March 13
TEXAS:
Bush death penalty contention pits him against allies in Texas
President Bush's assertion that courts should conduct new hearings in the
cases of more than 4 dozen Mexican immigrants on death row in Texas and
other states has pit him against allies in his home state.
That includes Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott, who rose to prominence
when then-Gov. Bush appointed him to the state Supreme Court.
Abbott is fighting to keep the convictions in place and opposing Bush, a
supporter of the death penalty, the San Antonio Express-News reported in
its Sunday editions.
The state Attorney General's Office contends Bush has no authority to
order hearings in Texas courts and that the convicts aren't entitled to
any more hearings on the issue of legal help from their home countries.
A ruling by the International Court of Justice, a U.N. tribunal also known
as the World Court, said the U.S. violated the rights of 51 Mexicans on
death rows in 8 states.
The World Court said local authorities failed to notify the Mexican
Consulate promptly after their arrests, and did not advise them of their
right to seek assistance from the consulate, as is required by the Vienna
Convention.
In response, the Bush administration asked states last month to hold new
hearings in those cases. The Bush administration made a Supreme Court
filing arguing that it is the president's decision to determine whether
the United States should comply with international law.
While the president typically decides matters of foreign policy, Bush's
order could stretch beyond previously recognized executive powers. Legal
scholars say Abbott's argument could prove viable since the Supreme Court
has reduced the federal government's power over states in recent years.
Bush's announcement came a month before the Supreme Court was to hear
arguments in the case Texas death row inmate Jose Medellin, who is
challenging his conviction and sentence as a due process violation.
Medellin's lawyers want the Supreme Court to temporarily halt the case
while they pursue the state court hearings called for by the president.
Medellin is backed in his appeal by dozens of countries, legal groups and
human rights organizations, as well as former American diplomats and the
European Union.
Medellin was 1 of 5 gang members sentenced to death for raping and
murdering Jennifer Ertman, 14, and Elizabeth Pena, 16, in Houston in 1993.
The death penalty has been a sore point in Mexican-U.S. relations.
President Vicente Fox, a strong opponent of the death penalty, canceled a
trip to meet with Bush in 2002 after Texas executed a Mexican man
convicted of killing a police officer.
(source: Associated Press)
***********************
Boren: Sentence is 'what you deserve'
After listening to 2 hours of impassioned closing arguments, jurors took
less than 45 minutes Friday to decide Andre Thomas must pay with his life
for killing 13-month-old Leyha Marie Hughes.
The jury convicted Thomas earlier this week of capital murder in Leyha's
death. She, her mother, Laura Boren Thomas, and her brother, Andre Boren,
were all found stabbed to death in Mrs. Thomas' apartment last March.
Thomas walked into the Sherman Police Department that same day and told
officials he had killed the 3.
Thomas sat still and showed no emotion as Judge James Fry read the
verdict. In fact, in the minutes before the jury returned its verdict,
Thomas handed the stress ball he has held throughout the trial to defense
attorney Bobbie Peterson. He wanted her to have it to hold in those
seemingly unending minutes between the time the jury announces it has a
decision and the time the verdict is actually read.
When those minutes had passed, Fry asked Thomas if there were anything he
wanted to say before Fry officially announced that sentence. Thomas stood
and looked back toward Laura Boren Thomas' family.
"I want to say I am sorry for what I have done. I wish I could take it
back. I am terribly sorry," Thomas said in a soft, but audible voice that
didn't seem to hold any emotion at all.
Laura Boren Thomas' father, Paul Boren, stood near the jury box as he
addressed Thomas. In a voice filled with emotion that it was hard to hear,
Boren asked Thomas to take responsibility, finally, for the awful pain he
inflicted on the Boren and Hughes families, and the community, when he
ripped from them 3 innocent lives. Boren also told Thomas to stop seeking
forgiveness from his victims, because he took away their ability to
forgive when he stole their lives. God, Boren indicated, is the only one
who can forgive Thomas now. And Boren said he hopes Thomas finds that
forgiveness "before they put that needle in your arm." Boren also said
when the time comes, he hopes, Thomas will take being put to death "like a
man" and "realize it was what you deserve."
Grayson County District Attorney Joe Brown said there is no celebration in
the jury's final decision. He said given the horribly violent nature of
the crime, the verdict is justice. He added, "you're never pleased with
another death, but this crime required it."
In his closing arguments to the jury, Brown said the judicial system has,
in the past, shown Thomas a great deal of mercy. When he was truant and
out past curfew, Brown said, officers took him home and told him to go to
school. When Thomas was caught stealing cars, he was put on probation.
When he couldn't pay the fees on that probation, Brown said, Thomas was
allowed to go off probation.
But, Brown said, when a person walks into a home and brutally kills a
mother and her 2 innocent children, then the time for mercy has reached
its end. Brown said the very nature of the crimes Thomas committed "cry
out for but one" sentence - the death penalty. He told jurors to remember
that mercy wasn't their job. Their job was to find justice in the case. He
said, "at best, he must be medicated. Un-medicated, he is a time bomb
waiting to go off."
First Assistant Grayson County District Attorney Kerye Ashmore, who has
tried 8 capital cases in his 20-plus years as a prosecutor, said the jury
did what it should have done considering the circumstances and facts of
the case.
During his closing, Ashmore told the jury to consider the statement Thomas
made to his cousin while he was waiting for the trial. In that statement,
which a nurse testified to overhearing, Thomas said, "I can't believe this
(stuff). It's kinda funny, but not really funny because of the whole wife
and kid thing." Ashmore repeated the "because of the wife and kid thing"
about 3 times before he reminded the jury that 30 minutes after Thomas
made that statement, the nurse noted he was talking to himself again.
Ashmore then reminded the jury that unlike Thomas, his victims didn't get
a trial with lawyers, a judge and jury. He said Thomas "was the judge,
jury and he was the executioner." Ashmore added there is no appeal from
the sentence Thomas carried out against the two innocent children or their
mother.
Bobbie Peterson and co-counsel R. J. Hagood each begged the jury to find
some compassion for Thomas and sentence him to life in prison. They
pointed out Thomas had been showing signs of mental illness since his
youth and he was never really given the type of intensive treatment he
needed.
Hagood asked the jury to overcome with their kindness the brutality that
Thomas had shown for 15 or 20 minutes on that day in March 1 year ago.
"We know that the faith, love, charity and mercy are the highest ideals,"
Hagood said. He said Thomas was "now walking in the valley of the shadow
of death," and even though most people think about punishment in terms of
an "eye for an eye," he wanted them to remember "first came thou shall not
kill."
Peterson had repeatedly told the jury the death sentence should be
reserved for the worst of the worst. She said people like Terry Nichols
should be put to death, but people like Thomas should be put in a place
where they could get the help they need.
"Don't kill him for being so sick, so mentally ill that he took the lives
of three innocent people. It will not make their pain go away. It will not
bring Laura, Juicy or Leyha back. All killing Andre Thomas will do is
cause more pain for innocent victims. Ladies and gentlemen, do not kill
Andre Thomas because he missed his heart by a millimeter when he tried to
die as well. Don't kill Andre Thomas because he lived," Peterson begged.
After the death sentence, Hagood said he respects the jury's decision.
However, he said, he finds it hard to take that we have, as a society,
finally decided it is wrong to execute those who are mentally retarded or
under age at the time they commit their crimes, but we are still willing
to pronounce death sentences on those who were mentally ill at the time
they killed.
When the judge read the verdict, Thomas' aunt, Doris Gonzalez, cried and
hugged younger members of the Thomas family who were in the courtroom.
Outside the courtroom, it was Gonzalez whom the family gathered around for
support, and she was the person they chose to speak to the press.
Gonzalez, who was in the courtroom for the guilty verdict and Paul Boren's
condemnation of Thomas, said the entire Thomas family is sorry for the
pain and suffering Thomas' actions inflicted on the Boren and Hughes
families. She said the families on both sides of the case have suffered
more than most will ever know.
That suffering, Peterson said, will not likely end with the verdict read
in court. When asked about the responsibility of holding another person's
life in her hands, she wiped away tears and straightened her back before
answering, "It is an incredibly overwhelming responsibility. All you do is
second guess yourself about everything that you do."
That second guessing is likely to continue for a number of years. Fry told
Thomas, and his family, the case will go into an automatic appeals
process. During that process, the case will skip the appeals court in
Dallas and go straight to one in Austin. Fry said he will appoint either
Peterson or Hagood to represent Thomas for that appeals process, if that
is what Thomas wants. The judge also said he would get Thomas a different
lawyer if he decides that is what he needs.
On average, inmates condemned to die spend 10.43 years on Texas' death row
while the appeals process is completed, according to the state's death row
Web site. Thomas will turn 22 next week.
********************************
Thomas gets capital sentence
Jurors sentenced Andre Thomas to death at 2:30 p.m. Friday.
Monday, Thomas was convicted of capital murder in the death of Leyha Marie
Hughes, a 13-month-old baby. In the attack in which Leyha died, Thomas
also killed the baby's mother Laura Boren Thomas and her half brother
Andre Boren, who was Thomas' son.
Since Monday, jurors have been listening to the prosecution's witnesses
urging them to deliver the death sentence and to defense witnesses
testimony about mitigating circumstances Thomas' lawyers had hoped would
sway the jury to assessing a life sentence.
(source for both: The Herald Democrat)
*********************************
'Something changed in McKinney that night'----One year later, family,
police still seek answers in quadruple homicide
In McKinney, 9 shots pierced the night and shocked a city.
Within hours, Nancy Self collapsed in the driveway, overcome by word that
her son had been gunned down. Weeping teenagers broke the news to
18-year-old Austin York's parents. Just miles away, police escorted
Basilia Barbosa to the station where officers were abuzz with anger and
adrenaline.
"A sick, cruel joke," she first thought when they told her what happened
to her sister-in-law and 25-year-old son.
Inside a small white house that March night, 4 people - including two high
school students - lay mortally wounded.
A year later, the worst crime in the city's history is still unsolved,
binding 3 families and a police department together in a search for
answers.
For both, it's a search that hinges on a simple question: Who did it?
"We have no one to blame," said Alex Barbosa, 19, hitting his fist against
his knee. "We've been all around the sun and back where we started. My
brother, my aunt and 2 friends aren't here, and this isn't finished."
The early days
Around 10 p.m. March 12, 2004, Detective Diana Hale's pager went off,
launching a roller coaster of an investigation.
Inside the house on Truett Street, authorities found Austin York's body
slumped over a bed, across from Mark Barbosa's, which lay face down.
Matthew Self, 17, was on the floor in a front bedroom. He would later die
in a hospital bed. Rosa Barbosa, 46, was also face down on the floor in a
back bedroom, blindfolded with duct tape and a strip plastic fastener
cinched around her neck.
At police headquarters, a small army of officers tracked down strong early
leads during days that would stretch 20 hours at first. Crime
investigations in the rest of the city were put on hold, Detective Hale
recalled.
"At the scene and in later weeks, the entire department sensed a loss of
innocence for the entire community. Something changed in McKinney that
night," Police Chief Doug Kowalski said.
As the investigation pressed forward, shock turned to sorrow for victims'
families.
Days after the shootings, Laurie Wilson looked at her only son as he lay
in a casket. Austin's hair was all wrong. It was a comb-over.
"He would not have worn his hair like that as a bad joke," she told the
funeral home worker.
She suggested gel. When the worker asked if she wanted to fix Austin's
hair, she could not. Instead, she demonstrated the way the teenager had
styled his hair each day, with a bit of gel, his fingers working back from
the front of his scalp.
Then, she left to buy a black dress.
"I've found it hard to grieve because this was so public," she said,
sitting in her living room, tugging on an angel necklace. "It was weeks,
months before I felt. I felt so watched."
For Carole Mendez-Kindle, her loss was laced with regret. She did not have
the kind of relationship with her son that she wanted and lost her chance
to rebuild it. Mark Barbosa considered Basilia Barbosa his mother, and Ms.
Mendez-Kindle was absent for much of his childhood.
"I was in the shower, and I looked at my stomach and saw the stretch marks
I got from having Mark, and I felt so empty," she said with a deep sigh.
"When you're born and you lose your parents, you're an orphan. When you're
married and lose a spouse, you're a widow. When you're a parent and lose a
child, there's not a name for it."
Arrests bring hope
About a month after the shootings, everything seemed to be falling into
place. Police had reconstructed the crime.
>From what police and family could piece together, Mark Barbosa and his
friends, both juniors at McKinney North High School, ate at CiCi's Pizza
that night. They later stopped at Mark's home, which he shared with his
aunt Rosa and his younger brother.
Police believe the 3 young men walked in on a robbery in progress. They
say someone targeted Ms. Barbosa to gain access to the check cashing
business where she worked. They believe Mark, Austin and Matt were
innocent bystanders who became victims.
In mid-April, James Jones, 34, was arrested in connection with an
unrelated kidnapping and began to sing from jail. Police knew Mr. Jones as
a homeless crack addict. He confessed in vivid detail to involvement and
implicated 2 others.
Police said they had reason to believe him, despite his known chemical
dependency. He was a reliable informant in previous cases and had details
about the murder scene that only someone involved seemingly could have
known.
The day of the confession, Mr. Jones, Jecory May, 23, and Calvin Walker,
29, were arrested, each charged with four counts of capital murder.
"There was high energy and excitement, a stronger sense of direction and
focus," Detective Hale said. "We all focused in on what he was saying."
Mrs. Self, who works as a Collin County court clerk, is familiar with the
criminal justice system and expected the arrests. She was sitting in the
bleachers at a high school softball game when she got a call on her cell
phone with the news. She walked to the edge of the bleachers to hear
better; by then a prosecutor and her husband showed up at the ball field
to tell her first-hand.
Mrs. Wilson watched the police chief announce the arrests on the
television. She skipped going out for dinner to avoid answering more
questions from the media waiting outside her home.
"When we made the arrests, we met with families and told them they [the
arrests] were something that was a first step in a long road to as
successful prosecution. I said, believe me, it's going to be a
roller-coaster ride," Chief Kowalski said. "At that time, I had no inkling
we were going to have to release the charges against the 3 we arrested. My
words of solace almost became prophetic."
The lowest point
On a recent afternoon in downtown McKinney, Detective Hale worked in her
small cubicle filled with constant reminders filed away in plastic tubs
and notebooks. A picture of Mark Barbosa sat on her desk.
The 19-year department veteran spoke about the case with a mix of
professional distance and emotional intimacy.
"I'm living this. Eating this. 24 hours a day. I dream about this. I've
cried about this. That's part of my job."
She briefs the families weekly on new developments in the case. They all
say they trust her.
"I've been yelled at. I've been screamed at. I've been cried to. I've
prayed with them," the detective said.
She says the lowest moment came in July on the eve of a 90-day state
deadline requiring authorities to either present the case to a grand jury
or drop the charges against the suspects.
There wasn't enough to go forward with a capital murder case.
- Mr. Jones had recanted his confession - a move police brushed off at the
time.
- Physical evidence was limited. No guns had been recovered.
Still, police said at the time that the 3 men remained prime suspects.
They just needed more time and information. Mr. May and Mr. Jones stayed
in jail for unrelated cases. Mr. Walker was set free.
Detective Hale faxed the notice of dropped charges to the jail and
district attorney. Then she had to call the families.
"I did not want to make that call," she said.
The hitch in the case came soon after what would have been Mark's 26th
birthday, recalled Basilia Barbosa, who raised the 4 Barbosa boys with
their father, Alex.
Before a trip to the cemetery, the family released balloons from their
back yard in every color of the rainbow.
"It was really hard that day," Mrs. Barbosa said. "I try to be strong for
my family. It's usually when I'm by myself that I let go. ... I try not to
cry in front of them. The hardest thing as a mom is that you want to take
away the pain for your kids."
She broke down by the family's truck when she thought they had gone off to
look at another grave.
A lie exposed
A ball of lies began to unravel, as police informant James Jones' story
fell apart.
By December, Mr. Jones took a polygraph test that confirmed his
unreliability. Police officials had recently returned from Quantico, Va.,
where they met with the FBI to solicit advice on the case.
During the previous 8 months, Mr. Jones had sent officers on wild goose
chases after names and evidence that never panned out. He led authorities
to nearly plow up a cornfield and visit a lake in search of the guns used
in the crime.
"If we would have re-allocated those resources, there would have been a
great deal of leads we could have followed," Sgt. Steve Riley said.
Along with Detective Hale, Sgt. Riley is on the case full time.
Over his desk a motivational poster reads: Mistakes - It could be that the
purpose of your life is only to serve as a warning to others.
He, like others in the department, won't talk about failures, only
disappointments. Department officials say they have played the cards they
were dealt to the best of their ability. They have limited DNA evidence
and haven't found the guns used. They would not discuss the specifics of
the DNA evidence.
The FBI, Texas Rangers and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and
Explosives assisted from the early stages of the investigation.
As of earlier this month, officers have culled 373 leads and 107 written
statements.
"I really can't say we would have done anything differently," Chief
Kowalski said. "I wish some things would have happened differently, but
those things are out of our control. I think we've done everything
possible a police department can do."
Fred Moss, a law professor at Southern Methodist University and former
prosecutor with the U.S. attorney's office in Washington, D.C,, said it is
hard to gauge the ramifications of the discredited confession.
"Of course, it opens up a perfect line of defense for a defendant charged
subsequently. Attorneys can say that police got it right the 1st time. It
raises a reasonable doubt as to who did it when you had somebody else
confess," he said.
Defense attorneys may also try to attack the police investigation using
the year's twists and turns as a backdrop, but Mr. Moss said prosecutors
might be able to turn the table.
"They [prosecutors] can use it by saying, 'See, we didn't rush to
judgment. We were very careful. We had somebody confess, but we didn't
indict him or put him on trial.'"
Mr. Jones' attorney has long criticized the handling of his client and
aspects of the case.
"The problem is when you have some very high profile murders and have
detectives who are frustrated, and rightfully so, mistakes can be made in
the beginning. It's not methodical, but the wrong people get arrested, the
wrong people get convicted, and the wrong people get sent to death row,"
Steven Miears said.
Today, only Jecory May remains a prime suspect among the three men
arrested. He's now in jail after pleading guilty to unrelated federal drug
charges. Mr. May has denied any involvement with the murders since he was
arrested.
Since early in the investigation, police say his namehas been a recurring
theme in tips, leads and evidence. They declined to talk about specifics.
"The fact they haven't arrested this guy means they haven't connected him
to any solid forensic evidence," Mr. Moss said.
Questions, reminders
The families of the victims are united in their support of the Police
Department, though there are concerns.
"I'm not mad at McKinney PD, but I think the city officials ... need to
sit back and look at what happened. They do not have the resources or
experience to deal with something like this," Mrs. Self said.
Chief Kowalski, a former Dallas deputy chief, understands their
frustration.
He wakes up at 2 or 3 in the morning, he says, staring at the ceiling and
wondering if his department might have missed something.
He said the crime scene of March 12 lives in his nightmares. He watches
shows like Court TV and Forensic Files, hoping for some new inspiration.
He says he won't let the case go cold. There's too much emotional
investment from families, the department and the city.
They believe someone in McKinney knows who committed the crime.
"Somebody out there knows who killed our son. Jecory May is behind bars,
if that's who you're afraid of," Mrs. Wilson said. "The smallest bit of
information could be just what they need."
Everybody still needs somebody to blame - a face to absorb anger and a
suspect to receive justice.
For now, however, the police are left with more questions and leads.
The families are left with daily reminders.
On what would have been Austin's 19th birthday in February, his mother
made cupcakes for her preschool class. They asked what the occasion was,
and she told them it was just a special day.
Her 4-year-old daughter Olivia, who wears her older brother's red cowboy
boots, demanded their family buy a balloon in honor of his birthday. They
took it to the cemetery, where they released it and watched it drift
endlessly skyward.
QUESTIONS
Where are the guns?
Police say 2 guns were used in the shootings. Neither has been recovered.
Police say they have information about where the guns were taken after the
crime but won't comment on specifics.
How many people were involved?
Police say they believe there were 2 or 3 people involved. Additional
accomplices are likely.
What is the physical evidence?
Police have turned 221 items into the Texas Department of Public Safety
lab for testing. Of those, 180 have been processed. Police say there is
limited DNA evidence, but they won't talk about what it reveals.
Why did robbers target Rosa Barbosa?
The woman and check cashing business where she worked were well-known in
McKinney, but police have yet to disclose any further link between her and
any suspects.
What's next?
Police are still testing evidence (including guns used in other crimes),
interviewing persons of interest, and chasing new leads. Next week, they
plan to present what they know to the Collin County district attorney's
office.
Contact numbers:
Anyone with information can call McKinney police at 972-547-7600 and ask
for Sgt. Steve Riley, Detective Diana Hale or Capt. Randy Roland. A
$50,000 reward has been offered in the case.
ORIGINAL SUSPECTS
3 men were arrested in connection with the shooting deaths of 4 McKinney
residents last year. After three months, capital murder charges against
them were dropped because police lacked evidence.
Jecory "Korn" May
Age: 23
Location: Hunt County Jail. He recently pleaded guilty to conspiracy to
sell and distribute cocaine and marijuana.
Status in the investigation: Police say Mr. May remains a prime suspect.
What he says: Mr. May and his attorney, James Whalen, have denied that he
had any involvement in the shootings. Said Mr. May's mother, Margaret: "I
don't believe my son's capable of murder. He told me he was with some
friends [the night of the murders]. He wasn't nowhere around there. And I
believe my son."
Calvin "Dallas" Walker
Age: 29
Location: Cleburne. Mr. Walker has been living with family and working for
his uncle's landscaping business and cousin's house-building company.
Status in the investigation: Mr. Walker is no longer a suspect; however,
police said they believe he has information about the crimes and still
consider him a "person of interest." Police say he could clear himself by
undergoing a polygraph test.
What he says: Mr. Walker says he is an innocent man falsely accused and
held in jail for three months unjustly. He has demanded an apology from
the Police Department, which has not come. He also has repeatedly
expressed his condolences for the victims' families.
James Otis Jones
Age: 34
Location: Collin County Jail. He faces unrelated charges of aggravated
kidnapping and violation of a protective order.
Status in the investigation: Mr. Jones is no longer a suspect. His April
confession was deemed untrue.
What he says: "He did not have any involvement and was not in the house.
And all that was corroborated by a polygraph administered at the direction
of the McKinney Police Department," said Steven Miears, Mr. Jones'
attorney.
BY THE NUMBERS
646 names in the case database, representing "persons of interest" and
people with information
373 leads in the case; 93 % have been worked and cleared.
107 written statements taken by police
23 police officials from McKinney, the Collin County Sheriff's Department,
the Texas Rangers, FBI, and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and
Explosives on the case full time shortly after the crime occurred
9 boxes and tubs of statements, audiotapes, videotapes and records
2 McKinney officers on the case full time
Note: Totals as of March 2
(source: Dallas Morning News)
**************************
Insanity defense yields widely different results
If lawmakers want a long-term perspective on how well the state's criminal
insanity laws work, they need look no further than McLennan County.
Over the past couple of decades, the area has seen 3 major cases where the
defendant was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Each has had a
different outcome. One could be characterized a success, another a dismal
failure.
The final chapter of the 3rd has yet to be written.
Such mixed results are partially due to differences in each defendant's
mental condition and situation. But to a large degree, the results also
reflect the unpredictability inherent in any system structured to consider
the prickly questions of individual mental health.
When a case moves from the courtroom to the hospital, it undergoes a
paradigm shift: Decision-making authority changes from attorneys and
judges to doctors and caseworkers. The rigid set of rules that govern the
criminal justice system give way to what one local official calls the
"soft science" of human behavior.
People sent to state hospitals for treatment might stay there for a few
days. They might stay there for years.
Judges have ultimate say about whether someone is hospitalized and for how
long. But because they are not medical professionals, judges are also
largely bound by the recommendations of doctors. And sometimes the
viewpoints of those in the white coats confound those in the black robes.
Below are 3 stories of how the system has worked in McLennan County.
-- Yvonna Niswanger --
13 years after Yvonna Niswanger killed her husband and was found not
guilty by reason of insanity, she appears to lead a normal life.
The 69-year-old lives at a North Waco apartment complex where she has been
for nearly a decade. She keeps mostly to herself, says the complex's
manager, Rachel Sheridan, but is friendly enough with management and
neighbors.
The closest thing to a commotion Niswanger has ever caused at the
apartments, Sheridan says, arose when she had a heart attack and got stuck
in the bathtub. Other than that, most of the complex's residents have
probably never taken much notice of her.
"She is actually one of my best tenants," Sheridan said. "She's never been
late with the rent."
That everyday, ordinary existence is a world apart from where Niswanger
was in February 1992. That's when she shot her husband in the head with a
.22-caliber rifle. He was in the garage, about to get into his pickup
truck to go to work at a local auto dealership.
Court testimony indicates what happened next: Niswanger called her
daughter who lived nearby and said, "You'd better sit down. You may be
upset about this. I've shot your dad. I've killed him."
When Niswanger's daughter reached her parents' home after the shooting and
asked her mother why she had done it, Niswanger launched into a delusional
story about her husband taking her to Scott & White Hospital where a "cow
needle" inserted into her arm had pierced her heart.
That was just one of the delusions Niswanger, then 56, apparently
experienced around that period. She later told authorities she believed
her husband had poisoned her food or drink and that he had somehow crushed
her chest, separating her stomach from her esophagus.
Court records reveal Niswanger had a 20-year history of mental illness,
namely schizophrenia. Her daughter testified that her mother had been on
different medications on and off throughout her life but often stopped
taking them without a doctor's approval.
Niswanger's failure to take her medication may well have precipitated the
psychiatric crisis she was in when she killed her husband. She apparently
believed the medication was one of the ways he was poisoning her.
All experts who examined Niswanger after the shooting death said she met
the legal definition for insanity. That is, at the time of the crime she
did not know her actions were wrong. According to medical records
contained in court files, Niswanger eventually told the staff at a
psychiatric hospital she did not plan to kill her husband and did not
remember doing so.
In light of that information, Judge George Allen of Waco's 54th State
District Court found Niswanger not guilty by reason of insanity in October
1992. He then exercised his authority under Texas law to commit her to a
state mental hospital for treatment.
Niswanger was originally sent to the Vernon campus of the North Texas
State Hospital, which has the state's only maximum-security hospital unit.
Then in early 1993 she was transferred to Austin State Hospital after
officials deemed her no longer dangerous.
Niswanger stayed there two more years before Judge Allen decided she was
well enough to be treated in an outpatient setting. By law, mental
patients must be treated in the "least restrictive" environment possible
when appropriate. For example, a locked hospital unit is more restrictive
than an unlocked one and hospitalization is more restrictive than
outpatient care.
Niswanger was initially ordered to live in a state-run halfway house after
she left the hospital, but was allowed to move into her current apartment
a few months later. The only condition of her release besides her stay at
the halfway house was that she not contact certain family members. As soon
as she started living on her own, continued treatment and medication were
voluntary.
Niswanger declined to talk with the Tribune-Herald for this article.
However, on a recent afternoon she appeared well. When the Tribune-Herald
knocked on her door, she answered it promptly. Wearing a sporty pantsuit,
she looked like many women in their late 60s. She ended a query about an
interview by saying she had dinner cooking on the stove.
Rob Swanton, the Waco defense attorney who represented Niswanger, said he
views her as a success story. Situations like hers, where mental illness
stops a person from knowing she is committing a crime, is why the insanity
plea is necessary, he said.
"The foundation of the law has always been that those with mental illness
deserve some sort of special treatment," Swanton said, "and I certainly
hope that never changes."
-- April Kay Cobin --
The story of April Kay Cobin is one of a life suspended.
Almost a decade after Cobin was acquitted by reason of insanity of
shooting her husband, she remains in a state mental hospital. The
intensive treatment she has received has helped some, according to court
records, but she's a long way from success.
The 47-year-old was charged with murdering her husband in June 1995.
According to court records, she shot him in the head twice with a
.357-caliber pistol while he slept. She then dragged his body to the front
porch and went to a neighbor's house to call 9-1-1.
When law enforcement officials arrived, Cobin had her hands outstretched,
as if for handcuffs, according to court records. She told them: "I have
killed Tim" and "Give me the death penalty."
Cobin had a long history of mental illness. Hospital records included in
court files indicate she may have started experiencing auditory
hallucinations as young as age 5. She began abusing alcohol and drugs in
the sixth grade, records say, and was hospitalized for the 1st time at 15.
Her diagnosis: chronic schizophrenia.
Prior to the murder, Cobin had been hospitalized about 40 times, court
records indicate. The longest consecutive period she had been out of a
hospital since she was a teenager was 15 months.
Cobin had also tried to kill herself multiple times. The most serious
attempt came when she jumped off a bridge over Interstate 35 into heavy
traffic, breaking her back and fracturing her pelvis. She said she jumped
because voices told her to, the records say.
However, Cobin's run-ins with the law had been minimal. The only
convictions she had prior to the murder charge were for vagrancy and
intoxication.
After the murder, authorities discovered Cobin had not taken her
medication for about 7 weeks. When asked why she had killed her husband,
she gave several explanations. All pointed to mental illness.
One explanation Cobin gave is that her husband was possessed by a cult
member, possibly a Branch Davidian. She also has said her husband was
kidnapped by East Germans and that they replaced him with a body double
who was going to kill her; that "the cults" cut off her arms and replaced
them with someone else's; and that a 6-year-old girl named April had told
her to do it.
Cobin also told authorities she received subliminal messages through the
television and radio.
Cobin was eventually found not guilty by reason of insanity and sent to
the Vernon hospital's maximum-security unit. She was later moved to
Kerrville State Hospital after doctors found her no longer "manifestly
dangerous."
Cobin has remained at the Kerrville hospital for the past five years, with
her case being reviewed annually. The most recent hearing was in January.
Judge Allen ordered her back to Kerrville for up to another year after the
two doctors treating her said she needed further in-patient care.
In a recent phone interview, Cobin seemed lucid and sounded as if she had
a good grasp of her situation. However, a few comments suggested she was
not completely in touch with reality, such as the reason she gave for not
taking her medication before she shot her husband.
The interview took place on a Friday afternoon and Cobin had just gotten
back from a monthly group shopping trip. She said she gets spending money
from working at the hospital's canteen 20 hours a week. She proudly noted
she had saved up as much as $400 before.
Asked about her quality of life, Cobin said the hospital is nice enough
and that she is treated well. But she still yearns to get out.
The problem, Cobin said, is she doesn't have a "stationary place" to live
and doesn't have anyone to help her if she gets out. Her immediate family
is dead. According to court records, her half-brother killed her mother in
1974. Subsequently, her stepfather committed suicide. Records show a
biological brother was also murdered.
If Cobin were released, she said she wants to move back to Waco, get a
degree from McLennan Community College and find a job. In her spare time,
she would like to volunteer and go biking. One of her favorite activities
is exercise, she said.
Right now, though, Cobin said she is working on getting her medication
just right. She switched drugs last year, she said, and it didn't work
out. But since October she has been on Zyprezxa - used to treat symptoms
of schizophrenia - and it seems to be working well, she said.
The right medication, Cobin said, is extremely important because her
illness cannot be cured, only managed. If she were released, she said she
would be vigilant about her routine.
"I would definitely be on the medication," she said. "I'm older now and
it's more important than it used to be."
However, signs suggest Cobin is not yet ready to be released and assume
the responsibility of her drug regimen. A report filled out in January by
her doctors says she is only partially responsive to her medication and
has been noncompliant at times. As a result, she remains delusional, it
says.
Another troubling point: Cobin apparently remains confused about why she
stopped taking her medication prior to her husband's murder.
In her recent phone conversation, Cobin said she routinely picked up her
medication from the local mental health center or officials there would
bring it to her. But in the weeks leading up to her husband's shooting
death, she said, the road to her residence in the community of Elk was
blocked due to the situation at the nearby Branch Davidian compound.
Because of that, she said, she couldn't go and get the medication and no
one could bring it to her.
"It wasn't by my choice that I didn't take it," she said. "... I didn't
mean to take anyone's life. I would never do that."
While the apocalyptic cult's compound was, in fact, located in Elk,
Cobin's account is obviously inaccurate. The Branch Davidian siege
occurred in 1993. Cobin shot her husband more than 2 years later.
Cobin's condition may some day progress to the point where she can live on
her own. But for now, she'll likely have to settle for the limited freedom
she gets on her monthly shopping trips.
-- Thomas Lee Murray --
Thomas Lee Murray could be the poster child for an imperfect system.
The 30-year-old has been in and out of jail and state mental hospitals
since he was found not guilty by reason of insanity in March 1997. The
acquittal stemmed from an April 1996 incident in which he assaulted two
police officers attempting to arrest him for the murder of his
great-grandmother.
Murray had been hospitalized before the assault, but court records say he
never followed through with outpatient treatment upon his release. As a
paranoid schizophrenic, Thomas needed that treatment and medication to
manage his illness, doctors testified.
Murray's rap sheet with the Waco Police Department attests to that. He has
been arrested at least 20 times, with some arrests involving multiple
charges. Most are for assault or criminal trespass, but he has also been
arrested for possession of a controlled substance, burglary of a motor
vehicle, making a terroristic threat and injury to a child.
The most serious charge Murray has been arrested for is murdering his
great-grandmother. Although he was never indicted in the case, police
still see him as their chief suspect, according to police reports.
The slaying happened in April 1996 at his great-grandmother's home at 904
Clifton St. in Waco. Regoder Allen, 77, was severely beaten and her neck
was slashed so deeply she was almost decapitated.
Several witnesses described a man they saw around the house earlier in the
day, and family members told police the man fit Murray's description. His
mother also said he had been having "mental problems" and had been
"wandering around with a gun, talking about killing someone," a police
report says. She went on to say Murray had a "death wish" against Allen
and that he thought she was the "white devil."
Based on that information, police began looking for Murray shortly after
the murder. While searching his house, they received information he was
walking along Waco Drive.
2 police officers rushed to the area. Spotting Murray, they attempted to
detain him for questioning. But he resisted, hitting one officer in the
mouth with his elbow and striking the second officer in the face several
times.
Murray was finally subdued with pepper spray. The officer hit in the mouth
suffered a chipped tooth, the other officer a broken finger.
Following the incident, Murray was sent to the Vernon hospital because he
was found to be incompetent to stand trial. That meant he was unable to
understand the charges against him or assist his attorney in his defense.
Finally, in March 1997, he was found not guilty by reason of insanity by
Judge Allen of Waco's 54th State District Court.
After Murray's acquittal in the assault case, Allen held another hearing,
determined that Murray was a candidate for involuntary commitment and sent
him back to Vernon. Murray stayed there until August 1998, when a review
board determined he was no longer dangerous.
Since Murray no longer had to be in a maximum-security setting, he was
transferred to Austin State Hospital. After being treated there for three
months, doctors said they had done all they could for him and recommended
he be discharged.
Judge Allen went along with the recommendation. In a recent interview, the
judge said he knows many mentally ill people do fine in hospital settings,
only to deteriorate after release because they are no longer receiving
medication or treatment.
But in cases like Murray's, where his treating physicians all said he
should be released, a judge doesn't have much choice. Judges are legal
experts, not medical ones, and must rely on doctors' opinions, Allen said.
"You really don't have much of an alternative," Allen said. "You really
don't have much of a basis other than that."
Murray didn't remain free for long, however. He was arrested again in June
1999 for making a terroristic threat, then again 2 months later for
setting a car on fire. He received a 2-year sentence in the arson case and
went to prison.
When he got out again, the cycle started all over. Since 2002, he has been
arrested by Waco police another 13 times. In all but one of those cases -
mainly assaults or criminal trespassing Murray either served a month or
less in jail or the charges were dropped in lieu of treatment.
McLennan County District Attorney John Segrest says he knows it might seem
like Murray has gotten a free pass in the courts because of his illness.
But in reality, what has happened is the result of the system's
limitations, he says.
"The way the law is written, it ties your hands," Segrest said.
For non-violent crimes, such as many of the charges Murray has been
arrested for, there is no provision for someone to be involuntarily
committed through the criminal system, even if they are found not guilty
by reason of insanity. The only option prosecutors have is to refer the
case to a civil court.
What that means is even if the district attorney's office went through the
process of bringing charges, the most that could happen to Murray for a
non-violent crime is that he would be evaluated by a psychiatrist to see
if he fit the qualifications for a civil commitment.
Because getting to that point in the process is often lengthy - Murray
would likely have to undergo competency evaluations based on his history -
it doesn't make sense to proceed that way, Segrest said. The end result -
Murray's going to a state hospital - is likely going to be the same
whether he is referred for mental health treatment or prosecuted for the
crime.
"Which is better, to go through all this in a misdemeanor or try to get
him treatment?" Segrest said.
Even for the violent crimes Murray has allegedly committed since his
acquittal - namely misdemeanor assaults - the results of prosecution
likely wouldn't be satisfying. The longest sentence he could receive if
found competent would be a year.
That also means the longest Murray could be involuntary committed is a
year. By the time court proceedings - which would likely include
competency treatment - were completed, he probably would almost be
eligible for release based on time served.
One of Murray's most recent contacts with Waco police perfectly
illustrates the cycle. In late January someone at an East Waco laundromat
called police after observing Murray behaving strangely, according to a
police report. Murray was talking to himself and had a sleeping bag,
backpack and clothes with him.
Based on his behavior, Waco police took him to Providence Health Center's
emergency room for an evaluation, according to the police report. Then at
some point, he was transferred to Austin State Hospital.
Murray remained at the hospital in early February, at which time he agreed
to an interview with the Tribune-Herald . Although obviously medicated,
Murray's doctor said he was competent to be interviewed.
During the 15-minute conversation, Murray answered questions in a logical
way. However, he seemed to have difficulty focusing at times.
Murray said he was born and raised in Waco, attending Waco Independent
School District campuses before dropping out of school in the 9th grade.
He said he had a few jobs after that, such as working at a local nursing
home and hotel.
But for the past 10 years or so, Murray said he hasn't had a job. Instead,
he relies on disability checks he gets from the Social Security
Administration, he said. People can get disability checks for mental
illness if the illness is severe enough that it keeps them from working.
Asked about his family, Murray said he has an 8-year-old son who lives
with the mother's parents in Mart. Murray said he usually lives with his
own mother, though he said the reason for his most recent trip to the
Austin hospital is because his mother kicked him out of the house after he
had an argument with a nephew.
Police reports say Murray has assaulted his mother in the past and that
she has sought police assistance in removing him from her home.
Murray seemed to have a good grasp on his history, saying he had been
committed to the Austin hospital about 20 times, usually staying for a
month to month and a half each time. Asked what the problem is, why he
keeps getting sent back, he credited minor offenses such as trespassing.
Asked about the violent entries on his rap sheet, Murray admitted to
setting the car on fire, saying he was retaliating against someone who had
stolen money from him. But he denies killing his great-grandmother. He
said he isn't really sure why he fought the police officers who came to
arrest him.
"I just thought, 'Why are you coming up to me with it?' and I just started
swinging," Murray said.
What Murray doesn't seem to have a good grasp on is his mental illness.
Asked how it complicates his daily life, Murray denied he is ill.
"Really, I ain't got no illness," he said. "It's just the system. I have
to take the medication. If I don't take the medication, I can't be in the
system."
Murray then contradicted himself when asked if the medication makes him
feel better.
"Yeah, I need it," he said. "I take it."
Asked what must happen to keep him out of the hospital and out of trouble,
Murray didn't have an answer. Even though he said he doesn't like the
hospital, he said, "I think I might come back in the future."
Seven days later, those words seemed prophetic. He was arrested by Waco
police on Valentine's Day for allegedly stabbing his 14-year-old nephew.
According to the police report, Murray was at his mother's house on North
12th Street when his nephew arrived. The nephew said Murray was at the
table, acting bizarrely and cursing. At some point, Murray turned the
lights off and told the boy to lie down on the couch.
When the boy said he didn't want to and cited Murray's strange behavior,
an argument ensued, according to the report. Before the argument was over,
Murray had allegedly stabbed the boy in the right knee.
Because the incident involved Murray, three patrol officers and a sergeant
responded to the call. This time he complied with their commands and was
handcuffed without incident, the report says.
Murray was booked into McLennan County Jail on a charge of injury to a
child. The offense is a third degree felony, which carries a punishment of
two to 10 years in prison. Murray remains in jail in lieu of a $5 million
bond.
If Murray is convicted, it might mean at least a temporary end to the
dizzying cycle of his life. If not, the door will likely keep revolving
between his home, the hospital and the county jail.
(source: Waco Tribune-Herald)
********************
If it pleases court, law by consensus
When the U.S. Supreme Court decides to overturn the laws of 20 states, the
American people have every reason to expect that the judicial decision has
firm grounding in the Constitution.
Citizens might also hope that if the justices decide to overrule the duly
elected representatives of the people, the lawmaking process in the states
and its own precedent, that the constitutional issues would be so
crystalline as to elicit a unanimous or near-unanimous decision.
In its recent ruling in Roper v. Simmons, 5 Supreme Court justices have
failed miserably to meet either of the above standards. In determining
that 16- and 17-year-old murderers cannot, under any circumstances, face
the death penalty, Justices Anthony Kennedy, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Stephen
Breyer, David Souter and John Paul Stevens have established a dangerous
precedent for judicial activism.
As a resident of Texas, which leads the nation in executions, I believe we
put too many people to death. To paraphrase a famous quote about another
deeply divisive moral issue, the death penalty should be lethal, legal and
rare, sought by prosecutors in only the most extreme cases.
It naturally follows that the death penalty for minors should be even more
rare. Under what circumstances and when murderers in Texas face the death
penalty is, however, a matter for Texas lawmakers and courts to decide.
The Supreme Court has arrogated this power to itself, creating for Texas
juries the legal fallacy that they may only sentence to life imprisonment
effectively, 40 years - someone who was 17 years, 364 days old at the time
of a horrendous capital crime, while an accomplice only a few days older
can face the executioner's needle.
The court had already addressed this fallacy in its 1989 Stanford v.
Kentucky decision, upholding the exceptional application of the death
penalty for capital crimes committed at age 16 and 17. What compelled the
five justices to reverse that decision in 2005?
Kennedy's majority opinion cites the necessity of referring to "the
evolving standards of decency" that lead to an emerging "national
consensus" against the death penalty for minors. Let's consider Kennedy's
statistical case.
Count the 12 states that lack capital punishment in any form along with
the 18 states that prohibit the death penalty for minor murderers and you
have a resounding consensus - a synonym for unanimity - of exactly 3/5.
Here the justices wander into a judicial morass on other issues in which
states show a greater semblance of national consensus. Take, for example,
gay marriage, which one state has legalized, while 38 states have passed
Defense of Marriage Acts that restrict marriage to the union of one man
and one woman.
Should or would the Supreme Court freeze the current consensus in time and
render unconstitutional the efforts of gays and lesbians to seek marital
rights in their respective states? And what of the true consensus in 1973
of all 50 states to restrict abortions to lesser or greater degrees?
Set aside for a moment the merits of a ruling based on the arbitrary
interpretation of national consensus. The most disturbing aspect of the
court's decision is its reliance on "the overwhelming weight of
international opinion." That is to say, 5 justices feel their power to
interpret world sentiment and fabricate a national consensus supersedes
the right of juries to deliver verdicts and assess penalties in accordance
with the laws of their states.
Where in all this, one may reasonably ask, is our nation's Constitution?
What activist justices on the Supreme Court are effectively telling the
American people is, "Heads we win, tails you lose." If the legislative
process advances an agenda the justices support ideologically, they'll
speed it along with a judicial decree based on rights not found in the
Constitution.
If the same process advances an agenda the justices oppose, they'll quash
it on the basis of an imaginary national consensus of five men and women
and their reading of international public opinion, irrespective of the
Constitution.
(source: Guest Column, Jonathan Gurwitz; San Antonio Express-News)
*********************************
Smuggling Trial in Texas Focuses on Trucker's Role
Scott Reuter, an Army reservist working in a South Texas restaurant, was
driving home one warm May night two years ago when something about a white
tractor-trailer ahead of him on Highway 77 caught his eye.
A taillight was dangling out of its socket. But as Mr. Reuter drew closer,
he saw something else: sticking through the hole was a hand. It was
wrapped around the light, waving it. Underneath, he saw another empty
light hole. Another hand was sticking out of that, waving a bandanna.
"The hand holding the bandanna," he testified in federal court here last
week, "looked very frantic to me."
Mr. Reuter sped up to pass, hoping to catch the driver's eye, but it was
too dark outside and too dark in the truck's cab. Noting the license
number, he reached for his cellphone to dial 911. The battery was dead. He
called from a pay phone later, but by then the truck was long gone.
The 18-wheeler, which had been packed in Harlingen, Tex., with at least 74
illegal immigrants from Mexico, Central and South America, drove on to its
rendezvous with death: 19 of its hidden riders fell victim to suffocation,
broiling heat and dehydration in the nation's deadliest human smuggling
disaster.
The truck, a sealed refrigeration unit with the air turned off, was found
abandoned in Victoria, Tex., on May 14, 2003. It was not the only moment
in which the fates seemed to conspire against the passengers, witnesses
testified at the trial of the truck driver, Tyrone M. Williams, 34, a
Jamaican immigrant from Schenectady, N.Y. He is the only defendant of 14
who faces possible execution if convicted. Some have pleaded guilty, and
face up to life in prison.
2 smugglers who were to reload the immigrants into a pickup truck and a
van once the 18-wheeler was past a Border Patrol checkpoint in Sarita,
Tex., were themselves detained there. Without the promised relief
vehicles, the passengers stayed in the scorching truck for what became a
journey of about 2 extra hours toward Houston.
And when one of the riders used a cellphone that his worried mother had
slipped him before the trip, his 1st call to 911 reached an operator who
seemed to speak no Spanish and his next call lost the connection after a
few seconds.
In often gripping detail, the opening week of what is expected to be a 6-
to 8-week trial before a jury of 7 women and 5 men offered conflicting
testimony on the degree of Mr. Williams's culpability. The same accounts
that portrayed Mr. Williams as cruelly indifferent to the agonies of his
passengers were offered as evidence that he was unaware of their
suffering.
Again and again, the assistant United States attorneys, Daniel C.
Rodriguez and Stacy de la Torre, elicited testimony from tearful survivors
that the driver was to blame for their anguish. But Mr. Williams's lawyer,
Craig Washington, in his opening statement and cross-examination of
witnesses, suggested that veteran organizers of the smuggling ring - who
were paid by the head, while Mr. Williams received a flat fee of $7,500 -
overloaded the truck to maximize their profit and that they were the ones
who locked the passengers in, while the driver remained behind the wheel,
never hearing their later cries.
After an admitted conspirator who pleaded guilty to recruiting Mr.
Williams testified that the trucker had smuggled 60 illegal immigrants on
a shorter route without incident two weeks earlier, the question remained
why the air in the truck was disastrously insufficient the second time. A
medical examiner who performed the autopsies said more people would have
used up the air faster.
There were 55 survivors, along with the 17 dead in the truck and 2 more
who died later, for a total of 74 known immigrants. But once Mr. Williams
opened the truck doors in Victoria before fleeing in the cab with a woman
who had accompanied him to carry out a drug deal, as the investigation
established, some other survivors appear to have scattered, leaving open
the question of whether many more than 74 had been inside.
Some of the most emotional testimony came from a Honduran man, Matas
Rafael Medina Flores, who said the two calls to 911 on his cellphone from
inside the truck failed to summon help. After a fellow rider punched out
the taillights for air, he said, "We would take turns to get to the holes
so we could breathe." They made sure, he said, to give the first chance
for air to the youngest passenger, a 5-year-old boy.
The child, the Honduran man testified, died in the hour or more they took
to reach the Sarita checkpoint. There, he said, passengers screamed to
attract the attention of inspectors. But other witnesses contradicted his
account, insisting that they still had hope of sneaking through and
enforced a communal silence at the checkpoint. That fit with the testimony
of an inspector who said he had no reason to suspect a human cargo.
A surveillance videotape from a convenience store and gas station in
Victoria where the truck came to rest about 1:30 a.m. on May 14 offered
the jury a striking record of the actions of Mr. Williams and his riding
companion that it could interpret in various ways.
With the dead piled behind locked doors in the truck parked outside, the
tape shows Mr. Williams entering the store and asking the clerk, Eloy
Garcia: "Do you all carry water? Hey, General, that is what I need. Ha ya
ya!" He collected armfuls of water bottles, asking, "Hey, General, what is
the name of this town?" Mr. Williams paid for the bottles and returned for
more. "How much are these potato things?" he asked.
The bill for an armful of chips and water came to $20.79, and Mr. Williams
counted out the exact change. He came back twice more, for more water.
Then the tape shows the woman who was traveling with him, Fatima Holloway,
entering the store. "Where's your restroom?" she asked. Then she also
bought water, asking the price and sounding pleased to hear it was on
special, 50 cents a bottle. Together she and Mr. Williams bought 55
bottles, which survivors later testified were handed to them through holes
in the truck.
Ms. Holloway was still inside the store. "Can I ask you a question?" she
said to Mr. Garcia. "Are there rattlesnakes out here?"
"Oh, yeah," he said.
She appeared to be asking because outside Mr. Williams had opened the
truck doors and survivors were fleeing. The tape shows one of them, a
shirtless, apparently delirious man, later identified as Nelson Fernandez,
bursting into the store.
"911!" he shouted. "They tried to kill -- " he began.
"Who?" Mr. Garcia asked.
Mr. Fernandez rambled. "I am thirsty. Water," he said.
Then, with Ms. Holloway looking on, Mr. Garcia called the police. "I've
got a fellow that just came in saying that he's got some people after him,
that want to kill him," he said.
(source: New York Times)
*******************************
new bill on pancuronium bromide----
79R18 EMT-D
By: Gallego
H.B. No. 3396
A BILL TO BE ENTITLED
AN ACT
relating to the use of the substance pancuronium bromide to execute
an inmate sentenced to death.
BE IT ENACTED BY THE LEGISLATURE OF THE STATE OF TEXAS:
SECTION 1. Article 43.14, Code of Criminal Procedure, is
amended to read as follows:
Art. 43.14. EXECUTION OF CONVICT. (a) Whenever the
sentence of death is pronounced against a convict, the sentence
shall be executed at any time after the hour of 6 p.m. on the day set
for the execution, by intravenous injection of a substance or
substances in a lethal quantity sufficient to cause death and until
such convict is dead, such execution procedure to be determined and
supervised by the Director of the institutional division of the
Texas Department of Criminal Justice.
(b) The substance pancuronium bromide may not be used to
execute a convict under this article.
SECTION 2. This Act takes effect immediately if it receives
a vote of two-thirds of all the members elected to each house, as
provided by Section 39, Article III, Texas Constitution. If this
Act does not receive the vote necessary for immediate effect, this
Act takes effect on the 91st day after the last day of the
legislative session.
