Oct. 20


TEXAS:

Court tosses man's death sentence----It says evidence he was abused as
child should have been part of trial


A former San Antonio street gang member on death row for nearly a decade
for the slaying of a woman during a robbery is getting a chance for a new
sentence.

Gabriel Gonzales' death sentence was thrown out Wednesday in a 6-2 vote of
the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, which ruled defense lawyers at his
1997 capital murder trial should have shown jurors evidence that he was
sexually abused as a child and that the resulting post-traumatic stress
disorder followed him into adulthood.

"There is at least a reasonable probability," the court said in its
decision that evidence of abuse might have persuaded a jury to spare Mr.
Gonzales, who is 32 now.

The ruling upholds the conviction but allows him to have a new sentencing
trial.

Mr. Gonzales' appeal had been with the court for more than 6 years,
although judges in their ruling did not address why the case had taken so
long to resolve.

Louella Hilton, 57, was gunned down during the 1994 robbery of the
pawnshop she operated with her husband. Mr. Gonzales, 1 of 5 charged in
the slaying, was identified as the triggerman armed with a 9 mm pistol,
firing several shots as Mrs. Hilton tried to run to a back room while he
and 4 companions smashed glass cases and took nearly 30 weapons. One of
the shots he fired passed through a door and struck Mrs. Hilton in the
head.

"I'm going to be an old woman" before the case ends, the victim's
daughter, Darla Hilton-Gurkin, told the San Antonio Express-News.

Jurors at Mr. Gonzales' trial heard about his 3 previous convictions for
cocaine and weapons possession and burglary, about his disciplinary record
in Bexar County Jail and his membership in the Crips, a street gang
founded in California. There was no testimony, however, about how he was
sexually abused beginning when he was 6.

(source: Associated Press)

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

Cheating the needle: mom says sister knew of suicide thoughts


Convicted murderer Michael Dewayne Johnson met death on his own terms
early Thursday, avoiding both the executioner's needle and the eyes of
relatives of the Lorena man he was condemned for killing.

In an exclusive interview with the Tribune-Herald, Johnson's mother,
Patricia, said he told his sister, Michelle, during a visit on Wednesday
that he was thinking about killing himself.

Reached in her Livingston hotel room Thursday afternoon, Patricia Johnson
remained convinced her son was not guilty in the 1995 shooting death of
Jeff Wetterman at his family-owned gas station and convenience store.

"They tried my son for someone elses deed," Johnson said. "They had a
confession but they ignored it. My son killed himself this morning so they
couldn't have the satisfaction of seeing him die."

When Michael Johnson took his life less than 15 hours before his scheduled
execution, he used his own blood to write a final message on his cell
wall: "I didn't shoot him."

Sources familiar with the circumstances of Johnson's apparent suicide, who
asked not to be identified because of the sensitive situation, said
published reports that he had written "I didn't do it" were incorrect.

After speaking to the Tribune-Herald, Patricia Johnson asked a reporter
not to print that Michelle knew of Michael Johnson's planned suicide, for
fear of reprisals. She declined to answer further questions about her son.

Johnson, 29, committed suicide by cutting his throat and arm in his
death-row cell, state prison officials said.

Guards at the Polunsky Unit in Livingston, found Johnson lying
unresponsive in a pool of blood about 2:45 a.m., said Michelle Lyons, a
spokeswoman with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. He was taken to
a nearby hospital, where he was pronounced dead at 3:40 a.m., Lyons said.

Wetterman's widow, Trish Wetterman McLean, said she was angry Thursday
when she first learned of Johnson's death.

She and Wetterman family members had planned to attend the execution so
Johnson would have to face them one more time, but Johnson cheated them of
that, she said.

"If he was going to punk out like that, why didn't he do it 10 years ago
and save us a lot of heartache and the state a lot of money?" she said.
"But after giving a little thought, I'm glad it's over. We won't have to
read about it in the paper or see it on television."

Life for a tank of gas

Johnson was sentenced to death in a Waco court for shooting Wetterman
during a gas theft at the store near an Interstate 35 off-ramp in Lorena.

On Sept. 10, 1995, Johnson, then 18, pulled up in a stolen Cadillac with
fellow Balch Springs native David Noel Vest, 17. They planned to steal a
tank of gas, according to trial testimony. Wetterman came out to greet the
men, and Johnson shot him in the face, according to court testimony.

Vest pleaded guilty to aggravated robbery and later testified against
Johnson. Vest had to stipulate to the crime in court, which Johnson and
his attorney said amounted to Vest confessing that he pulled the trigger.
Vest completed his 8-year prison sentence in 2003.

In the days leading to his execution, Johnson had not asked for a last
meal, nor had he requested for anyone to witness the execution.

Lyons, though, said that is not unheard of among prisoners and does not
necessarily indicate one is contemplating suicide.

"(Suicide) is an issue we take seriously," Lyons said. "In this case there
were no indicators."

Johnson was the 7th person on death row to commit suicide since Texas
resumed executions in 1982.

On 'death watch'

Lyons said Johnson had been on a death watch since about 36 hours before
his execution, scheduled for 6 p.m. Thursday. He was kept by himself in a
cell and was checked every 15 minutes. During the 2:30 a.m. check, Johnson
talked with guards and was preparing to eat breakfast, she said.

Johnson's wounds, to his right jugular vein and an artery inside his right
elbow, were apparently caused by a knife fashioned from a sharpened piece
of metal or razor blade attached to a Popsicle stick, Lyons said.

An autopsy has been ordered on Johnson, though the preliminary
investigation points towards suicide, said state Inspector General John
Moriarty, whose office is investigating the death. Moriarty said
investigators found letters in the cell to relatives that indicated he was
planning suicide.

Attorney 'shocked'

Johnson's attorney, Greg White, said he also believed that Vest, not his
client, had killed Wetterman. He also said prosecutors had withheld the
information, which could have been used to impeach Vest.

McLennan County prosecutors, however, have said the wording was routine
for pleadings by co-defendants in cases involving murder and that appeals
courts have long upheld the practice. They added that the documents were
presented in court, when defense attorneys were present.

White said Thursday he was shocked by Johnsons death and that he had seen
no clue he was contemplating suicide. Though several appeals at the state
and federal level had been denied, White said 2 remained pending before
the U.S. Supreme Court, and he stayed up until 2 a.m. Thursday working on
a new state appeal.

"I had no idea whatsoever," White said. "He seemed to be optimistic we had
good arguments to make."

White added that he was baffled how Johnson could have managed to kill
himself while on death watch.

"He was the only person they had to watch, their main concern that night,"
he said. "How can he stab himself in the neck and not scream? How could
nobody hear? I'm not saying that couldn't happen, but someone needs to
look into that."

'He did them a favor'

Thursday morning, a group of friends and family members gathered at
Wetterman McLean's home near Hewitt to discuss Johnson's death. Some of
the group, including Lacy-Lakeview City Manager Mike Nicoletti, had
planned to travel to Huntsville to witness the execution.

Nicoletti, who knew Wetterman from his store and came to know Wetterman
McLean while investigating the murder as a Lorena police officer, said he
too was surprised by Johnson's death.

"I've been telling the family that he did them a favor," Nicoletti said.
"This was going to be a very emotional, very difficult day for them to go
through, and now they don't have to go through that."

Nicoletti added, "I dont think he wanted to face this family, and that's
just another sign how guilty he was. There was no redemption for him. But
though the family can never get Jeff Wetterman back, they'll never have to
see Michael Johnson again."

(source: Waco Tribune-Herald)

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

McLennan County killer slashes neck and arm arteries hours before
scheduled execution.


Condemned McLennan County killer Michael Dewayne Johnson committed suicide
early Thursday in his death row cell less than 16 hours before his
scheduled execution, prison officials said.

Left behind was a message scrawled in blood on the cell wall: "I didn't
shoot him."

Authorities said Johnson, 29, apparently used a metal blade or razor to
cut his right jugular vein and an artery inside his left elbow about 2:45
a.m. at the Polunsky Unit outside Livingston, east of Huntsville.

At the time, one official said, a nurse was nearby, treating another
prisoner, but life-saving efforts proved futile because Johnson lost so
much blood so quickly. The official asked not to be identified because of
agency policy against speaking to the media and because an investigation
into the death is ongoing.

"There was a tremendous amount of blood, very quickly, everywhere," the
official said.

The initial investigation indicated that Johnson likely slit his arm
first, wrote the message on the wall and then cut his throat.

Johnson was taken to a Livingston hospital, where doctors pronounced him
dead at 3:40 a.m. An autopsy was scheduled as part of the investigation,
officials said.

Prison officials said Johnson left several suicide notes. Officials
withheld the contents as part of the continuing investigation.

Michelle Lyons, a spokeswoman for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice
in Huntsville, said Johnson was scheduled to be executed shortly after 6
p.m. Thursday for the Sept. 10, 1995, shooting death of Jeff Wetterman, a
27-year-old convenience store clerk in Lorena, near Waco.

Wetterman was shot in the face with a 9 mm pistol after he helped Johnson
and another man, identified by prison officials as David Vest, fill their
vehicle with gas, a prison report shows.

Although the report posted on the prison system's Web site identifies
Johnson as the shooter in the attack, his brother, Jack, took issue with
that in an e-mail message to the American-Statesman. He said the killer
was Vest.

Vest blamed the shooting on Johnson, took an eight-year prison term in a
plea bargain and testified against his friend. Vest was freed in September
2003 after completing his sentence, Lyons said.

Lyons said convicts facing execution are placed on a "death watch," in
which they are checked every 15 minutes, within 36 hours of the sentence
being carried out. Johnson had been observed by guards about 2:30 a.m.,
just before he was to be served breakfast, according to Lyons.

"He had visits with his family (on Wednesday) and was scheduled to have
another 4 hours with them today," she said Thursday. "There was no
indication he might try this."

Investigators were attempting to determine how Johnson got the blade or
razor in his cell. Shaving razors are checked out to convicts and then
retrieved by guards, under prison policy. Cells of death row inmates are
searched when they are moved to a special wing after being assigned an
execution date, and their cells are routinely searched for contraband
every 72 hours, although officials were unsure when Johnson's cell was
last searched.

Johnson is at least the seventh condemned man in Texas to take his own
life since death row reopened in 1974, but no other prisoner has killed
himself so close to his scheduled execution time. On Dec. 8, 1999, inmate
David Long was executed 2 days after he tried to overdose on prescription
medication.

Lyons said officials could recall no suicide on death row so close to an
execution date.

Johnson would have been the 22nd Texas inmate executed this year.

In an interview with The Associated Press 2 weeks ago, Johnson said he
remained optimistic.

"You never know what the courts are going to do," he said.

Johnson, who was 18 at the time of the shooting, insisted it was Vest who
had gunned down Wetterman after the pair, in a stolen car, fled the store
on Interstate 35 because they didn't have the $24 to pay for their gas.

"I never even saw the dude," Johnson said. Vest "jumped back into the car
and we took off. He hollered: 'Go! Go! Go!' "

(source: Austin American-Statesman)






US MILITARY:

Tougher stance on crimes of US troops?


Decisions by both the Army and Marines to court-martial troops accused of
atrocities in Iraq, announced almost simultaneously on Wednesday, could
reflect a new, tougher attitude by the US military in such cases.

A perception in Iraq that US troops convicted of atrocities against Iraqis
have received lenient treatment - especially in the notorious Abu Ghraib
prisoner-abuse case - has led to weakened support for the US-backed
government, some analysts say.

"One takes no pleasure in noting that courts-martial in Iraq and
Afghanistan seem to be acquitting individuals with unusual frequency,"
wrote Gary Solis, a former Marine Corps lawyer who teaches the law of war
at Georgetown University, in the October issue of Proceedings, the
magazine of the independent US Naval Institute.

Alleged atrocities by US troops in the cities of Haditha and Mahmudiya
have outraged many in Iraq. The Mahmudiya case, 1 of 2 in which the Army
brought charges Wednesday, has prompted Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri
al-Maliki to question the immunity from Iraqi prosecution given foreign
troops under the nation's new constitution.

Mr. Solis detailed numerous detainee-abuse cases in which US troops
accused of beating, torturing, or even killing prisoners got no jail time.
By contrast, he noted, an Army private convicted of firing a weapon at
fellow soldiers without hitting any got 25 years in prison.

None of the troops charged by the Army and Marines on Wednesday has been
convicted, so whether any punishment will be more or less harsh than in
past cases remains to be seen.

In announcements the services say were not coordinated, the Army's 101st
Airborne Division at Fort Campbell, Ky., and the Marine Corps arm of the
US Central Command in Tampa, Fla., said charges were being brought against
eight soldiers and three marines in three separate cases of alleged
atrocities in Iraq.

Detainee case. 4 soldiers will face courts-martial on charges of
premeditated murder for allegedly killing 3 Iraqi detainees during a raid
on suspected insurgents near Tikrit in May. All four soldiers could
receive life sentences if convicted.

Mahmudiya rape and murder case. 4 other soldiers accused of raping a
14-year-old Iraqi girl and killing her and three family members in
Mahmudiya in March were referred to court-martial. Two of the soldiers,
Sgt. Paul Cortez and Pfc. Jesse Spielman, could face the death penalty if
convicted. The others could get life in prison.

Steven Green, a former private alleged to be involved in the incident, was
discharged from the Army and faces federal murder and rape charges in
Kentucky in connection with the incident.

Hamdania kidnap/murder case. Three marines were charged with killing an
Iraqi grandfather they'd allegedly kidnapped from his home in Hamdania in
April. The three will not face the death penalty. Previously, three other
marines were referred for courts-martial in this case, and a Navy corpsman
has reached a plea deal with prosecutors.

The near simultaneous decisions by Army Maj. Gen. Thomas Turner, commander
of the 101st Airborne, and Marine Corps Lt. Gen. James Mattis was pure
coincidence, not coordinated to signal that the US military is getting
tougher with troops accused of abusing Iraqis, their services' spokesmen
say. "None of this was coordinated between the two services," says Lt.
Col. Sean Gibson, a spokesman for General Mattis.

Army Lt. Col. Mark Ballesteros, a Pentagon spokesman, says the "commanders
who are making these decisions are doing it because it's the right thing
to do, in their minds. The trial process will determine if any wrongdoing
has happened."

A lawyer from another military service, speaking on condition of anonymity
because he is not authorized to comment publicly, says an attempt by the
Army and Marines or the Pentagon to coordinate charges to influence
politics in Iraq would risk violating a ban on "unlawful command
influence."

"If a senior civilian leader were to try to coordinate prosecutions for
that political purpose, it could contaminate the trial based on a finding
of unlawful command influence," this lawyer says.

But the commanders might separately have come to the conclusion that a
tougher approach in such cases is needed, the lawyer adds.

Eugene Fidell of the private National Institute of Military Justice says
there is "no coordination" between the services on such decisions. But
that doesn't mean the military isn't taking a tougher view of such cases
because of the political damage to the US and the Iraqi government from
past verdicts, he adds. "If you ask me whether some of the cases from a
couple of years ago today would be treated the way they were treated then,
I would say probably they would be treated more toughly," says Mr. Fidell.

There's nothing improper in that, he adds. "The military justice system
... recognizes the rights of victims in the administration of justice," he
says. "Nor is there anything illicit in acknowledging that the Iraqi
population has an interest in seeing justice done."

(source: Christian Science Monitor)






PENNSYLVANIA:

A REPRIEVE FOR LIFE WITHOUT HOPE


THEY RAN the back alleys and asphalt byways of the cities. They roamed
darkened forests and rolling countrysides, too.

Giddy with the curiosity of youth, they explored life's simple mysteries
in the most natural and joyous ways. Then, these budding boys and girls
encountered the defining moments of their young lives: They acted on
impulse without thought, and experienced life-altering tragedies.

Years later, having advanced to adulthood, they prowl the dank blocks of
state prisons. They are the children of Pennsylvania whose youthful
transgressions have drawn unbendable sentences of life imprisonment
without the possibility of parole.

The Commonwealth has more of these once-youthful offenders serving what is
called "LWOP" than any U.S. jurisdiction, or in the world. How ironic for
the state whose leadership gave birth to the idea that penitentiaries
should rehabilitate people for their eventual return to society and
juvenile offenders deserve special treatment.

Redemption, it seems, has fallen victim to punishment, even in cases of
boys and girls deemed too immature to bear the responsibilities of
citizenship - to vote, marry, be bound by contracts.

A recent international study by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty
International found 2,225 child offenders serving life without parole in
U.S. prisons. Pennsylvania had 332, 15 % of the total. Next was Louisiana
with 317 and Michigan with 306.

Outside the United States, the study found, just a handful of nations even
permit LWOP for children and only about 12 young offenders worldwide were
serving it. At least 132 countries have rejected the sentence, which is
forbidden by the U.N. Convention on the Rights of the Child. The United
States and Somalia are the only countries that refused to ratify it.

Few would argue that these juvenile crimes should go unpunished, yet the
situations were almost always too clouded by neurological immaturity to
warrant the same measure of justice as those with fully functioning
faculties.

Dr. Ruben Gur, director of the Brain Behavior Laboratory at Penn's Medical
Center, has been outspoken in discussing recent neurological research and
its implications for legal decisions in this area. Strong evidence shows
that the brain does not fully mature until the early to mid-20s, he says,
with the latest developments occurring in those parts of the brain that
govern impulsivity, judgment, foresight and other characteristics that
factor into moral culpability.

In an article in the Pennsylvania Gazette, Dr. Gur referred to his
contribution to a filing on behalf of condemned Missouri prisoner
Christopher Simmons:

"Brain-scan techniques have demonstrated conclusively that the phenomena
observed by mental-health professionals in persons under 18, which would
render them less morally blameworthy for offenses, have a scientific
grounding..."

Simmons' successful appeal to the Supreme Court is one of two decisions
that may have opened an avenue of hope for those serving terminal
sentences. The first was the ruling in Atkins v. Virginia, a 6-3 decision
reversing a death sentence as "excessive" when applied to those with
mental retardation. The court said: "Their deficiencies do not warrant an
exemption from criminal sanctions, but they do diminish their personal
culpability."

In Simmons v. Roper, a 5-4 decision found an emerging national consensus
that executing minors amounted to "cruel and unusual punishment." The
majority held that the juvenile death penalty is a disproportionate
punishment for minors and noted "overwhelming" world opinion against it.

This case opened the door for post-conviction appeals and 20 or so were
filed in state courts, according to Bradley S. Bridge, a lawyer with the
Defender Association of Philadelphia, which represents several prisoners.

The potential for relief via these appeals is slim and the effort will
likely take years. Still, there is a flicker of hope of reversing the
state's inflexible stance. But it could bring Pennsylvania's criminal
justice system into a more mainstream position.

It's time for criminal justice in this country to take a progressive turn
after decades of wasteful "get tough" strategies that have done little to
advance public safety but plenty to divert resources away from public
health, education and other quality-of-life concerns. Wouldn't it be
pleasantly ironic if Pennsylvania resumed its leadership in this field?

(source: Philadelphia Daily News----William DiMascio is executive director
of the Pennsylvania Prison Society)






WISCONSIN:

Juan Melendez: Putting innocent to death is flaw of capital punishment


A letter to the editor

Dear Editor: I was featured prominently in your front-page story, "After
death row, 13 speak for life." I thank you for accurately portraying my
ordeal of having spent many years on death row for a crime I did not
commit.

Other exonerated former death row prisoners joined me on Oct. 6 near the
Capitol to address the numerous problems with the death penalty and the
reasons Wisconsin should reject capital punishment.

Unfortunately, the leading proponent of reinstating the death penalty is
seriously misinformed about the facts when it comes to such a critical
life-and-death issue.

Your newspaper quoted Senate President Alan Lasee as saying that it would
be "nearly impossible" to execute someone who was innocent.

Currently, 1,047 people have been executed throughout the United States
since reinstatement of the death penalty in 1976. We have to ask ourselves
how many of them were not so "fortunate" as I or the other 122 death row
exonerees, and were executed in spite of innocence. Even with DNA, the
system cannot guarantee that it will never execute an innocent person. It
is a system administered by humans and humans make mistakes.

There is no justifiable reason to bring back the death penalty, which
serves no purpose for your state other than to legalize revenge and
satisfy the political interests of pro-death penalty politicians like
Senator Lasee.

Juan Melendez----Albuquerque, N.M.

(source: The Capital Times, Letter to the Editor)






FLORIDA:

Rolling's latest appeal rejected


An effort by convicted killer Danny Rolling to resurrect a legal argument
over new information about Florida's lethal injection procedure failed in
the state's Supreme Court on Thursday.

Attorneys for Rolling had appealed to halt his Oct. 25 execution so they
could review recently released details about Florida's lethal injection
process.

The state's highest court rejected the claim, echoing their response to
the same argument made by attorneys for Death Row inmate Arthur
Rutherford. Rutherford, a handyman convicted for the 1985 murder of a
Santa Rosa County widow, was executed Wednesday.

Baya Harrison, an attorney for Rolling, had not expected the claim to
succeed.

Prior to Rutherford's execution, the state had released a document that
provided details about the lethal injection procedure. The document,
adopted by the Florida Department of Corrections in August, had not
previously been made public. For the first time, it outlined the exact
amount of drugs used in executions.

State officials denied that the document offered information about any
major changes in the process.

The Florida Supreme Court's opinion stated that information about the
execution procedure revealed nothing to change their finding that the
current lethal injection process does not violate the constitutional
prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment.

The matter now will go before the 11th Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals in
Atlanta, along with other rejected claims to stay Rolling's execution.

Rolling, 52, is scheduled to die by lethal injection Wednesday at Florida
State Prison in Bradford County.

In 1994, Rolling entered a guilty plea to slaying five college students in
Gainesville.

The students were Christa Hoyt, 19, of Archer; Sonja Larson, 18, of
Deerfield Beach; Tracy Paules, 23, of Miami; Christina Powell, 17, of
Jacksonville; and Manuel Taboada, 23, of Miami.

(source: Gainesville Sun)

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

Grim memories haunt campus as execution looms


The terror started late on a Sunday afternoon in August 1990, just before
the fall semester began.

A police officer, summoned by worried parents, discovered the first two
bodies in an apartment near the University of Florida campus.

Freshmen roommates Sonja Larson, 18, and Christina Powell, 17, were
fatally stabbed and sliced up with a razor-sharp hunting knife.

Just after midnight, before the news of the gruesome killings had a chance
to take hold, Christa Hoyt, 18, a Santa Fe Community College student and
sheriff's office employee, was found mutilated in her apartment, her
severed head placed on a shelf.

The next morning, UF students Tracy Paules and Manuel Taboada, both 23,
were found slaughtered in the apartment they shared nearby, plunging the
laid-back college town into a full-fledged panic.

Students fled, neighbors huddled together for protection, residents armed
themselves. Innocence was lost. Many lives were changed forever.

The manufacturer of this nightmare was a drawling police officer's son and
career criminal from Shreveport, Louisiana, named Danny Harold Rolling.

After a dozen years on death row, the now 52-year-old Rolling is preparing
to die by lethal injection at 6 p.m. Wednesday at Florida State Prison in
Starke.

Criminal ambitions

Thousands of UF students have come and gone since Rolling arrived on a
Greyhound bus, pitched a tent in the woods near campus and set out to
become, as he would say later, a "superstar" among criminals.

But those students and residents who lived through the worst chapter in
the city's history locked away indelible memories that are surfacing again
as the execution date nears.

"We didn't know the magnitude of it until we were in the middle of it. To
wake up each morning to news that another young person was found dead was
terrifying," recalled Larry Reimer, a minister whose United Church of
Gainesville offered shelter to frightened college students.

As the body count rose, Gainesville Police Chief Wayland Clifton called
for help from the FBI, the Florida Highway Patrol and other agencies. By
midweek, heavily armed officers were ubiquitous on the streets, and
helicopters with searchlights a nightly reminder that a serial killer was
still on the loose.

UF President John Lombardi canceled classes for the week, and the world's
media descended on Gainesville to cover the story.

College town in fear

"What was interesting was how quiet the student areas got," said Ronald
Dupont Jr., who was attending UF and working as a night police reporter at
The Gainesville Sun. "A lot of people left town, and a lot of people were
holed in their homes genuinely afraid. It turned the town from a
happy-go-lucky college town into almost like a wake."

Steve Spurrier was preparing for the first game of what would be a storied
football coaching career at his alma mater when the murders shook campus.

"It was a terrible time in Gainesville," said Spurrier, now head coach at
the University of South Carolina. "We actually allowed a lot of our older
players to stay where their girlfriends were because of it. Maybe football
helped (the healing), but it was certainly one of the worst tragedies that
ever happened in Gainesville."

The focus of the task force first fell on a UF student who was unfortunate
enough to go off his psychotropic medication and begin acting strangely
around town after the slayings. He was eventually cleared.

Meanwhile, Rolling robbed a bank and stole a car before leaving
Gainesville the day after the last bodies were discovered. Belongings he
left at the campsite in the woods would eventually link him to the
slayings.

Rolling's name first came to the attention of investigators because he was
suspect in the similar mutilation slayings of 3 people back in Shreveport
(he later confessed, but was never prosecuted).

But it would be December 1990 before they would find him sitting in the
Marion County jail a half hour south of Gainesville, awaiting trial for
robbing a grocery store there. DNA confirmed he was the killer.

Guilty plea

Rolling pleaded guilty as trial began on February 15, 1994. In the penalty
phase, jurors rejected arguments that he should be spared because of an
abusive father, unhappy childhood and history of drug use and mental
illness. Judge Stan R. Morris sentenced him to die.

Dianna Hoyt, Christa Hoyt's stepmother, said Rolling's execution has been
eagerly awaited by the victims' families. Some will be inside the prison
to witness it.

"What he did was so horrendous, how he tortured our children," Hoyt said.
"I think this man can still find enjoyment from that. I just need his mind
put to sleep. I don't need him thinking about it anymore."

Sadie Darnell, who was the police department's media spokeswoman at the
time and developed enduring friendships with the victims' families, said
Rolling's execution still matters, even if it also provides him more of
the notoriety he sought.

"It does not symbolize closure for any of the family members. Retribution,
though, is important because it represents that our society is holding
that person accountable," said Darnell, now a candidate for Alachua County
sheriff.

Today's UF students may know the names of the victims because they're
painted on a panel on the edge of campus, a memorial that fraternities
took responsibility for preserving.

Besides being part of the university's history, said Christopher
Bucciarelli, president of the UF Interfraternity Council, it's a reminder
-- "for everyone to be careful and to be safe."

(source: Associated Press)

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

Too many lawyers, agendas in one room


Nearly 50 defense attorneys squeezed into a courtroom Thursday for a Latin
Kings gang hearing, prompting a reporter to crack, "That's more defense
than the Bucs have had all season."

But the attorneys weren't laughing. Defense lawyers complained about
delays in getting investigative files from prosecutors, who have charged
the gang members with racketeering. Others said they had clients sitting
in jail despite little or no mention of them in the information provided
so far.

Then there's the scheduling nightmare of getting so many legal types
together for hearings and depositions. "Everybody's got a different
agenda," attorney Lyann Goudie said.

Sounds like the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Office isn't doing David Lee
Onstott any favors.

Onstott is charged with the April 2005 death of 13-year-old Sarah Lunde
and faces the death penalty. To build a defense for the trial's penalty
phase, his lawyers hired a mental health expert to do neuro-psychological
testing on Onstott at the jail.

Those tests require Onstott to be removed from his cell and "manipulate
objects with his hands and create drawings," according to court documents
filed by Assistant Public Defender Theda James. But the expert can't
finish because jail guards refuse to remove Onstott's handcuffs, she said.

"The jail's refusal to permit psychological testing of Mr. Onstott
violates the defendant's right to due process and a fair trial," James
wrote.

At a hearing next week, Onstott's attorneys will ask Circuit Judge Ronald
Ficarrotta to order the Sheriff's Office to make reasonable
accommodations.

James said the tests can be done with a deputy present and with Onstott's
ankles shackled.

Matt Williams, a Polk County sheriff's deputy fatally shot after a traffic
stop, will be remembered Nov. 5 at a concert to benefit his family and a
memorial fund in his name.

The concert is billed as a doo wop show, headlined by Ken Brady of the
Casinos, Richie Merritt of the Marcels, Mary Swan and Tampa Bay area
performers Bill Castor and Miss Dynamite.

Williams and his canine, Diogi, were killed Sept. 28. Investigators say
Angilo Freeland killed them and wounded another deputy after he was
stopped for speeding. SWAT team members fatally shot Freeland the next day
after an all-night manhunt.

The concert will go from 2 to 5 p.m. at the Polk Theatre, 121 S Florida
Ave. in Lakeland. Tickets are $15 in advance and $20 at the door.

For more information, contact Polk Sgt. Steve Perkins at 863 577-1600.

Lots of people didn't want to serve on the federal jury picked this week
to hear the case of four men accused of working for the Gambino crime
family.

Most offered typical excuses: Doctor's appointments, job demands, child
care issues.

Then there was Kenneth Salazar.

"I only have one slight problem," he told U.S. District Judge Susan
Bucklew on Monday. "I was supposed to be deployed to Afghanistan in mid
November."

But Salazar, a counterterrorism officer assigned to MacDill Air Force
Base, wasn't trying to dodge jury service.

"I'd rather stay here," he said.

"Do you think this would keep you from deploying?" Bucklew asked, amused.

"I'm hoping, ma'am," he said.

By Tuesday, military duty won out. The judge excused Salazar after his
bosses said he definitely would be deployed the week of Thanksgiving, jury
duty be darned.

(source: St. Petersburg Times)




Reply via email to