Jan. 19
TEXAS----impending execution
Did a Dubious Confession Sway a Medical Examiner's Autopsy in a Texas Death
Penalty Case?
WHEN HE HADN'T HEARD from his best friend, Darin Shane Honeycutt, by Saturday
morning, January 27, 2001, Larry Brown was worried. Brown knew that Honeycutt
often went to Houston's gay bars dressed as a woman named Brandy Houston, and
that he'd intended to do so that previous Thursday night - that was the last
Brown had heard from him. On Saturday he went to Honeycutt's apartment and
asked the landlord to let him in. Inside, his fears were realized: Honeycutt
was dead. Lying naked in his bedroom, Honeycutt was upside down with his legs
still on the bed and his head face down on the floor. There was no sign of
forced entry and the place hadn't been ransacked - only 1 drawer of a jewelry
cabinet was out of place, though nothing appeared to have been taken.
Honeycutt's ID and his red Ford Escort were missing.
The next day, a Houston man named Richard Masterson went to his brother's
workplace looking to borrow some money. His brother wasn't there, but the boss,
Morgan Potter, was. Masterson was acting edgy and made an opaque admission: "I
think I put someone to sleep," Potter, in court testimony, would recall him
saying. Potter had once heard Masterson say that he knew how to perform a
sleeper hold; he figured that's what Masterson was talking about. But Masterson
allegedly told him no, it was "more than that." Masterson said he planned to
drive to Georgia. Potter bought Masterson some gas and Masterson drove off - in
a red Ford Escort. Afterward, Potter heard about Honeycutt's death. He called
the police.
Days later, Masterson confessed to Houston police that he'd killed Honeycutt by
strangling him in a sleeper hold. After a 2-day trial in 2002, Masterson was
found guilty of murder; a day later he was sentenced to death. This Wednesday,
January 20, Texas plans to execute him by lethal injection - the state's 1st
execution of 2016.
But today Masterson claims he is an innocent man. At trial, he recanted his
confession, testifying that although he was with Honeycutt the night of his
death, he had died during a consensual sexual encounter - and Masterson
panicked, fleeing in Honeycutt's car. Jurors were unconvinced, however, relying
in large part on the testimony of Texas medical examiner Paul Shrode, who
conducted the autopsy on Honeycutt and provided the critical evidence that
Masterson was guilty of murder: Blood spots known as petechiae, caused by
ruptured capillaries, had been found around Honeycutt's eyes. Shrode said this
was an indication of death by strangulation.
Yet there is evidence to suggest that Honeycutt was not murdered, but instead
may have died from a sudden heart attack during sex that included erotic
asphyxiation. Masterson's lawyer, Washington, D.C.-based attorney Gregory
Gardner, believes that Shrode's analysis was skewed by his knowledge of the
confession. Although Shrode conducted Honeycutt's autopsy on January 28, 2001,
before Masterson was interviewed by police, he did not complete his autopsy
report until February 23, well after Masterson made his confession. "It seems
like primarily he reached his medical conclusion [based] on Richard's
confession and then got some anecdotal evidence to back it up," Gardner told
The Intercept. In the meantime, Gardner said, Shrode ignored evidence
suggesting the death was accidental and "missed some very basic medical
principles in this autopsy - and [in] other ones too."
Indeed, since Masterson's conviction, serious questions about Shrode's
qualifications and credibility have come to light. Shrode has drawn inaccurate
conclusions about the cause of death in at least two different cases -
including a death penalty case. In 2001, just months before Masterson's trial,
Shrode was officially reprimanded by his supervisor in the Houston medical
examiner's office for reaching an erroneous cause of death determination.
Although they should have, prosecutors did not disclose the reprimand to
Masterson's trial counsel during the evidence discovery process. Later, in
2010, Shrode was fired from his job as El Paso's medical examiner after
officials found that he'd reached an erroneous cause of death determination in
a capital case out of Ohio - a revelation that led to the commutation of the
inmate's death sentence. In addition to these grave errors, Shrode has also had
issues with his resume, once insisting during an El Paso court hearing that he
had earned a "graduate law degree" at a Texas university that did not have a
law program. (Shrode has never faced any state sanctions for his mistakes or
alleged credibility issues. In the wake of his termination in El Paso, the
Texas Medical Board dismissed a formal complaint about his work, finding in
part there was "sufficient evidence" that Shrode was qualified "for the
position of medical examiner.")
While a flawed forensic examination doesn't necessarily mean that Masterson is
innocent, it should, at least, trigger a detailed and competent review -
particularly in a death penalty case. Still, even though questions about the
reliability of certain forensic examinations have troubled criminal justice
practitioners for a number of years, courts often seem reluctant to acknowledge
the extent to which forensic errors contribute to wrongful convictions - and
even to wrongful executions.
With his execution scheduled for tomorrow, Masterson is running out of time and
options. Gardner last week sought to file a second writ in federal court, a bid
that the notoriously conservative 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals denied on
January 15. He is currently preparing for his Hail Mary pass: asking the U.S.
Supreme Court to stay the execution and order a hearing on the Shrode-related
evidence. Unless that succeeds, Masterson will be executed on Wednesday, the
1st of 9 inmates slated for the Texas gurney through early June.
BY THE TIME HOUSTON police received the call from Potter and alerted Georgia
cops to be on the lookout for a red Escort, Masterson had already made his way
to Florida. There, he was arrested and jailed for assault - an attack that had
disturbing similarities to Honeycutt's case. Masterson had a chronic drug
problem dating back to his teens, which Gardner traces to his traumatic
childhood - he'd been abandoned and abused - and in jail, Masterson went into
serious withdrawal, becoming suicidal. In Texas, not long after Honeycutt's
death, Masterson had called the cops to say that he hadn't killed him. But now,
jailed in Florida, he called them again, this time saying they should come talk
to him. Police quickly made their way there. After an initial interview roughly
an hour long - an interrogation that was not recorded - the investigators
recorded a 2nd interview, during which Masterson confessed to the crime. He
hadn't gone home with Honeycutt in order to have sex, Masterson said. He
intended to kill the man.
Gardner says Masterson's logic was suicidal: If he confessed to a
death-eligible offense - murder in the course of robbery - he would quickly be
sent to die. It was a brain chemistry problem, Gardner says - the inability to
produce dopamine (a neurotransmitter that controls the brain's reward and
pleasure centers) caused by years of drug abuse - that motivated Masterson's
confession.
But at trial, Masterson's recanted confession was undermined by ample evidence
that he was no saint - he had a history of violence that prosecutors brought
out in detail. He'd once thrown a bottle at his cousin, knocking out some of
her teeth; he???d beaten up a girlfriend; he'd been convicted once for burglary
and once for theft.
The assault that landed him in jail in Florida was particularly damning. In
that case, he met a man in a gay bar and went home with him after closing. He
attacked the man at his residence, straddling him and choking him with both
hands until the man passed out. Masterson then stole his car; he was picked up
by Florida police who spotted the stolen Toyota in a trailer park.
But despite the obvious parallels, there were key differences between the
attack in Florida and Honeycutt's alleged murder. In Florida, Masterson's
victim had "severe bruises around his throat, he lost his voice for a few days,
and the blood vessels in his eyes were broken," the Texas attorney general's
office wrote in a 2010 court filing. In Honeycutt's case, there were no bruises
or signs of trauma found anywhere on his neck - not on the surface or in the
internal musculature. In fact, apart from the burst capillaries around
Honeycutt's eyes, there was no real trauma to the body at all. (Although Shrode
testified that he found some bruising on Honeycutt's left knuckles - presumably
consistent with fighting off an attack - there was no mention of this in the
autopsy report, nor was any supporting photographic evidence introduced at
trial.)
While Shrode did note that Honeycutt had a 90 percent blockage of one artery in
his heart, he nonetheless testified that it was not possible that Honeycutt had
died of heart failure due to erotic asphyxiation. Honeycutt still had
"collateral" blood flow through his other arteries, Shrode said - and besides,
in cases of erotic asphyxiation, a person usually releases his grip on his
partner's neck after the person passes out. The fact that Honeycutt died during
the encounter, Shrode's logic went, meant that Masterson hadn't released his
grip - so it couldn't have been erotic asphyxiation.
At trial, there was no defense witness to challenge Shrode's conclusions.
Although Masterson's attorneys consulted with a forensic pathologist beforehand
to aid their cross-examination of Shrode, they failed to call an expert of
their own.
Had Masterson's lawyers presented such an expert, he or she could have pointed
out problems with Shrode's testimony. According to Florida pathologist Dr.
Christena Roberts, who reviewed Shrode's work for Masterson's most recent
appeals, Shrode's autopsy was incomplete and his conclusions unsupported by
evidence. Roberts concluded that Honeycutt had "severe coronary artery
disease," which certainly could have caused his death during a sexual
encounter. But Shrode failed to take any tissue samples from Honeycutt's heart,
making further examination impossible. Roberts also noted that the petechiae
found around Honeycutt's eyes could easily be the result of lividity (blood
pooling) after death, as Honeycutt's blood settled to the lowest part of his
body - his face. Instead, on the stand, Shrode attributed this to
strangulation. In the end, Roberts was clearly skeptical of Shrode: The
petechiae Shrode found could, at best, be "'supportive' of but not
'diagnostic'" of strangulation, she wrote in her report. "The pathologist
appears to have relied on the 'confession' and not any independent scientific
observation."
THE ALLEGATIONS AGAINST Shrode are not entirely unique. Questions about how
forensic pathologists are trained and monitored are an ongoing issue in
forensic science. In the groundbreaking 2009 report from the National Academies
of Sciences on the state of forensic sciences, the authors noted that the
nation's system of death investigation is a mishmash of varied expertise and
that, as a whole, the system is underfunded, suffers from a lack of
standardized practices and procedures, and is seriously understaffed - among
other deficiencies. "It is clear that death investigations in the United States
rely on a patchwork of coroners and medical examiners and that these vary
greatly in the budgets, staff, equipment, and training available to them, and
in the quality of services they provide," reads the report. "If the death
investigation does not include competent death investigation and forensic
pathology services, both civil and criminal cases may be compromised."
But even qualified forensic experts are no guarantee when defense attorneys
drop the ball. For his state habeas writ, Masterson's then-attorney, J. Sidney
Crowley, did consult with a forensic expert - but it was a "half-laid effort,"
said Gardner. The expert, Dr. Paul Radelat, wrote in an affidavit that
Honeycutt could have died of a heart attack while involved in erotic
asphyxiation and that Masterson simply didn't notice the attack and therefore
didn't release his grip in time to save Honeycutt's life. But Gardner says that
Crowley never reviewed the entire court record related to Masterson's case, nor
did he uncover any of Shrode's professional problems. As a result, Crowley
didn't know that he should have Radelat conduct a ground-up review of Shrode's
work and conclusions. Crowley, Gardner said, should have said, "You really need
to review everything this guy did." If he had, Garner believes, Masterson's
situation would be "a completely different ballgame."
Regardless, to the state of Texas, Shrode is little more than a distraction. In
a response to Masterson's most recent state court filing highlighting Shrode's
dubious work, Harris County Assistant District Attorney Lori DeAngelo wrote
that the defense is relying "on previous professional issues ... which are
wholly unrelated" to Masterson's case and which "do not constitute a basis for
habeas relief." Indeed, she wrote, 2 other death row inmates have raised
Shrode's work as an issue in their writs but have been denied by the Texas
Court of Criminal Appeals. On January 11, the same court also dismissed
Masterson's latest appeal.
Shrode could not be reached for comment.
As Gardner tries to save his client's life, he is once again raising the issue
of Shrode's erroneous testimony. But whereas Masterson's previous appeals
argued that his attorneys - both at trial and on his 1st writ - were
ineffective for not challenging Shrode, this time, Gardner says, it's not about
bad lawyering, but about innocence. "Richard is not a monster. He is not a
sociopath. He is not even a murderer," Gardner wrote in a petition seeking
clemency for Masterson. On Friday, Texas' Board of Pardons and Paroles denied
the application.
(source: The Intercept)
USA:
For Mormons, a Contested Legacy on Capital Punishment
Over the past century and a half, numerous authors, from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
to Jon Krakauer, have been fascinated - and horrified - by the
nineteenth-century Mormon teaching of "blood atonement." Particularly during
the Mormon Reformation of 1856-57, in which leaders of the Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints sought to curtail apparent backsliding and inspire
repentance through the use of forceful, often violent, preaching, Brigham Young
and others taught that some sins, such as murder, were so grievous that only
the voluntary shedding of the sinner's own blood could satisfy the eternal
demands of justice and thus secure the possibility of salvation. Critics of
Mormonism, then and now, have made much of this teaching - despite the fact
that it was in fact never the consensus view of the church and, contrary to
many colorful assertions, did not inspire a theocratic bloodbath in pioneer
Utah. (Scholars have disagreed about the role of "blood atonement" in the
horrific Mountain Meadows Massacre; I tend toward those who dismiss it as a
significant motivating cause.) It seems that the vast majority of Mormons
either understood their leaders' overblown rhetoric about blood atonement to be
just that, or they simply rejected it as bad theology.
In fact, beginning in 1889 and as recently as last year, the LDS Church has
made repeated and consistent disavowals of the doctrine of blood atonement. In
June 2010, the church issued a formal statement acknowledging the erstwhile
teaching, only to dismiss it entirely. According to the statement, Mormons
"believe in and teach the infinite and all-encompassing atonement of Jesus
Christ, which makes forgiveness of sin and salvation possible for all people."
Despite this clear and consistent rejection of blood atonement theology, over
the decades some individual church authorities have privately connected the
doctrine to state-sponsored capital punishment, teaching that is preferable for
convicted murderers to shed their own blood as a punishment for their sins.
Observers have noted how this teaching has evidently influenced some Latter-day
Saints in shaping their support for the death penalty. This may be
generational, as in this century fewer Mormons show any substantive knowledge
of the 19th-century teaching, let alone its 20th-century interpretations.
Nevertheless, the issue was raised again earlier this year when the state of
Utah bucked the growing national trend toward the abolition of capital
punishment by reinstating the firing squad as an acceptable option in the event
that lethal injection drugs are unavailable. Utah is now the only state in the
Union where a criminal might in fact legally shed his or her blood to atone for
their sins.
If the LDS Church has been public with its rejection of blood atonement
theology, it has remained officially neutral on the question of capital
punishment, leaving it to civil authorities to determine whether and how to
punish certain convicted criminals. This failure to disavow capital punishment
has been interpreted by many, if not most Mormons, as tacit approval for the
practice. For instance, after reviewing a number of historical statements by
church leaders, the quasi-official Encyclopedia of Mormonism concludes that
"capital punishment is viewed in the doctrines of the Church to be an
appropriate penalty for murder."
The relatively small numbers of Mormons makes it difficult for national polls
to track precisely their opinions about the death penalty. However, if Mormon
views correspond to those held by their current cultural and political allies -
white evangelicals and Republicans - then it would seem that a significant
majority still support capital punishment despite declining overall support for
it nationwide. Mormons who do advocate capital punishment will typically do so
with essentially secular arguments, such as deterring future criminals or
preventing convicts from committing further crimes. Insofar as they do express
a religious argument in favor of the death penalty, they will be far more
likely to appeal to scripture than to Brigham Young's 19th-century sermons. In
doing so they are similar to most other supporters of the practice who argue
for proportionality - that the punishment should fit the crime, or in biblical
language, "an eye for an eye."
Theologically, it is actually somewhat strange for Mormons to accept this
argument. It is true that numerous scriptures, in both the Old Testament and
Book of Mormon, clearly support and even command the people of God to inflict
the death penalty on murderers and other sinners. Like most Christians,
however, Latter-day Saints believe that the retributive Mosaic law was
"fulfilled" by the gospel preached by Jesus Christ. Indeed, the Book of Mormon
features the resurrected Jesus delivering a sermon in the Americas almost
identical to the Sermon on the Mount, teaching that "those things which were of
old time, which were under the law [of Moses], in me are all fulfilled. Old
things are done away, and all things have become new." Mormons generally
believe that although the moral law delivered to Moses and other pre-Christian
prophets remains unchanged - the Ten Commandments being the most notable
example - the ritual and legal aspects of Israelite religion are no longer in
force in light of Christ's teachings and atonement.
For the minority of Mormons, including myself, who favor the abolition of the
death penalty, this theological argument is compelling, especially when
combined with more temporal considerations such as humanitarianism, criminal
justice reform, and fiscal responsibility. Yet the fact that many Latter-day
Saints continue to cite scriptures antedating Christ's ministry to justify
their support for capital punishment reveals a distinguishing feature of
Mormonism, namely the persistence of Hebraisms within its theology, ritual, and
worldview. In the Mormon mind, God's covenant with Israel has always remained
in force, though it has now been broadened beyond its early tribal limits to
include all those who accept the gospel.
Mormons have not articulated a fully coherent rationale to explain why certain
passages of pre-Christian scripture should retain their authority while others
can be dismissed out of hand. For instance, I know of no Mormons who believe
that the Mosaic law's prescriptions about menstruating women should be observed
today. Most of the time, a kind of pragmatic common sense, in combination with
deference to the teachings of the church's current prophet and apostles,
prevails. But when the church leadership is studiously silent on an issue like
the death penalty, it means that in practice 2 Mormons sitting in a Sunday
School class - or in the Utah state legislature - can honestly, and sometimes
vehemently, disagree about whether particular Old Testament or Book of Mormon
verses about capital punishment remain morally, even legally, binding in modern
times.
Both scripture and history provide a competing set of authoritative texts as
Mormons consider their position on the death penalty. Those justifying their
respective views with scripture offer competing interpretations. As to the
continuing specter of blood atonement, a disavowal of capital punishment, on
whatever grounds, would provide the LDS Church the opportunity to put the
unfortunate teaching behind it once and for all. Unless and until it does so,
however, there will remain debate among Mormons about whether, in the Book of
Mormon's words, "the law requireth the life of him who hath murdered," or
whether only Christ's "great and last sacrifice; yea, not a sacrifice of man"
provides redemption from even the most heinous of sins.
(source: Patrick Mason, Religion & Politics)
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