A HUGE range of emotions are racing through me at the moment. There’s disappointment. A lot of sadness. Then rage. Fury. Disgust.

Last week, a mutilated tiger was found in the home of a man in Kelantan. The tiger had been chopped into four easy-to-carry pieces, to make detection more difficult. Snared, shot and butchered.

Totally protected under local laws, the endangered Malayan tiger was about to make its way to markets for its skin, bone, meat, teeth and other body parts.

The man arrested? He was a middleman in this business. Not a poacher but one who deals with poachers, then arranges deals, and sells his wares to the next party, who will then pass it on to the consumer.

The local conservation community and members of the public were shocked at the sight of the tiger butchered but were glad at least, this time the perpetrator had been caught. Letters flooded the media; demanding, begging, questioning, accusing.

But the letters had a common theme: all asked for the perpetrator to be punished to the full extent of the law. That he receive the maximum penalty. That he would be sent to jail and not given a small fine to settle.

Everyone was hopeful that he would go down in history. The Protection of Wildlife Act 1972 says that the maximum penalty for someone who is caught trading the Malayan Tiger --- were there are probably 500 left --- will be imprisoned for five years.

But hopes were obviously in vain.

He was found guilty, yes. But his punishment? RM7,000.

What kind of justice is this when a man, a known middleman in the illegal wildlife trade, is given the option to choose between a four-month jail term, or pay a fine of RM7,000.

It is clear just how seriously the judicial system views wildlife crime. And it is appalling.

In this case, the magistrate was presented with a great opportunity to set an example. He had the opportunity to punish this man, and to set a precedent, and to mete out justice as it should be, to serve as a deterrent to others.

He chose not to take the opportunity to do any of these.

I also feel shame. I am ashamed to say my country has a legal system that permitted a man such as the one in this case to get off with such a light sentence.

And does this mean this case is closed? He has paid his due, so he cannot be investigated further? Does this mean that the authorities cannot go further to establish his trading network of poachers, suppliers and dealers?

Malaysia often is the laughing stock of the international conservation arena because of blunders such as these. Whether it is five dead Sumatran rhinos, four illegally acquired Western lowland gorillas, or seven smuggled Sumatran orangutans, the message seems strangely clear --- people who break laws that are designed to protect wildlife can get away with it.