July 4
TEXAS:
New law likely to cut death sentences in Texas
Texas juries may curtail the use of the death penalty with a new
life-without-parole option recently inked by Texas Gov. Rick Perry.
Perry signed legislation that gives juries the option to give
life-without-parole on capital murder cases in Texas beginning Sept. 1.
Presently, the punishment for capital murder in Texas is death by lethal
injection or life in prison. But, life in prison by Texas law for a
capital offense means that a murderer must spend at least 40 years in
prison before he or she is eligible to seek parole.
By contrast, in Arkansas, life truly means life in prison unless a
criminal defendant gets a reprieve from the governor to seek parole.
Bowie County District Attorney Bobby Lockhart, as well as defense lawyers
Craig Henry and Troy Hornsby, all say the number of death penalties is
going to drop in Texas, a state that leads most others in the number of
executions.
Since Lockhart has been in office as district attorney, his prosecutors
have sought the death penalty in 11 cases. Nine of the convicted murderers
were sentenced to death.
"I do think it'll cut down the number of death penalties in the state of
Texas because the third option that we have now is a good middle resting
place between death and 40 years," said Lockhart. "It's the middle of the
road that we haven't had."
He and Henry both point out that the present definition of life as 40
years in prison does not mean a killer will actually get paroled once he
or she has served 40 years in prison.
"There's a lot of people that think that it's just not right to get out
after 40 years. What they don't understand is that most capital/life
defendants are never going to get out on parole anyway. Now, it's
guaranteed because life means life," Henry says.
Hornsby said, "There is a confusion in Texas, if we don't assess death,
then what happens? But some people may not think that's not enough;
because it's still a risk. I think people have moral qualms about
assessing the death penalty; but worry about the risk of this person
walking free."
He said he would be stunned if there is not one person on a 12-member jury
who wouldn't want to opt for life without parole if it is available.
"It's going to make it tougher for a DA to get a death penalty assessed,"
Hornsby said.
Henry says although a defense lawyer will still have to do as much trial
preparation as ever for a capital murder case, he thinks it will change
the way prosecutors do business.
"It may cause the district attorneys to not file as many as they have in
the past," Henry said.
Lockhart agrees.
"We always sit with the victims at some point and time and tell them 'this
is the option, what do you want to do.' It may help some plea agreements,"
Lockhart said of the new option. "That third option will definitely change
some trial strategies."
In order to levy the death penalty in Texas, a jury has to decide if the
murderer poses as risk of future danger to society.
"It'll change the face about how district attorneys approach capital
murders in Texas. We're going to live with it now, because it's the law,"
Lockhart said. "It'll affect the marginal cases where you're not sure
about what the jury will do; or if you can't prove future dangerousness
issues."
One of the glitches that Henry sees is that the law only applies to
suspected murderers who kill someone after the law's Sept. 1 enactment. He
thinks those awaiting trial or sentencing now should be able to face the
new option.
"I think there will be an argument about that because those persons have
not been sentenced. There may be the argument that they should have that
opportunity," Henry said.
But Hornsby believes that this is yet another change in the use of the
death penalty.
"There is some progress," Hornsby said. He cited recent changes of law by
the U.S. Supreme Court striking down the use of the death penalty for
those killers who are mentally retarded, and more recently, those who are
younger than 18 years old.
"Texas is an incredibly pro-death penalty state," Hornsby said.
(source: Texarkana Gazette)
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Please read/sign the following petition:
http://www.PetitionOnline.com/Ramirez/petition.html
ILLINOIS:
Ex-Death Row Inmate Fights Fresh Charges
Aaron Patterson walked out of prison 2 1/2 years ago, a free man with a
pardon and a chance to start fresh. But the happy ending never came for
Patterson, who faces fresh drug and weapon charges that could hand him a
return trip to prison. These days, the 40-year-old Patterson sits in a
federal jail awaiting the start of jury selection Tuesday.
His story of torture by police and 17 years on death row had helped launch
an emotional campaign against the death penalty in Illinois.
Patterson was among four former death row inmates who were pardoned by
former Gov. George Ryan in one of his last acts in office in January 2003.
A day later the governor commuted the sentences of all 160 other death row
inmates to life without parole.
Patterson insisted that he was tortured by police into confessing to a
double murder he did not commit. The head of the unit that investigated
his case, Lt. Jon Burge, was later fired for allegedly mistreating a
suspect.
Ryan's actions were warmly applauded by opponents of the death penalty,
who nominated the former governor for the Nobel Peace Prize. Patterson's
claims have been echoed by dozens of others.
But the cheering for both Patterson and Ryan has long since faded.
The former governor is facing a racketeering indictment, and federal
prosecutors are asking the judge - who by coincidence is U.S. District
Judge Rebecca R. Pallmeyer, who also is handling Patterson's case - to bar
his lawyers from using his moratorium on capital punishment to try to
impress the jury.
Meanwhile, federal prosecutors say Patterson emerged from prison to become
a leader of the South Side's P. Stones street gang.
A 13-count indictment charges him with brokering heroin sales to a federal
informant and selling bags of marijuana out of his home. It also charges
him with buying four guns, including a MAC-10 machine pistol.
Another alleged gang member, Mark Mannie, is also charged in some of the
counts.
Patterson and his defense attorneys contend he was the victim of a setup
after he dedicated his life to rooting out corruption in government and
the police force. As for the gun charges, Patterson says that he never
meant to buy real guns but wanted the kind of replicas that some people
collect.
Chances are, Patterson won't even be allowed to sit in the courtroom for
his own trial but instead will have to watch on closed-circuit TV from
jail because of his frequent outbursts.
"I'm concerned that he could very well poison the proceedings," Pallmeyer
said of Patterson, who was hustled out of the courtroom by federal
marshals Friday following a series of leather-lunged, profanity-laced
comments.
The tirades got worse after Pallmeyer turned down a last-minute bid by
Patterson to fire his lawyers and serve as his own attorney.
"If you force me to go to trial like that, Your Honor, this is going to be
another Chicago 7 trial - they're going to have to tie me to the chair and
gag me," he said, referring to the riot conspiracy trial following the
1968 Democratic National Convention, when one defendant was gagged and
tied to his chair.
Pallmeyer opted instead for a closed-circuit TV hookup at the correctional
center where Patterson will be able to see the judge and witnesses but not
be disruptive.
2 defense psychologists testified that Patterson's outbursts show he
shouldn't go to trial at all - that he's mentally incompetent and
suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder because of torture by Burge.
A prosecution psychiatrist disagreed.
Competent or not, no one denies that Patterson has serious personality
problems following his years on death row.
"He's deeply scarred," says defense attorney Standish E. Willis, who
worked for years to secure Patterson's release from prison. "And he does
need some help."
(source: Associated Press)
USA:
Term a major success for junior justice----Justice Stephen Breyer was in
the majority in 10 of the biggest Supreme Court cases this term.
The power broker at the Supreme Court this term was the "junior justice,"
Stephen Breyer. He was on the winning side in the 10 biggest cases of the
year, covering capital punishment, medical marijuana, property rights and
Ten Commandments displays.
By contrast, Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist was in the majority only 3
times as his conservative bloc splintered again and again.
Of course, the top news from the court was the retirement of Justice
Sandra Day O'Connor. She announced on Friday that she would leave as soon
as President Bush's nominee is confirmed.
It is the 1st vacancy on the court since 1994, the longest stretch since
the early 1800s.
Bush could have a second seat to fill should the 80-year-old Rehnquist,
who has thyroid cancer, decide to step down, too. The widower announced
his illness in October and his future on the court is very much in doubt.
O'Connor's pending departure means Breyer finally will shed the "junior
justice" title he has held for 11 years. As the newest member of the
court, he is saddled with such menial duties as answering the door when
justices hold weekly private meetings.
But there was nothing back bench about the performance by the Clinton
appointee this session.
The 66-year-old former college professor and congressional lawyer was a
pivotal vote in 2 cases that set a new standard for religious displays in
government buildings.
'Rehnquist 5'
Breyer, known for his amiable style, also is credited with working out a
compromise that salvaged federal sentencing guidelines. It was an
important decision because about 64,000 people are sentenced in federal
courts each year.
"He has such a well-developed sense of diplomacy that it's not surprising
to see his long-term moderate vision is now being embraced by the court,"
said Georgetown University law professor Neal Katyal, a former Breyer law
clerk.
Among Breyer's surprises this term was his critical role in two Ten
Commandments cases decided on the final day of the term. Together, the
rulings made clear that overtly religious displays are unconstitutional,
but historic ones are allowed. Breyer was the only justice in the majority
on both.
"He has become the most pragmatic person on the court. He has a way of
taking the temperature of society," said Marci Hamilton, a former O'Connor
clerk whose new book is "God vs. The Gavel," about courts and religion.
Overall this session, the court ruled in about 80 cases; one-third of them
were resolved on 5-4 votes.
Usually the 5 conservatives, sometimes known as the "Rehnquist five," vote
together in about half of the 5-4 decisions. This year they were together
in just 5 such rulings.
O'Connor and Anthony Kennedy, both appointed by President Reagan, were not
the swing voters they usually are on sharply divided issues.
"Almost all of the court's members found themselves in unusual alignments
as novel questions came before them," said Thomas Goldstein, a lawyer who
argues before the court and tracks voting trends.
Rehnquist disagreed with rulings that made it unconstitutional to execute
juvenile murderers; said federal drug agents did not have to honor state
medical marijuana laws; barred a Ten Commandments display in Kentucky; and
empowered local governments to seize people's homes for use for projects
that will generate tax revenue.
"This term confirms that Chief Justice Rehnquist's legacy on the court is
more in the nature of a correction than a revolution," said Richard
Garnett, a Notre Dame law professor and former Rehnquist clerk.
Stevens legacy
Breyer filed 11 dissents, although none in major cases. He read a dissent
from the bench in one case, to demonstrate his dissatisfaction when the
court ruled against a Tennessee death row inmate who wanted to pursue more
appeals.
Overall, however, the court was sympathetic to claims that inmates had
been treated unfairly. The court overturned the death sentences of 4
inmates. In a 5th case, the justices ruled that states cannot put to death
killers who were not at least 18-years-old at the time of the crime.
Playing a pivotal role in the capital punishment cases, and others, was
the court's oldest member, 85-year-old John Paul Stevens. Stevens presided
on the bench while Rehnquist was receiving radiation and chemotherapy
treatments. Rehnquist was off the bench for 5 months. He voted in most of
the cases, however.
Stevens, on the court since 1975, had taken the unusual step of calling
for an end to juvenile executions in 2002, but he did not have the votes
to accomplish it. He called the executions a "relic of the past" and
"inconsistent with evolving standards of decency in a civilized society."
This time, Stevens prevailed with the vote of Kennedy.
"People forget that Justice Stevens has also been on the court a long
time, building a legacy of his own," Garnett said.
(source: Associated Press)
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For ex-death-row inmates, freedom can be grim reality
Once known as the "Snaggletooth Killer" when he was on Arizona's death
row, Ray Krone got a makeover after DNA cleared him in a 1991 murder. He
has addressed the United Nations, toured Europe to protest the death
penalty, mingled with celebrities, and even attracted his own groupies.
Nick Yarris, released from Pennsylvania's death row in 2004 after DNA
exonerated him in a 1981 rape and murder, has been on a similar odyssey,
speaking at college campuses and telling his story on TV programs and in
an award-winning documentary.
Such journeys from prison to prominence are not unlike the experiences of
other members of this new and growing population of those who have been
exonerated of crimes, especially those released from death row. They are
courted here and abroad to speak at anti-death-penalty, social-justice,
and academic forums, where audiences are spellbound by their horrifying
accounts.
But the exciting travels and high-profile invitations are a distraction
from the grim realities of life after prison. Longtime inmates have lost
jobs, homes, and, often, their families. They carry the emotional scars of
prison and the Kafkaesque trip through the court system as well as the
stresses of returning to society. Some revert to past problems such as
alcohol and drug abuse.
"Emotionally and psychologically, it's a roller-coaster ride," said James
C. McCloskey, who heads Centurion Ministries, an organization whose
efforts have led to the exoneration of 36 people. "It's like they're a
Martian coming down to Earth."
Krone said his travels have been an enjoyable distraction. He recalled
carrying a banner in a death-penalty protest in Montreal, next to famous
activists Bianca Jagger and Catherine Deneuve, and looking back in wonder
at the thousands of people behind them. Life outside prison "was a whole
new world or other planet," Krone said in an interview at his home in
Dover, Pa.
"This is part of my therapy, I think, being able to speak about it," he
said.
The use of DNA testing is perhaps the most important advancement in modern
criminology: It helps catch the guilty and absolve the innocent. But the
increasing number of people who have now been exonerated nationwide for
all crimes - estimated to be about 350 since 1989 - raises societal
questions of whether and how to compensate inmates who have been cleared,
and how to smooth the transition back to society.
About 19 states have laws to compensate for the lost years. In
Pennsylvania, State Reps. Michael McGeehan and James Roebuck have
introduced legislation that would compensate those exonerated of crimes
who served time in Pennsylvania prisons, and pay for counseling and other
services to help ease the readjustment. Former prisoners also would get
$50,000 for every year spent on death row.
Krone, who returned home to York County after his release, has won a $1.4
million judgment from Maricopa County in Arizona, but he said that most of
it went to lawyer fees and other debts from his years of appeals.
Ernest Duff, executive director of the California-based Life After
Exoneration Program, started in 2003 to help the growing number of people
cleared of crimes, said that the newly exonerated often suffer from
depression, anxiety and posttraumatic stress.
"It's very, very lonely, very disorienting, and, for many, it's ultimately
frustrating to the point that some of them wish they were back inside,"
Duff said.
Krone, now 48, said he couldn't even sleep on a bed when he first got out
because he was accustomed to sleeping on a concrete or metal frame, and he
found himself subconsciously avoiding fences because prisoners were barred
from walking near fences. Even now, he said, he has a problem believing in
people.
But Krone, a postal worker with no criminal record who stayed in Phoenix
when he got out of the Air Force, said he was fortunate because he had the
unwavering support of family and friends back home who prayed, wrote, and
believed in him.
For people without that kind of support - especially those who were very
young when they went to prison - life can be very difficult. Although many
have little trouble attracting sympathetic women, relationships can be
difficult to manage on top of the other stresses of readjustment. One man
released from Florida's death row after 16 years, for example, was
sentenced last year to 2 years back in prison for assaulting his wife of 4
months.
Yarris, who grew up in Philadelphia and spent 22 years on Pennsylvania's
death row, said he felt as if he had been stuck in a "time warp" and
emerged from prison feeling much like the 20-year-old he was when he
entered.
"I paid for every stupid mistake I ever made 3 times over," Yarris told a
class at Princeton University last fall.
Yarris insists that he is not angry, though people who know him say that
he is struggling with resentment over the lost time - 8,057 days on death
row.
He has a federal lawsuit pending and in May he married a woman who had
heard him speak last year in England. The couple settled there while
Yarris writes a book.
He was featured in a documentary, "After Innocence," which won a special
jury prize at the Sundance Film Festival this year. He declined to comment
for this article, saying in an e-mail that he now prefers to "concentrate"
on the European news media so as not to take "time away from writing my
book." His Web site is www.nickyarris.com.
His mother, Jayne Yarris, said her son was a bundle of nerves when he was
released. He ate quickly, talked nonstop, and had to reacquaint himself
with all sorts of normal lifestyle matters. "It is really a rough, rough
time," she said.
She said she worried about his readjustment: "When you're pushed in the
door, they control your life. When they throw you out, they don't care."
She said England is a good change. "England knows him as Nick and not as
the one who got off death row."
Krone said that "a lot of anger and frustration" comes from being falsely
accused. He was convicted, got a new trial, then was convicted again
because of testimony that his crooked teeth had left a bite mark on the
victim's breast.
Krone said he had always been sensitive about his crooked teeth, so when
the "Extreme Makeover" TV show offered him a new smile and other cosmetic
surgery, he accepted the offer.
Krone wants to remain in the limelight for as long as possible to keep the
pressure on those who snagged him for a horrific crime that he did not
commit.
"I want to keep this going as long as I can until they acknowledge their
mistakes," he said.
(source: Philadelphia Inquirer)
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Please read and sign the petition located at:
http://www.abolition.fr/ecpm/french/petitions.php?ref=12
It is calling for the suspension of observer status for BOTH Japan and the
United States at the Council of Europe for their respective failures to
abolish the death penalty.
(source: ECPM, World Coalition Against the Death Penalty)
