suddenly afraid of the cruelty of the sentence. But to his anger, he found his counselor smiling with relief. The murderer turned then and snarled, "What happiness can you find here?"
"Well, it's just this: the judge cannot hang you now, or ever!" the lawyer crowed. "Consider: you are supposed to hang one sunrise in the next seven, but you cannot know for certain which day. So they cannot hang you next Saturday morning. It is the last day within the sentencing period, and if you walked to the gallows on that day, you would know you would hang. That very knowledge was prohibited by the judge himself. Are we agreed? You cannot hang on Saturday."
The murder nodded his head, and said, "So? Who cares? It will not be Saturday, but it might be Friday or Monday or any other day."
The lawyer shook his head. "Suppose you live to see Thursday afternoon. You will realize then that the only remaining mornings are Friday and Saturday. However, you already know it cannot be Saturday. But if it must be Friday, then it cannot be Friday, either! And now you must see that this holds true for any day of the seven. On Wednesday afternoon you will know that Thursday is the only possible day; and then, of course, it cannot possibly be Thursday! So on, so forth. The judge must release you or break his solemn oath as a judge!"
Slowly the prisoner began to smile. That night he slept like a baby, and walked confidently to the gallows on Sunday morning, and just as he suspected, he walked back to his cell. He walked again on Monday morning, felt the rope secured about his neck, but he smiled nonetheless. Sure enough, the rope was removed, and he strolled back to his cell yet again.
On Tuesday morning the executioner led him to the gallows and secured the noose. That morning gave birth to a piercing sunrise, and silhouetted the murderer like a frame around a photograph, as he hanged by a stout rope--quite unexpectedly.
Did the judge fulfill his sentence?
Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 Joshua Suchman. All rights reserved.
Taboo's Ezine Navigator: Article Index
Taboo Tenente: A Thinker's MFA Journey - Home
The Phallic Suggestion
Stone Soup Blog Forum
