May 17
US MILITARY:
Military jury finds airman not guilty in Iceland slaying
At Bolling Air Force Bace (in Washington state), a military jury of 8 Air
Force officers and 6 enlisted members has found Airman Calvin Eugene Hill
not guilty of murder in the death of Airman 1st Class Ashley Turner.
The panel came to its decision Wednesday, after listening to the defenders
of Hill and his government accusers offer their final arguments in his
court-martial Tuesday.
"She had been dragged to a room that was dark, and left to die," said Air
Force Maj. Robert Luttrell, who offered the closing argument for the
government. "Her last sight was a [barbell] weight, used on her face."
"The accused is guilty of premeditated murder and obstruction of justice,"
Luttrell had told the jury Tuesday. "Find him guilty, members."
Turner was killed at Naval Air Station Keflavik, Iceland, on Aug. 14,
2005. Hill, 21, of Warren, Ohio, could have faced the death penalty if
convicted.
Turner, 20, of Frederick, Md., died just eight days before she was
scheduled to testify against Hill for allegedly stealing her ATM card and
personal identification number and withdrawing $2,700 from her bank
account.
Turner, a member of the 56th Rescue Squadron, was found unconscious and
lying in a pool of blood by a fellow airman in a darkened television
lounge just off her dormitory's 3rd-floor dayroom, where she had been
running on the treadmill.
Her skull had been fractured by a heavy, blunt object, and her spinal cord
severed by a single thrust of a knife, prosecutors said.
Hill, who had been friends with Turner but had not dated her, was arrested
that night and placed in pretrial confinement. He was the only suspect
charged in the murder.
But the governments case is a rickety boat getting slapped by thousands of
pounds of sea water," Air Force Capt. Jason Kellhofer, a member of Hills
defense team, told the jury Tuesday.
"There were a lot of facts in this case that were not provided to you,"
Kellhofer said. "The government wants to choose and pick."
Instead of trying to solve the case, the government has focused all its
energies on proving Hill's guilt, Kellhofer said in closing arguments.
"The prosecution has failed to consider anyone other than Airman Hill from
Day 1," Kellhofer said.
The jury trial, which opened April 25, was held at Bolling because
Keflavik closed Sept. 30, 2006, making continued access to the crime scene
more difficult for investigators on both sides of the case, and scattering
the more than 90 witnesses interviewed by investigators and the defense.
Some of the most important witnesses had to be located in Iceland and the
United States and forced to testify.
Among those was Hill's girlfriend, Vannee Youbanphot, a Thai woman who
resides in Iceland.
She testified that he had left her in his dorm room that evening at about
8:30, watching the movie "Top Gun."
Hill told her that he was going down to the 1st floor to meet with his
supervisor.
He returned "sweaty and stinking" so badly that she told him to take a
shower, according to her testimony.
The Hill trial featured more than 100 pieces of evidence that had to be
processed in federal laboratories, including a pair of white Nike sneakers
Hill wore the night of the crime.
The sneakers were central to the case because investigators found tiny
drops of blood on the laces and on the tongue of the shoe, which DNA tests
showed were Turner's.
But the defense team also accused the government of sloppy evidence
handling. They argued that the blood could have gotten on the shoes after
Hill was arrested and military police walked him down the same stairwell
that Turner had been carried down on a stretcher.
They also said that Hills shoe might have been contaminated with blood
from sheets collected as evidence from the hospital where Turner was taken
after being attacked.
(source: Stars and Stripes)
OHIO:
Judge refuses to dismiss case but fines prosecutor's office
A judge rejected a defendant's plea to dismiss capital-murder charges
Wednesday to punish an assistant Cuyahoga County prosecutor's misconduct.
Common Pleas Judge Nancy Margaret Russo declared a mistrial on May 2, late
in the aggravated-murder trial of Fernando Newcomb, 28, of Cleveland.
Russo declined on Wednesday to throw out the case. Instead, she ordered
Prosecutor Bill Mason's office to pay a $26,204 fine to the court.
That, Russo said, is at least how much it will cost taxpayers to retry
Newcomb because of unconstitutional and "apocalyptic" closing-argument
remarks of Assistant County Prosecutor Lawrence Floyd.
In his closing arguments to jurors, Floyd commented on the fact that
Newcomb chose not to testify at trial. Such comments are not permitted.
Russo challenged prosecutors to appeal the fine, but warned that if it's
overturned, she might fine Floyd personally.
Mason called Russo's action gratuitous. His office hadn't decided by late
afternoon whether to appeal the fine. Mason downplayed the fine as "taking
taxpayers' money from one pocket and putting it in the other," since the
government would foot the bill for the trial no matter what.
"What's important here is that this killer is going to trial to face the
death penalty," he said in a statement.
Newcomb's lawyers, meanwhile, indicated they would probably go to federal
court to appeal Russo's decision not to dismiss the capital case. One
predicted it could be years before the case is retried, if it ever is.
In the meantime, Newcomb must stand trial in a 2nd, unrelated
capital-murder case. Prosecutors say he robbed and killed used-car dealer
Frank Tominc, 58, of Wickliffe, on Feb. 3, 2006.
The slaying that prompted this month's wrangling occurred 3 weeks earlier.
Prosecutors say Newcomb shot his lifelong friend Alvin McKnight in the
head. Newcomb dumped McKnight's body near East 45th Street and Lakeside
Avenue and tried unsuccessfully to set it ablaze, investigators believe.
The trial was in its 13th day when closing arguments began. Floyd brought
it to a screeching halt when he prominently called to the jury's attention
the fact that Newcomb elected not to take the stand in his own defense.
The Constitution's Fifth Amendment protects defendants from being forced
to incriminate themselves, and the law has firmly established that no one
can comment at trial on a defendant's decision to invoke that right.
Russo scolded Floyd, then declared a mistrial. On Wednesday, Russo held a
hearing on the defense motion to dismiss.
Assistant Public Defender John Stanard, representing Newcomb, contended
Floyd deliberately tanked the trial because the state's case was going
poorly and Floyd suspected the jury wouldn't impose a death sentence.
Floyd made closing remarks that he knew would force Russo to declare a
mistrial just so the prosecution could get a second chance to try the
case, Stanard argued.
>From the witness stand, Floyd denied that.
"I made a mistake, Mr. Stanard," he said repeatedly.
Assistant County Prosecutor John Oebker also admitted Floyd erred, but
emphasized there is no proof he threw the trial. Newcomb "should not get a
free pass because Larry Floyd made a mistake on this case," Oebker told
Russo.
(source: Cleveland Plain Dealer)
ARIZONA:
Group wants execution of killer haltedL
An anti-death-penalty group out of Tucson filed a motion in the Arizona
Supreme Court on Wednesday afternoon to stop the execution of a murderer
who has already waived his rights to further appeals.
Robert Comer, 50, who shot a camper to death at Apache Lake in 1987, is
scheduled to die by lethal injection on Tuesday. He will be the 1st inmate
on Arizona's Death Row to be executed since November 2000.
But attorney Jennifer Bedier of the Arizona Capital Representation Project
filed a motion for a stay of execution, citing 2 issues.
She questioned whether he was fully conscious at his sentencing and
whether his appearance pushed the limits of decency because he was
forcibly brought to court while wearing only boxer shorts and a blanket
after being roughed up in jail (the motion mistakenly said he was naked).
Secondly, according to her motion, lethal injection is cruel and unusual
punishment.
When Comer made clear his desire to be executed in 2000, it raised
questions as to his competency. But the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals
in March took a second look at the matter, including the circumstances of
Comer's sentencing, and determined that he was competent.
The Arizona Supreme Court issued a death warrant in April. And Comer, as
recently as April, reiterated his wish to die in letters to the attorneys
involved in the case.
Bedier's motion, however, says that Comer's wishes do not matter.
"Regardless of whether Mr. Comer wants to die, Arizona should not execute
him until Arizona has enacted a proper protocol which is likely not to
involve torturing inmates to death," she wrote.
Responding for the state, Assistant Arizona Attorney General Kent Cattani
said that Comer was entitled to make his own decision and that the Tucson
group had no standing in the case.
(source : Arizona Republic)
****************
Arizona must stop its execution policy
Robert Comer, found guilty of murder in 1988, has asked the court to stop
all appeals and has volunteered to be put to death Tuesday by the people
of Arizona.
This would be our state's first act of legal homicide in nearly 7 years.
Years ago, our thirst for revenge made us a collective killer. But as we
have become more aware, our primary reason for executing prisoners is our
fear that a killer will be released to kill again.
When advised that the alternative is life in prison without possibility of
parole, only 41 % of us continue to support execution, according to the
Behavior Research Center.
We are growing up fast, and it's time for the majority of the people to
insist the death penalty be abolished.
We need laws appropriate for our stage of development.
Killing because we are opposed to killing is like stealing because we are
opposed to theft.
We cannot teach killers that killing is wrong by killing them. We cannot
teach our children that killing is wrong by being killers ourselves.
Executing a prisoner is simply an act of revenge and a display of our
failure as good guys.
Revenge feels wonderful. It's a high. And when we knew a lot about the
crime, and little or nothing about the suspect, we have been moved to
condemn the mentally ill, the retarded, even the innocent, in our lynch
mob eagerness to find somebody to blame and punish.
After what we considered a "fair trial," an execution has felt like
justice ("closure" is the modern term) because we didn't know the person
we killed. We were never given the information that might lead us to hate
the crime and have mercy for the criminal.
We still usually get a lopsided "two sides of the story" from the media as
emotionally charged as a simplistic good-guy/bad-guy drama.
Especially in matters of life and death, we need everyday media that write
and speak to the responsible adults we are becoming.
Members of the 41 percent who directly or tacitly support taking the lives
of fellow human beings have the duty as citizens of a democracy to study
those lives in depth.
Have their brains been infused prenatally with alcohol or other drugs?
What blows have they received from the world that helped to form them? If
the state did not hire a "hit man" to kill them, would you kill them by
your own hand?
I plan to stand with others who oppose the execution before, during and,
if the people of Arizona go through with it, after the event. Comer wants
to die, but I don't want to kill him. Not in my name.
(source: Tucson Citizen ---- Gretchen Nielsen's poetry, opinions and
letters have been published in more than 2 dozen newspapers and magazines)
TENNESSEE:
Witness to an Execution----Evidence suggesting Philip Workman didnt fire
the shot that killed a cop was not enough to stop his lethal injection
Its almost 1 a.m., the time Philip Workman is scheduled to die by lethal
injection. 7 media witnesses wait inside a beige cinder-block room deep in
the bowels of Riverbend Maximum Security Institution. The minutes slowly
tick by and finally someone says what others have been thinking: "Maybe
theres been a last-minute stay of execution."
But then a corrections officer guarding the room abruptly stands and
announces, "It's time." 2 officers escort the group through a set of steel
doors and into a cramped room where several rows of chairs face 3 windows.
Black blinds are drawn, obstructing the view of preparations inside the
death chamber. The only sounds on the other side are an occasional clink
or rattle.
At 1:20 a.m. Wednesday, May 9, a voice bellows over a speaker to test the
sound. Suddenly two men raise the blinds and quickly exit the stark death
chamber. There, in the middle of the room, 53-year-old Philip Workman lies
strapped to a gurney.
On the night of Aug. 5, 1981, Philip Workman walked into a Wendy's
restaurant in Memphis armed with .45-caliber semi-automatic pistol. The
28-year-old IV cocaine user robbed the restaurant at gunpoint and walked
out with a bag of cash. But unbeknownst to Workman, an employee had
tripped a silent alarm during the holdup, and police officers were waiting
outside.
Exactly what ensued between Workman and police in the dark parking lot
that night is unclear. The only certainty is that someone shot and killed
Memphis Police Lt. Ronald Oliver.
Police claimed it was Workman who fired the single bullet that struck
Oliver, although no ballistics evidence was ever presented to support this
theory. At trial, the state's case rested almost entirely on the testimony
of a single witness who testified he saw Workman "coolly and deliberately"
shoot Oliver at close-range. Public defenders did little to prove
otherwise, and Workman was convicted of 1st-degree murder and sentenced to
death.
Years later, however, post-conviction lawyers uncovered evidence
suggesting police pinned the shooting on Workman to cover up a tragic case
of friendly fire, but it was not enough to save him. Although some say hes
still to blame regardless of whether the deadly bullet came from his gun,
the state's felony murder statute at the time would not have allowed him
to be charged with 1st-degree murder or sentenced to death if he did not
fire the shot.
"I have never experienced a case with this many twists and turns,
cover-ups and lies. This case started out with a lie in 1981," says Kelley
Henry, an assistant federal public defender who began working on the case
in 2000. "It started out with police discovering a horrible truththat one
of their officers had accidentally killed one of their own." And from
there, the lies simply spiraled out of control, she says, but by the time
these lies were discovered, it was too late. No one wanted to hear it.
The state's primary witness eventually recanted, saying police told him to
lie and even coached him on what to say. 2 former Memphis cops also came
forward with information suggesting it was, in fact, a fellow officer who
shot Oliver. 2 renowned forensic pathologists reviewed post-conviction
evidence and said Workman's gun could not have been the source of the
fatal bullet. Even Oliver's daughter, Paula Dodillet, has voiced
skepticism about the prosecution. In a 2005 short-film about the case
called "Deadly Silence," Dodillet says, My belief and my feelings are that
Mr. Workman did not kill my father... I know it's odd for me to be saying
this, but it seems like there are a lot of questionable things related to
this case."
In 1990, a new lawyer began representing Workman in his appeals.
Christopher Minton, an assistant federal public defender in Nashville, was
the first to question the credibility of the prosecutions star witness,
Harold Davis.
"As far as Philip knew at trial, Harold Davis was there. Philip was led to
believe that Harold Davis was telling the truth, so there is testimony
from Philip saying, 'Well, I guess I shot the officer,'" Henry says during
an interview one week before her clients execution. As for his trial
testimony, Henry says Workman was strung out on cocaine during the robbery
and that his memory of what happened was fuzzy. And although he did not
remember shooting Oliver, he took the word of police and the state's key
witness.
During trial Davis claimed he watched Workman shoot Oliver in the chest
from about three feet away. He also testified that he left his car in the
Wendys parking lot that night, which is what first tipped off Workmans
post-conviction lawyers that something was amiss. A review of crime scene
photos in 1990 clearly shows Davis car is not parked outside the
restaurant.
Workman's lawyers also learned that before the night-shift officers headed
out on patrol that evening, they were told a black male was suspected in a
string of fast-food restaurant robberies in the area. "They would have
assumed he was a suspect, but hes not even mentioned in the report," Henry
says of Davis, a young black male. "Instead, they let him leave the
scene?"
Workman's lawyers spent years trying to find Davis, a drifter with a
history of drug abuse, but to no avail. And although the defense couldnt
find him, they nonetheless argued during appeals that he lied as part of a
police cover-up. Just days before Workman's 1st execution date in April
2000, the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals stayed the execution to
consider the claims. The court split 7-7, however, and Workman's appeal
was denied. 4 more execution dates eventually were set and then stayed,
and in one case Workman was within 42 minutes of lethal injection when the
Tennessee Supreme Court ruled a lower court should consider the perjury
claims, as well as ballistics evidence.
Before a 2001 hearing on the evidence was set to begin in the same Memphis
courtroom where Workman was convicted, lawyers finally located Davis and,
during an interview with the defense, he tearfully confessed to lying at
the trial.
Davis later testified at the hearing that he lied about witnessing the
shooting. A friend of Davis' also testified that they were together and
nowhere near the crime scene the night Oliver was killed. A member of the
jury that convicted Workman told the judge he would not have found the
defendant guilty of 1st-degree murder or sentenced him to death had this
evidence been presented at trial, and 4 other jurors signed affidavits
echoing those remarks.
Despite the new evidence, the judge denied Workman a new trial, and
another execution date was set. As for Davis' testimony, the judge said
neither he nor his friend were credible witnesses, even though Davis
passed a polygraph test indicating he was telling the truth about his past
perjury. Not to mention he was the state's star witness in the 1st trial.
Davis still maintains he lied at trial. One week before Workman's
execution, Davis sent an emotional video-recorded message to Gov. Phil
Bredesen, saying: "I am talking to the governor to beg and plead for
Philip Workman's life. I feel like Philip has been on death row probably
in large part because of what I did and what I said, which turned out not
to be true.... All I'm asking, governor, is that you allow Philip the
chance to redeem his life here on this earth, just as God has given me a
chance."
Warden Ricky Bell stands just a few feet from the gurney, hands clasped in
front of him, resting on his black suit jacket. After the blinds are
raised he asks the condemned for any last words. It's 1:21 a.m. when
Workman, staring up at the ceiling, says, "I have prayed to the Lord Jesus
Christ not to lay charge of my death to any man."
Workman is secured to the gurney by four black straps across his body, and
by leather restraints fastened around his ankles and wrists. He wears a
white jail-issued uniform, which blends with the sterile surroundingswhite
sheets, concrete walls, tile floors and fluorescent lights. The room is
vacant, with the exception of Workman and the warden. On the wall opposite
the media witness room there is a small 1-way mirror. On the other side
the execution team administers the deadly cocktail of three chemicals,
which are injected through a tube thats fed through a tiny hole in the
wall and inserted into Workmans right arm. Workman is still, except to
occasionally purse his lips as though he is thirsty.
2 silent minutes pass and at 1:23 a.m. Workman struggles to loudly
proclaim, "I commend my spirit into your hands Lord Jesus Christ." His
chest rises as though he is taking in a deep breath. He exhales, blinks
several times, then closes his eyes. Workmans head tilts slightly to the
left and he does not open his eyes or move again.
As the minutes elapse, Workman's face becomes flush. A few more silent
minutes pass and his face turns blue, then ashen. Meanwhile, the warden
stands in the same spot with his left hand grasping his right in front of
him. He stares straight ahead showing no emotion, occasionally rocking
back and forth in place.
17 minutes into the execution Workman is pale white. Suddenly, the warden
moves from his position as another man enters the room. The pair close the
black blinds without a word. Then a man's voice comes over the speaker:
"This concludes the execution of Philip Workman. Time of death, 1:38 a.m."
After discovering the state's key witness lied at trial, Workmans lawyers
continued to chisel away at the governments case, finding what they call
even more instances of perjury, deception and prosecutorial misconduct.
At Workmans trial, Terry Willis, a mechanic who worked at an auto parts
store next to the Wendys, testified that the day after the shooting he
found a shiny piece of metal he thought was a ball bearing. He later
realized that maybe what he found in the parking lot had something to do
with the shooting the night before and he called police, who told him to
put the itemwhich really was a bulletback where he found it.
"That becomes the bullet the prosecutor argues to the jury at trial is the
bullet that killed Lt. Oliver," says Henry, who adds that as a mechanic,
Willis would have easily known the difference between a bullet and a ball
bearing.
After the prosecution asserted this was the bullet that killed Oliver, an
FBI agent testified that in fact the bullet had no traces of blood or
tissue. The testimony was a surprise to prosecutors, who in turn waffled
on whether it really was the death bullet, saying in the end it didnt
really matter.
In 2001, Workman's lawyers reviewed crime scene photographs that ran in
The Commercial Appeal and noticed an evidence marker near the spot where
Oliver was shot. On subsequent diagrams by the state, that marker is not
represented. Henry believes that is where the real bullet that killed
Oliver was found that night, and that the bullet likely was thrown out to
cover up who really fired the fatal shot.
In addition, Henry says the ammunition belt carried by one of the officers
on the scene that night was inexplicably checked out of the evidence room
at police headquarters for several hours the day after the shooting.
The 1st and only expert ever to testify under oath regarding ballistics
was Dr. Cyril Wecht, a forensic pathologist hired by the defense nearly 2
decades after trial. After reviewing X-rays of the entry and exit wounds
caused by the fatal bullet (records withheld from the defense for years),
Wecht concluded a .45-caliber could not have been used to kill Oliver.
That's because such bullets are designed to mushroom inside the body, and
therefore do not typically exit. If by chance such a bullet does leave the
body, the exit wound would be larger than the entry wound, which was not
the case with Oliver. A 2nd expert, Dr. Kris Sperry, chief medical
examiner for the state of Georgia, signed an affidavit outlining similar
findings.
2 former Memphis police officers eventually came forward with information
Henry says further proves Workman did not shoot Oliver. In 2005, former
Officer Charlotte Creasy told the defense she was directing traffic near
the crime scene the night of the shooting when a hysterical woman
approached and said she just saw a policeman shoot a fellow officer
outside the Wendy's. Creasy claimed she relayed the information to her
commander at the time, and that he told her to forget about it. Several
witnesses maintain she has said this for years, although the information
wasnt brought to the attention of the defense until two years ago, at
which point Creasy was herself serving time for issuing false driving
certificates, making her claim seem less than credible.
Matthew Ian John, a former Memphis officer turned lawyer, swore in an
affidavit that during his police academy training, the shooting of Oliver
was taught as an example of friendly fire.
Lawyers for Workman contend that if all of this evidence had been
disclosed sooner, their client would have certainly been granted a new
trial. "Then Workman would have won, there's really no doubt," Henry says.
"Essentially, if the evidence is hidden long enough then the state wins."
Struggling to hold back tears, Henry speaks to a handful of reporters
present for a press conference 2 days after the execution. She describes
the last phone call she received from Workman at about 8 p.m. Tuesday, at
which point it was clear there was little hope for a last-minute reprieve.
Henry says he spoke individually to everyone in her office who worked on
his case to relay his appreciation. Then, she says, before hanging up the
phone, Workman said he forgave those responsible for putting him to death.
And although Workman maintained until his death that he did not kill
Oliver, he nonetheless took responsibility for the situation that led to
the shooting. Workmanwho became a born-again Christian on death rowoften
said he agonized about what happened to Oliver.
"The state of Tennessee killed a good, Christian man," Workman's older
brother, Terry Workman, tells the crowd. "The state of Tennessee killed a
man that did not commit the crime they say he did. I know this for a
fact." He goes on to relay details of the last time he saw his brother.
After spending 4 hours together, much of that time spent praying, they
said their final goodbye. Glancing back as the door was closing, Terry
Workman recalls, "I saw tears well up in his eyes and I knew he knew what
was going to happen to him that night."
The Rev. Joe Ingle, Workman's spiritual advisor, then describes the final
few hours he spent with Workman, but not before relaying his own anguish
about what happened. He says its not the facts that put one of his best
friends into the grave, but the myth that he was a cop killer, which he
called "an utter and complete fabrication."
Several days earlier, Ingle spoke to a small crowd at the Belcourt Theatre
to discuss details of the case and raise awareness about the upcoming
execution. During that gathering he stated his belief that there had been
a cover-up from the beginning, first by fellow officers, then by the
prosecution. He also shared his disbelief and outrage that a story created
out of whole cloth could lead to this.
Ingle, who frequently counsels death row inmates, first met Workman 17
years ago. They developed a deep friendship, and for the past 12 years,
the two met almost every week. In the hours before his death, Ingle says
he was the last person who loved Workman to be with him.
For 2 hours, Ingle sat in a chair outside Workman's cell. The 2 held hands
through the bars, and leaned forward so their heads touched as they
prayed. "I could feel his tears and my tears running off our faces and
dripping onto our hands," he says, stopping for a moment to regain his
composure. When it was clear their time together was almost up, Ingle
recited a prayer that Workman often said at the end of their weekly
sessions. "I asked God to put a hedge of protection around Philip
Workman," he says, turning his head for a moment as he sobs. "But it was
not to be, and it broke my heart, and it's still broken.
(source: Nashville Scene)
**************
Deconstructing the reasoning behind public executions
Phillip Workman is dead. I don't feel any safer. I had no blood lust to
sate. I really don't feel avenged. Mostly, I feel that it is time to
revisit a mental argument I have had with myself over the years. Just how
do I feel about capital punishment? I'm glad I asked, thank me.
It is my considered opinion that capital punishment is horribly misnamed.
As usual, if any significant understanding of a thing is to be, then a
good start is to call that thing what it really is and, of course, clearly
identify what it isn't. One may only then form a coherent opinion of the
thing. What killing a proven, admitted or, alleged criminal does, is
reduce the chance of, and opportunity for, recidivism to zero. Essentially
it insures that no other citizen will ever suffer from fresh crimes
committed by that specific individual. The death of a criminal is a
societal insurance policy against further acts of mayhem committed by the
deceased. No bureaucratic screw-up will release the recipient of
state-sponsored death on an unsuspecting public. No 200-mph tornado or 8.6
earthquake can destroy the walls that contain the dead. It is an
unbreakable insurance policy indemnifying the public against actions by
that one person.
And just what is capital punishment not? Well, for starters, it is not
justice. We as a society refuse to subject the convicted violent criminal
to the type of pain and terror that they likely induced in their victims.
A person being put to death by the state has a much better chance of a
quiet, relatively painless demise than those souls who meet their maker as
a result of someone else's criminal behavior.
Indeed, if we were to try to make it just, Ted Bundy and his ilk would
still be in the hands of state-supported torture agents, being tortured to
near death and then brought back enough to feel and survive the next round
of torture. The families he destroyed will never recover, so any real
justice would have him suffering as long as anyone still suffers as a
result of his actions. But we haven't the stomach for that sort of thing
so, we eschew justice for the quick death.
Capital punishment is not a deterrent to future criminal behavior for
anyone but the recipient. In times and places that employed publicly
administered torturous death, such as the old Roman standby of
crucifixion, wherein death was dragged out over the course of several
incredibly agonizing days, criminals still committed crimes. I'm no
psychologist, but it appears to me that those who are predisposed to
criminal behavior are also incapable of mentally connecting their own, or
other criminals', actions to the final result. Perhaps they really believe
that they are smarter than all previous criminals, or maybe death is what
they seek. It matters not for this discussion. What matters is the
actuality that imposing a sentence of death, and carrying it out, stops
one criminal and one criminal only.
Capital punishment is not an equal opportunity sentence. Minorities appear
much more likely to receive such treatment (which seems to mirror the
administration of incarceration). Those of lower apparent intellect,
persons from impoverished backgrounds, and victims of childhood abuse all
seem to over-represented on death row.
So, I've established what it is and what it is not to my satisfaction.
What is, then, my opinion of it? The easy way out is to say that we are
simply allowing that final arbiter of justice the chance to administer it
a bit more quickly. But that really doesn't work for me for reasons I will
not explore in this space. As a matter of fact, I think I will skip giving
you my opinion in favor of requesting that you think about something.
What if we had state and national executioner lotteries? Whenever someone
was to be put to death, all voting-age citizens would be eligible to be
chosen at random to be the executioner. We could apply the old 3-strikes
rule and say that if three consecutive citizens were unable or unwilling
to execute the individual, then the sentence was automatically converted
to life imprisonment. Whether you reviewed the case and decided there was
reasonable doubt, or you decided to be the oddball who actually follows
the dictates of our primary religious icon and refuses to kill, or if you
were simply unable to look a person in the eyes as you terminated his or
her existence would not matter, and indeed you would not even be required
to tell anyone why you declined your role as executioner. All that would
matter would be whether or not one of the 3 could/would do it.
In the abstract, it is pretty easy to laugh and say, "That uncivil bastard
is history if I'm the one at the switch." It also doesn't mean anything.
Unless and until that situation comes up, your answer is meaningless, so
just think about it. Look at 10 different capital cases and picture
yourself as the potential executioner. Would capital punishment die a
quiet death at your hands? If you couldn't or wouldn't do it, it is the
height of immorality to ask someone to do it in your stead. If the blood
was to be clearly and directly on your hands, would you? Could you?
(source: Steve Dupree, Metro Pulse)
***********************************
Delay hampers Workman autopsy----Body's deterioration may make it
impossible to tell if death painless
Philip Workman's body rests on a table inside a sealed body bag, waiting
for an autopsy that could tell whether he died in his sleep or in terrible
agony.
But every day that passes makes it less and less likely that an autopsy
will tell anyone anything.
The convicted cop killer was the first person executed under Tennessee's
revised execution protocols and the state is eager to learn whether his
sentence was carried out quickly and humanely. Workman himself was
terrified of dying as other inmates have - paralyzed by the drugs but not
properly anesthetized, able to feel the lethal injection slowly shutting
down the heart and lungs.
"You wouldn't use that drug to kill a dog," Workman said during an
interview before his death. "You can't move if you're in pain. You can't
bat your eyelashes. You can't do anything."
Lethal injection is coming under scrutiny nationwide. 9 states have
suspended executions after autopsies showed that prisoners suffered as
they died.
A federal judge ruled Tuesday that the state could perform an autopsy but
not until May 24, which allows Workman's family a chance to appeal.
Workman's body is stored in the state medical examiner's office in a
sterile room where the temperature hovers at just above freezing. Even so,
his body is deteriorating slowly as bacteria sets in and breaks down his
remains.
Performed promptly, an autopsy could tell whether the proper amount of
anesthetic was administered and whether the drugs were injected in the
proper order. Under proper lethal injection protocol, the condemned
prisoner receives 3 separate drugs: 1st an injection of sodium thiopental,
an anesthetic that should put him or her to sleep immediately; then
pavulon or pancuronium bromide, which stops breathing; finally potassium
chloride to stop the heart.
Last year, the British medical journal The Lancet studied autopsy results
from 49 executions in 5 states and concluded that in 43 cases, prisoners
received lower doses of anesthetic than a patient would receive during
surgery. In almost half the cases, the researchers concluded that the
levels of thiopental in the blood were so low the prisoners were likely
conscious as the lethal drugs were being administered.
"These are very painful drugs. They freeze your muscles. They stop your
heart," said Richard Dieter, executive director of the Death Penalty
Information Center, which opposes the death penalty. "(Prisoners) appear
to be motionless, so there's the appearance that they're not suffering.
Now science is saying that there's more than meets the eye. They may be
awake."
Over the past century, methods of execution have fallen in and out of
favor, often in the face of bungled executions that caused agony to the
condemned and revulsion in observers. There were nooses that decapitated
victims, prisoners who burst into flames in the electric chair and
condemned inmates who had to be dispatched with pistol shots to the head
when the firing squad didn't finish the job.
9 states have suspended lethal injections, and Tennessee f issued a 90-day
moratorium on executions while it updated its lethal injection protocols.
Workman's attorneys haven't said whether they will appeal or whether they
will allow the autopsy to move forward quickly.
Workman, a Seventh Day Adventist, and his family have objected to the
state performing an autopsy on Workman's body, citing Workman's religious
beliefs that call for non-desecration of the body after death.
In his Tuesday ruling, U.S. District Judge Todd Campbell said the state's
need to know if the execution occurred according to the new protocols
outweighed the religious arguments.
Death penalty opponents like the Rev. Stacy Rector are supporting the
family's choice, in spite of the fact that an autopsy could prove
improprieties in the way Workman died.
"Though it certainly might shed light on Philip's last moments, we support
the family and the lawyers in their work to honor Philip's request not to
have an autopsy," said Rector, the executive director of the Tennessee
Coalition to Abolish State Killing. "It was his faith perspective that his
body should not be tampered with."
(source: Fairview Observer)
FLORIDA:
Lawyers challenge defender changes ---- Say bill would hurt poor
A new arm of the judicial system being created to save money will leave
some poor people charged with crimes suffering because they won't get the
best legal defense money can buy, some local lawyers have warned.
----
Cost of conflict
For the year 2007, $60 million is expected to be spent for "conflict"
attorneys statewide, $20 million more than expected. The high and
unpredictable cost of these attorneys' services prompted a law
establishing government defense attorneys to handle most of those cases.
NEW PLAN STATEWIDE: The new plan calls for 5 offices to be staffed with
384 people to handle more than 33,000 cases, at an annual cost of $49
million.
LOCALLY: 97 employees at a cost not yet determined.
LOCAL 2006-07 CONFLICT CASE COST: $2.5 million for 1,261 cases, $1.3
million above budget.
DELTONA MURDERS TRIAL COST: $1.4 million*
*Resulted in the convictions of killers Michael Cannon, Jerone Hunter,
Anthony Salas and Troy Victorino. Hunter and Victorino are on death row.
[source: State of Florida]
----
Public Defender's Office
The Public Defender's Office provides legal representation in adult and
juvenile criminal cases for people who can't afford a lawyer. A new,
controversial state law will add regional state-employed defense attorneys
to handle some cases that had been assigned to private lawyers:
WHO QUALIFIES: Those whose household incomes are up to double the federal
poverty guidelines. For example, $40,000 for a family of four or $19,600
for individuals.
CASELOAD: Jim Purdy is the elected public defender. His office, which
includes Volusia and Flagler counties and has 85 attorneys, handles about
41,600 cases a year.
------------
"When the Supreme Court starts reversing cases, the government is going to
pay all over," said Gerard Keating, a court-appointed, death penalty
certified attorney from the area who sees the measure as penny-wise and
pound-foolish. "I don't know if I'll be doing too many murder cases at all
in the future."
But finding itself with a projected $20 million over budget for the 2007
year -- including bills for those charged with crimes whose cases are a
conflict of interest with public defender offices -- the Legislature
passed a bill to create a "second Public Defender," to handle conflict
cases.
The measure, approved by both houses without much fanfare last month, will
create a new office of state-paid lawyers to handle conflict cases. The
new plan is awaiting the signature of Gov. Charlie Crist, even as some
defense lawyer groups are working behind the scenes for a veto.
But supporters, including Sen. Victor Crist, R-Tampa, who sponsored the
bill, have said the measure will save the state millions.
About 4 % of all criminal cases of indigent people have been handled by
court-appointed "conflict attorneys" in recent years.
Some cases, including child custody and other family and civil issues for
the poor, are also handled by private attorneys because public defender
offices have never been included in those.
Because public defender offices are considered law firms, the agencies are
not permitted to represent multiple defendants charged in crimes, which
often occurs in robbery, murder and burglary cases. The funding for
conflict attorneys shifted from counties to the state in 2004.
Since then, rising legal costs, including $1.4 million billed to the state
in last year's defenses of 4 men who killed 6 people in a Deltona house,
have prompted lawmakers to take action.
Governor-appointed administrators will supervise the new attorneys in each
of 5 regional areas that mirror the state's courts of appeal districts.
Those administrators will be paid $80,000 a year, with the attorneys
presumably making less. While it has not yet been said how many attorneys
will be hired for the local district, the plan calls for 97 employees in
Central Florida, including support staff, said James Purdy, public
defender for the 7th Judicial Circuit that includes Volusia, Flagler, St.
Johns and Putnam counties. The offices, paid for by counties, are supposed
to be up and running by Oct. 1.
The new plan is expected to cost the state $49 million a year, but some
think it could cost much more.
"The travel (expense) is going to be outrageous," said defense lawyer Rob
Sanders, adding that he has paid $1,500 out-of-pocket in a murder case for
copies alone.
Many private attorneys like Sanders say they see the state-appointed cases
as a way to supplement their incomes, even if getting paid from the state
can seem like "pulling teeth." But a few others, including former
prosecutor Ray Warren, stopped handling such cases in 2004, when the state
took over.
Warren had researched the issue, he said, and found that an attorney
appointed to a case by the state Supreme Court ended up not getting paid
$6,000 for work he did.
"I refuse," Warren said. "It's a violation of due process."
Keating, a local defense lawyer who has handled dozens of murder cases
over the past 26 years that the local Public Defender's Office had
conflicts in, said he has doubts the new plan will work.
"I'm skeptical about the quality of representation that's going to be
given to these persons in the next couple years," he said.
He and other critics of the new plan say court-appointed private lawyers
have worked competently and economically. In most felony cases, the state
pays court-appointed lawyers about $750, according to Public Defender
Purdy. Even with a state cap of $3,500, death penalty murder cases by
conflict attorneys have been averaging $100,000 to $150,000.
Not all of the high bills have been racked up on murder cases. According
to the Justice Administrative Commission, which has been paying the bills,
attorney Joan Anthony earned $95,397 from the state to handle 156 cases
for the fiscal year that ended in 2006.
Keating, who earned $57,252 for three cases during that period, according
to state records, handles about one death penalty case per year in
addition to his private practice cases. He acknowledged the change will
hit him in the wallet.
"I'm definitely going to suffer that loss of income," he said. "But I see
it as an opportunity to develop other specialties."
Some questioned whether experienced lawyers will want to work for the new
entity. Purdy has concerns about representation.
"I think they've tried to come up with a different way of doing it that is
on the cheap, with saving money a priority over providing competent
counsel for the accused," Purdy said. "We don't expect the Legislature to
fund court-appointed council at the same rate a rich person can hire the
dream team. But, at the same time, we don't expect a person facing a
felony charge and potential prison sentence to have to settle for
inadequate representation."
Circuit Judge William Parsons, the chief judge for the local circuit, is
also concerned.
"All we want is good lawyers to represent people," he said
> State Attorney John Tanner is in favor of the plan. He disagreed with
critics who doubt experienced lawyers will want to work for the new
agency, although he admitted the lawyers may be underpaid.
"I like the plan," he said. "I think there are a lot of very experienced
lawyers who would probably love to leave private practice and have a few
years in state service."
(source: Daytona Beach News-Journal)
******************
Decision Not To Pursue Death Penalty Angers Widow
Anthony Lewis, authorities say, broke into a man's house, found a revolver
and fatally shot the homeowner with the gun after the man and his wife
interrupted the burglary on Valentine's Day.
When Lewis was indicted on a first-degree murder charge, the victim's
wife, Roberta Ramsey, said she wanted Lewis, 18, to pay with his life for
the homicide.
The Ramseys had returned home from lunch before the shooting. Roberta
Ramsey watched her husband die.
Prosecutors on Wednesday, however, took the death penalty out of play for
Lewis and Michael Leon Walker, also 18, suspected of being the getaway
driver.
The decision angered Roberta Ramsey and concerned Manatee County sheriff's
detectives who say Lewis, in particular, should face death if he is
convicted of killing a 67-year-old man he did not know: Daniel W. Ramsey,
a retired Manatee County parks and recreation supervisor.
"He cold-blooded murdered my husband. That's all there is to it," Roberta
Ramsey, 64, said Wednesday. "Why is that not enough evidence? I'm very
upset about it."
Assistant State Attorney Art Brown said the facts of the case did not
support seeking the death penalty, which prosecutors say is reserved for
slayings that are especially cruel.
There were not enough aggravating factors, he said, to pitch to jurors to
convince them the shooting warranted the ultimate punishment. Brown,
however, did not get into the details of the case.
Lewis and Walker did not break into the Ramsey home, in the 2400 block of
33rd Avenue Drive East, with intent to kill anyone, and neither had a
weapon before entering.
Authorities say Lewis stole Daniel Ramsey's gun and came out to the front
yard after Daniel Ramsey and his wife pulled into the driveway.
Roberta Ramsey begged her husband to stay in their truck.
Her husband was armed with a knife when he confronted the burglars. He
threw the knife at Walker, according to Roberta Ramsey, who was not
injured.
Walker also is charged with murder.
Walker and Lewis both have criminal histories. An attempted murder charge
was dropped against Lewis last year. Lewis was arrested on an armed
robbery charge as a juvenile, but the state declined to prosecute the case
because a witness did not cooperate. Lewis and Walker, who have been
jailed since their arrests, face life in prison without parole if
convicted.
(source: Sarasota Herald-Tribune)
**************************
Tony Loe leaves on a high ---- After 20 years, much-honored state
prosecutor leaves for private practice
He's leaving behind a job he loves.
After 20 years with the Broward State Attorney's Office, 13 of those as a
homicide prosecutor, Tony Loe is reluctantly moving to the civil arena. He
says he can't afford to stay. His last day is today.With 2 college-bound
sons, Loe, 51, stands to triple his income as a civil trial attorney.
He'll join Garfinkel Mager, representing property owners fighting
insurance companies to honor hurricane-related repairs, Loe said.
But if he should win the lottery, Loe said, he would return to his
government job in a heartbeat.
"The intrinsic gratification that I derive from doing this job is
phenomenal," Loe said. "Every single day you get to do a job where you
have the opportunity to do the right thing."
Losing a veteran prosecutor is a blow to an office that has seen a large
exodus of young lawyers because they can't afford to repay student loans
and start families on their salaries.
"It's nice to be on the side of truth, justice and the American way, but
it's difficult when lawyers with comparable experience and ability are
making infinitely more on the other side," said prosecutor Brian Cavanagh,
head of the homicide unit.
Prosecutor turnover is a statewide problem. Florida loses more than 1/2
its young state prosecutors within their first 5 years, according to the
Florida Prosecuting Attorneys Association.
The Florida Bar recognized Loe in 2006 as its outstanding government
lawyer.
Colleagues say Loe's meticulous trial preparation and compassionate touch
with victims' families make him stand out.
"He would squeeze 36 hours into 24 hours somehow, someway," said Cavanagh,
citing Loe's tenaciousness and ultimate dedication. "That same energy is
contagious in a good way, it's an intangible inspiration."
Aside from juggling a bulging caseload, Loe has moonlighted for years as a
hockey official and referee, partly for extra money, partly to satisfy his
love of the sport.
Among Loe's prosecutorial highs were Paul Hamwi's conviction for his
wife's and daughter's murders after an innocent man spent 10 years
imprisoned for the crime. Loe also persuaded 12 jurors to unanimously
recommend death for Lucious Boyd, convicted of kidnapping, raping and
murdering a nursing student. Unanimous decisions for the death penalty are
rare.
Of the 47 homicide cases Loe has prosecuted, 10 defendants have been
acquitted.
He says the victims' families, their hugs and gratitude have kept him
going over the years.
The day he resigned, he received an unexpected card from a victim's sister
from a case he prosecuted 13 years ago, said Sarahnell Murphy, assistant
state attorney in charge of the domestic violence unit. She wrote to say
thank you yet again.
"I told him it was karma and he needs to stay, but that didn't work," said
Murphy, who regards Loe as a mentor."The justice system as a whole will
have some making up to do with the loss of Tony."
(source: South Florida Sun-Sentinel)
[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----US MIL., OHIO, ARIZ., TENN., FLA.
Rick Halperin Sat, 19 May 2007 19:04:20 -0500 (Central Daylight Time)
