Oct. 12
TEXAS----impending execution
Inmate to die today in slaying of gay Tyler man
Texas death row inmate Donald Aldrich acknowledged he wasn't entirely
blameless in the slaying of a Tyler man targeted for abduction and robbery
because he was gay.
But Aldrich insisted he wasn't the one who took Nicholas West's life.
"I'm not totally innocent," Aldrich, 39, said on a Denmark-based Internet
site devoted to condemned prisoners. "I was part of a crime that ended in
the death of a young man, but did not play a part in his death."
Aldrich, set to die Tuesday evening for the fatal shooting of the
23-year-old West, would be the 2nd man executed for the slaying, the 16th
this year in Texas and 3rd in 8 days. 2 more are scheduled for this month.
In February 2003, Henry Earl Dunn went to the Texas death chamber after
similarly describing events that led to West's killing Nov. 30, 1993. Dunn
said he was at the Tyler park known as a homosexual meeting spot where
West, a medical clerk, was lured under the guise of seeking sex but was
abducted and taken to a remote area of Smith County. There West was
stripped, ordered to his knees and shot as many as 15 times.
Dunn, however, blamed Aldrich for what he said was a crime that "got out
of control." Aldrich, at his trial, blamed Dunn for starting the gunfire.
Dunn responded he could "not positively say" he did any shooting.
Authorities believed both were participants.
"Aldrich is one of these guys who thinks he's smarter than anyone else,"
said David Dobbs, a former Smith County assistant district attorney who
prosecuted the case. "He tried to spin it to police. Ballistic tests
showed 2 guns were shot."
In appeals to the court to halt the lethal injection, Aldrich's attorneys
were not disputing his guilt but raised questions about trial and
execution procedures.
One appeal contended a pair of psychologists at Aldrich's trial testified
he would continue to be a violent threat if he was allowed to live
although neither psychologist ever met or examined Aldrich. The question
of future danger is one Texas juries must consider when deciding whether a
capital murder convict should be sentenced to death.
Aldrich's lawyers argued such testimony was unreliable and the result
unconstitutional. They also pointed to Aldrich's record since he went to
death row, noting that despite predictions he would be a continuing
violent threat, over 10 years he had only one disciplinary infraction and
that was for refusing a cell assignment because of cockroaches in the
cell.
"No violence ensued," the appeal said. "In short, in the decade the Mr.
Aldrich has been incarcerated, he has not committed a single violent act."
A 2nd appeal sought an injunction to block the use of the combination of
lethal drugs used by Texas prison authorities, contending their use is
unconstitutional because it "unnecessarily increases the risk of torture
during the execution process and does not comport with evolving standards
of decency."
In June, a similar appeal failed when the U.S. Supreme Court refused to
halt an execution in Texas. Aldrich's lawyers, however, pointed out that
unlike that case, their request was filed before Aldrich even had an
execution date and their action shouldn't be dismissed as merely a delay
tactic.
Aldrich was on parole after a pair of convictions, one for burglary in
Smith County and a 2nd for robbery in Dallas County, when he was arrested
for the West slaying. Authorities believed Aldrich was the leader of what
became known as the "CB gang," so named because they first became
acquainted over CB radios. For months the gang in which Aldrich was known
as "Sundance" preyed on homosexuals in the Tyler area. The attack on West
was the 3rd in a week involving homosexuals.
In a videotaped confession to police, Aldrich said he didn't like
homosexuals because at age 9 he had been raped by a gay cousin.
A 3rd member of the gang, David McMillan, who was 17 at the time of the
attack, received a life prison term.
(source: Associated Press)
**********************
(The following is Part 3 of 5)
Is Harris County 'bloodthirsty' - or dead right? ----Harris officials
admit blunders in '92 case but say man, then 17, guilty
The chief witness against him lied. The crime lab botched his case. At
least three jurors say that if they had it to do over again, they probably
would not send Nanon Williams to death row.
But that is where he remains, 9 years after his conviction in Houston for
capital murder.
"The state of Texas," he said, "would rather kill me than have someone
admit he made a mistake."
"I'm very comfortable the right person is on death row," said Vic Wisner,
a felony chief for the Harris County district attorney's office.
Mr. Williams was 17 when he was arrested on a murder charge. Wednesday,
the U.S. Supreme Court will hear arguments on the constitutionality of the
death penalty for crimes committed under the age of 18. The fates of 73
death row inmates - 29 of them from Texas - hang in the balance.
Appellate lawyers for Mr. Williams say age is only one issue in his case.
They contend that authorities perpetuated a series of blunders and used
blatantly false testimony to put him on track for lethal injection.
"This is one of those that could potentially be a wrongful execution,"
said ballistics expert Ronald Singer.
To understand how Mr. Williams got to the Polunsky Unit prison in
Livingston, lawyers say, it's important to note where he started: Harris
County, which sends more juvenile offenders to death row than any other
Texas county.
"We're bloodthirsty here," said George McCall Secrest Jr., a former Harris
prosecutor who now does criminal defense. "The politicians have found this
is a horse they can ride all the way to the polls."
Not so, said District Attorney Charles Rosenthal.
Killing Young
"We don't have disproportionate numbers" of underage killers on death row,
he said. "There's no particular reason, other than we have a lot of people
in Harris County."
With 3.6 million residents, Harris County has 11 juvenile offenders under
death sentence. Dallas, Tarrant, Travis and Bexar counties have a combined
population of more than 6 million. Together, they have 6 juvenile
murderers on death row.
Less than one-fourth of the state's murders take place in Harris County,
but it accounts for 36 percent of all inmates under death sentence in
Texas. Its share rises slightly, to 38 percent, for 17-year-old killers.
Felony chief Wisner said that each case is carefully assessed and that
only those who clearly merit capital punishment are prosecuted as such.
"Age is something we take into account," he said. "If there's a
17-year-old who is naive, who was led into crime by an older influence, if
there's an IQ problem, we consider that."
Defense lawyer Secrest has a different view.
"It's a cowboy mentality," he said. "The district attorney's office knows
in all probability they can find a jury that will execute an offender,
even if he's a child."
Now 30, Mr. Williams was a drug dealer who went into the family business
as a teenager. "I grew up in one of the largest drug-dealing families on
the West Coast," he said.
His mother spent much of his childhood in prison for dealing heroin and
cocaine. When he was 11, his father was killed in a turf war shoot-out.
"I started selling drugs because I saw myself trying to fill the shoes of
my father, trying to help out around the house," he said. "One thing led
to another."
Police in California say Mr. Williams participated in many burglaries and
at least one home invasion in which he held a couple at gunpoint. One
California officer, according to court filings, described him as
"intelligent, articulate, violent and dangerous."
In May 1992, he was in Houston visiting family when he became involved in
another drug deal.
This much is certain: 4 men, including Mr. Williams, met in Hermann Park
for a cocaine transaction. Minutes later, one of the men, Adonius Collier,
was shot to death.
Beyond that, the case is a tangle of contradictions and confusion, thanks
in large part to the testimony of a man named Vaal Guevara.
At Mr. Williams' trial, Mr. Guevara testified that he and Mr. Williams
planned to purchase the cocaine from Mr. Collier and another man.
Mr. Guevara said he carried a .22-caliber pistol. Prosecutors said Mr.
Williams had a .25-caliber handgun and a shotgun concealed under his
jacket.
As the drug deal unfolded, Mr. Guevara said, "shots were being rung." He
testified that he looked over to see Mr. Williams standing over the prone
body of Mr. Collier, pointing his shotgun at Mr. Collier's head.
Based on Mr. Guevara's testimony and lab findings, prosecutors said Mr.
Williams shot Mr. Collier in the face with his .25-caliber handgun and his
shotgun. A Houston crime lab expert testified that a .25-caliber bullet
was recovered from Mr. Collier's skull cavity.
The jury convicted Mr. Williams of capital murder. Mr. Guevara was allowed
to plead guilty to a lesser drug charge in exchange for his testimony.
Only on appeal did it emerge that much of what was said at the trial was
simply not true.
Most important, tests showed that the slug in Mr. Collier's head was not a
.25 caliber. It was a .22, and it came from Mr. Guevara's gun.
The mistake occurred because the Houston crime lab technician originally
did not test the slug and used only a visual examination to identify it,
wrongly, as a .25 caliber.
This was an inexplicable error, said Mr. Singer, a ballistics expert and
supervisor of the Tarrant County crime lab. He examined the evidence for
the defense on appeal.
"Of course I made the distinction right away," he said of the slug. "If
you put a .22 and a .25 side by side and you give it to somebody who's
never looked at firearms before, I guess you could make that mistake. But
a trained firearms examiner? I find that inconceivable."
Robert Baldwin, who made the false identification for the Houston crime
lab and who still works there, declined to comment on the case.
Mr. Baldwin was involved in another controversial juvenile offender death
case, that of Johnnie Bernal in 1994. In that one, Mr. Baldwin had to fire
a handgun 25 times and clean the barrel with a solvent before matching it
to a murder. Independent experts have said such methods are inappropriate.
Mr. Bernal was convicted of capital murder and is on death row.
Last month, Houston Police Chief Harold Hurtt said executions of inmates
convicted with findings from the crime lab should not proceed until the
evidence can be re-examined. And state Sen. John Whitmire, D-Houston, this
month called for a moratorium on all executions from Harris County until
lab material can be reviewed.
The lab's DNA section has been closed since 2002, when audits revealed
problems with testing, documentation and contamination.
With the lab findings in Mr. Williams' case clearly wrong, prosecutors now
admit that Mr. Guevara, who was their star witness against Mr. Williams,
was lying.
In 1999, Mr. Guevara came up for parole. Prosecutor Wisner wrote the
parole board urging that he not be released from prison. "At trial," Mr.
Wisner wrote, referring to the Williams case, "Guevara was very evasive
and apparently not at all truthful."
He added that Mr. Guevara "likely participated in Collier's murder."
Efforts to reach Mr. Guevara for comment were unsuccessful. His lawyer,
Dennis Spurling, said Mr. Guevara, who was paroled, has moved to "one of
those states around Missouri."
In an affidavit, juror Colette Cox said that if she had known the bullet
came from Mr. Guevara's gun, she would have voted to acquit Mr. Williams.
Juror Dianna Kay Lindsey said the new ballistics information "may have
changed our verdict."
And juror Otis Ray Nash signed an affidavit that said if the new evidence
had been presented at trial, "I probably would have leaned the other way."
In 2001, after an evidentiary appeals hearing, state District Judge Joan
Campbell said she believed Mr. Williams deserved a new trial. The new
ballistics evidence, the judge concluded, "makes it probable the
punishment would be different on retrial."
But the Texas Criminal Court of Appeals, while providing minimal
explanation, did not agree. Mr. Williams' appeal is now before a federal
court in Houston.
Mr. Wisner said in a recent interview that the new ballistics evidence,
and the disclosure that Mr. Guevara lied, should make no difference.
"I don't think there's any dispute over what he did," the prosecutor said
of Mr. Williams. "He held a gun to the complainant and just blew his head
apart."
Mr. Williams was forbidden by his lawyers from talking about what happened
in the park, but he denied killing Mr. Collier.
"I didn't shoot him, and I didn't know anyone was killed," Mr. Williams
said. "I was willing to face the punishment of what I thought I did. I
didn't think I would be convicted of capital murder."
The prosecution's position now is that even if Mr. Williams did not fire a
handgun at Mr. Collier, he shot him with the shotgun.
Investigators have never been able to determine which shot actually killed
Mr. Collier the one from the handgun or that from the shotgun.
The shotgun has never been recovered. Prosecutor Wisner pointed to the
testimony of another witness, Patrick Smith. Mr. Smith said during an
appeals hearing that he saw Mr. Williams carry a shotgun into the park and
saw him standing over Mr. Collier, pointing the shotgun at him.
But defense lawyers say Mr. Smith, who was good friends with Mr. Guevara,
could not possibly have seen the shooting from where he was sitting. They
also point out that he was, at the time of his testimony, under
investigation for criminal fraud.
"It sure looks like a cover-up of somebody else's deeds with that
shotgun," said Walter Long, appellate lawyer for Mr. Williams.
After 12 years behind bars, Mr. Williams retains some hope that he will
ultimately get another chance. "How can I not get a new trial?" he said.
Mr. Williams has written and self-published three books while in prison,
one of them an autobiography. "My first book was written on toilet paper,"
he said.
He also writes and publishes, with the help of friends on the outside, a
prison newsletter called The Williams Report.
The Supreme Court is expected to rule next spring on capital punishment
for juvenile offenders. If it decides the juvenile death penalty is
unconstitutional, those on death row could find their sentences commuted
to life.
For most of them, that would mean serving 40 years before being eligible
for parole.
"What do I expect? Nothing," Mr. Williams said. "I'll just be going to
another cage.
"To sit up there for the next 35 years and wait for parole? For something
I didn't do? I can't do that. I'd rather they kill me than send me to
prison for the rest of my life."
The Harris district attorney's office isn't adjusting its attitudes for
the Supreme Court, either. In August, with the high court action pending,
prosecutors brought a capital case against Robert Acuna of Baytown.
Mr. Acuna was sentenced to death for killing 2 elderly neighbors when he
was 17.
"We just do what the law tells us to do," said Mr. Rosenthal, the district
attorney. "We don't speculate on what the Supreme Court is going to do."
*****************************
Longest-serving juvenile killer awaits fate in Haltom City case
He's the old man of the young murderers. Mauro Barraza has been on death
row longer than any juvenile killer in Texas.
The courts have spent the better part of 2 decades dealing with the
question of Mr. Barraza's sanity when he stomped to death 73-year-old
Vilorie Nelson of Haltom City in 1989.
Was he insane? "No," he answered recently. "I think the reason that was
brought up was because I was on drugs."
Now 32, Mr. Barraza was 17 when he committed the crime. That means he gets
another chance to avoid execution. Wednesday, the U.S. Supreme Court will
hear arguments on whether capital punishment for under-18 killers is
constitutional.
Should the court decide to ban the death penalty for juvenile offenders,
Mr. Barraza's sentence - and that of 72 others in 12 states probably
would be commuted to life in prison.
If it weren't for the arguments before the court this week, Mr. Barraza
would have been dead already. Earlier this year, Judge Sharen Wilson of
Fort Worth set a June 29 execution date for him.
Just hours before Mr. Barraza was to die, Justice Antonin Scalia stayed
the execution, pending the Supreme Court's action on the juvenile death
penalty.
It took many years of appeals to reach that point, even for a condemned
man who long ago gave up on the insanity defense. In 1996, Mr. Barraza
told a psychiatrist, "I am tired playing crazy to save my life."
Mr. Barraza, an eighth-grade dropout, said he began doing drugs when he
was 6.
"First grade, I'd smoke weed with my mom on the way to school," he said.
"When I was about 9 years old, I started inhaling spray paint and glue.
>From there, 11 and 12 years old, I started getting cocaine and speed."
He had no problem with supply. "My parents were addicted to it," he said.
"It wasn't hard to get."
The day of the murder, he said, he had inhaled spray paint and smoked
crack. He was wandering a friend's neighborhood, looking for a place to
inhale more paint, when he spotted what he thought was an empty house.
"I just broke in through one of the windows," he said. "I didn't think no
one was there ... I go over to the living room and that's when I see the
lady sitting there."
First he attacked Mrs. Nelson with a pair of hedge clippers. Then he
stomped on her, crushing her chest.
When asked why he killed the woman, Mr. Barraza shrugged: "I was already
in there. I really can't say. I just didn't care what happened."
He raped her as well. "I don't know if you want to call it rape," he said.
"She had been dead a few hours."
Mrs. Nelson's daughter, who lived with her, was not home at the time. She
is now believed to have left the area; she could not be reached for
comment.
Mr. Barraza, who weighs only 130 pounds, is soft-spoken and hesitantly
repentant when asked if he regrets his actions. "Well, I really can't
say," he acknowledged, then added, "I'm sorrowful about it."
Lawyers for Mr. Barraza have spent years trying to convince appeals courts
that the psychological testing done before his trial was inadequate.
Additional psychiatric exams were performed in 1996, and a court-appointed
expert determined that Mr. Barraza was "competent to be executed."
Last year, the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that no further
testing was needed to protect Mr. Barraza's constitutional rights.
A Supreme Court ruling on the juvenile death penalty is not expected until
next spring. If the court refuses to block capital punishment for young
killers, prosecutors will again ask a judge to set Mr. Barraza's execution
date.
At that point, some 16 years will have passed since he killed Mrs. Nelson.
After so much time, Mr. Barraza said, he is resigned to any fate,
including execution.
"I'm at the point that I'm ready to face whatever it is," he said.
(source: Dallas Morning News)
