Alex Grant’s A Different Approach and Other Stories is not the kind of book you read casually before bed. It is a collection that grips, disturbs, and forces you to confront the uncomfortable edges of human behavior and morality. Among its unsettling narratives, the story of Mason Torville and Keith Hayman stands out—not just for its vivid depiction of cruelty, but for the unnerving psychology behind it. At its core lies a haunting question: why did Keith, the prison officer, need to watch Torville suffer?
A Man Already Dead
From the moment we meet Torville, he is on borrowed time. Strapped to a bed, weak and deteriorating after days of punishment, his death is not a matter of if but when. His voice, once defiant, has dwindled to incoherent mumbles. Torville is already more symbol than man—a condemned figure awaiting the final chapter of his suffering.
Keith, however, knows exactly what is happening. He understands that Torville has, at most, hours to live. And yet, instead of stepping back, instead of letting inevitability take its course, he chooses to be present. He grips Torville’s jaw, forces salted water into his mouth, and observes every reaction. The act is clinical, but the presence is deliberate.
The Machinery of Punishment: TAPP
One of the most chilling elements of this story is the Authorised Punishment Plan (TAPP). This is the plan handed down by the court to be followed on those who have committed crimes. Cruelty is reframed as duty. Keith is not improvising; he is following a manual. His every action is regulated.
This bureaucratic framework is what makes Keith’s witnessing more complex. He isn’t there as a sadist in the traditional sense, taking pleasure in pain for its own sake. Instead, he is the executor of a system that requires not just action, but observation. Punishment must be seen to be confirmed. The suffering must not only exist—it must be validated.
In this way, Keith is not only Torville’s tormentor, but also the state’s recorder, the living proof that TAPP functions as designed.
Power, Control, and the Spectacle of Suffering
Yet beneath the veneer of duty lies something more primal. Watching Torville suffer gives Keith a sense of control. In a world governed by rules and procedures, the act of standing over a dying man gives him a form of dominance that transcends the sterile language of TAPP.
There is a historical echo here. Across centuries, punishment has rarely been a private affair. From medieval executions in town squares to televised trials and media-fueled scandals, societies have always insisted on turning punishment into performance. Someone must see. Someone must confirm. Justice, it seems, is never complete without an audience.
Psychological Shielding
At the same time, Keith’s observation functions as a kind of psychological shield. By focusing on the procedure he avoids confronting the deeper horror of what he is actually doing. Torville becomes less of a man and more of a process, a body being subjected to steps in a plan.
Justice or Cruelty in Disguise?
Here is where Grant’s story gnaws at the reader’s conscience. On the surface, TAPP is designed to let the punishment “fit the crime.” It is a sanctioned, balanced system of justice. But once stripped of rhetoric, what remains is a ritual of suffering, methodically carried out and validated through witnessing.
