Sept. 19


CALIFORNIA:

BOOK REVIEW----Caryl Chessman's infamous death row case is revisited


'When You Read This, They Will Have Killed Me'

: The Life and Redemption of Caryl Chessman, Whose Execution Shook
America---Alan Bisbort Carroll & Graf: 414 pp., $27.95

'Cell 2455, Death Row': A Condemned Man's Own Story-----Caryl Chessman
Introduction by Joseph E. Longstreth and Alan Bisbort----Carroll & Graf:
362 pp., $15.95, paper


ON Jan. 23, 1948, near the intersection of Sixth Street and Vermont
Avenue, a 26-year-old career criminal named Caryl Chessman was arrested
after a high-speed car chase and subsequently charged as Los Angeles' "Red
Light Bandit," a thief who preyed on couples in parked cars. Although the
robberies were minor, the Bandit forced two women to have oral sex with
him, telling one that he was motivated by an unfaithful wife. Because
these women had been forcibly taken from their cars, Chessman was tried
for kidnapping under California's Little Lindbergh law. He was sentenced
to the gas chamber  kidnapping was a capital offense  and sent to death
row at San Quentin, where he spent the next 12 years.

Chessman's story should have ended there  or more accurately, with his
execution, originally scheduled for June 1952. That it didn't is a
testament to his tenacity, his power to persevere. By the time he was
finally put to death on May 2, 1960, he was the world's most famous
convict, a symbol for death penalty opponents everywhere. He had appeared
on the cover of Time and was the author of four books, including "Cell
2455, Death Row," a bestseller in 1954.

"His case drew support from all corners of the globe and all areas of
human endeavor," writes Alan Bisbort in " 'When You Read This, They Will
Have Killed Me': The Life and Redemption of Caryl Chessman, Whose
Execution Shook America," "from the sacred (Pope John, Albert Schweitzer,
Episcopal Bishop James A. Pike) to the profane (Steve Allen, Shirley
MacLaine, Marlon Brando), from the cerebral (Aldous Huxley, Christopher
Isherwood, William F. Buckley) to the mundane." Yet half a century later,
in a culture still beset by the issue of capital punishment, he is
essentially forgotten, a footnote to history.

" 'When You Read This, They Will Have Killed Me' " is an attempt to put
the Chessman case in context. For Bisbort, a Connecticut journalist, it's
a story defined by contradictions, not least the one between the sentence
and the crime. Chessman always maintained his innocence in this case, and
given the forthrightness with which he detailed his life as a criminal,
it's impossible not to give some credence to that claim.

Even if he was the Red Light Bandit, to be sentenced to death for a series
of robberies in which no one was killed was unfair and extreme. During his
early years on death row, this inequity consumed him; he was a hard case,
a discipline problem, a man with no way out. Only after his first stay of
execution did Chessman have what Bisbort calls a "Road-to-Damascus,
life-changing moment," when Warden Harley Teets challenged him to make
something of himself.

Here, we have a second contradiction  that even for a man on death row,
prison might offer some hope of rehabilitation. With Teets' encouragement,
Chessman produced the manuscript that would become "Cell 2455, Death Row"
and got an agent, Joseph Longstreth, who would champion the condemned
man's work.

Yet after the book appeared, and Chessman became a cause clbre, officials,
including Teets, rescinded his right not only to publish but to write. In
one inflammatory comment, Clarence Linn, an assistant to then-California
Atty. Gen. Pat Brown, argued, "The prison people can take the manuscript
out in the back yard and burn it if they choose to do so."

All of this is quite compelling, highlighting Chessman's struggles not
just to live but to express himself.

What's missing, though, is any sense of interiority, of what drove
Chessman, before and after he came to death row. That's the most
fundamental contradiction: how this man, so smart in so many ways, could
also be so dumb. Urged to cop a plea, he defended himself in the Red Light
Bandit trial, almost as if, Bisbort notes, he was "working in league with
the prosecution." For Bisbort, this is a sign of arrogance, but rather
than look deeper he chooses to frame Chessman as a mythic figure, a 20th
century Franois Villon.

It's a tempting conceit but, in the end, overstated, as is much of
Bisbort's writing in this book. At one point, he likens the San Quentin
gas chamber to the Nazi death camps. Elsewhere, he writes that "[w]hile
the word 'gulag' may be too fraught with contemporary political overtones
to be entirely fair, Chessman's efforts to write his book against the
wishes of the state recalls the struggles faced by Alexandr Solzhenitsyn
during his years in a Siberian gulag as a guest of the Soviet Union."

I agree that Chessman was probably railroaded in this case, and didn't
deserve such punishment either way. Still, to compare a criminal  even one
on death row  to a man imprisoned for his political beliefs under the
harshest prison camp conditions is not just ridiculous but irresponsible,
and it undermines the credibility of the book.

" 'When You Read This, They Will Have Killed Me' " is being published in
conjunction with a reissue of the long out-of-print "Cell 2455, Death
Row," and it's instructive to read the two works side-by-side. Featuring
an introductory essay written by Longstreth in 1970 (and updated by
Bisbort), Chessman's book is searing, relentless: a countermyth, if you
will. That's not what you'd expect from a jailhouse memoir, especially one
written while its author was fighting for his life. Chessman, however,
seems almost pathologically willing to reveal himself, even when it casts
him in a negative light.

During one early run-in, he absconds with a rival's girlfriend; "I'm
taking the blonde here," he growls in an eerie prelude to the Red Light
crimes. Yet paradoxically, this only enhances his authority, our sense
that he is telling us the truth. Even when the book veers into hyperbole
as when he asserts that a 1943 prison escape was motivated by the desire
to go to Germany and assassinate Adolf Hitler  it's a hyperbole that feels
authentic to who he is.

More to the point, "Cell 2455, Death Row" offers an unsentimental portrait
of its author's troubled history, from his criminal activities to his
battles in the courts. Most affecting is his account of death row's
psychological toll. "You don't let anyone know how you feel," he writes.
"You grin, hideously perhaps, but still you grin. Sure, you're ready to
die; you've been ready for a long time. Only you're still obstinate. You
still aren't ready to let them kill you. You aren't ready to let them win.
Sometimes some small inner voice tries to tell you that you still have a
future, and that is when you want to laugh uproariously. Because this is
your future. The gas chamber is your future (at least symbolically). Death
is your future. And the Death Row is all there is for you."

Ultimately, the Chessman saga raises fundamental questions about our
humanity, about crime and punishment, about how we treat the lowest of the
low. Yes, Chessman was a bad guy, but on death row, it appears, he managed
to renew his soul. In the process, he may have helped jump-start the
1960s, with many budding radicals protesting on his behalf.

For the cynics, Chessman was a sham, a put-on artist. Yet if "Cell 2455,
Death Row"  and to a lesser extent " 'When You Read This, They Will Have
Killed Me' "  is any indication, there's something more at work. As
Chessman put it in a 1955 magazine piece: "Long after I should have been
dead, I wrote myself back to sanity."

(source: Los Angeles Times)






KENTUCKY:

Jury Recommends Death Sentence in Meece Trial


Jurors spent 3 hours deliberating Monday evening in the sentencing phase
of the William Meece murder trial that has lasted 4 weeks. The jury
returned with a verdict shortly after 8:30 pm and recommended Meece be
sentenced to death.

Friday, Bill Meece was convicted of brutally murdering Columbia
Veterinarian Joseph Wellnitz, his wife Beth and son Dennis more than 13
years ago. Meece was found guilty on all charges, including 3 counts of
murder, burglary in the 1st degree and robbery in the 1st degree.

The Commonwealth was seeking the ultimate penalty, death. While the
defense hoped for a lighter sentence of life in prison without the
possibility of parole.

Prosecutors say they hope this will help bring closure for family members
and friends of the Wellnitz's.

Final sentencing is set for Friday, October 20, 2006 at 10:00 am in Warren
Circuit Court.

(source: WBKO News)






NORTH DAKOTA:

Defense rests case in penalty phase of Rodriguez trial


Attorneys for Alfonso Rodriguez Jr. called his sister and his young niece
and nephew among their final witnesses in the penalty phase of his trial,
setting the stage for jurors to decide later this week whether he should
be sentenced to death or life in prison for the killing of Dru Sjodin.

Rodriguez, 53, a convicted sex offender from Crookston, Minn., was
convicted late last month of kidnapping resulting in Sjodin's death. His
attorneys rested their case Monday in the penalty phase, after five days
of testimony in trying to persuade jurors to spare his life.

Rodriguez, who has shown little emotion throughout the trial, appeared to
smile a couple of times during testimony about times he played games with
the children of his youngest sister, Ileanna Noyes.

"They adored him. They loved him," Noyes said of her 12-year-old daughter
and 13-year-old niece.

Before Monday's hearing, U.S. District Judge Ralph Erickson warned
Rodriguez's lawyers about allowing witnesses to testify about their
affection for the defendant. Later, the judge told defense attorney Robert
Hoy to change the subject after Noyes continued to talk about feelings for
her brother. Prosecution witnesses had been under similar restrictions.

Defense attorneys believe several factors favor a life sentence. They say
Rodriguez was sexually abused as a child and may have suffered brain
damage from farm chemicals, leading to psychological and behavioral
problems. Rodriguez's mother, Dolores, and two other sisters testified on
his behalf last week.

The verdict by the federal court jury of seven women and five men must be
unanimous for Rodriguez to be sentenced to death. North Dakota does not
have the death penalty, but it is allowed in federal cases, and is carried
out at a federal prison in Terre Haute, Ind.

Before resting their case Monday afternoon, defense attorneys displayed a
letter they sent to prosecutors on March 8. It contained Rodriguez's offer
to plead guilty and waive his right to all appeals. U.S. Attorney Drew
Wrigley objected to placing the letter into evidence, but Erickson read it
to the jury.

Wrigley said prosecutors would offer rebuttal evidence on Tuesday.
Erickson said he expects jury deliberations to begin after closing
arguments on Wednesday morning.

Noyes, of Euclid, Minn., also testified that her husband, Daniel, had
participated in searches for Sjodin after the University of North Dakota
student disappeared from the parking lot of a Grand Forks shopping mall in
November 2003. Noyes said she looked for Sjodin on her own, but never
participated in an official search after "I was told it wouldn't look
right."

Authorities said Sjodin, 22, of Pequot Lakes, Minn., was beaten, raped and
stabbed. Her body was found in April 2004 in a ravine near Rodriguez's
boyhood home.

Noyes said she and other family members tried to get Rodriguez into a
halfway house when he was released from a Moose Lake, Minn., prison in May
2003, after serving more than 20 years for assaulting women. State
officials said he was not eligible for a halfway house, and the family
could not afford that option, she said.

"That was out of the question," Noyes said.

Rodriguez's sister said she believed her brother needed supervision
because he was a repeat sex offender who had been in jail most of his
adult life.

"You can't throw a man out into society who hasn't been there for 28 years
and expect him to be successful," she said.

Earlier Monday, a Moose Lake prison psychologist said Rodriguez asked to
see her in January 2003, while he was still in prison, and told her he was
frightened about being released.

Rita St. George testified she was worried Rodriguez might commit more
crimes after his release, but said she received a "hand slap" after trying
to recommend civil commitment proceedings. A follow-up interview with him
in February eased some of those fears, she said, but she wished she had
raised more questions with her superiors about Rodriguez's release.

In January 2003, she said, Rodriguez told her he was "very frightened." A
month later, she said, he was doing better and "he had no thoughts of
hurting himself or others."

St. George argued with Rodriguez's attorney, Richard Ney, over the wording
of her statements in an earlier deposition, and at one point told Ney he
had been confrontational and degrading.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Norm Anderson asked St. George whether, in her
follow-up interview with Rodriguez on Feb. 12, 2003, Rodriguez had said he
wanted to remain in prison. She said he did not, and that he seemed
logical and coherent.

Rodriguez's niece and nephew testified that they liked spending time with
their uncle after he was released from prison, and had visited him in
jail. 3 people who work at the Cass County Jail described Rodriguez as a
model prisoner who had no disciplinary problems. Rodriguez has been held
at the jail for the last 2 years.

Sister Yvonne Nelson, a Fargo nun, said she has visited Rodriguez about
100 times in the Cass County Jail. She said he was "reticent" in
discussing religion when she first met him, but he "seemed more
comfortable as time went on."

(source: Associated Press)

************

Rodriguez defense says he asked for help in 2003----The defense concluded
its case for giving Rodriguez a life sentence, and the jury soon will
begin its final deliberations.


A defense attorney sparred with a defense witness Monday over why
Minnesota prison officials didn't respond more to alleged signs from
Alfonso Rodriguez Jr. that he wanted help after his release in May 2003.

As the penalty phase of Rodriguez's trial neared its end, defense attorney
Richard Ney also introduced a letter he sent to U.S. Attorney Drew Wrigley
on March 8, in which he said Rodriguez was willing to plead guilty to the
charge of kidnapping Dru Sjodin and causing her death, if the government
would not seek his death.

Rodriguez would not contest a sentence of life without parole or appeal
the conviction, according to the letter.

Wrigley did not comment on the offer or why he refused to accept it.

The defense then rested its case in the penalty phase. Wrigley said the
government would complete its rebuttal today.

Judge Ralph Erickson said final arguments are likely Wednesday morning,
and then the jury will begin its deliberations over whether Rodriguez --
convicted on Aug. 30 of kidnapping the 22-year-old college student in 2003
and causing her death -- should be sentenced to death or life in prison
without parole.

During frequently contentious questioning, Ney repeatedly sought to have
Moose Lake Prison psychologist Rita St. George explain concerns she had
about Rodriguez in the months before his release.

Ney asked her whether Rodriguez mentioned in a Jan. 23, 2003, meeting that
he was having "fantasies" and anxieties as his release date approached.
The attorney called it a "stop me before I do it again" sort of anxiety.

St. George said, "He didn't say that to me."But that's what concerned you,
wasn't it?" Ney asked, adding that she had given such a response in a
deposition.

St. George said that her response had been to Ney's question about
Rodriguez complaining that prison staff members weren't listening to him.

Help for "mental problem"

Seeking to show jurors why he should be sentenced to life in prison rather
than death, defense attorneys have argued that one mitigating factor is
Rodriguez's plea for help and his reluctance to be sent back into society.

In January 2003, Rodriguez made a request to prison officials seeking help
for "a mental problem."

St. George testified that Rodriguez told her at the time that he "was
having trouble sleeping, his appetite was somewhat erratic ... and it was
difficult sometimes for him to breathe" as he contemplated his release
after years in prison on a sex-assault conviction.

But she said Rodriguez didn't appear tired or to have lost weight, and his
concerns had to do with finding a job and a place to live.

In a second meeting with her in February 2003, Rodriguez had begun dealing
with those practical issues, St. George said. He seemed "logical, coherent
and goal-oriented," and confident he would find gainful employment.

"He didn't say he wanted to stay in prison," she said. "He wasn't afraid
he was going to hurt himself or others."

Clearly exasperated, Ney read portions of her May deposition, in which she
said Rodriguez seemed "very frightened" about getting out of prison and
"wished he could find a place where he would be locked up but not locked
up."

On Monday, St. George said she "didn't know what he meant by that
statement," but attributed it to anxiety over the practical matters of
finding work and a place to live.

Concern about offenders

St. George testified that she got her "hand slapped" by superiors for
getting involved in the question of whether Rodriguez should be released.
But she denied Ney's suggestion that the rebuke influenced her analysis of
her 2nd talk with Rodriguez.

"You have Mr. Rodriguez in front of you saying, 'I'm very frightened about
being let out,' having a fear of relapse -- you put that in your report,
that you had fears ... that he might re-offend," Ney said.

"I have concerns about all the offenders when they're released," said St.
George, who added: "I don't believe he was afraid" of hurting himself or
others.

St. George said she talked with a supervisor about Rodriguez but didn't
know what actions the supervisor took.

During cross-examination by Assistant U.S. Attorney Norm Anderson, St.
George said that Rodriguez had posed no disciplinary problems in 28 years
of confinement.

"Was there anything you could point to to say he was a danger?" Anderson
asked.

"Just that he was a repeat sex offender," St. George said. But he had
committed the offenses while in his 20s, she said, and was 50 when he was
released.

At the time of his arrest in the Sjodin case, Minnesota corrections
officials offered the same explanation for why Rodriguez wasn't referred
for civil commitment. Under changes implemented since, such a referral
would be automatic.

Also Monday, three employees at the Cass County, N.D., jail where
Rodriguez was held during the trial called him a model inmate, and a nun
who has visited him weekly said they talked about gardening, books and
family.

A niece, 12, and nephew, 13, told jurors that Rodriguez was "a good uncle"
who made snacks and played games with them after school in Crookston,
Minn. His youngest sister testified that she asked local and state
corrections officials before his release that he be given continuing
supervision.

(source: Minneapolis Star Tribune)




PENNSYLVANIA:

Lawyers try to spare Rompilla from death penalty----U.S. Supreme Court
last year tossed sentence for 1988 killing.


Ronald Rompilla, convicted of robbing, torturing and killing an Allentown
bar owner 18 years ago, was in Lehigh County Court on Monday as his
attorneys filed several motions they hope will spare his life.

The U.S. Supreme Court overturned Rompilla's death sentence in June 2005,
saying his attorneys did not meet the standard of reasonable competence
for capital cases. Rompilla must now be resentenced by a jury at a
separate trial, which was scheduled Monday to start Feb. 12.

Carol Marciano, who along with another Allentown lawyer, Tommaso Lonardo,
has been representing Rompilla since February, said she plans to challenge
the constitutionality of lethal injection in Pennsylvania.

Citing pending cases, including one in California where anesthesiologists
refused to give a fatal dose of drugs to the condemned killer, Marciano
argued that the way lethal injections are administered in Pennsylvania
should be considered cruel and unusual punishment.

She requested a hearing to have medical experts examine whether the lethal
mixture can cause pain. The mixture comprises sodium thiopental, a
sedative; pancuronium bromide, an agent that stops breathing; and
potassium chloride, a compound that stops the heart.

Chief Deputy District Attorney Stephen Van Natten argued ''it is a
post-trial issue'' if Rompilla, 58, is sentenced to death.

The motion on lethal injection was one of several argued before Judge Alan
M. Black, who did not rule on any of them. The next hearing is set for
Dec. 28.

Among other motions, Rompilla's lawyers want a rehearing on the
aggravating factors that qualified him for the death penalty: that he had
a significant criminal history, he killed a man during the commission of
another felony, and the victim was tortured. They also want the death
penalty ruled out as an option in the resentencing.

Rompilla was convicted in 1988 of robbing and killing James Scanlon, 61,
in the Cozy Corner Tavern in Allentown in January of that year. Scanlon,
the bar owner, was stabbed repeatedly and set on fire in the bar. Rompilla
also was convicted in 1974 of raping an Allentown woman and burglarizing
her apartment.

His conviction and death sentence for Scanlon's killing led to several
appeals to the state Supreme Court and federal courts. The U.S. Supreme
Court agreed to hear the case after a federal judge set aside the death
sentence and a federal appeals court reinstated it.

In its 5-4 decision, the U.S. Supreme Court found that Rompilla's lawyers
had not properly researched his background enough to save his life during
the sentencing phase of his trial. Rompilla's background included
childhood neglect, alcoholism and mental retardation.

(source: Morning Call)






OHIO:

Judge won't allow prior manslaughter conviction in death penalty
case----Roommate testifies he heard brutal beating of Middletown woman.


Dean Geldrich bound his roommate's hands and legs with duct tape, smashed
her nose with his fist, beat her with a large stick so hard it splintered
and slashed her body with kitchen knife 20-plus times before she bled to
death, according to prosecutors and testimony from a man who heard the
attack while sitting in the kitchen of the Malvern Street home.

John Sanders was the 1st witness in Geldrich's death penalty trial that
began in Butler County Common Pleas Court Monday before a 3-judge panel.
Geldrich, 40, is accused of brutally killing Miranda Lint Jan. 1 at the
small house he shared with her and Sanders.

But just prior to the start of the 3-day trial, Judge Andrew Nastoff ruled
Geldrich's previous conviction in 1987 for voluntary manslaughter cannot
be admitted as evidence in his current trial after prosecutors petitioned
the court to admit evidence, claiming there are 20 similarities between
the slaying of a Hamilton man in 1986 and the Lint murder.

Geldrich, who is charged with 2 counts of kidnapping and aggravated
murder, became enraged when Lint continued a loud telephone conversation,
interrupting Sanders and Geldrich. When she did not quiet down, the
accused became violent and began an attack that lasted for hours, said
Assistant Prosecutor Craig Hedric during opening statements.

Sanders testified he was able to calm Geldrich the 1st time he shoved Lint
against the wall and held her by the neck. He then went to take a shower
when he heard Lint's shrieks.

"I heard Miranda holler my name like she was hurt. I came straight out of
the shower," Sanders said.

He said he found the 28-year-old woman laying on her side on the bed;
Geldrich was hovering over her, holding her by the neck.

Geldrich held up a knife and said "all he wanted to do was scare her a
little bit," Sanders said, adding Geldrich called Lint a liar. "He told me
to go back into the kitchen."

Sanders obeyed. He recounted for the court what he heard from the other
room.

"Frog (Geldrich) popped her in the mouth or nose. I heard something pop,"
Sander said during testimony.

Then he heard the sound of duct tape being pulled from a roll and "Frog"
telling Lint "put your hands and feet together."

"She said 'don't put it over my mouth; you broke my nose I can't
breathe'," Sanders said.

At points in the attack, Geldrich pulled back a sheet separating the
living room from the kitchen and talked to Sanders, once asking for for
water.

"At first I thought what I heard was him beating on the bed, a least that
is what I hoped it was. In my mind I knew it wasn't."

Sanders described Lint as "outspoken, abrasive and straight forward."

During the beating, Lint stood up for herself, Sanders said. At one point
she told Geldrich to take off the tape and fight her face to face. After
he cut her she told Geldrich to drag her outside and let her bleed to
death, Sanders said.

When Lint became vocal, Geldrich "whizzed" past Sanders in the kitchen and
grabbed a large stick near the door.

"He was covered in blood from under his chin to the top of his knees,"
Sanders said.

Then from the other room he heard more beating.

"It seemed like there was no pause. Bam, bam, bam," Sanders said.

It was at that point Sanders said he made up a story about going to get
cigarettes and left the residence after Geldrich told him it was a good
idea.

Sanders ran to the Reinartz Road underpass and sat for hours because he
was scared Geldrich may follow him, he said. The next day he went back to
611 1/2 Malvern St., but no one knocked answered his knocks on the windows
and door.

On Jan. 3, Sanders said he went to the police because he was concerned
Geldrich lied when he told him Lint left, and also Sanders said he got
calls from Lint's family who had not seen her.

During cross examination by defense attorney Melynda Cook-Reich, Sanders
admitted to crack cocaine use on New Year's Eve and after the murder
occurred. Sanders also said he took prescription medication for a
work-related injury. The defense questioned whether the drug use affected
Sanders' memory.

Cook-Reich also questioned why Sanders stayed in the house for hours while
hearing the beating.

Sanders said because of his injury, he could not run and he did not think
he could get the door open quietly and fast enough to escape.

"I didn't know what had happened to (Geldrich). I thought he had
completely lost his mind," Sanders said.

The prosecution also introduced into evidence a number of gruesome
photographs of Lint's blood-soaked body found wrapped in a blanket beside
a bed. The victim's mother gasped and sobbed as a photo showing massive
blood splatter on the walls was flashed on the courtroom screen. The
crying increased when Tina Lint saw the slash wounds on her daughter's
body and the bloody clothes pulled out of evidence bags.

Tina Lint, who lived in Middletown, said she moved back to Pennsylvania
with her family and has spent months in the hospital due to the trauma of
her daughter's death.

"I am seeing his man's face on my walls and in my sleep," Tina Lint said.
"My daughter was no saint, I admit that, but how anyone could do something
like this I don't understand."

Geldrich is noticeably heavier now than at the time of the killing.
Defense attorneys say Geldrich suffers from mental illness and now is
medicated, which contributed to the weight gain.

Geldrich's family also was in the courtroom, but declined comment.

(source: Middletown Journal)




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