Not long ago I was a big fan of Hammurabi’s code. An eye for an eye and all that medieval thinking regarding crime and punishment. Maybe not quite the extremist in having hands cut off of thieves, but not too far off the mark. And I was always an advocate for the death penalty. Not that I had any misguided belief that it was a deterrent for violent crimes and not because of any sense of true justice. It’s not as if killing the perpetrator of a murder could ever bring back or make up for the life they took. No, it was none of those things. Quite simply it came down to three things. That the family of the victim(s) had the right to have some peace and if killing the murderer did that, then so be it. That there are evil people in this world that should be removed when warranted. And finally that if it’s part of the legal sentencing then it should be used accordingly. Why have a penalty on the books if it’s never going to be used?
Somehow for the most heinous of crimes it didn’t seem enough to just lock a person up in a jail cell and throw away the key. Taking a life means that you forfeit your right to one. Right? But then you hear about the innocents – those convicted in error. Advances in technology have improved DNA testing and other types of evidence analysis. That of course led to overturning convictions and discovering the cracks in the justice system. Overzealous police and district attorneys more concerned about conviction rates than truth contributed to the overall distrust of the system. And then there’s the argument regarding the method of carrying out a sentence of death. I’ve listened to all the arguments on both sides of the issue and haven’t wavered in my thinking…until now.
Two days ago I watched a documentary on Netflix called “Into the Abyss.” It changed everything I thought I knew and believed about the death penalty. The documentary first aired in 2011 at a film festival, so it’s not as if it was new or even ground breaking really. The case centered around two men who killed three people for a car. A red Camaro. There was very little doubt as to the guilt of the two men. One confessed and led them to the site where they had dumped two of their victims. He later recanted his confession, but that seemed to be just a legal maneuver. And naturally it happened in Conroe, Texas – as close to the death penalty capital in the world as a place can get. (That honor was bestowed on Harris County which is nearby.) It was almost inevitable that the death sentence be applied. This was not a case for the Innocence Project or involved police brutality or even an overly ambitious prosecutor. All things considered, a pretty straight forward case.
It wasn’t the criminals or listening to the victims family and friends that changed my mind. No it was hearing the man who counseled the death row inmates. Seeing the look on his face as he described how he works with them from their first day in lock up to the moment of their death. If they allow him, he’s there in the room with them and he continues to touch them until the lethal dose is administered. And it was listening to another man who was still tortured by being the executioner. Watching the tears stream down his face as he tries to justify to himself the job he once held was difficult and disturbing. He had a family to support and it was an available job during a time when there weren’t many available jobs. He was doing his job. Not the judge and the jury but the man designated to end a life. I can still see his face as he described the moment. The very definition of cruel and unusual punishment. In other words, collateral damage. And that was the moment I stopped supporting the death penalty.
I never once thought about the damage a death penalty would cause to the people that were responsible for carrying out the punishment. I don’t think there is any person with a shred of humanity that wouldn’t be scarred after taking a life regardless of the reasons. Having never been in such a situation, and hope to never be, I would think that ending a person’s life would leave a wound on your soul. I can’t imagine what it does to a person to carry that burden. We ask our soldiers and law enforcement to make that determination every single day on the basis of our security. And that’s enough. It’s a responsibility not to be taken lightly and it’s not one we should delegate lightly.
Enforcing the decisions of our justice system should not incur additional collateral damage. There is plenty of that already gone around. Family and friends of both the victims and the criminals is enough human collateral. There is no compelling reason to add to it. And it’s not as if life in prison is a play land or vacation. It’s a fitting punishment if you think about it. Locking someone up in a box with no hope of release is the equivalent of taking their life. Living is not just about breathing air. It’s about the freedom to choose what you do and where you go. It’s about being able to play at the park or drive to the mall. More importantly, it’s about the connections and memories you make with families and friends. Strip all that away and is what’s left really a life? A room the size of a box, communal showers and three meals are not living. At best it’s existing and that’s punishment enough. It has to be.
I’ve always complained about people that live in a bubble and ignore anything outside that bubble. And yet on the issue of the death penalty (and probably many other things), I’ve been guilty of doing exactly that. Not any more. As a member of society, I cannot in good conscience ask someone else to do what I’m not willing to do. Not and pretend that there’s no cost to the task. No adding to my life debts and no asking others to do so either. I have jury duty in a couple of weeks. Fingers crossed it’s not this complicated. But if it were and they asked if I could support a sentence of death, I know what my answer will be.
