Sept. 20
MISSOURI:
Death row inmate cites brain damage while seeking new trial for killing
6-year-old Mo. girl
A man sentenced to death for murdering a 6-year-old he abducted from her
father's St. Louis County home sought a new trial Wednesday, claiming his
attorneys should have pursued a defense that he suffered from brain damage.
Johnny Johnson has admitted that he killed Cassandra "Casey" Williamson in July
2002, though attorneys at his trial said mental illness made him incapable of
acting with "cool reflection" and he thus shouldn't have been eligible for the
death penalty.
During appeal arguments Wednesday to the state Supreme Court, a new attorney
for Johnson argued that his trial attorneys were negligent for not hiring a
neuropsychologist who could have testified that Johnson suffered from brain
damage in addition to his mental illnesses. Johnson is seeking a new trial, or
at least a new sentencing hearing.
"The jury heard only half the story - the mental disease. There was nothing
about the mental defect," said Bob Lundt, an attorney in the St. Louis public
defender's office who is representing Johnson.
He told the Supreme Court that Johnson suffered three head injuries as a child
and 2 more as an adolescent. Lundt said those made it difficult for Johnson to
deliberate about his actions.
But under questioning from the judges, Lundt said no brain scan could show the
injury and no scientific evidence could specifically say such brain injuries
cause people to commit murder.
Assistant Attorney General Shaun Mackelprang argued that Johnson's trial
attorneys made a logical and strategic decision in focusing on the mental
illness as a defense. He said neurological tests conducted on Johnson after his
conviction were subjective and Johnson could have intentionally performed
poorly in hopes of winning a new trial.
Among those watching the Supreme Court arguments were Casey's mother, aunt,
grandmother and several other relatives or family friends.
Della Steele, who said she was Casey's great-aunt, said she also had watched
Johnson's original trial and believes he is mentally ill. But she said she
still believes he made a choice to kill Casey and should bear the consequences.
"Him being executed is not going to bring Casey back, but what it can do is
protect the children of our society ??? to make sure he never has access to a
child again," Steele said.
Johnson, who was 24 at the time of the crime, admitted he took Casey on a
piggyback ride from the home where he had been staying as a transient guest for
a few days and then crushed her heard with bricks and rocks after she resisted
his attempts to rape her. The killing happened at the ruins of an old glass
factory in the St. Louis suburb of Valley Park.
Johnson was convicted of 1st-degree murder, armed criminal action, kidnapping
and attempted rape. In addition to the death sentence, he received three
consecutive life prison terms.
Since Casey's death, her family has undertaken various initiatives in her
memory, including a safety fair for parents and children and fundraisers for
college scholarships. Steele said the family's goal is to raise enough money to
give a scholarship to each of the graduating members of what would have been
Casey's senior class from Valley Park in 2014.
(source: Associated Press)
USA----new book
Freedom After Fire Ants and Tumult
LIFE AFTER DEATH--By Damien Echols; Illustrated. 399 pages. Blue Rider Press.
$26.95.
18 1/2 years after he was sentenced to death for participating in the murders
of three 8-year-old boys in Arkansas, Damien Echols finds himself in
Faireyland. Mr. Echols's new book, "Life After Death," has a Shepard
Fairey-inspired cover design that's as coolly lionizing as Mr. Fairey's "Hope"
poster for President Obama. The book has a champion in Johnny Depp, who has
compared Mr. Echols's writing to Dostoyevsky's. And his story is the subject of
a forthcoming documentary, "West of Memphis," even though that story has been
exhaustively told in the 3 "Paradise Lost" films that paved the path to Mr.
Echols's release from death row.
These are mind-bending new circumstances for a guy who grew up as an
impoverished loner, sardonically described himself as white trash, and spent
his years of incarceration noticing the most grotesque, dehumanizing aspects of
prison life. Yet "Life After Death" tries to reconcile all these extremes into
a single narrative, and to a great extent it accomplishes this magic trick. By
the way, Mr. Echols spells that word "magick," just as one of his favorite
writers, the very spooky Aleister Crowley, did. It was Mr. Echols's teenage
taste for the occult, heavy metal and black clothing - a look inspired by Mr.
Depp in "Edward Scissorhands," he says - that initially made him a target for
the vindictive and provincial police in West Memphis, Ark.
"Life After Death" does not discuss the details of that triple murder case and
the long, botched investigation and trial that followed. For one thing, that
story is not over. Last summer Mr. Echols, now 37, and his 2 cohorts in what
became known as the West Memphis 3, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley Jr.,
were freed on an Alford plea, an unusual technicality whereby the defendants
were released but not vindicated. The accumulated fan support, financial
backing and legal muscle that have rallied around Mr. Echols suggest that his
champions will continue to fight on his behalf.
But he is sick of that story anyway. So "Life After Death" is a dual memoir,
partly about Mr. Echols's boyhood and partly about his prison life. He says
that he wants this to be a beautiful book and not a freak show, but there is
freakishness at every turn. Yes, one of Mr. Echols's childhood memories
involves watching "Captain Kangaroo." But another, much more typical one
describes how he was agonizingly attacked by fire ants while his grandfather
sipped beer and chuckled. Something else he remembers: his stepfather's
punching the family Chihuahua with a closed fist.
"Nothing lifts my spirits like a scarecrow in the front yard," he writes, with
as much nostalgia as he can summon for his tough and tumultuous upbringing. He
likes horror films and horror novels because they remind him of home. And he
describes the horrific living conditions, in a shack without water or
electricity but with crop dusters spraying overhead, that his family took for
granted. Even so, these memories constitute Mr. Echols's idea of living in
freedom.
And they make good stories, even if this book's emphasis is often on filth,
hellishness and disgust. They are so well told that "Life After Death"
sometimes sounds like the work of a ghostwriter. But the book reprints enough
handwritten pages of Mr. Echols's prison writing to make it very clear that the
literary talent is entirely his. He was still in the ninth grade at the age of
17, but he is an autodidact who read thousands of books while incarcerated.
And, as the documentary footage of his arrest and trial make clear, he is
someone with a strong, single-minded personal style.
The mere fact of his survival in prison becomes more miraculous as his death
row stories unfold. Sometimes he was entirely isolated. Sometimes he was
surrounded by people he regarded as demonstrably insane, and their bizarre
behavior is well documented here. (Especially memorable: a man with crickets
Scotch-taped all over his body.) Mr. Echols makes a fiercely persuasive case
against the execution of prisoners not lucid enough to understand what is being
done to them. He cites one man who expected to finish eating his piece of pie
after his execution.
Even in moments of deepest despair Mr. Echols found ways to toughen himself.
And they are not the usual methods found in prison memoirs. "I was much more
flexible in mind and body as a youth," he writes, about the difficulty of
absorbing each new horror. But he developed a strong spirituality. He fell in
love and got married. (He has much to say about his wife, Lorri, who had no
reason to think he would ever be free when their courtship began.) And he
already had the advantage of an odd perspective, one that found happiness in
dark winter nights and extreme physical conditions. "Today my feet bled through
2 pairs of socks," he writes. "It was bliss."
Mr. Echols's prison story is not consistent in tone. As he wrote in an earlier,
self-published book, "Almost Home," which is partly incorporated here, he felt
hopeless and ghostly for a long time. That's the mood early in "Life After
Death," but he gradually begins seeing glints of light. He learns that Axl Rose
has been spotted in a West Memphis 3 T-shirt. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam,
prompted by "Paradise Lost," tries to get in touch with Mr. Echols's lawyer
(who at first doesn't recognize Mr. Vedder's name). And Peter Jackson brings
his "Lord of the Rings" clout to aiding the defense effort for Mr. Echols. Mr.
Jackson, a producer of "West of Memphis," helped pay for the DNA testing that
helped persuade the State of Arkansas to back off.
Now Mr. Echols, who may love heavy metal but cites a Medici as a role model, is
a free man with his own celebrity aura. He has written a haunting book, and the
story it tells is hardly over. He is living out a sequel that is no less
strange and magickal than what he has already been through.
(source: New York Times)
VIRGINIA:
Va. lethal injection suit nixed
A judge said Wednesday that he did not to hear any evidence before concluding
that lethal injection in Virginia does not amount to practicing medicine
without a license.
Richmond Circuit Judge Gregory Rupe commended two Alexandria attorneys for an
"imaginative" challenge, but he refused to let their lawsuit go to trial.
Rupe said he could require Department of Corrections officials to appear in
court to defend the way they carry out death sentences, but the question would
ultimately come down to whether he believes lethal injection is the practice of
medicine.
"It is not," the judge said in dismissing the lawsuit filed by attorneys Meghan
Shapiro and Christopher Leibig.
Shapiro said after the half-hour hearing that she and Leibig "respectfully
disagree" with Rupe's conclusion and are considering an appeal.
"General anesthesia is medicine and only medical professionals can legally do
it," Shapiro said.
The lawsuit, filed in April, claimed that the methods used by Virginia to
execute condemned inmates amount to the unauthorized practice of medicine,
pharmacy and anesthesiology. The plaintiffs and Richard Dieter, executive
director of the Death Penalty Information Center, said they are aware of no
other challenge that has claimed executioners are violating medical licensing
laws and regulations.
Richard Vorhis of the attorney general's office argued during the hearing that
state law defines medical practice as the diagnosis, treatment or prevention of
disease - precisely the opposite of an execution, which is the court-ordered
taking of a life. He also said state law requires the Department of Corrections
to carry out executions.
Shapiro said the law directs the department to "cause" death sentences to be
carried out, suggesting that licensed medical professionals could be used.
Vorhis said doctors likely would refuse to participate because of their
Hippocratic oath, but Shapiro said other licensed medical professionals could
be employed.
"It is quite feasible to conduct executions in a way that doesn't violate laws
of the commonwealth," she said.
Vorhis argued that the plaintiffs are not really concerned about illegal
medical practice.
"They're trying to shut down the execution process, and they're trying to do it
by manipulating the definition of medicine," he said.
(source: Associated Press)
NORTH CAROLINA:
The Death Penalty: An Irrational Punishment
Dear Editor
Imagine being in the horrible position of surviving a murder attempt, a murder
that took the life of your spouse or child. How would you feel? What would you
want to happen to the murderer?
In addition to the terrible sense of loss and unimaginable grief you???d
experience, odds are you???d be very angry and have a strong desire for
vengeance. You'd probably want to kill the killer. And all that would be
perfectly understandable.
But we, as individual people, are unable to achieve justice effectively and
efficiently on our own. When responding to such atrocities, we humans have a
long history of escalating violence and doing more harm than good. So we trust
social institutions - the law, police, courts, and correctional facilities - to
pursue and carry out justice for us.
Since punishment by the government is a policy carried out in our names, it
must be rational - or reasonable and sensible - rather than rooted in emotion.
Even when we are talking about punishing murderers.
Murder is the ultimate crime that calls for the ultimate justice. In some
states, including North Carolina, that means capital punishment.
North Carolina is an interesting case because we've historically been one of
the nation's leaders in terms of the size of our death row, the number of death
sentences we hand down, and the number of executions we carry out every year.
This all began to change in 2001 when death sentences started to decline, and
the state's last execution was in August 2006. In fact, death sentences
declined more in North Carolina in the first decade of the 21st Century than in
any other state in the country.
Since that time, the murder rate has fallen and 2010 witnessed the lowest
murder rate in the state???s recorded history. Now is thus the time to
carefully assess whether capital punishment is a rational policy. Specifically,
is it a punishment that we need?
Last year, a review of every study of the state's death penalty practice
identified several key facts. They include that the death penalty is not an
effective form of crime prevention or justice for crime victims; capital
punishment costs more than alternative punishments such as life imprisonment,
death sentences are characterized by serious disparities based on race, class,
and gender of offenders and victims; and innocent people are wrongly convicted
and sentenced to death.
These findings prove that capital punishment is an irrational policy. That it
does not satisfy our demand for vengeance or prevent murder, it is excessively
costly, it is biased, and it poses a serious risk to the innocent makes it
unreasonable and not sensible.
Interestingly, every state and every nation that has ever practiced capital
punishment has had the same experience, suggesting the problems with the death
penalty are intractable. This helps us understand why most states in the U.S.
do not regularly carry out executions and why most nations on the Earth have
already abolished the death penalty.
According figures compiled by Amnesty International, 138 countries have now
abolished the death penalty in law or in practice. Only 58 countries retain the
death penalty and only 21 are known to have carried out executions in 2011.
The United States was the only country in the Western hemisphere or among the
G8 nations among these. And amazingly, the US ranked 5th in the world in
executions, behind China, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Iraq, countries with long
histories of atrocious human rights violations.
This is another reason why North Carolina ought to abolish the death penalty.
By continuing to sentence people to death even as executions here have halted,
we remain part of a tiny minority of places that still does not yet protect
human rights, the most basic of which is the right to life.
How can we expect to be a global advocate for human rights when we ourselves
are offenders?
If you want to learn more about this issue and what you can do to help to bring
about change, we will be presenting additional information on the death penalty
at the Watauga County Public Library (140 Queen Street) on October 2 at 5:30
p.m.
Matthew Robinson and Amanda Moore
(source: Letter to the Editor; Matthew Robinson is Professor of Government and
Justice Studies at Appalachian State University. Amanda Moore is a junior at
Appalachian majoring in Global Studies----High Country Press)
COLORADO:
Eddie Ives's botched execution and replacing the noose with the gas chamber
This week's cover story, "The Happiest Man on Death Row," examines the 1939
execution of Joe Arridy, a Pueblo man with an IQ of 46, for a murder he
probably didn't commit -- and the 20-year battle by author Robert Perske to
clear his name. Although the miscarriage of justice in Arridy's case is
shocking, his time in the state pen (where he was allowed to play with his toy
train) was an oddly gentle period in his short life, and his death by
asphyxiation in Colorado's gas chamber was swift -- unlike the fate of many of
his predecessors on death row.
Arridy was the 7th prisoner to die in the state's gas chamber, which had enough
seats to accommodate 3 customers at once. Colorado had only started using
cyanide gas to administer the death penalty in 1934, and the newfangled
contraption was widely regarded as a "painless" alternative to the prior
method, hanging -- a practice that dated back to frontier days.
The problem with hanging, state officials had discovered, is that it isn't easy
to instantly snap someone's neck with a simple noose and gravity. Even with
increasingly sophisticated scaffolds, traps and counterweights, there are too
many variants involved in the procedure, including the weight of the prisoner,
to guarantee a tidy result. More often than not, the procedure left the
condemned man dangling and writhing, slowly being choked to death, rather than
a clean kill. There had been some memorable miscalculations by the
executioners, and the hanging of Eddie Ives had been the worst of the lot.
Ives, a barber and burglar, had been convicted of the fatal shooting of a cop
after Denver police crashed an illegal booze party on Curtis Street. (A 2nd
officer was wounded in the 1928 shooting, only to be slain a few days later by
a nurse at Denver General Hospital who happened to be his spurned lover;
Denver's scandal-crazy dailies pumped that case into a Roaring Twenties version
of "the crime of the century," as detailed in my 2003 feature "Love Crazy.") He
managed to stall his execution for months by pretending to be insane, dipping
his chow in the toilet in his cell and babbling in strange tongues.
After that ploy failed and he was pronounced sane, Ives won another delay when
a riot at the state penitentiary gutted 3 cell houses and left 12 dead,
including 7 guards. One of the casualties was Jack Eeles, 77, who'd been the
prison's hangman for 30 years.
Ives, who weighed only 80 pounds, had a longstanding belief that he was going
to beat the noose. "Hell," he reportedly told a Denver detective years before
he got the death sentence, "they couldn't hang me if they wanted to. A noose
couldn't crack my neck. I'm too small to spring the trap."
But time ran out for Ives on January 10, 1930. He was escorted to the gallows,
the noose tightened around his neck. A guard pulled a lever that sent a weight
hurtling down a chute. The weight was supposed to pull the rope taut; then the
prisoner would break his neck as he fell through the trap. But Ives was too
light. As the weight fell, he went hurtling toward the ceiling. The rope jumped
off the pulley and Ives fell to the floor, gasping for breath.
"You can't hang a man twice," he said.
But they did. According to one witness, it took 3 attempts. Ives was strangled
for 23 minutes before he was pronounced dead. At that time, the executions were
closed to the press, but word leaked out of his slow and excruciating demise.
"Colorado has one of the most ghastly hanging machines possible," Thomas Tynan,
a former warden for the penitentiary, told the Rocky Mountain News. "More than
half of the men executed have not been hanged at all. They have strangled."
Colorado continued to use the rope for another 3 years -- more than a dozen
executions, some of them almost as gruesome as Ives's death. Then the
legislature decided to switch to gas. That method stayed in place for more than
30 years, until the 1967 death of Luis Jose Monge, who killed four members of
his family to cover up his own sexual abuse of them. It was the last execution
performed anywhere in the country before a U.S. Supreme Court ruling that put
the death penalty on hold well into the 1970s.
By the time Colorado got around to another execution in 1997 -- its 93rd since
achieving statehood -- the gas chamber had been replaced by lethal injection.
The recipient was Gary Lee Davis, the only killer the state has managed to kill
in the past 4 decades. Look for more on Davis in this space.
(source: Denver Westword)
_______________________________________________
DeathPenalty mailing list
[email protected]
http://lists.washlaw.edu/mailman/listinfo/deathpenalty
Search the Archives: http://www.mail-archive.com/[email protected]/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A free service of WashLaw
http://washlaw.edu
(785)670.1088
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
