Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.

[Q]: Job offer many years ago. I had two, one for staff accountant and the other was as accounting manager for a holistic health clinic. The clinic job paid about 40% more and came with a "manager" title. I believed in myself and all that, but who offers someone just out of school with only 2 years of internship and no specialty in field manager level? That kept bugging me. Something just wasn't right.
Acting on instinct, I took the other job. Good thing! A few months later, I read that the owner of the clinic (an MD) and his two partners (his wife and the CFO) had all been indicted for numerous counts of fraud. They were cheating the state, they were cheating the church they were affiliated with, they were cheating Medicare and private insurance companies.
The IRS was after them it was supposed to be not-for-profit but it turns out they were living large. Not only that, but they hadn't been sending in w/h tax for non-church member paid employees. Then there was the allegation that they were abusing mentally handicapped workers who were related to church members. The church itself tried to distance themselves, but three elders were also on the clinic's Board of Directors.
It was nasty and the entire management team ended up with at least some jail time. There was no way anyone who had any access to the records (medical or financial) could have claimed innocence. My job would have included filing false budget and financial statements with the Board, IRS and other agencies. I would have also probably known that they were withholding but not remitting tax from employee checks. Fact is, the poor kid who took the job got 2 years, so I found out. Those in on the medical fraud got even worse and the three principals all got 2-digit sentences.
[A]: Who only received two years of jail time?

[Q]: One spring it stopped raining in early March and didn't start again.
There was one very well-off bunny in the village who had a large burrow and lots of food saved up. He wasn't worried about the drought at all. The other bunnies, though, looked at the purple-red nettles withering in the fields and the mayweed that hadn't even flowered and wondered if they were going to have enough food to get them through the next winter.
The very well-off bunny was named Albertus, but everybody called him Big Al--at least they called him that when they were sure he couldn't hear them. Big Al was in fact a very large bunny with long, white, silky fur. He had lots of land that his parents had left to him, and he never let any of the other bunnies gather food there. The story was that Big Al had sat on the one bunny who tried to make off with some of his carrots until the small bunny begged for mercy. After Big Al let him up, the small bunny moved to another village.
One morning a dozen or more bunnies sat around the village square, licking the dew off the dried and wrinkled clover to quench their thirsts, and talking about the drought. There was still a bit of a cool breeze from Possum Creek, a mile or so away. Sophie Bunny, who was large and sleek, with a black circle around one eye, was there with her husband Lenny and their youngest, Ralph, who still lived at home with them.
"I don't mind telling you," Lenny said, "I'm getting a little scared by all this." Lenny was a small, tan bunny with buck teeth and big cheeks like a chipmunk.
"No need to be afraid," said the short, overweight Reverend Billy Bunny, the village's spiritual leader. "The Easter Bunny will provide." He sat, as he usually did, by the thick green hawthorn bush in the middle of the square--although the bush was neither as thick nor as green as it had once been.
[A]: Who wasn't worried about the drought?

[Q]: Once, while grating potatoes to make potato pancakes, I had a Proustian moment. I can't lay claim to much in the way of literary knowledge, but I do know that Proust's 'Remembrance of Things Past' was prompted by his biting into a pastry and feeling a sense of overwhelming pleasure with no recognizable cause. In my case, I was instantly transported back to the grandmother's kitchen as she and my mother grated potatoes in order to make 'poutine rapee', also known as 'poutines'. People will immediately flash to the Quebecker ethnic food known by the same name. However, in spite of all the Franco-culinary posturing, this is really only French Fries with gravy and, oh yeah, can I have some cheese curds on that? One etymological source indicates that 'poutine' really means 'mess'. If you come from my part of the country, the Quebecker poutine is just another entry in the long list of dishes that will cause you to keel over from a myocardial infarction while shoveling a foot of snow out of the driveway shortly after you've retired; sometimes before. Nope, poutines as I know them are a different creature entirely. They seem to be more of an Acadian thing and none of my friends had even heard of them, much less eaten a single one. Because of the work involved, my mother only made poutines for special times: Christmas, say or Easter. My mother would borrow this grater that was about two feet long and she and my grandmother would set to work. Generally, they started off with an enormous paper sack of potatoes, about 25 pounds or so (We used to buy potatoes by the cartload and store them in a wooden bin in the basement. Because we were cheap labour, the kids would be sent down to retrieve a few for the family meal. It was creepy to descend into the dank cellar, feel our way through the dim obstacle course formed by my grandfather's thousands of tools and bits of wood and locate the bin. After a time in storage, the eyes on potatoes began to sprout pale tendrils and it didn't take much imagination to visualize all kinds of unpleasant creatures waiting to bite our hands as we groped around in the bin. I never worried about the monsters under my bed; just whatever was waiting for me in the potato bin.).
[A]:
Who borrowed the grater?