WARNING: this article includes details of how the cat was tortured.

Cat torture was not art: judges

Christie Blatchford

National Post

Saturday, June 14, 2003

TORONTO -- 'Torture for torture's sake": That's how the Ontario Court of Appeal has baldly characterized the conduct of Jesse Power, the former student who videotaped the horrific death of a lovely, pink-nosed house cat, purportedly in the name of art.

In a brief but stinging decision released yesterday, Mr. Justice David Doherty, writing for colleagues Robert Armstrong and Marc Rosenberg, upheld the controversial 90-day jail sentence earlier imposed on Power by Ontario Court Judge Ted Ormston, suggesting the real problem "may well be" that the present six-month maximum penalty for cruelty to animals "is wholly inadequate" and that Judge Ormston, if bound by an inadequate law, had properly applied it.

But Judge Doherty also rejected as "patently unreasonable" Judge Ormston's finding that Power "did not intend that the cat should suffer ... there is nothing in the videotape or in his subsequent conduct to suggest that he did not fully appreciate and, indeed, to some extent relish in the cruelty being inflicted upon this cat," he wrote.

Judge Doherty was also scornful of the view -- offered by Power's lawyer, supported by a defence psychiatric report and relied upon by Judge Ormston -- that Power conceived the cat project as an artistic venture.

"While it may help those who cannot reconcile this act with [Power's] character," he wrote, "to rationalize his actions as some form of artistic endeavour or artistic commentary gone amok, that interpretation is inconsistent with the contents of the videotape."

Whatever Power's intentions at the outset, Judge Doherty said, "this became torture for torture's sake."

It was in the spring of 2001 that Power, then a student at the Ontario College of Art and Design, enlisted two other young men -- Anthony (Ryan) Wennekers, who like Power pleaded guilty to one count each of animal cruelty and mischief, and Matt Kaczorowski, who was only recently tracked down in Vancouver and is now charged with mischief -- in the plan to capture a cat and film its death.

At trial, Power's lawyer portrayed him as a vegan with a mature social conscience who conceived the cat-killing as an "artistic protest" against meat-eating, and offered in support a 26-page report from psychiatrist Dr. Philip Klassen which concluded that Power was neither dangerous nor mentally ill, but rather suffering from an "oceanic sense of self-importance" typical of his age group and unresolved feelings of anger. Add in Power's "need to challenge conventions of morality that is seen as an imperative in some artistic circles," the psychiatrist said, and one has the factors at play.

To call this report confusing is an understatement.

Dr. Klassen detailed how Power and two friends had once purchased a pig carcass and videotaped him in a variety of poses with it; how he once killed a chicken and presented the video at school; how one of his sketchbooks was filled with detailed drawings of bowels and internal organs; how he purposely sought work at an abattoir; how his self-portrayal as a vegetarian was fraudulent; that he has "an abiding interest in the skeletons of animals and in handling dead animals"; and that, in Power's own words, though he had tried to "pass off" or "spin" the cat's torture as purely artistic, he had never been sure if he would have completed it as an "art" project.

Not until this week had I read Dr. Klassen's report, and discovered how at odds his conclusions about Power appear to be with the information he was given.

It is quite accurate, as Judge Doherty noted, that Power's conduct with the cat "was completely out of character."

He was then 21 years old, with no criminal record, and was described in various glowing letters as an intelligent, gifted and principled young man.

That is in fact what saves him from being characterized as what, in law, is called "the worst offender" -- "far from the worst offender," Judge Doherty said.

But he found that the offence was, contrary to Judge Ormston's description, "the worst offence," made so by its cruelty.

With a key principle of sentencing that maximum penalties are reserved for the worst offence and the worst offender, Judge Doherty said, Judge Ormston "was faced with the difficult task of crafting a fit sentence for a young first offender who, but for this terrible act, is a good person with considerable potential."

And Judge Ormston, he found, performed that balancing act in a thorough and thoughtful manner by imposing, in addition to the 90-day jail sentence, which Power served on weekends, 18 months of a conditional sentence, nine months of which was spent in virtual house arrest, 240 hours of community service, and three years probation.

It is clear that the appeal judges found the 17-minute-long videotape, which was an exhibit at Power's trial, the best evidence.

I watched it yesterday, and for the record, here is in part what it contains:

With the three young men whispering in the background, the camera suddenly comes into focus.

The cat, a pretty creature with a white belly and a striped tail, is alone in a white-walled barren room of a "squat" with Power and friends. It appears nervous from the get-go.

"Killing a raccoon would be a helluva lot more exciting," whispers one unidentified voice.

"Pillowcase," whispers another.

"No, we won't be needing that," someone says.

A white mouse, atop an empty margarine container, is put before the cat, who barely looks at it.

"Pacifist kitty," one man says.

"Here they come on the run with their fingers up their bum ... on the Tom and Jerry Show," sings another voice.

The mouse is held by the tail before the cat, who moves away.

"Should I mutilate it now?" someone asks.

A little later, Power asks, "How do you guys feel about being filmed?", and one of the others asks him, "What are you going to use it for?"

"I don't even know yet," says Power.

Wennekers then fashions a noose in the wire that has been affixed to the ceiling.

"Let's get to work," he says.

"I want to cut open its belly while it's still alive and watch everything move around," someone says.

"Yeah, me too," someone else replies.

Power suggests they just "slit its throat and let it bleed," but one of his cohorts says, "We can do both. Gut it and slit its throat."

They hang the cat, which immediately begins to struggle frantically.

Power says, "Why don't we just kill it?", but takes a black glove and a straight razor when Wennekers hands them to him.

Power saws at the cat's throat, while Wennekers stabs at it with a buck knife, and over the next terrible minutes, with the cat howling in agony and twitching, the trio attack it in various ways.

Once, Power is seen bending close to the animal, staring at it while it cries; another time, he whispers, "Beautiful, man"; once, he wipes the blade of his knife on the cat's head.

In the final scene, Power slits open the cat's chest, and appears to inhale deeply.

Torture for torture's sake: There is no other way to describe it. Perhaps that Senate committee, where a proposed new law that would significantly toughen the penalties for animal cruelty is now stalled, should have a look at the videotape.

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