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)
[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----CALIF., KY., N. DAK., PENN., OHIO
Rick Halperin Tue, 19 Sep 2006 10:54:53 -0500 (Central Daylight Time)
