June 28
TEXAS:
Outside the Texas Death Chamber ---- As Kimberly McCarthy was put to death -
the 500th Texas prisoner executed since 1982 - protesters and crime victims
alike came to bear witness.
At 4 pm on June 26, the road in front of the tall red brick perimeter walls of
Huntsville's prison is quiet, but Texas State Troopers begin to cordon it off
with yellow tape in anticipation of what's about to happen.
In an hour, some 50 men and women will have gathered at the western end of the
road, waving banners that read "Stop Executions," "Don't Kill For Me," and
"Abolish the Racist Death Penalty." By 6 pm their numbers will have swollen to
around 60 and they'll be shouting, some of them gathering by the yellow tape
and causing the ranks of troopers to swell too.
At 6:37 pm the crowd will fall silent, while behind those prison walls Texas
executes its 500th death row inmate since capital punishment resumed here in
1982: a gruesome milestone that focused renewed international attention on a
state that executes more people than any other in the nation.
The woman who will be strapped to a gurney and killed using a single, lethal
dose of the barbiturate pentobarbital is Kimberly McCarthy, a 52-year-old
former occupational therapist from Lancaster, Texas, just south of Dallas.
McCarthy is the thirteenth woman to be executed since a nationwide moratorium
on capital punishment ended in 1976, and 1 of more than 1,300 people have been
executed since. More than a third of these executions have been carried out in
Texas.
Kimberly McCarthy's guilt was never in question, and her crime was particularly
heinous. In 1997, high on crack, she entered the home of her 71-year-old
neighbor, Dorothy Booth, a former college professor, claiming she wanted to
borrow a bag of sugar. McCarthy then stabbed Booth to death with a butcher's
knife, severing one of her fingers in order to remove her wedding ring (which
she later pawned) and stole her credit cards to buy drugs. Traces of Booth's
blood were later found in McCarthy's home. (DNA evidence also implicated
McCarthy in the similarly grisly murders of 2 other elderly women in 1988, but
she was never tried for those crimes.)
There were problems with McCarthy's trial. Her initial conviction was
overturned because a statement she gave to police was improperly used against
her in court. She was tried a 2nd time, before a jury that included just 1
black member. In Dallas County where the trial took place, 1/4 of the
population is black.
McCarthy's appellate attorney, Maurie Levin, a law professor at the University
of Texas in Austin, claimed racism played a part in that decision. The court
disagreed.
* * *
At the eastern end of the road outside the prison is another yellow police
cordon, behind which a handful of pro-death penalty activists are trying to
stay out of the scorching sun.
It's the 1st execution that psychology majors Jennifer Jepson and Destiny
Thompson have attended, and they say they're here to be a part of history.
Jepson says she realizes that the death penalty doesn't deter people from
committing murder. Wouldn't you opt for life without parole instead, then, I
ask, to which she answers, "They can still kill people in prison. They had
their chance."
Thompson, whose placard reads "Justice for the Victims," tells me if a member
of her family was murdered she'd want justice, by which she means the death
penalty.
Opposite the prison, in a building housing the Texas Department of Corrections,
McCarthy's ex-husband waits to be led across the road to watch his former wife
die. In a smaller, single-room brick building next door, members of the press
await details of the execution: what time the lethal dose took hold, what
McCarthy's last words were, whether she made a last-minute admission; whether
she looked anyone in the eye before she died.
Jennifer Emily, courts reporter for The Dallas Morning News, is on the media
witness list - those with the dubious distinction of actually seeing McCarthy
take her final breath. It's not the 1st execution she's seen. Emily witnessed
the death by lethal injection of George Rivas, ringleader of the so-called
Texas 7, a group of inmates who staged an audacious prison escape in 2000,
killing a police officer while on the run. "Executions are very clinical," she
tells me. "Much more so than I thought it would be."
Witnesses, she says, stand in a private viewing area, separated from the death
chamber by Perspex. "Even though you're watching through a window, they seem
very far away - about 5 or 6 feet. And once the lethal dose is administered,
time goes by incredibly slowly. "It was the longest 6 minutes I've ever
experienced. You're standing there, the inmate starts breathing rapidly, then
their breath slows. After that, you're just waiting. My heart raced a little."
Emily was anxious before she saw Rivas executed. This time, for the most part,
she knows the procedure; she knows what's going to happen. It's just like
watching someone fall asleep.
I ask whether there could be a last-minute reprieve for McCarthy. "The governor
could do something," she says. "But it's unlikely."
Among the crowd of protesters is a woman wearing a cassock and clerical collar,
shielding a lit candle with her hands. Rev. Cheryl Smith has only lived in
Huntsville for a couple of years - Methodist ministers are moved around from
place to place by the church - but she's been here long enough to know she
needs to be outside the prison today, protesting what she feels is
fundamentally wrong.
A few hours earlier, I had sat with Smith in her office at Wesley Memorial
United Methodist, a church set back off a pine-fringed road not far from
downtown Huntsville.
Her bookshelves were full and wooden angels took up a small table next to her
cluttered desk. Smith wasn't always opposed to execution. Turning up for jury
duty in her early 20s, she was asked if she would support the death penalty and
she said yes. "I was young and hadn't thought it through," she told me.
She once worked as a teacher, then she went to grad school and practiced
clinical psychiatry for 20 years before going to seminary and then into the
ministry.
"When I arrived in Huntsville I'd drive by the Walls [the nickname given to the
prison] every day at least twice because it's between the Parsonage and the
church," she said. "And execution became an issue that I could not longer put
on the back burner. 5 or 6 months later I went to a vigil."
Smith has been to almost every execution since. Some of her parishioners now
join her. "Not because I've pushed them," she said. "It's something that comes
from within."
I asked if she thought the families of the victims got closure from seeing the
person who murdered their loved one executed. "There's only closure if the
motivation is vengeance," Smith said. "And I can't support that."
Another person quietly protesting McCarthy's execution is Rais Bhuiyan. Though
he had a fleeting brush with international fame a few years ago, he blends in
to the background - yet his presence is deeply poignant. In September 2001,
days after the terrorist attacks, a man called Mark Stroman opened fire on
three employees at separate Dallas convenience stores, claiming he was avenging
the deaths of those who died. Bhuiyan was the sole survivor; Stroman spent a
decade on death row for the murders. But rather than advocate for "justice" in
the form of an execution, Bhuiyan poured all his energy into saving the life of
his would-be killer. He was convinced that if Stroman was given a chance to
live he would use his time to preach tolerance, not hate. On the eve of
Stroman's execution, Bhuiyan was in court in Austin pushing for a stay. He was
unsuccessful, and today, as Texas prepares to execute its 500th death row
inmate, he has come to the prison where Stroman lost his life, for the 1st
time.
"I told myself I had to come to Huntsville one day," Bhuiyan tells me. "But the
feeling is sweet and sour. We have to be here. We have to make our voices
heard. Because if we don't, more people will end up on death row. And the death
penalty doesn't accomplish anything.
"Whatever happened to me - the pain and suffering I had - I can't get that time
back. I can't do it over. So it's better to release the pressure; the negative
energy in my mind and body; the pain and suffering of the crime. And to do that
you need to forgive - to do something positive.
"I respect the feelings of [McCarthy's] victim's family. But killing her will
never get your loved one back. If you forgive you'll help alleviate that pain
and suffering you feel. Keep her behind bars and maybe tomorrow she'll change.
But if you take her life, you'll never know."
Sitting behind Bhuiyan is a elderly woman displaying a sign to passing cars
inviting them to "Honk to stop executions." Joanne Gavin, 82, has been
protesting capital punishment outside the Walls Unit since 1982 when Texas
executed its 1st inmate since the moratorium. "I spent 50 years in the civil
rights movement," she tells me. "That's my background."
I ask whether she thinks she'll see the death penalty repealed in her lifetime.
"My lifetime ain't that long," she says. "But some of these folks here will see
it. I don't get upset any more. Just angry."
It's 6.25 pm and a number of protesters have approached the yellow cordon and
are facing a line of State Troopers on the other side. One lady begins singing,
loudly: "Wade in the water, wade in the water children." It's a
turn-of-the-century spiritual, and her voice carries all the way up the road to
where guards are now standing outside the main prison doors and, opposite,
members of the media have gathered by a small wooden podium waiting for news of
the execution.
10 minutes later there's an eerie silence in this little corner of Huntsville.
The media witnesses appear from the prison doors, stony faced, accompanied by
guards. Maurie Levin, McCarthy's attorney, emerges too and walks across the
road before disappearing into the building opposite.
A Texas Department of Criminal Justice employee tells us that 3 witnesses that
were supposed to be there for McCarthy didn't show - including her son. He says
Dorothy Booth's granddaughter wept throughout.
Jason Clark, the public information officer, hands out copies of McCarthy's
last statement to the press. "She was pronounced dead at 6.37 pm," he says.
Strapped to the gurney, a microphone dangling above her head, McCarthy thanked
her supporters. "This is not a loss," she said. "This is a win. You know where
I am going. I am going home to be with Jesus. Keep the faith, I love y'all.
Thank you Chaplain."
Rebecca Lopez, of Dallas TV station WFAA, and one of the media witnesses,
Tweeted: "Kimberly McCarthy said God is good just before she died.... Took
about 20 minutes from time the injections started." A witness from the
Associated Press wrote that McCarthy "took hard, raspy, loud breaths for
several seconds before becoming quiet. Then, her chest moved up and down for
another minute before she stopped breathing."
Donna Aldred, Dorothy Booth's daughter, thanked friends, family, as well as the
Dallas district attorney, police and investigators. Her mother, she said, was
an incredible woman, and although they were grateful to see justice served,
nothing could fill the hole in their hearts. Randall Browning, Booth's godson,
said the family needed closure "in whatever form that it comes," but he
conceded that his 87-year-old mother, Booth's best friend, had looked at him
earlier that morning like he was crazy. "She said she will never heal."
By the time Browning finished speaking, the protesters and the yellow tape had
already disappeared.
Texas' next execution is scheduled for July 16. But it's unlikely to attract
the groundswell of protest or media interest that was here today. Rev. Cheryl
Smith anticipates just 4 or 5 people holding a the vigil. John Quintanilla's
execution may warrant a brief mention in The Huntsville Item, the local
newspaper, but number 501 is no milestone.
The road outside the main entrance to the prison falls silent again. If you
look hard enough, you can make out inmates in their white prison-issue jump
suits peering out of the foggy glass above the prison walls.
As I walk back to the car, I send Maurie Levin, Kimberly McCarthy's attorney, a
text message asking if she can speak. "Just not up for talking, sorry," she
texts back. Instead she sends me a statement: "Kimberly McCarthy went with the
abiding faith that she was going to a better place. 500 is 500 too many. I look
forward to the day when we recognize that this pointless and barbaric practice,
imposed almost exclusively on those who are poor and disproportionately on
people of color, has no place in a civilized society."
(source: The Nation)
******************************
Couple indicted on capital murder charges for shooting District Attorneys in
'revenge killings' and could face death penalty - Eric and Kim Williams, both
46, charged with killing DA Mike McLelland and his wife Cynthia, and ADA Mark
Hasse
Texas detectives found 20 weapons and a car linked to a crime scene inside
Williams' storage facility
McLellands allegedly shot at home while Hasse gunned down outside local
courthouse
Eric Williams held on a $23 million bond, while Kim's bond is $10 million
Both could face the death penalty
A former justice of the peace and his wife were indicted on capital murder
charges Thursday in the slayings of 2 North Texas prosecutors who were fatally
shot earlier this year.
One man was killed outside the local courthouse and the other was shot at his
home with his wife.
Eric and Kim Williams, both 46, were each indicted by a grand jury for the
deaths of Assistant District Attorney Mark Hasse, District Attorney Mike
McLelland and McLelland's wife, Cynthia.
The couple could face the death penalty, said the county's current district
attorney.
The couple was arrested in April for what prosecutors allege was a meticulous
plot to avenge Eric Williams' conviction for stealing three county computer
monitors in 2012. The conviction cost him his job and law license.
Eric Williams also was indicted for making a terroristic threat, a charge
related to an email sent to authorities vowing future violence against county
employees.
The email was allegedly traced to a computer in the Williams home.
The Williamses have been in the Kaufman County jail southeast of Dallas since
their arrests. Eric Williams is being held on a $23 million bond, while his
wife's bond is $10 million.
Hasse was fatally shot as he walked to work in January, while the McLellands
were gunned down in their home 2 months later.
Authorities allege that Eric Williams was the gunman in both cases.
His wife, investigators say, was the driver when her husband shot Hasse on the
street outside the county courthouse and was a passenger when her husband drove
to the McLellands' home to carry out those killings in March.
Kim Williams confessed to her role in the crimes, according to the warrant
issued at the time of her arrest.
Her court-appointed attorney, Paul Johnson, declined to comment Thursday until
he had time to review the indictments.
Eric Williams's lead attorney, Matthew Seymour, didn't immediately return a
phone message, and John Wright, an attorney working with Seymour, said he's
prohibited from talking to the media without approval from his supervisors.
The arrest warrants describe a revenge plan in which Eric Williams rented a
storage unit in a friend's name to hide a cache of weapons and a car that
authorities said was tied to the McLelland killings.
Current district attorney Erleigh Norville Wiley declined to take questions
about the case but thanked law enforcement personnel who assisted in the
investigation.
'We join with the families, the county and all of those affected by these
deaths in the prayer that justice will be done,' she said.
Eric Williams practiced law in Kaufman for more than a decade, specializing in
family-related cases.
He was elected to his judicial post in 2010, but he lost the $53,000-a-year
position and his law license when he was convicted of stealing the computer
monitors.
During the highly contentious trial, McLelland and Hasse portrayed Williams as
a dishonest public official with a dangerous streak.
At sentencing, they presented evidence indicating Williams had made death
threats against another local attorney and a former girlfriend.
Although the 2 prosecutors sought prison time for Williams, he ultimately
received probation.
The murder case is being prosecuted by two Dallas attorneys, Toby Shook and
Bill Wirskye.
Wiley said Thursday that neither she nor her assistants will take active roles
to avoid issues that might detract from the case or delay it.
Shook and Wirskye, criminal defense attorneys who both previously served as
Dallas County prosecutors, were appointed after Hasse's slaying on McLelland's
recommendation.
Wiley also said the district judge who set bond in the case, Michael Chitty,
has recused himself and that a visiting judge will be sought.
Chitty presided over Eric Williams' trial in the computer monitor theft case.
Detectives investigating the killing also came across evidence that led them to
serve a search warrant on a Seagoville storage facility, which was rented out
to Eric Williams.
Inside, they found about 20 weapons - among them handguns and assault rifles -
and a white Ford Crown Victoria that matches the description of a vehicle seen
near the McLelland home on the night of the murders, Dallas Morning News
reported.
Police reportedly zeroed in on Williams after several emails making threats to
other county officials were linked to him.
Those threats, though, were not his first.
Williams, who served as a justice of the peace, handling-low-level legal cases
in Kaufman County, has been prosecuted by McLelland and Hasse on charges that
he stole three computer monitors from the courthouse and misused law library
funds.
A neighbor told the Dallas Morning News that he knew Williams to be a 'nice
guy' who was known in the neighborhood for riding around town in his Segway.
Once a respected attorney, a justice of the peace and a member of the chamber
of commerce, Williams had lost everything following his conviction.
Williams could no longer practice law in the state and his peace officer
license was revoked, leaving him unemployed and on the brink of financial ruin.
Williams and his defense team were convinced that key evidence used to convict
him had been tempered with, and that McLelland's overzealous prosecution of his
case was borne out of a political grudge, court documents show.
Prior to his sentencing, Williams told prison officials that he had taken the
computer equipment to test a video system that would allow him to hold hearing
online and insisted that he did not steal anything.
This incident has become a tragic misunderstanding that has taken my livelihood
and reputation,' he said in a pre-sentencing report cited by the New York
Times.
The disgraced lawyer said the case against him had put tremendous stress on his
ailing wife and elderly in-laws.
'They moved to Texas so I could be a resource to them. If I do jail time, they
and my wife will be the ones being punished,' he said.
Federal and local authorities searched Williams' home Friday as part of an
investigation into the McLellands' deaths.
Williams' attorney, David Sergi, released a statement at the time, saying his
client 'has cooperated with law enforcement and vigorously denies any and all
allegations.'
'He wishes simply to get on with his life and hopes that the perpetrators are
brought to justice,' Sergi said.
Earlier this month, Williams said he voluntarily submitted to a gun residue
test and turned over his cellphone after authorities contacted him while
investigating the deaths of the McLellands.
Authorities have released little information about the case except to say they
continue to follow leads, including possible ties to a white supremacist gang.
One month before Hasse's death, the Texas Department of Public Safety issued a
warning to authorities statewide that the Aryan Brotherhood of Texas could
retaliate for an October indictment that targeted some of its leaders.
McLelland's office was involved in that investigation.
Earlier this month, a speaker had drawn applause from mourners at the
McLelland's funeral, when he said of their killers: 'Chase 'em down. Go get
'em. Bring 'em to justice... Take them out of the hole they come from.'
Chris Heisler made the remarks as he led an emotional memorial service on April
4 for the couple who had been murdered at their Texas home near Forney on March
31.
Loved ones remembered the couple's love, warmth and public service. Dozens of
law enforcement officers and public officials, including Texas Governor Rick
Perry, were among the hundreds who attended the service.
Authorities search a storage unit at Gibson Self Storage as they continue to
investigate the slayings of Kaufman County District Attorney Mike McLelland and
his wife
Friends reportedly found the bodies of the DA and his wife after going to their
home on March 31, having not heard from them in almost 24 hours. They were
found with multiple gunshot wounds.
At their funeral service on April 4, Mr and Mrs McLelland shared a single,
flag-draped casket inside the suburban church.
Mrs McLelland had been cremated and an urn with her remains was placed inside
her husband's coffin.
McLelland had addressed many of the same people two months earlier, after the
slaying of Mark Hasse, one of his prosecutors. Hasse was gunned down near the
Kaufman County courthouse while going to work.
The deaths were feared to be planned attacks by violent white supremacist gang,
the Aryan Brotherhood of Texas. McLelland in particular was pivotal in the
prosecution of a senior member of the Aryan Brotherhood of Texas last year who
received 2 life terms following a shoot out.
In the months after Hasse was killed, McLelland began to carry a gun everywhere
and took extra caution when answering his door.
He told The Associated Press in an interview shortly before his death that he
was warning his employees that they needed to be more cautious as well.
'The people in my line of work are going to have to get better at it,' he said
of dealing with the danger, 'because they're going to need it more in the
future'.
(source: Daily Mail)
MARYLAND:
1st US man released by DNA evidence after being on death row celebrates 20th
year
A Maryland man who was on death row for a murder he didn't commit and was later
freed from prison because of DNA evidence is celebrating the 20th anniversary
of his release.
Kirk Bloodsworth is marking the anniversary on Friday.
Bloodsworth was twice convicted of a girl's 1984 murder, and he spent 2 years
on death row following his first trial. A second trial brought another
conviction, although he received a life sentence instead of capital punishment.
Bloodsworth was cleared in 1993, becoming the first American freed because of
DNA evidence after being convicted in a death penalty case.
He has worked to ban the death penalty. This year, Maryland lawmakers banned
capital punishment, and Gov. Martin O'Malley signed the bill.
(source: Associated Press)
VIRGINIA:
Colonial Heights Commonwealth's Attorney to seek death penalty in murder case
The man accused of slaying an elderly Colonial Heights couple will now face the
death penalty.
Police believe that Matthew Franklin Brady bludgeoned Joseph, 84, and Evelyn
Bland, 80, to death in their Conduit Road home in what they described as a
botched robbery. The 29-year-old lived down the street from the couple and was
arrested on Jan. 28, 2011.
Brady faces capital murder charges and was always eligible for the death
penalty or life in prison if convicted.
Since Brady's arrest, Colonial Heights Commonwealth's Attorney William B. Bray
had not said whether his office would seek the death penalty.
About 2 months ago, Bray said he officially filed his intent to seek the death
penalty.
2 motions filed by the defense that challenged the use of the death penalty
were denied by a Circuit Court judge on Tuesday. The defense has filed similar
motions in an attempt to knock out the possibility of a death sentence.
"They are not identical, they are all slightly different based on
interpretation of the law," Bray said.
Brady will next appear in Colonial Heights Circuit Court on July 22 for a
hearing regarding DNA admissibility. His trial is set for March 24, 2014.
(source: Petersburg Progress-Index)
FLORIDA:
Stay of execution lifted for Florida escort service owner
A federal appeals court lifted the stay of execution for a former escort
service owner convicted in the slayings of 2 Florida women.
The 11th Circuit Court of Appeals listed the stay on Thursday for Marshall Lee
Gore, according to the Miami Herald. A new date for the execution has not yet
been set.
Gore, 49, had been scheduled to die at the Florida State Prison in Starke
Monday evening for the 1988 slaying of Robyn Novick, a 30-year-old exotic
dancer. But the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals approved a motion filed by Gore's
attorney less than 2 hours before he was to have received a lethal injection.
In his emergency motion, attorney Todd Scher argued Gore's execution would
violate the Eighth Amendment, which forbids the state from carrying out a death
sentence against a prisoner who is insane.
Gore's attorneys have argued before that he is mentally ill. One previous
lawyer claimed Gore was "mentally deranged" and not responsible for his
actions. But several judges concluded he was using a claim of mental illness to
manipulate the judicial process.
When asked by a judge in the Novick case if he felt competent to proceed he
replied, "I'm absolutely competent. I'm absolutely lucid." He had frequent
verbal outbursts during the trial, laughed out loud and even howled.
A panel of doctors appointed by Gov. Rick Scott concluded in May that Gore was
mentally competent to be executed.
In addition to Novick, Gore also was convicted and sentenced to death in the
1988 slaying of Susan Roark. Novick's body was found in a rural part of
Miami-Dade County and Roark's body a few months later in Columbia County in
northern Florida.
Gore initially denied knowing any of the women, but later testified they worked
for him at an escort service.
Florida had 2 executions earlier this month: William Van Poyck was put to death
on June 12 for the 1987 murder of a prison guard during a botched attempt to
free another inmate. On May 29, the state executed Elmer Carroll for the 1990
rape and murder of a 10-year-old girl.
***************
Timely Justice Act Faces Challenge in the Supreme Court
A new Florida law that speeds up how quickly the state carries out the death
penalty is being challenged in the state Supreme Court.
Lawyers Neal Dupree and Bill Jennings -- who head the state agencies that
represent death row inmates after they're convicted -- are leading a lawsuit
filed Wednesday afternoon against Attorney General Pam Bondi and the state of
Florida. Plaintiffs in the lawsuit include more than 100 current death row
inmates.
Signed by Gov. Rick Scott earlier this month, the Timely Justice Act of 2013
creates tighter timeframes for appeals and postconviction motions and imposes
reporting requirements on case progress. It also re-establishes a separate
agency for North Florida to provide appellate-level legal representation to
inmates sentenced to death and requires them to "pursue all possible remedies
in state court."
Scott said in his signing statement that the state's current death row inmates
who have exhausted their judicial appeals have been awaiting execution for an
average of 22 years.
The lawsuit claims the new law unconstitutionally usurps the court's powers and
violates convicts' constitutional rights to due process and equal protection.
The challenge also asks for an injunction to keep the law from going into
effect on Monday.
Florida currently has more than 400 inmates on its death row, more than any
other state except California.
2 former death row inmates who were exonerated have said they fear the changes
could lead to the execution of people who are innocent. Seth Penalver was
exonerated after 18 years in prison, while Herman Lindsey was freed after three
years in prison.
24 men have been exonerated from Florida's death row since 1973, according to
the Death Penalty Information Center.
Scott has previously disputed the idea that the new law would increase the risk
of the execution of those who were innocent. He also has contended the changes
called for in the new law would increase some of the legal protections for
inmates.
(source for both: Associated Press)
***************************
1 of Jacksonville newlyweds' killers pleads guilty to 2nd-degree murder;
Tyreyon Washington dodges death penalty by agreeing to testify against
co-conspirators.
A Jacksonville man avoided death row by pleading guilty Thursday to 2nd-degree
murder in the deaths of a newlywed couple and agreeing to testify against the 2
other people charged in the case.
Tyreyon Octavious Washington, 21, took part in shooting Jeanette Hawkins and
Ricky Morgan and burning their bodies over a drug-related matter. Hawkins was
36 and Morgan 31. Circuit Judge Mallory Cooper will decide at a later date on a
sentence that could range from 25 years to life in prison.
Washington also pleaded guilty to 2 counts of kidnapping.
Until Thursday, he was facing 2 charges of 1st-degree murder with the State
Attorney???s Office pursuing the death penalty. That was taken off the table
when the state attorney agreed to drop the charges to 2nd-degree murder.
Washington, Harochio Javon Varnadore, 30, and Emanuel Keith Pressley, 25, are
all accused in the couple???s deaths. Prosecutors are still pursuing the death
penalty against Varnadore and Pressley.
Hawkins and Morgan, who had been married for 5 months, were reported missing
from their Woolery Drive home Aug. 15, 2011. Their decomposed bodies were found
days later in the woods in the 1400 block of Harper Street at South Myrtle
Avenue.
(source: Florida Times-Union)
ALABAMA:
In Alabama, the value of human lives
Kevin Thompson didn't deserve to die. Neither did Justin Sollohub. Or Dequirea
Royal. Or these people, either: Fred Blackmon, Evelyn Blackmon, Andrew Burch,
Joseph Burch, Douglas Neal, Austin Joplin, William Junior Nunn, Annette Spinks,
Sean Adam Cook, Lorenzo Moya, Miguel Moya, Ismael Moya.
And Cody Allen Rollins, a toddler.
They represent a cross-section of northeast Alabama: men and women, husbands,
wives and brothers, white and black, young and old, native-born and immigrant.
Sollohub was a policeman. Royal was a National Guardsman. 3 of them died while
working at Calhoun County stores. The Moyas - all 3 - perished at the hands of
a family member.
There are many others, of course. I couldn't remember all of them. Our list of
the murdered is too long.
The trial of Nicholas Smith, accused of killing Thompson 2 years ago, has
spurred thoughts of those taken in recent years. Anyone who recalls the brutal
facts surrounding the deaths of the Blackmons (killed in 1986) or the 4 men
executed at Blockbuster Video in 2002 should shiver at the testimony being
heard this week in the Calhoun County Courthouse.
It isn't for the faint of heart.
Thompson was one of Calhoun County's awesome stories: a young man with a
splendid attitude and stellar work ethic who enjoyed helping young people. He
worked at Wal-Mart, graduated from college and taught at Wellborn Elementary.
He was only 29 when, according to testimony, 3 men kidnapped him, robbed him,
put duct tape over his eyes, locked him in their car's trunk and eventually
killed him, dumping his body in a ditch alongside U.S. 278.
1 of the men slit Thompson's throat, another stabbed him in the chest.
Thompson yelled, "Help! Help! I'm dying."
No one helped.
Instead, those accused of killing this young, vibrant Calhoun County man face
Alabama's ultimate justice: the possibility of death by lethal injection, our
state's preferred method of state-sanctioned killing. It's the same fate given
to William Glenn Boyd, who murdered the Blackmons, and Donald Ray Wheat, the
Blockbuster killer who died in prison before he could be executed.
Up front, an admission: I struggle - mightily - with the death penalty.
Eye-for-an-eye justice is about revenge, not justice. It doesn't bring back the
departed. It doesn't deter others from committing murders; evil isn't easily
swayed. Alabama is one of the nation's leading states for executions (55 since
the death penalty returned in 1976) and still murderers walk among us. There is
no inherent, human value in putting another person to death.
Yet, I get it. People who kill eat away at the souls of families burdened by
this horrible experience. Their acts are indefensible, if not unfathomable, to
the rest of us. It's understandable that death-penalty advocates say, sometimes
harshly, "But what would you want if someone killed a member of your family?"
Fair question. Those who have never had to bury a murdered family member have
no idea - none - what it is like, so let's not pretend that we do. My closest
experience happened when my 80-year-old father was mugged, at gunpoint, in
broad daylight in a decent part of his town, while taking Bama, his plump
dachshund, for a morning stroll.
Neither my father nor Bama was hurt. All he lost was his wallet. 2 decades
later, I remain thankful.
Had that morning stroll turned deadly, my attitude might be different.
For what it's worth, Texas, America's judicial killing field, executed its
500th person on Wednesday: Kimberly McCarthy, a 52-year-old woman who murdered
her neighbor in Lancaster, Texas, in 1997. She was hyped up on crack when she
killed Dorothy Booth. Right before McCarthy drew her last breath Wednesday, she
said, "I am going home to be with Jesus."
Make of that what you will.
This, too: Of the 1,338 executions in the United States since 1976, 1,095 have
taken place in the South, according to data from the Death Penalty Information
Center. Amnesty International ranks the United States 5th globally in the
number of executions, trailing China, Iran, Iraq and Saudi Arabia. Of the
world's 195 countries, only 21 carried out executions last year. And none of
that touches on issues as pertinent as responsible gun regulations, which
Congress is too weak to adequately address.
Call those numbers what they are: staggering, disappointing, appalling.
The trial this week at the Calhoun County Courthouse is a bitter reminder that
human lives are valuable, whoever they are. The sadness we feel when a life is
lost prematurely, regardless of the reason, is as real as the summer day is
long.
(source: Phillip Tutor, Anniston Star)
OHIO:
Court committee: Revamp Ohio death penalty law by narrowing list of eligible
crimes
Factors that can lead to a death penalty case, such as murders committed during
robberies, burglaries or rapes, would be stripped from Ohio's death penalty law
to focus on the worst of the worst killers, under a recommendation by a task
force studying changes to the law.
The proposal would limit capital prosecutions to cases involving multiple
victims, killings of children under 13, slayings of police officers and crimes
committed to eliminate witnesses, among other of the most serious factors,
according to the proposal approved earlier this month by the Ohio Supreme Court
committee.
The recommendation was based on arguments that elements such as kidnapping or
burglary rarely result in death sentences - and when they do, they often carry
the greatest risk of racial disparity among defendants.
Ohio inmates would never have gone to death row in the past 30 years had such a
rule been in place, including five of the last 10 inmates put to death.
The proposal would eliminate kidnapping, rape, aggravated arson, aggravated
robbery and aggravated burglary as factors that could lead to a death penalty.
The result, supporters say, is a racially neutral law that targets the most
heinous criminals.
"By removing these, you not only get rid of cases that are clearly not in
society's eyes the worst of the worst, you also remove the greatest racial
influence in the death penalty," said State Public Defender Tim Young, chairman
of the subcommittee that made the recommendations.
The proposal's chances are uncertain at best. Lawmakers would have to approve
such a sweeping change, and it would likely face stiff opposition from death
penalty supporters backed by local prosecutors.
The Supreme Court task force is scheduled to complete its work this year,
meaning it would likely be 2014 before legislation could even be introduced.
Chief Justice Maureen O'Connor convened the task force last year, instructing
it to look for ways to make the current law - enacted in 1981 - more fair,
while making it clear that eliminating capital punishment was not up for
discussion.
The recommendation passed 12-2, though several members weren???t present for
the vote. Among those was Hamilton County Prosecutor Joe Deters, who said he
strongly opposes the change.
He points to a death penalty case he brought last week in which a defendant
allegedly pursued and shot to death the owner of a pizzeria as the owner tried
to escape. Deters used the aggravated robbery factor to elevate the killing to
a capital punishment case.
"People who are that callous and murderous deserve the death penalty," Deters
said.
Committee chairman James Brogan, a retired state appeals court judge who voted
for the change, said he supports the death penalty but also think it needs to
be narrowed to the worst of the worst killers.
Were the changes enacted, Ohio's law would more closely resemble those of
Kansas or New Hampshire, which don't specify added factors such as robbery or
burglary. Laws vary across the remaining 32 states with capital punishment, but
both California - with the nation's largest death row - and Texas - with the
country's busiest death chamber - have laws so broad that almost any killing
could be prosecuted as a capital case.
The task force also recommended the creation of a panel overseen by the state
attorney general that would have the final say on bringing death penalty
charges in Ohio. That recommendation would likely face strong opposition too.
(source: Toledo Blade)
***************************
Reform would limit death penalty to worst killers State Public Defender Tim
Young, above, says the plan cuts bias. Hamilton County Prosecutor Joe Deters
backs the broader law.
Factors that can lead to a death-penalty case such as murders committed during
robberies, burglaries or rapes should be stripped from Ohio's death-penalty law
to focus on the worst of the worst killers, a task force studying changes to
the law recommends.
The proposal would limit capital prosecutions to cases involving multiple
victims, killings of children younger than 13, slayings of police officers and
crimes committed to eliminate witnesses, and other very serious crimes,
according to the proposal approved this month by the Ohio Supreme Court
committee.
The recommendation was based on arguments that elements such as kidnapping and
burglary rarely result in death sentences - and when they do, they often carry
the greatest risk of racial disparity among defendants.
Numerous Ohio inmates would never have gone to death row in the past 30 years
had such a rule been in place, including 5 of the past 10 inmates put to death.
The proposal would eliminate kidnapping, rape, aggravated arson, aggravated
robbery and aggravated burglary as factors that could lead to a death penalty.
The result, supporters say, is a racially neutral law that targets the
most-heinous criminals.
"By removing these, you not only get rid of cases that are clearly not in
society's eyes the worst of the worst, you also remove the greatest racial
influence in the death penalty," said State Public Defender Tim Young, chairman
of the subcommittee that made the recommendations.
The proposal's chances are uncertain at best. Lawmakers would have to approve
such a sweeping change, and it likely would face stiff opposition from
death-penalty supporters and local prosecutors.
The Supreme Court task force is scheduled to complete its work this year,
meaning it likely would be 2014 before legislation could be introduced.
Chief Justice Maureen O'Connor convened the task force last year, instructing
it to look for ways to make the current law, enacted in 1981, more fair while
making it clear that eliminating capital punishment was not up for discussion.
The recommendation passed 12-2, though several members weren't present for the
vote. Among those was Hamilton County Prosecutor Joe Deters, who said he
strongly opposes the change.
He points to a death-penalty case he brought last week in which a defendant
allegedly pursued and shot to death the owner of a pizzeria as the owner tried
to escape. Deters used the aggravated-robbery factor to elevate the killing to
a capital-punishment case.
"People who are that callous and murderous deserve the death penalty," Deters
said.
Committee chairman James Brogan, a retired state appeals court judge who voted
for the change, said he supports the death penalty but also thinks it needs to
be narrowed to the worst of the worst killers.
Were the changes enacted, Ohio's law would more closely resemble those of
Kansas or New Hampshire, which don't specify added factors such as robbery or
burglary. Laws vary across the remaining 32 states with capital punishment, but
both California - with the nation's largest death row - and Texas - with the
country's busiest death chamber - have laws so broad that almost any killing
could be prosecuted as a capital case. The task force also recommended the
creation of a panel overseen by the state attorney general that would have the
final say on bringing death-penalty charges in Ohio. That recommendation would
likely face strong opposition, too.
(source: Associated Press)
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