death penalty news April 26, 2005
TEXAS: Texas' possible wrongful execution Of the 341 inmates executed in Texas since 1982, the last words of one man have echoed particularly loudly in the minds of those involved in deciding his fate. Cameron Willingham, of Navarro County in East Texas, was put to death on February 17, 2004 for his alleged role in a fire that led to the deaths of his three young children in 1991. To his death, he maintained his innocence, stating, "I am an innocent man - convicted of a crime I did not commit. I have been persecuted for 12 years for something I did not do." As the state Senate Criminal Justice Committee heard testimony last week from Willingham's lawyer and a fire expert familiar with the case, the possibility that an innocent man had been executed became a frighteningly disturbing reality. Willingham's last words were not unique; in fact many maintain their innocence until the bitter end. They are especially resonant, however, because it is clear that he was sentenced to die based on fire forensics that have since been disproved. Many had concluded this long before the new committee had heard any testimony. Yet, in light of these revelations, Gov. Rick Perry refused to grant Willingham a stay of execution. Now, as the panel reexamines the case, its severely limited capabilities give little comfort to those who knew Willingham and seek the truth about the tragic fire. Perry's committee, established by executive order, is a mockery of legitimate inquiry and lacks the authority to investigate the case effectively. The Senate Criminal Justice Committee's hands have been tied; they do not have the power to subpoena, test evidence or obtain pertinent documents. Gerald Hurst, an industry-renowned arson expert, agreed to examine the evidence free of charge for Willingham's cousin in 2004, when hope for the convicted was all but lost. Hurst and other fire science consultants found the scientific methods utilized in the prior investigation outdated. "There's nothing to suggest to any reasonable arson investigator that this was an arson fire," Hurst said. The consulted investigators based their refutations of the previous findings on several scientific advancements outlined in the National Fire Protection Association's guide to forensic examinations, published just months after the deadly fire. The updated document, NFPA 921, had actually led to the retrial and subsequent exoneration of another Texas death-row inmate, Ernest Willis, in a case which Hurst deemed "nearly identical," according to the Chicago Tribune. Cameron Willingham remains the only inmate in America since the reinstitution of the death penalty to have been executed for murder by arson. Some involved in Willingham's trial have expressed remorse for their actions. Juror Dorinda Brokofsky is now troubled by the unsound evidence that led her to favor Willingham's conviction, sadly remarking, "Now I will have to live with this for the rest of my life. Maybe this man was innocent." The possibility of an innocent man being executed by the state has long been the great "what if" of those in opposition to capital punishment. In Texas, notorious for its startling number of executions, the argument has been given little credence based on the lack of compelling proof to support such a claim. Although the divergence of opinion on whom or what deserves to live is a matter of belief that can hardly be reconciled, the right to life of the innocent is unanimously regarded as sacred. Death penalty advocates may now pause in consideration of new evidence pointing to the accidental nature of the fire that killed Willingham's children. They may ask themselves, "If one man is wrongfully executed, is it all worth it?" Never in recent history has such a miscarriage of justice led to the death of a possibly innocent man in Texas. The main shortcoming of the anti-capital punishment position has always been the lack of compelling evidence to support accusations that the state has killed even one innocent inmate. Perry knows this, and in setting up a committee that lacks crucial powers, he is ensuring that no such conclusion will be reached. A weak inquiry may serve the interests of death penalty supporters, but it will never absolve those in power of their role in Cameron Willingham's execution, or end the haunting memory of his last words. (source: Opinion, Daily Texan) IOWA: Yepsen: Iowans have spoken: Stop ducking death penalty vote There was an understatement in a Register headline Monday. It said "Majority of Iowans Back Death Penalty." Majority? It's 67 percent. That's more than two-thirds. While technically a "majority," it's much more accurate to say "landslide." A majority is 50 percent plus one. Two-thirds is close to what Chuck Grassley gets for a re-election margin. It's a blow-out. A sweep. A shellacking. It's the Red Sox vs. the Royals. No wonder Democrats in the Iowa Senate are spooked. They fear losing their effort to take control of the place over this issue. And, the way they're playing this, perhaps they will. They're too chicken to take a recorded vote on the subject, and voters don't much care for gutless pols. It works like this: Most Senate Democrats oppose the death penalty. Yet the poll shows Iowans are fed up with sexual predators raping and killing our children, and want them eliminated. (They don't seem much interested in "treating" these chaps, either.) The survey even shows 53 percent of rank-and-file Iowa Democrats favor the death penalty. But not in the Iowa Senate. Since the Senate is evenly split, 25-25 between Democrats and Republicans, the chamber's rules allow either party leader to defer a bill from further debate on the floor. In this case, Senate Democratic Leader Mike Gronstal says he'll refuse to allow a vote on the death penalty and would defer any bill that comes to the floor with such a measure in it. He simply doesn't want his members to be on record voting against it. If they did, it would be used against them in the next election. (Except in Iowa City.) It's hard to blame him. In 1995, Democrats were in control of the place and then-leader Wally Horn called up a death-penalty bill. A majority of Democrats voted against it. In the 1996 election, they lost control, and Gronstal ousted Horn to become minority leader. Gronstal, being the intelligent guy he is, isn't much interested in seeing that history repeat itself. But avoiding a vote is weaselly. Whatever happened to the stand-up Democrats like Harold Hughes who took unpopular stances but still won elections because people respected him? More recently, Senate Democrats stood up against a ban on gay marriage last year, another idea that gets good ratings in polls. What happened? They gained seats in the 2004 election. Besides, the Democratic loss of the Iowa Senate in 1996 wasn't completely due to the death-penalty vote. Lots of other factors were at play. Republicans will be emboldened by this poll and Gronstal's intransigence. What's likely to happen in the Senate is that a bill to toughen sex-offender laws will be called up for debate and Republicans will offer a death-penalty amendment. If it's ruled relevant to the legislation by Republican Co-President Jeff Lamberti, Gronstal will then defer on the entire bill. If Senate Democratic Co-President Jack Kibbie is in the chair, he may rule that it's not germane to the bill, killing the idea that way. Or, Republicans could offer the death penalty as an amendment to the appropriations bill for criminal-justice agencies. Again, Gronstal could defer that, or Kibbie could rule it not germane. It's unlikely Republicans will allow those bills to die - it would undercut their law-and-order image, and we do have to finance state agencies - but they may let them hang in limbo for a few days just to make it clear to voters that Democrats are holding things up by ducking a death-penalty vote. Look for similar ploys in next year's session. It'll all be designed to keep this issue in front of voters. Democrats can only hope that as time passes, voter passions will cool. Strong support for other get-tough, anti-crime measures might also help insulate them from attack. No one expects a death penalty to become law any time soon. Even if it were called up for debate, there may not be the votes in either the House or the Senate to pass it. (While a majority of Republicans support the idea, a few don't.) And Democratic Gov. Tom Vilsack would veto any death penalty that might win approval. Which is why you can also look for this issue to be a big one when we elect a new governor in 2006. We must ask ourselves: Do we want a governor who'll sign it or another one who'd veto it? *** Gronstal's refusal to allow a death-penalty vote seems emblematic of his party these days. The "party of the people" isn't so populist anymore. In Washington, Senate Democrats won't allow a vote on all federal judicial nominees. In Iowa, legislative Democrats oppose a constitutional amendment to let people vote on major tax increases. So the message from Gronstal & Co. is pretty clear: Forget the personalities of candidates. If you want a death penalty, elect Republicans to the Iowa Legislature and the governorship in 2006. If you don't, vote for the Democrats. This is one time when there really is a difference between the two parties. (source: Column, Des Moines Register) USA: NEXT: Ruling on juvenile death penalty makes a mockery of justice April 1 came a month early for the U.S. Supreme Court this year. State legislators now get to make decisions for the Supreme Court, the court gets to oversee international treaties instead of Congress and the president, judicial precedent set only 15 years ago is now reversed (with one justice openly changing his mind), and juries are no longer trusted. This all just in, thanks to a 5-4 Supreme Court ruling last month concluding that the death penalty for 16- or 17-year-old murderers is "cruel and unusual" and therefore violates the Constitution's Eighth Amendment. But this is no April Fool's joke. This is the modern judiciary. In 1989, the court decided that 16- and 17-year-olds could receive the death penalty. Now, 15 years later, it has changed its mind. Ironically, Justice Anthony Kennedy supported the 1989 decision, but now has delivered the 2005 reversal. Three dissenting justices called the decision a "mockery" and the catalyst for a judicial system that will "crown arbitrariness with chaos" ? pointed words that were appropriate in this case. Both the ruling's practical effects on our society and its constitutional implications should be examined here. Murders by 17-year-olds can be just as horrific as those committed by adults. There is Lee Boyd Malvo, the 17-year-old sidekick who joined John Allen Muhammad in a killing spree that put the nation's capital on edge for weeks in 2002. There are others, too, like 17-year-old Kenneth Loggins who, under the influence of drugs and alcohol, joined some friends to pick up a hitchhiker in 1994 and repeatedly beat her, finally standing on her throat until she "gurgled blood" and died, according to the court. The group sexually assaulted her body and then threw it off a cliff, returning only to mutilate her body by stabbing and cutting it 180 times. The horror of these grotesque murders is exactly what the death penalty is reserved for. But the Supreme Court decided that "an unacceptable likelihood exists that the brutality or cold-blooded nature of any particular crime would overpower" the jury's sense of justice when it comes to deciding if 16- or 17-year-olds should get the death penalty. So the court will play judge and jury for us ? literally. The court argues that ? based on similar medical and scientific data it had in 1988 when it decided that 15-year-olds could not receive capital punishment ? 16- and 17-year-olds are not as mature as 18-year-olds and therefore "have a greater claim than adults to be forgiven for failing to escape negative influences in their whole environment." The court simply and arbitrarily extended the cutoff age two years without any groundbreaking scientific data. Ridiculously, the court said since juveniles "struggle to define their identity" and deal with peer pressure, they should be judged under less-strict standards. I was 17 only a few years ago, and while peer pressure and "growing up" struggles existed, it's a stretch to say that therefore giving me the death penalty for crimes like Malvo's or Loggins' would be "cruel and unusual." As Justice Sandra Day O'Connor argued in her dissent, it's reasonable to conclude that "at least some 17-year-old murderers are sufficiently mature to deserve the death penalty in an appropriate case." So why has the Supreme Court determined that it should decide for us? The court argues that because 25 states allowed the death penalty for 17-year-olds in 1989, it correctly decided then that the United States had not come to a "national consensus" on banning the death penalty for juveniles. But 15 years later and after four more state legislatures decided to ban capital punishment for 17-year-olds, the nation seems to be turning its back on the practice. The court reasons that it can therefore rule the juvenile death penalty unconstitutional because of "evolving standards of decency" that help define the Eighth Amendment. Confusingly, the court also argued that the United States should fall in line with international law and not set itself apart from the rest of the world by allowing the juvenile death penalty. But this is clearly an indication that America had not turned its back on the practice. Regardless, a better alternative would be to let those evolving standards of decency evolve by themselves. Why not let the people decide what their decency standards are for each state? If America truly does come to a consensus that the juvenile death penalty should be banned, then state legislators will continue to nix it. The Supreme Court obviously must uphold the Constitution, but it should interpret the Constitution narrowly or else it becomes the "sole arbiter of our nation's moral standards," as three dissenting justices argue it has already become. (source: Opinion, Seattle Times)
