July 11 TEXAS: YOU V. TEXAS----Defendants, whether innocent or guilty, go up against a justice system stacked against them. U.S. Rep. Ted Poe, when he was a state district judge in Harris County, once returned from a trip to the Soviet Union and addressed prospective jurors: "Here we have a justice system," he said. "Over there they have just a system." Even in today's post-Soviet Russia, judges and prosecutors tend to do what the Kremlin wants them to do. Here, judges are independent of the executive branch, and every resident is guaranteed a trial by jury. However, the criminal justice system in Harris County in no way can be considered a level playing field. The prosecution has access to the investigative resources of cooperative police departments eager for convictions. It has its own investigators. The district attorney can devote as many experienced prosecutors and as much time to a case as he deems necessary. In almost all criminal cases, the defendant has no money for even one lawyer. The court appoints one for him. Appointed defense lawyers might be inexperienced or just not good at what they do. They might be paid so little that they can afford to spend only a few hours on the case. Sometimes appointed counsel will ask the court for money to hire an investigator or conduct independent analysis of the physical evidence; frequently they won't. The highest Texas court for criminal matters has ruled that it is tolerable for a state-appointed defense lawyer to sleep through stretches of the trial, even when the defendant receives the death penalty. Some judges hire contract lawyers to represent indigent defendants. This assures competence, but in the end the defense lawyers are still working for and dependent for their pay upon the judge, who might put quick resolution of cases above taking every measure to see that justice is done. Most cases are resolved by plea bargain. The prosecution offers defendants a shorter sentence or lesser charge in exchange for a guilty plea. This results in a system in which an innocent person asserting his innocence, with minimal assistance from counsel, stands a good chance of spending more time in prison than a guilty person admitting guilt. Many jurisdictions in the United States level the playing field by establishing a public defender's office with staff and resources similar to those of the prosecution. Ideally, Harris County should have such an office, which could hire defense lawyers for the poor and take responsibility for their competence and success in trial. Unfortunately, Commissioner's Court and the Legislature prefer to avoid the expense. Richard "Racehorse" Haynes, one of Houston's most celebrated defense attorneys, said the wealthy can pick from many talented lawyers, and judges generally appoint qualified counsel for indigents. The middle-class defendant, he said, "who has a house and a car and an outboard motor that doesn't work," is in the worst spot. Many judges seeking re-election tell the Chronicle editorial board that the lawyers they appoint to cases are frequently better than the lawyers hired privately by those who cannot afford the best. As long as counsel for the defense must operate on a shoestring against well-funded law enforcement agencies and the district attorney's office, as long as defense counsel fail to demand independent verification of scientific evidence and contest false and inaccurate testimony from prosecution expert witnesses, the quality of justice here will be less than it should be in a justice system that is meant to be more than just a system. (source: Editorial, Houston Chronicle) *********************** No escaping prison woes The warning came early this year as lawmakers gathered for their regular session: Texas prisons were filling faster than expected, and the state would have to find other places to house inmates in a matter of months. Texas already devotes more space to prisons than any other state, and lawmakers declared that no new prisons were needed. Instead, they spent the entire spring trying to make probation a better alternative to imprisonment. 5 months later, a veto from Gov. Rick Perry put them back where they started - with one key difference. Texas prisons are no longer nearing capacity. "Our prisons are full," said Sen. John Whitmire, D-Houston, chairman of the Senate Committee on Criminal Justice. The prison system is not yet facing the sort of crowding crisis it has seen in the past, and its leaders have bought time by renting jail space from counties. But as Texas runs out of places to put its growing inmate population, it soon will have to decide whether to build new prisons or find ways to send fewer offenders to the ones it has. Whitmire, for one, believes the state has enough prison beds if they are used wisely. "I will continue to oppose building until convinced otherwise," he said. Added House Corrections Chairman Jerry Madden: "We're not going to be building, I don't see, any time in the next couple of years." A quarter-century ago, Texas prisons could accommodate fewer than 27,000 inmates. Today, with room for more than 155,000 inmates, the Texas prison system is, by design, the nation's largest. California prisons house more inmates - nearly 164,000 at last count - but they were intended for half that number. Texas prison administrators dislike exceeding 97.5 % of their available capacity - about 151,400 inmates - for safety reasons. As of June 30, Texas prisons housed 151,553. The next day, the state began moving 600 inmates to rented space in the Bowie and Jefferson county jails. The state has set aside $62 million to lease up to 3,500 beds over the next two years, Whitmire said. The county jails where they will stay typically offer less work, education and treatment for inmates than state prisons. Prison building, too, is a costly endeavor. A new 2,250-bed unit with a building for administrative-segregation offenders would cost just under $200 million, according to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. After a prison is built, each inmate it houses costs the state more than $14,600 annually. "The state can't afford a prison," Whitmire said, "and I don't think we need it for public-safety purposes." Early this year, a newly released state report warned that Texas prisons were almost full. Lawmakers responded with a push to rewrite probation rules. They hoped an overhauled probation system would better supervise and rehabilitate nonviolent offenders, possibly keeping tens of thousands out of prison altogether. As part of the overhaul, lawmakers moved to halve maximum probation terms for many offenses. That prompted a veto from the governor. Perry objected to shortening probationary terms for those who assault police officers, injure children and repeatedly abuse their spouses, among other offenses. "Attempts to improve this legislation that would have provided greater public safety were rebuffed, ensuring a flawed piece of legislation that would endanger public safety made it to my desk instead of one that could have made much-needed improvements to our probation system," the governor wrote at the time. While the reforms failed, the state budget put an additional $55 million toward probation. Meanwhile, lawmakers are looking for other ways to ease prison crowding. Madden wondered whether there's room for change in the state's criminal code. Each legislative session, there's a flurry of bills seeking to establish new crimes or stiffen penalties for existing ones. The state has outlawed dozens of activities in the past decade, including installing a tracking device on someone else's car, soliciting a child to join a street gang and filing a false missing-person report. "Some of the stuff that we criminalize, maybe we shouldn't," said Madden, R-Richardson, although he is not yet targeting any specific offense. He's not the only one to suggest that at least part of the solution may lie in policy change, not prison building. "Building more prisons is a call the criminal justice people need to make," said Dee Simpson, state political director for the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, which represents prison guards. "But the policies are flawed. We're putting a lot of people in (prisons) where it's questionable whether they need to be there or not. "It's putting a lot of stress on the system." (source: San Antonio Express-News) MISSOURI: Death penalty eyed for man charged in shooting Prosecutors may seek the death penalty against a man charged with shooting a suburban St. Louis police sergeant to death. Kevin Johnson, 19, of Kirkwood was charged Saturday with 1st-degree murder in Tuesdays death of Kirkwood Sgt. William McEntee. McEntee was shot while he sat in his patrol car after responding to a complaint about fireworks. Johnson, who surrendered to authorities Friday, is also charged with 5 other felony counts: 1 count each of 1st-degree robbery and 1st-degree assault and 3 counts of armed criminal action. St. Louis County Prosecuting Attorney Robert McCulloch announced the charges at a news conference several hours after McEntees funeral. "It was a personal relief for me to at least have him in custody prior to the day the family had to go through the funeral," McCulloch said. "I'm sure it was a comfort to everyone involved." Johnson was being held without bail. Relatives have said he shot McEntee because he was despondent over his own brother's death - from natural causes - just 90 minutes before the shooting. (source: Associated Press) NEW YORK: The death-penalty debate goes on----Although it's gone for now, the death penalty's short-lived tenure has cost the state $200 million and has sparked comment on life without parole Some people consider New York State's death-penalty statute a $200 million waste of time and money. The death penalty is dead now. No one has been, or will be, executed under this almost 10-year-old law. Besides the cost of administering the law, the statute also raised the expectations of many murder victims' families - expectations now dashed. But the law has had one huge effect. Of the 442 1st-degree murder cases decided in New York State, 153 killers have been sentenced to "life without parole," including 11 from Western New York. The state has locked them up and thrown away the key. Before Sept. 1, 1995, when the law took effect, even the most cold-blooded killer had a chance to be paroled. You could murder a police officer and not get more than 25 years to life. "I think the statute did serve a purpose," Erie County District Attorney Frank J. Clark said, despite the $200 million price tag and the dashed hopes of victims' families. "It did create life without parole. It did what the statute should have done - remove these people from society forever. That couldn't be done under the old statute." In Erie County alone, 9 convicted or admitted murderers will die in prison. The life-without-parole list also includes Michael W. Grinnell, 33, the admitted killer of 2 fellow magazine salesmen in Genesee County. One moment, almost 9 years ago in Genesee County, helps explain why Grinnell will spend the rest of his life in prison. "Hang 'em" On the night of Aug. 28, 1996, Grinnell and a co-defendant were brought to the Town of Stafford courthouse to be arraigned, when they were greeted by a mob carrying signs and chanting, "Stone them." "The one image I'll never forget till the day I die was a little old lady swinging a noose and yelling, "Hang 'em,'" Grinnell said in an interview inside Attica Correctional Facility. "It will forever be imprinted on my mind." District attorneys across the state have cited community outrage as one factor in their decision to seek the death penalty. That courthouse scene demonstrates how outraged the community was over the beating and stoning of the 18- and 20-year-old magazine salesmen after an argument over a poorly conceived robbery plot. Genesee County prosecutors sought the death penalty against Grinnell, who later pleaded guilty to 1st-degree murder and was sentenced to life without parole. That courthouse scene, when he was afraid to get out of the police car, taught Grinnell how the community felt. "I have no doubt that if I had been found guilty, I would have been given the death penalty," he said. "It's awfully conservative in this neck of the woods." His parents didn't want him to risk the possibility of the death penalty; he also thought he had a good chance of a lesser sentence than life without parole. Grinnell, a well-spoken man from Massillon, Ohio, who reads everything from Shakespeare to Stephen King, refuses to blame anyone for what he did. He believes the long-term influence of his former cocaine use twisted his values. But he refuses to deny his guilt. "I bear full responsibility for the deaths of both boys," he said. Grinnell, interviewed in an Attica visiting room, also believes that if New York didn't have a death penalty, he wouldn't face life without parole. "They used the death penalty, the worst possible threat they had, to stop me from going to trial. To deny anyone the most fundamental American right, just to save the state some time and money, I can't wrap my mind around that concept." Both sides in the death-penalty debate can argue about the cost. Opponents cite the $200 million-plus cost of prosecuting and defending these cases, including more than $1 million reportedly spent in the Grinnell case. Supporters, including Sen. Dale M. Volker, R-Depew, argue just the opposite: "We have saved millions of dollars on trials by people pleading to life without parole." To Grinnell, life without parole is cruel and unusual punishment. Every day, he sees fellow inmates who have committed more heinous, plotted crimes who may get out in 15 years. One of his lawyers, Buffalo defense attorney Mark J. Mahoney, believes that before a person is locked up forever, the burden should be on the state to show that he is incapable of ever being rehabilitated. "I don't think they would meet that standard with Michael," he said. Grinnell, who works overtime at his metal-shop job and plays on 2 softball teams at Attica, said he still carries a tremendous amount of guilt over what he did. Even if he were allowed, he wouldn't have anything to say to his 2 victims' families. "How do you approach somebody after you did that to their child? How do you have the gall to ask them for forgiveness?" he said. A bargaining chip An 18-year political stalemate, dating back to 1977, kept New York State without a "life without parole" possibility for convicted murderers. For 18 years in a row, former Govs. Mario M. Cuomo and Hugh Carey vetoed the death penalty. Cuomo couldn't persuade the Legislature to pass his alternative: life sentences with no chance of parole for the most-heinous crimes. Political observers claimed the Republican-controlled State Senate, which led the fight for the death penalty, didn't want to settle for half a loaf - life without parole. So that concept didn't become law until the death penalty took effect 10 years ago. Now the "death" part of the death-penalty law is gone, leaving the "life without parole" provision intact. But can these definite life sentences survive, without what Mahoney called the "hammer" of the death penalty hanging over defendants' heads? "From a prosecutor's standpoint, there was no question that the potential of the death penalty provided a tactical advantage," Clark said. "You could use it as a chip to get life without parole. Now that chip is gone." Grinnell and three other men charged with 1st-degree murder in Western New York pleaded guilty before being sentenced to life without parole. But seven other killers have received definite life sentences the more traditional way - going to trial and being convicted. No silver bullet Few people have been so intimately involved with the death penalty as David Kaczynski. His brother, "Unabomber" Theodore J. Kaczynski, escaped a possible federal death sentence in a plea deal that ultimately led to 4 life sentences without the chance of parole. David Kaczynski, a longtime Schenectady resident who led authorities to his brother, now heads a group called New Yorkers Against the Death Penalty. "I think the realization that we've spent so much money and gotten nothing out of it in New York has rung the bell for a lot of people," he said. "I think the people of New York have learned that it wasn't a silver bullet that was the answer to the crime problem." While he believes public opinion in New York over the death penalty has changed dramatically in the last 10 years, Kaczynski still fears that Gov. George E. Pataki and other supporters could revive the law next year, an election year. Kaczynski pointed out that any concerns over public safety are answered when a person is sentenced to life without parole. "I have a brother serving life without parole, and I have never questioned that sentence," he said. He also suggested his brother's life-without-parole sentence allowed all parties in the case to move on with their lives. "If he had gotten the death penalty, our whole family and the victims' families would have spent the next 15 years dealing with the criminal-justice system and all its rusty wheels," he said. "As soon as you have life without parole, people can take their focus off the criminal-justice system and move on with their lives." Escaping death It would be hard to imagine a more calculated, cold-hearted murder than the killing of City of Tonawanda native Jill Russell Cahill. She was beaten into a coma with an aluminum baseball bat by her estranged husband, James Cahill III. Then, while she recuperated in a Syracuse hospital, he donned a wig and a disguise, sneaked into her hospital room and gave her a fatal dose of cyanide in October 1998. The killing seemed to call out for the death penalty. The act outraged a community. It was premeditated. And the evidence was strong. Prosecutors sought the death penalty, because the killing seemed to fit two of the roughly dozen criteria that can lead to 1st-degree murder charges - a killing done to silence a witness and a killing carried out during another felony, the burglary inside the hospital. The jury spoke twice: "guilty" and then "death." But the State Court of Appeals overturned the death sentence, ruling that James Cahill didn't kill his wife to prevent her from testifying and that the case wasn't a felony murder. As a result, Cahill was resentenced for 2nd-degree murder, given 37 1/2 years to life. Jill Cahill's loved ones don't expect him ever to get out, but they would feel a lot better if he were given life without parole. "To think he would have the possibility to step outside again is outrageous, considering what he did," said her sister, Debra Jaeger. Jill Cahill's family has had to endure her killing, his arrest and trial, the appeal, the overturning of the sentence and the new sentence. After all that, he conceivably could be a free man some day. "The law didn't work for us," Jaeger said. "We didn't have a burning desire to see him get an injection. But we thought with his conviction and his sentence, that we could move on, that justice was done. But seven years later, we had to go through it all over again." It's a curious aspect of the death-penalty law: A law that promised to provide closure for families has, instead, left some of them hanging for years. What's next? No one knows whether there's enough public support in New York to revive the wounded death-penalty law. After the Court of Appeals struck down a key sentencing provision in the law, the Assembly Codes Committee in April rejected attempts to correct that constitutional flaw. Clark questions whether the attempt to revive the death penalty will be successful. "If I had to take my dollar and put it on red or black, I'd say no death penalty," he said. Volker, a key supporter of the death penalty, believes it will be reinstated next year, an election year. He does have one misgiving. "In all candor, the present makeup of the Court of Appeals will find a way to get around that, unless we get a new Court of Appeals," he said. There does seem almost universal sentiment for "life without parole," a chance to make sure the worst killers are removed from the streets forever. So far, though, a flawed law has left plenty of inequities. People can argue whether Michael Grinnell deserves to be jailed for life. But if he does, what sense does it make that Cahill could get out on parole? Whether the death penalty is revived or not, the best law will reserve the strongest punishment for the worst killings. As Suffolk University Law professor Russell G. Murphy told an Assembly hearing on the death penalty in January: "If there is to be a death penalty in New York, it must be effective in singling out the "worst of the worst' murderers and subjecting them to the law's ultimate punishment. Sadly, that did not happen in the (Cahill) case." (source: The Buffalo News) INDIANA: Corcoran execution state-assisted suicide Let me add NAMI Fort Waynes voice to the outrage brewing over the execution of Joe Corcoran by the state of Indiana. Such an act will simply be government-assisted suicide. Corcoran is so ill with schizophrenia that he is not capable of participating with any rationality in his own defense. The newest development of his waiver of state clemency rights punctuates his inability to formulate any kind of self-defense. He wants to die, and the state seems ready to assist. Is the state going to assist everyone who has a terminal illness and wants to die? Is the state now going to assist everyone who is suicidal and wants to die? Maybe citizens should begin to form a line. We can become the capital of state-assisted death. Every aspect of Corcorans life shouts out to us that he is extremely mentally ill with paranoid schizophrenia. The murders of his parents, brother and friends were not planned, rational crimes and gained him nothing. He sat on the step waiting for police to arrive. He was unable to consent to the rational choice of life in prison in a plea agreement before his trial. There is no doubt that Corcoran is out of touch with reality. He has a brain illness that renders him less rational than the most severely retarded or brain-damaged. I watched him during his trial, which he did not participate in and during which he was totally remote. He is unable to consent to participate in any appeals for clemency. Every aspect of his life since his teens and even during his incarceration has been consistent with the most serious mental illness. Such very ill people are the most likely to be executed in the U.S. The probability of execution in this country is directly related to poverty, race and serious mental illness. We always say the death penalty is for the worst of the worst. In this country it seems that it is for those who are the sickest. If the state follows through with this execution, the state will fail all of us, and justice will be denied. Every one of us should be afraid. (source: Opinion, Kathleen Bayes is president of NAMI Fort Wayne. She wrote this for The Journal Gazette: Fort Wayne Journal Gazette)
