[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----TEXAS, OHIO, N.J., FLA.

[Rick Halperin]

Dec. 9



TEXAS:

Please don't let them kill me


For my sins, pun intended, I am very rarely in agreement with most Vatican
standpoints on certain issues, particularly divorce, women priests and
celibacy. But when the president of the Pontifical Council for Justice and
Peace, Cardinal Renato Martino, said last month that the resolution
adopted by the United Nations General Assembly calling for an
international moratorium on the application of the death penalty is a
"relevant step" in the defence of life, I could not help applauding.
Although it only has symbolic value since it is not an agreement that
binds countries, the resolution was still a step in the right direction.

According to Cardinal Martino, the resolution, which was supported by 99
countries, with 52 voting against and 33 abstaining, "is very important,
and it is gratifying that so many Catholic organisations have worked for
this and thus they have the right to be pleased". There were of course a
lot more lay, non-religious and non-Catholic organisations backing it too.

"I am very happy," Cardinal Martino added, and you can't blame him. He was
the Holy See's representative to the United Nations for more than 16 years
and during that time it is known he collaborated in two efforts during the
1990s to achieve this moratorium. "We worked very hard and we were
discouraged when the votes were tallied and the project had to be
withdrawn because the numbers were just not there," he said. This time the
numbers were happily there and for this reason I am personally very
pleased on 2 counts: 1. The emerging new trend against capital punishment
all over the world, from China to the United States; and 2. The resolution
brings hope to thousands of people awaiting execution, one of them my
namesake, Charles Flores, a Death Row inmate since April 1999 at the
Terrell Unit in Livingston, Texas.

I was incredulous when a friend, either by cruel jest or a keen sense of
observation, forwarded me the Internet link to the Charles Flores website
which the Hispanic inmate runs from his Texas cell. As an avid
anti-capital punishment supporter, it was eerie, to say the least, to find
one's own name associated with such an awful and barbaric system of
punishment. Had my mum stuck to her original baptismal branding of
"Carmel" perhaps the individual effect would have been much less.

But she didn't and here I was trying to see what my Texan namesake was
going through.

This is his introduction: "My name is Charles Flores. I am a 29-year old
Hispanic male. I am 6ft 1in tall, heavily built with black hair and eyes
and I'm from Dallas, Texas. I am also an innocent man who has been
maliciously charged, prosecuted, found guilty and sentenced to die for a
capital murder I did not commit. The only thing I am guilty of is being a
poor, Hispanic male. I have been prosecuted by the Dallas County District
Attorney, who was willing to go to any lengths to convict me of this
crime, regardless of my innocence. The presiding District Court judge did
not care about justice, he was only concerned about appearing to be tuff
on crime and so he allowed this travesty of justice to go on in his
court."

I admit that the vast majority of death row inmates, wherever this inhuman
law is still active, would plead the same cause, screaming out their
innocence and claiming miscarriages of justice, but I must believe Charles
Flores. It is both an emotional assessment and another effective way of
furthering the anti-capital punishment campaign.

Flores insists there is no physical evidence that links him to the crime.
No fingerprints, no footprints, no DNA evidence (he gave blood for this
purpose), no hair samples, no clothing fibres, nothing at all. There is no
eyewitness to the murder and the murder weapon was never found. The rest
of this poor man's story is one whole series of judicial fiddling, Gestapo
tactics aimed at making witnesses, some of them facing criminal charges
themselves, change testimonial versions and blatant threats against his
own family, including his wife, mother and father, who were arrested on
separate occasions. On the day the crime was committed, a witness who
lived next door to the deceased is known to have told homicide
investigators she had seen someone at the residence of the deceased before
the crime took place. She gave them the following description: white male,
6ft tall, medium build, long dark hair, and dark eyes. But for the long
dark hair and an inch here and there, it could easily have been Charles
Flores from Malta, but certainly not Charles Flores from Texas. Only 3
days after the crime, the witness was shown a 6-photo line-up that
included an image of Flores but she did not select it. She was then
hypnotised "to refresh her memory" and shown the photos once more. Again,
she did not pick the Flores photo.

Now if such things can happen in what is purported to be the democratic
sanctuary of the United States, one shivers to even think what goes on
with regard to similar cases in places like China, Saudi Arabia and Iran.
Hence, all the more good reason for the UN moratorium resolution. The vote
last month was historic because it is, in essence, very strong moral
pressure and it points to a standard that has become important for all
countries that do not use the death penalty and hopefully have an impact
on laws in individual countries.

Incidentally, Charles Flores is an artist and, perhaps even more uncanny
from a personal perspective, writes poetry, all of which he shares with
anyone interested from his prison cell. If any reader would like to make a
donation to his campaign to raise world-wide recognition of his case and
to find enough funds to finally obtain a competent appeal counsel, or to
just offer moral support, his address is: Charles Flores #999299, Polunsky
Unit D.R., 12002 FM 350 South Livingston, Texas 77351, USA.

Please don't let them kill me.

(source: Charles, Flores, Malta Independent)






OHIO:

Ohio cases put lethal injection on trial


This week, Ohioans are supposed to learn how, exactly, our state kills
people.

Oh, we already know the basics: A 3-drug "cocktail" first induces sleep,
then paralysis, and finally heart failure. Quick and painless.

In theory, anyway.

Put it this way: When the state of Ohio executed Christopher Newton this
spring, it took so long  more than one hour, for a procedure that
typically takes 20 minutes  the 37-year-old convicted murderer was
actually given (no exaggeration) a bathroom break

And in the spring of 2006, it took more than an hour for the state to
dispatch Joe Clark, who at one point sat up and observed: "This don't
work."

On Tuesday, we're finally to learn the ins and outs of lethal injection as
practiced in Ohio. It's an early step in eyebrow-raising Lorain County
murder cases in which the constitutionality of lethal injection is under
deep scrutiny.

2 defendants in separate murder cases  Ruben Rivera and Ronald McCloud
asked Judge James Burge to rule on the legality of lethal injection.

What distinguishes their cases from other legal gyrations against the
death penalty is that the judge (a former defense attorney himself) agreed
to do this even before trial. And this fall, the Ohio Supreme Court backed
him up 5-2.

Toledo attorney Jeff Gamso is legal director of the American Civil
Liberties Union of Ohio and a defense attorney for Ruben Rivera. He'll be
in Judge Burges courtroom Tuesday to see if state corrections officials
obey the order to disclose details of the state's lethal-injection
methods.

"All the other cases  across the country are brought on behalf of somebody
who is on death row," said Mr. Gamso. "Here, we've got a guy who's not
even convicted.

Our argument is different: If Ohio's method of killing people is
unconstitutional, then you can't give him that sentence."

Executions nationwide are under a de facto moratorium until the U.S.
Supreme Court next year looks at a Kentucky case's argument that lethal
injection is so painful that its cruel and unusual punishment.

But in Ohio, Judge Burge's constitutional review cant proceed until the
lethal-injection protocol is finally and fully outlined. He ordered
delivery this week of records for each Ohio execution; lists of equipment
and supplies; descriptions of the handling and maintenance of those items,
and details about the qualifications and training of Ohios executioners.

"The judge's order told [corrections officials], 'You back your pick-up
truck to the court and unload all this stuff, or be prepared to explain
why I should't punish you for being in contempt," said Mr. Gamso, who
predicts further legal wrangling.

Ohio is hardly the only state piling up stories of problematic
lethal-injection executions. We are coming to realize, however slowly,
that it's downright hard  maybe impossible  to kill people "quickly and
painlessly," as state law mandates.

Sparring lawyers will continue legal maneuvers in courtrooms from coast to
coast, even as some of Joe Clark's last words echo on many different
levels: "This don't work."

(source: Toledo Blade)






NEW JERSEY:

Law clerks' most morbid duty eases


Ever since New Jersey restored capital punishment a quarter of a century
ago, the state Supreme Court has assigned at least one of its law clerks
each year to delve deep into the law of death.

The task for this recent law school graduate is to examine every detail of
each death penalty case that comes before the court -- from the crime
scene photographs to the nuances of capital punishment law.

Soon the job could disappear.

New Jersey is on track to become the first state in 40 years to abolish
the death penalty. The state Senate is scheduled to vote tomorrow on
legislation to replace that sentence with life in prison without parole.
The Assembly is slated to take up a similar measure this week. Gov. Jon
Corzine has called the change a move in the right direction.

And it would eliminate the need for the death penalty law clerk.

Created in recognition of the extraordinary care needed to examine the
facts and issues in cases in which a person has been sentenced to die, the
post is so unusual that not even the U.S. Supreme Court has such a
specialist.

"It's an extreme area of the law. Because the stakes are so high -- life
and death -- it tests our commitment to live by the rule of law," said
former state Attorney General John Farmer Jr., who served as one of the
first death penalty law clerks.

'FACTS AS THEY ARE'

The death penalty was reinstated in 1982, a decade after the U.S. Supreme
Court invalidated earlier capital punishment laws. The death clerk
position was created in the mid-1980s, as the state's highest court was
hearing the cases of Thomas Ramseur, who killed his girlfriend on the
street in Newark in front of two of her grandchildren, and Richard
Biegenwald, who shot a Camden teenage girl in the head and dumped her body
in Ocean County.

Ideology has never been part of the hiring process, said Justice Virginia
Long, who hired the last two death clerks.

Deborah Poritz, who oversaw the clerks during her decade as chief justice,
said she always told them: "Your job is to present the facts impartially
and the facts in the record. Your job is not to shade anything, just to
present the facts as they are."

Occasionally one would produce a memo "where the clerk's opinion was
evident, but most of the time they were amazingly good at it," Poritz
said.

Over the years, there have been 29 death penalty law clerks. The job
currently pays $51,493 a year.

Farmer took the post in 1986, just as the court was to overturn Ramseur's
and Biegenwald's sentences but uphold the law. In some ways, the lessons
about the law and life he learned during that clerkship helped shape his
career.

"I learned more law in that time than I had in all of law school. In some
ways, it was a life-changing experience," said Farmer, who after serving
as attorney general became the chief aide to former Gov. Tom Kean on the
9/11 commission.

EVERY DETAIL COUNTS

When the court reviews a death penalty case, the clerk must conduct a
careful study of every bit of information in the case -- reading lengthy
trial transcripts, scouring briefs, looking at evidence and even reviewing
crime scene photos. Then the clerk researches the legal issues at stake
and writes a memo to all of the justices. After they reach their decision,
the clerk will also work with the justices writing the majority and
dissenting opinions if more research is necessary.

The gravity of the issues at stake in death penalty cases means the work
is often intense, the clerks say.

"You really got inside the cases," said Farmer.

Added David Beckett, who served as a clerk in the 1980s and is now with
Gov. Jon Corzine's administration: "It was pretty gruesome at times."

Brian Zavin, one of two death penalty law clerks in 2001, worked on the
case of Peter Papasavvas, who robbed, sexually assaulted and strangled
64-year-old Mildred Place in her Woodbridge home. Zavin often found
himself exhausted from the job of absorbing all the details of the crimes
and making sure his opinions about the death penalty stayed out of his
memos.

"There was definitely an emotional aspect to the work that was difficult,"
he said. In 2002, the Supreme Court overturned Papasavvas' death sentence
after finding it was disproportionate to sentences for equally brutal
murders.

The job is also one of sifting through an avalanche of paper, because the
court routinely relaxes its rules to allow longer filings in death penalty
cases. Papers filed in such cases routinely fill dozens of volumes.

"Other clerks made fun of us. We tended to turn in these memoranda that
looked like a book," said Zavin, who now works for the Maryland Public
Defender's Office.

Perhaps no case presented quite the logistical hurdle to the clerks and
court as Robert Marshall's appeal. Marshall was sentenced to death for
arranging the murder of his wife, Maria, in 1984 for the insurance money.

Marshall raised more than 400 issues in court papers. None could be
ignored or dismissed lightly, said Stephen Townsend, Supreme Court clerk.
To manage things, the death clerks had to write memos about the issues in
batches, he said.

"Every single one of those issues was looked into and reported on by the
death penalty law clerks," said Townsend.

FADING SYSTEM

Recognizing the grueling nature of the work, the justices have always made
sure the clerk has at least a few non-capital matters to handle.

And the pace of the job has slowed considerably in recent years. New
Jersey now has just eight people on death row, and since most have been
there for more than a decade, their appeals are running down.

"There aren't as many matters coming to the court," said Townsend.

Halfway into the current court term, this year's clerk, Emma
Freudenberger, hasn't gotten to do much death penalty work yet.

"So far she's done just a civil case because there hasn't been anything
ready," said Long.

(source: The Star-Ledger)






FLORIDA:

What if he had been executed?


It was unquestionably a heinous crime, the kind that one could see leading
to the death penalty. Tina Heins, Chad's sister-in-law, was pregnant when
someone stabbed her 27 times.

The jury had deliberated for hours before deciding that, yes, that someone
was Chad Heins. But when it came to a sentencing, the jury quickly
recommended life, not death.

12 years later, that decision has new significance.

On Tuesday, Heins, now 33, became a free man.

In light of DNA testing of physical evidence - which matched someone other
than Heins - murder and attempted rape charges were dropped.

Afterward, one of his Jacksonville lawyers, Robert Link, left the
courtroom and headed to the office of County Judge Brent Shore. In 1996,
Shore was one of Heins' defense attorneys.

"He congratulated me," Link said. "But I told him, 'This might never
happened if you hadn't gotten him a life sentence.'"

"By now," said Robert Beckham, another local lawyer who represented Heins,
"he could have been executed."

And there lies my qualms with the death penalty.

For me, it isn't a matter of whether it's an effective deterrent, or
whether the method of execution is humane. In something like the case of a
couple buried alive, I have trouble mustering any concern about whether
the killers' punishment will be "cruel or unusual."

It isn't so much a belief that a civilized society cannot execute a guilty
person as it is a belief that we cannot execute an innocent one.

I've heard the argument that if the cost of killing the Ted Bundys of the
world includes killing a few innocent people, so be it. You have to break
a few eggs to make an omelet, right?

Through the years, we've undoubtedly broken some eggs. Heins is among more
than 200 people nationwide, and the ninth in Florida, freed by DNA
testing.

Our justice system isn't perfect. Never will be. So with the death
penalty, the question becomes: What level of potential error is
acceptable?

The jury in the Heins case seemed to wrestle with that, deciding to
convict, then quickly recommending life.

That was Dec. 27, 1996.

In Florida, the current average length of time on Death Row before
execution is 12.19 years.

If Heins had been sentenced to death, and if the new evidence hadn't led
to the dismissal of charges, it's conceivable that about now Heins could
have been deciding what to have for a last meal.

Instead, Tuesday night, he went to a local steakhouse and had a first
dinner. Filet and fries, berries and cream for dessert.

When the steak came, Heins started to reach for it with his hands, then
looked up and apologized. He explained that he hadn't used a knife and
fork in more than a decade.

The next day, nearly 14 years after the murder, Chad Heins headed home to
Wisconsin.

Some have asked: What if he was guilty? What would that say about our
justice system?

Heins, who has always maintained his innocence, waived his speedy trial
rights. So the case can be reopened any time.

But with physical evidence - from DNA to a fingerprint in a bloody sink -
now pointing to someone else, it raises the flip side of that question.

What if he always was innocent? And what if he had been executed? What
would that say about our justice system?

(source: Times-Union)