Darryl's Big House May Get Crowded

Darryl’s Big House May Get Crowded

By MIKE DOWNEY

April 30, 1995 12 AM PT

On April 24, 1995, in White Plains, N.Y., baseball player Darryl Strawberry entered a plea of guilty to cheating the government of the United States out of $100,000 in taxes. He was sentenced by U.S. District Judge Barrington D. Parker to the cruel and unusual punishment of . . . six months of living in his own house.

Ouch.

The Strawberry redemption.

Oh, and before you go, Hangin’ Judge Parker said, please pay back the money and don’t you ever do this again. Now run along.

Darryl was off with the crack of the gavel.

Well, not everyone agreed with his verdict, but Judge Parker did teach me a very valuable lesson.

Crime doesn’t pay.

Because if you get caught, you could get sent to the Big House.

Darryl’s house in Rancho Mirage.

“Hear ye, hear ye. All rise. U.S. District Court now in session, the honorable Barrington D. Parker now presiding.”

“Be seated.”

“The people of the United States versus Leona Helmsley.”

“Ms. Helmsley, you stand accused of cheating on your taxes. How do you plead?”

“Guilty, your honor.”

“Very well, I sentence you to six months in Darryl Strawberry’s house.”

“But your honor . . .!”

“Tut, tut, Ms. Helmsley. You have committed a crime, so you must pay.”

“(Sobs.)”

“You are hereby confined to Darryl Strawberry’s house, particularly the west wing.”

“But . . . but. . . .”

“You may not leave Strawberry’s, except, of course, when you need to go outdoors for something.”

“Your honor, please !”

“Save it, Ms. Helmsley. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time. Take her away.”

“ Nooooo !!!”

“Call the next case.”

“The people of the United States versus Mike Tyson.”

“Mr. Tyson, you are accused of sexual assault. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor.”

“Too bad, because I find you guilty and sentence you to six months in Darryl Strawberry’s house.”

“No way, man.”

“You stand convicted of a serious crime, Mr. Tyson, and my punishment must be swift and harsh. Six months in Strawberry’s house.”

“I won’t go.”

“Seven months in Strawberry’s.”

“You old fool.”

“Eight months in Strawberry’s. Care to try for nine?”

“Judge, I have been to Darryl’s house. He has hardwood floors upstairs and down. I like rugs. His bedsheets are 100% cotton. I prefer silk. The man drives a Lexus. I’m a BMW man.”

“That’s just too damn bad, Mr. Tyson. Life in the big house is no picnic.”

“And that’s another thing. Darryl serves seafood. I hate seafood.”

“Take the defendant away!”

“You’ll be sorry! I’ll make long-distance phone calls and charge them to Darryl! I’ll leave the air-conditioning on all night, even with the windows open! I won’t let the pool man change the filter!”

“Next case.”

“The people of the United States versus Lorena Bobbitt.”

“Ms. Bobbitt, you stand accused of, uh, something really bad. How do you plead?”

“Not really guilty, your honor.”

“OK, but I really hated what you did, so I’m sentencing you to six months at Darryl Strawberry’s.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, Ms. Bobbitt. Let’s see how you like sleeping in Southern California. Next case.”

“The people of the United States versus Pete Rose.”

“Mr. Rose, you stand accused of cheating on your taxes. How do you plead?”

“Guilty, your honor.”

“Very well, you little punk. I sentence you to three years in maximum security. Take him away! Put him in the laundry! Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson, buster.”

“But I wanna go to Darryl Strawberry’s!”

“Mmmm, I don’t know.”

“Please, your honor.”

“Oh, OK. But don’t let me catch you using the hot tub after midnight.”