Pro-Life (in Prison)

Just in case the second half of the title doesn’t make it obvious that this piece has nothing to do with abortion…this piece has nothing to do with abortion (that’s a topic for another day). This is about one of my favorite topics to debate: the death penalty. Show a little patience with me, while I give three reasons why. Let’s take a walk.

Reason #1: The punishment does not fit the crime (whatever crime it may be). This can basically be equated with a heavy version of ‘go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done, junior.’

A person who has committed a heinous crime, worthy of the death penalty, should be able to live uncomfortably under lock and key for a long, long time, knowing that there is no chance of ever being free, preferably with a side order of living in fear for their safety (best case scenario all-around). State-sanctioned execution is the easy way out. More people might agree with that if life sentences, without the possibility of parole, actually meant that those who receive them will be in prison for the rest of their lives

Let’s look at the Manson “Family” puppets, the actual Tate-LaBianca killers (another one of my favorite subjects). Charles “Tex” Watson. Susan Atkins. Leslie Van Houten. Patricia Krenwinkel. All four were initially sentenced to death upon their convictions, nearly half a century ago (my goodness, how time does fly). Their sentences were commuted to life in prison when the death penalty was temporarily abolished in California.

These senior citizens were just kids when they brutally murdered seven people. Most likely, they would have grown to be productive members of society, had they never crossed paths with Manson (maybe not Susan Atkins – she was just a crazy twist). Instead…well, by now I think we all know the story. They were ultimately given life sentences and that is precisely how it’s going down for all of them (assuming Jerry Brown puts the kibosh on Van Houten’s release again).

Once in prison, all four eventually found their way out from under Manson’s influence; that’s when they really started to think about it (well, maybe not all of them). In a 1994 interview with Diane Sawyer, Leslie Van Houten made a couple of statements that, basically, tie my case up in one neat little package (where’s the fun in that?). Said Leslie, “the older I get, the harder it is.” She went on to say that she had embraced the death sentence because it justified her not having to deal with what she had done.

Had Leslie been put to death, she wouldn’t have known the joys of looking into the faces of her victims’ families at every last pointless parole hearing; none of them would have. Had Tex been put to death, he never would have found Jesus (apparently, Jesus was hiding in a jail cell). Had Susan been put to death she never would have found Jesus, either (Jesus is everywhere).

Susan also wouldn’t have ended up succumbing to cancer after lots and lots and LOTS of suffering. And here comes Susan Atkins backing me up, simply by being freakin’ dead. In the late stages of her illness, after partial paralysis and a leg amputation, she put in a bid for compassionate release. One argument, of course, was that she clearly was no longer a danger to society. Well, yeah, obviously; the bitch could barely talk, let alone move. Most people don’t get to choose the way they die, free or not. Susan ended up serving her sentence in its entirety. I like to think of that as justice.

Reason #2: It’s an easy form of suicide for someone who either doesn’t have the gumption to follow through on their own, or fucks it up. Because she sort of fit that description, let’s talk about Christina Riggs, the first woman to be executed in Arkansas since 1845. She asked for it, baby.

Christina suffered from severe depression. She was a single mother to a 5-year-old and 2-year-old, by two different fathers. For whatever reasons (seriously, who the fuck cares what those reasons were?), Christina very much wanted to die. Christina wanted to die, but she didn’t want her children to be split up after her death. Christina decided that the best course of action was to take her children with her. Immediately following the nightmarish double murder (I’ll spare you the details, you can look it up on Wikipedia), she took a handful of pills and laid down to die. She might have succeeded, had she not been found.

Christina pleaded non compos mentis, but was convicted anyway. During the penalty phase, she made it clear to her legal team that she wanted to be executed. After expressing sorrow over taking her children’s lives, she got her wish.

In this particular case, it almost seems like the state rewarded a child killer for her crime. To me, this seems totally unfair. I feel like if she had to die, it should have been at the hands of her fellow inmates.

Reason #3: Occasionally, innocent people are convicted. This is the argument that won the decade-long debate I had going with my husband.

As far as innocent people being convicted of crimes that warrant the death penalty, I’m sure it doesn’t happen all that often. To me, that means nothing. One person being put to death for a crime he didn’t commit, is one person too many. Enter Damien Echols, one third of the infamous West Memphis Three (a.k.a. the WM3).

In spite of the fact that the 2011 release of the WM3 was highly publicized, and in spite of the fact that they were the subject of three HBO documentaries that ended up drawing support from a host of big name celebrities, there are still a great many people who know nothing about these men, or the Robin Hood Hills murders. (Strangely enough, there are still a great many people who know little to nothing about the Manson “Family” and Tate-Labianca murders. These people tend to be younger than I am. I love these people.) For those who are unfamiliar, or vaguely familiar, I’ll offer a little backstory (meaning, I’ll try to keep it under 500 words).

Let’s go back to 1996. It was the Year of the Rat. I had a kickass job as a Starbucks barista and was sowing my wild oats, turning my brain to oatmeal. It was also the year that filmmakers Bruce Sinofsky and Joe Berlinger gave us Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills, the first installment of what would ultimately become a documentary trilogy.

This is where we first meet Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley – three Arkansas teenagers, who grew up on the ass-fuck end of the socioeconomic ladder. It’s also where we first meet Stevie Branch, Christopher Byers and Michael Moore – three 8-year-old murder victims. By the time the film premiered, Damien, Jason and Jessie had already been convicted of killing the little boys.

The conviction was all too easy, not simply because they were poor, but because they were outcasts and Damien, specifically, was a “freak” because he dressed in black, had an interest in Wicca and listened to heavy metal. This is partially why I became obsessed with the case in the first place; these boys were roughly the same age I was. Had they grown up where I grew up, I don’t doubt that they would have landed in the same system I got stuck in. We might have even ended up in the same school. Damien and Jason were boys I would have been friends with; at the very least, our small social circles would have overlapped.

But…they didn’t grow up where I grew up.

What happened to Stevie, Christopher and Michael was arguably a parent’s worst nightmare. One early evening, they took off on their bikes to go play in the woods. They never returned home. Their little bodies were found mutilated, in what appeared to local law enforcement (and Evangelical Christians everywhere) to be the result of a Satanic ritual. Just cuz…you know…that stuff happens all the time.

Whether or not detectives honestly believed in the beginning that Damien, Jason and Jessie were guilty is incidental. They needed someone to pin these murders on and the three were easy targets. What they didn’t have was damning evidence. What they needed was a confession.

While Damien and Jason were legitimate buds, Jessie was the odd kid out. He knew who they were and crossed paths with them every so often, but they didn’t hang out. Didn’t matter. All that was needed was a loose connection.

When the cops showed up at Jessie’s house, wanting to ask him some questions, he went willingly. Why not? He hadn’t done anything. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything. Let’s now step aside and establish the fact that Jessie was a semi-literate 17-year-old, with an I.Q. below 100. He was basically led to believe that all he had to do was confess to the murders, while implicating Damien and Jason, and they would let him go home. Jessie really, really wanted to go home.

After twelve hours of questioning, during which time neither parent, nor guardian nor legal counsel were present, Jessie probably would have confessed to the Whitechapel murders. If you listen to the tapes, it’s obvious that the kid had no firsthand knowledge of the murders. Everything he knew, he had learned throughout the several hours that led up to the tape recorder being turned on. When he got major details wrong, he was corrected.

Needless to say, Jessie didn’t get to go home.

Long story short, Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley were convicted of brutally murdering three little boys. Jason and Jessie were sentenced to life in prison, while Damien, considered to be the ringleader and an all-around weirdo, was sentenced to death.

Sinofsky and Berlinger may very well have saved these guys lives with that first documentary, simply by bringing national awareness to the case. With the release of Paradise Lost came an outpouring of support from people all across the country, from all backgrounds; and when Johnny Depp and Eddie Vedder came on board (as naturally they would), things were blown wide the fuck open. Petitions were signed; protests were staged; letters were written; collections were taken up for competent legal representation; outsiders doing their own research on the murders and subsequent trials, tirelessly going over all the court documents; yadda…yadda…yadda.

All of this, plus two more documentaries, made enough noise and shed enough light on shady dealings for Damien, Jason and Jessie to have actual hope.  Investigators and prosecutors knew these guys were innocent, but they wouldn’t admit to it. No way the WM3 would be exonerated. Instead, they were offered the Alford plea. In essence, the Alford allows a defendant to maintain innocence, as long as they admit that all evidence points against them (makes no sense to me).

Jessie jumped at the offer. Damien, obviously, jumped at the offer. The only one of the three who declined was Jason. He basically saw the plea as admitting to guilt, and he would sooner live out his sentence than admit to a crime he didn’t commit. Jason had scruples. Jason also had a heart and an overwhelming sense of decency. Jason changed his tune when he learned that if he didn’t accept the plea, none of them would be released.

At that point, Damien had been on death row for eighteen years and in solitary confinement for about ten. He was emaciated, in failing health and losing his sight. Had he not been released, he might not have survived his thirties. Had that first film not been made, he probably would have been executed years ago. It would have been the greatest travesty of justice since the state-sanctioned murder of little George Stinney, Jr.

I’m not going to lie, I have an obscenely vengeful mind. There’s just too much room for error. I mean, what good is exoneration if it comes only after a person has been put to death? What good is the threat of execution if the guilty party has no fear? If someone tortures and murders my family, a relatively quick and “humane” death simply wouldn’t be good enough. If we know for a fact that the accused is 100% guilty…well, hell. Who among us didn’t get at least half a giggle when Jeffrey Dahmer was taken out?