Among the harder laws of Exodus is the case of the amah ivriyah — the young Hebrew maidservant. The Targum Pseudo-Jonathan gives the verse its full protective force. "If these three things he doth not for her, to covenant her to himself, or to his son, or to release her into the hand of her father, she shall go free without payment, and a writing of release he shall give her" (Exodus 21:11).
Three obligations sit on the master. He must either formally marry her himself, or betroth her to his son, or return her to her father without any further claim. If he does none of the three, the Torah intervenes with a hammer.
The Targum adds a critical detail the Hebrew omits: a writing of release he shall give her. Not just freedom in principle — a document in her hand. A paper she can show. A legal instrument that protects her forever from any later claim that she is still bound. The Targumist knows that unwritten freedom is vulnerable freedom. Without the get, the release is reversible.
This is striking law for the ancient world. A young woman sold into a household as a servant is not the master's property. She is a person whose future is protected by three alternative paths, and if none of them are honored, she leaves with legal documentation proving her status. The rabbis would later build the entire apparatus of marriage and divorce law on the principle hidden here: women need written protection, and no verbal promise will do.
The takeaway: the Torah does not just forbid injustice in theory — it requires paper, signatures, and proof, because vulnerable people are not protected by good intentions.