Nov. 19
USA:
Punishment, death penalty are misguided
What do the spanking of children and capital punishment have in common? Hold
that thought; we'll get back to it.
In the meantime, consider the whipping Judge of Aransas County, Texas, who was
caught on tape disciplining his 16-year-old daughter with a belt. 7 years
later, the daughter posted a video of the event on YouTube; millions have
watched it.
The video is notable for its length -- almost eight minutes -- and for the fact
that the man vigorously flogging his daughter is County Court-at-Law Judge
William Adams, a local magistrate whose jurisdiction involves decisions about
the fitness of parents to raise their children.
YouTube labeled the video as "graphic," and you'll probably agree if you find
it hard to watch a man beat a pleading, weeping child/woman with a belt. In his
own defense, the judge admitted he lost his temper, but he contended "it's not
as bad as it looks."
Actually, it's worse than it looks.
The judge would probably say that the beating was all about correction and
guidance. His daughter had, against his wishes and perhaps illegally,
downloaded games and music from the Internet. But the episode appears to be
much more about power and domination than about correction.
The judge threatens to beat his daughter "into submission." As the girl writhes
beneath the flogging, the judge fixates on forcing her facedown onto her bed so
that he can have ready access to her backside with his belt. The girl's mother
steps in and warns her to lie down and "take it like a woman." It goes on and
on in this humiliating and painful way.
In short, it's a sorry, ugly scene that generated some short-lived attention.
The daughter and her mother were flown to New York for an appearance on the
"Today" show and with Anderson Cooper. Dr. Phil came to Aransas County.
But one wonders how much notice this story would have collected if the father
had not been a judge charged with presiding over parental fitness cases. Many
of my students report that the Judge Adams episode is only a somewhat
exaggerated version of what takes place regularly in many American households,
including their own.
Plenty of my students report having been whipped by belts and other implements.
In fact, with some 80 % of American families using corporal punishment in some
form, we are a nation of committed spankers.
Parents who hit children defend the practice in various ways, and clearly some
hitting is more benign than the whipping Judge Adams inflicted on his daughter.
But entertain for a moment the assertion that all forms of corporal punishment
reside on a spectrum; the difference between them is only quantitative, not
qualitative. And everyone who hits children believes, like Judge Adams, that
he's doing the right thing.
Now, what does any of this have to do with the capital punishment mentioned in
the 1st paragraph?
Connecting capital punishment and spanking may sound like a stretch, but
consider that many Americans are enthusiastic supporters of both.
These practices help shape who we are, a nation that regularly kills people in
the name of justice and hits children in the name of guidance. Of course, some
form of punishment and discipline is necessary, for both criminals and
children. But it's a mistake to allow our national self-definition to be
driven, as happens so often, by emotions like anger and a thirst for revenge
and dominance.
Capital and corporate punishment have the same theoretical goals: deterrence,
punishment, correction.
In truth, however, we don't do a very good job of administering either one. We
make too many mistakes, and we imagine better motivations than we really have.
Both practices can go wrong quickly and easily, and neither can ever be undone.
And neither has been shown to be very effective. In fact, often they cause more
harm than good.
Just watch Judge Adams in action.
(source: Commentary; John M. Crisp teaches in the English Department at Del Mar
College in Corpus Christi, Texas----News Chief)
**************
Death Row Exonerated Seek End to Death Penalty in US
A new Gallup Poll shows that support for the death penalty in the United States
remains high, but down to 61 % from 80 % in 1994. Part of the reason is the
possibility of innocent inmates being put to death and the release of others
after new evidence cleared them. Several men saved from execution are now
telling their stories to the public.
Ron Keine was convicted of murder in the southwestern state of New Mexico and
was just days away from his scheduled execution when the man who had really
committed the crime confessed to a preacher.
"Of course, the preacher said, 'I cannot absolve you, you have to go and do the
right thing.' And the guy said, 'Yeah, I know.' At that time I was 9 days from
execution," recalled Keine.
After the truth came out, Keine gained his freedom and joined the effort to
abolish capital punishment.
New Mexico has now abolished the death penalty. But Keine says most of the men
he met on death row should remain in prison.
"These people are dangerous killers and they should not be out on the streets,"
Keine explained. "I don't want those guys out, but I do not believe in killing
anybody. I believe they should be put in prison for the rest of their lives
without any chance of parole."
Studies show one out of every eight condemned inmates could be innocent. And
lawyers representing death penalty convicts often uncover evidence of
prosecution abuses in the original trial.
Clarence Brandley was on death row in Texas until he won such an appeal.
"It has been proven and shown over and over again that Texas has executed
innocent people," he said.
Brandley says many poor black men are sent to the death row facility near
Livingston, Texas, because they lacked the money to mount an effective defense.
Iranian immigrant Hooma Hedayati, who is with a group called "Witness to
Innocence," organized a tour of Texas cities by exonerated prisoners.
"Several studies have shown that innocence is one of the most important factors
in people deciding whether they are for or against the death penalty and what
we are doing is giving a face to innocence, where people get firsthand to
experience people who have been wrongfully convicted," Hedayati explained.
Another argument against the death penalty is that it is ineffective, says
Dorothy McClellan, who teaches at Texas A & M University at Corpus Christi.
"It does not accomplish what it sets out to do. It seeks to get revenge, but it
is inefficient, it does not, in fact, deter," she said.
But many Americans believe the death penalty dissuades people from committing
grisly murders, and, at the very least, guarantees they will not kill again.
Opponents try to counter that notion by showing that, in some cases, the person
being executed is not the one who committed the crime.
(source: Voice of America News)
FLORIDA:
Jury to decide whether Vincent George Brown should be given death penalty
A jury is expected to decide today whether Vincent George Brown should die for
what he did to his girlfriend, Jennifer Johnson, in 2008.
On Wednesday, the jury found Brown, 41, guilty of 1st-degree murder and
kidnapping.
3 years ago, Brown kidnapped Johnson, put her in a trunk and strangled her
before putting plastic bags over her head. The most alarming clue in her
disappearance was a desperate 911 call: "They have me in the trunk of my car,"
she shouted shortly before her death. "I don't know where I am."
She was found dead several days later in an abandoned Lakeland home.
The jury can chose to recommend life in prison or the death penalty. Their
decision, which does not have to be unanimous, will be considered by the judge,
who will make the final decision.
(source: St. Petersburg Times)
CALIFORNIA:
Killer Heads for Death Row----A man who murdered a Temecula liquor store clerk
was sent to San Quentin Correctional Facility to await his execution.
A man who fatally shot a Temecula liquor store clerk was sent to death row
today.
Judge F. Paul Dickerson signed a death warrant for Marcus Fletcher, 27, who was
found guilty in July of killing Rafi Ibrahim, 32, while robbing Rancho Liquor
in Old Town.
He had an accomplice, Temecula resident Dale Dante Thomas, who is scheduled to
be sentenced in December. To read about his situation, click here.
Fletcher sat in the courtroom at Southwest Justice Center in French Valley
dressed in a red prison uniform, his hands shackled around his waist, staring
emotionlessly at papers lying on the desk in front of him with his attorneys
sitting at his sides.
Before the judge signed the warrant, defense attorney Michael Duncan urged him
to show him mercy.
"The question of whether he should (get the death penalty) or not is still
troubling," he told the judge.
Death penalty proponents usually offer only a few rationalizations, and none
are valid in this case, Duncan told the judge. First, it sends a message to
people considering committing the same crime.
"It sends no message. The hundreds of thousands of (people) in the street who
will consider (committing a similar crime) will live and die without ever
hearing of Marcus Fletcher," he said.
Some think justice is served when a person is executed, he said. "We gain
nothing when we adopt the attitude Mr. Fletcher adopted, when we kill out of
revenge," he said.
Lastly, proponents say the death penalty brings closure for the victim's
family, Duncan said. "There will be no closure for anybody with a sentence of
death," because Fletcher will likely sit on death row for so long, he will die
of natural causes, the attorney said.
Prosecutor Sam Kaloustian argued in favor of the death penalty, saying Fletcher
deserved the punishment.
The killer shot to death Ibrahim, and then stood over his body and mocked him.
"I'm put in the position to speak for the person who's not here today," he
said.
Ibrahim was persecuted in his home country, Iraq, because of his Christian
religion. So he immigrated almost penniless to the U.S. and worked to bring his
family, Kaloustian said today and during previous hearings.
Fletcher also has a criminal background, and his crimes were growing more
violent each time, he said.
"Sentence him to die because that's what he deserves," Kaloustian said.
The judge agreed with the prosecutor. "In the opinion of the court, the
defendant is a remorseless animal," he said.
A charge stemming from the alleged killing of a man in San Diego was dismissed,
though charges may be pressed in that county later, according to the judge and
Kaloustian.
A key piece of evidence in both the Temecula and San Diego killings -- a black
handgun -- was nearly lost during the trial, though found and retained in case
it is needed for another case.
(source: Temecula Patch)
******************
Killer's death brings closure: Family of Oroville boy relieved death row inmate
finally gone
When Lou and Yola Cecchi heard that the man who murdered their grandson 13
years ago had killed himself, the report brought shock that gave way to relief,
a sense of justice and something else: They were glad.
The couple heard about the death of Brandon Wilson on Thursday night on a
television newscast.
"I was shocked," said Lou Cecchi at his home in Oroville on Friday. "We're
shocked, but happy he's gone. At least that's the way I feel. He's been on
death row a long time."
Wilson was tried, convicted and sentenced in 1999 for the murder of Matthew
Cecchi, 9, at a public restroom in Oceanside.
Wilson slit the boy's throat and stabbed him 5 times, Cecchi said.
News of Wilson's death brought a lot of things to mind, including a court
proceeding the Cecchis attended where the killer admitted his guilt.
"He showed absolutely no remorse," said Lou, passionately. "He was happy about
what he'd done. He said if he got out, he would do it again, and the best thing
the justice system could do was to execute him. He showed no remorse
whatsoever!"
Lou said it was disgusting to hear.
"He committed a horrible crime. The expression on his face, with no remorse, I
wanted to go over and kill him myself," he said.
Friday, the Cecchis and their daughter, Laura Page of Chico, voiced frustration
at how long Wilson sat on death row awaiting execution.
Lou held a stack of papers he got off the Internet of every appellate court
proceeding in the case since Wilson was ordered to be executed.
Page said in a phone interview a state-appointed attorney filed motions
requesting extensions every 90 to 180 days.
"I feel there is some closure with his life being over, but we'll never get
complete closure with such a tragedy," Page said. "It haunts you forever."
Like her parents, Page was frustrated and angry at the legal system,
specifically the California Appellate Court, which automatically allows
convicted murderers to appeal.
The death sentence was issued to Wilson on Nov. 4, 1999, in San Diego.
"What really concerns me ... everyone else who has someone on death row is
expecting the same thing — the frustration that nothing gets done," Page said.
"I feel it's a slap in the face. I feel there is no justice for the victims."
Page's father said an appellate judge granted extensions for Wilson 34 times,
the most recent one on Nov. 2.
"Extensions for what?" Lou asked. "We know the man was guilty. We were told by
the prosecuting attorney it would take 20 years to execute him ... our justice
system is a travesty."
Matthew's death was a double trauma for the Cecchi family. At the time, the
boy's father, Lou Cecchi Jr., was battling cancer. He died 10 years ago.
The day of the murder, he was in Wildwood visiting his other sister when he got
the news from one of Sharon's brothers. They called Lou and Yola, who were home
in Oroville, and told them they needed to get up to Wildwood. The Cecchi's
didn't know until they got there what had happened.
"We were devastated," Yola said.
"Devastation and unbelief," interjected Lou Sr. "I thought, 'No! This is
impossible! This is not real!' It was particularly difficult on my son at the
time because he didn't want my grandson to go down to the reunion."
The Cecchis have had mixed emotions since.
"We have the trauma, an evil man committing a horrific deed. There's that to
contend with," he said. "And you want to see justice rendered to the person who
did it. That's something that brings closure, but we don't have to worry about
it now because he's gone. It's a chapter that's closed."
It's also evident there are good memories for Page and the Cecchis.
"He was a great little boy," said Yola, who used to play games such as Monopoly
with him after school. "He was always happy."
Page said Matthew was smart, athletic and kind-hearted.
"He loved to play sports and he loved his family," she said. "He was a great
kid, a pleasant, well-rounded little boy with aspirations and potential beyond
belief."
Lou recalled fondly how his son and Matthew used to go fishing together at a
pond on Cecchi's property, and how he himself would get together with all his
grandsons at the pond. The group would pitch a tent and Lou would joke and tell
stories about deer, bears, beavers and other things.
"Matt liked that a lot," Lou said.
To cope, the Cecchi's take one day at a time. They also have their faith and
they pray a lot.
Now, there is some relief and closure, and the emotions are becoming less
frequent, but Lou said he'll go to his grave thinking about Matthew's death.
"We'll never get 100-% closure, neither Yola nor I," he said.
"I'm glad this chapter is ended and we can get on with our lives — and have the
good memories we have about Matt and try not to think about the bad ones."
(source: Chicoer.com)
OREGON----impending execution/volunteer
Prison superintendent outlines plans for death row inmate Gary Haugen's final
hours
If all goes as planned on Dec. 6, Oregon State Penitentiary Superintendent Jeff
Premo will place his hand on the shoulder of death row inmate Gary Haugen and
say his name three times after an executioner injects the twice-convicted
killer with an anesthetic.
If Haugen does not respond, Premo will then brush his finger across the
prisoner's eyelashes, looking for any reflexive flicker.
And if Haugen still does not respond, only then will Premo give the go-ahead
for the executioner to administer 2 more drugs that will paralyze the
49-year-old inmate and stop his heart. Haugen, who has waived legal challenges
to his conviction and death sentence, would become the 1st person executed by
the state in 14 years.
Preparing for the execution has been "the most challenging thing I've done in
my life," Premo said Friday.
He declined to share his personal feelings about the death penalty or about
Haugen, but noted that he started working at the prison in March 1981 -- just 8
months before Haugen was admitted -- and said the 2 have developed "a very good
rapport" in the 30 years they have known each other.
In a briefing with reporters and photographers, Premo outlined in detail how
the penitentiary will carry out the lethal injection so it is "professional"
and "humane." Media members also toured the execution room and the cell where
Haugen will spend his last 48 hours.
Premo and his staff have spent more than a year researching what other states
do, consulting with lawyers and talking with medical professionals about how to
update the state's procedures, he said. Premo himself traveled to Texas to
witness an execution.
The results have ushered in some changes, such as the plan for Premo to
personally verify that Haugen lapses into unconsciousness from the 1st drug --
pentobarbital -- before he allows the executioner to administer the next 2
drugs.
It is one step in a highly scripted series of events that will mark Haugen's
final days and hours.
2 days before the execution, Haugen will move from his room to a death watch
cell, just a few feet from the execution room. The cell, about 6-by-8 feet, has
a bed, TV and toilet. Two staff members will keep watch around the clock,
recording Haugen's actions in a log.
On the day of the execution, around 2 p.m., Haugen will receive his last meal.
He can choose foods that can be made from the provisions at the prison kitchen,
although Premo said he will accommodate "reasonable requests."
About 5:45 p.m., Premo will visit Haugen and ask, as he does each time he
visits the inmate, if he is sure he wants to go through with the execution.
Premo will confirm with Haugen again just before the inmate is brought into the
execution room.
Once witnesses are in the viewing area, a team of six "special security team"
members will take Haugen to the execution room and place him on a gurney. They
will strap his arms and body to the gurney and place his legs in cuffs.
Death warrant
Friday: Marion County Circuit Judge Joseph Guimond issued a death warrant for
the execution of Gary Haugen. The execution is scheduled to take place on Dec.
6. The Oregon Department of Corrections has set the time for 7 p.m.
Remaining issues: The Oregon Supreme Court has not yet ruled on a request by an
anti-death penalty activist to halt the execution and require a new competency
hearing for Haugen. 4 groups also have sent a petition to Gov. John Kitzhaber
asking him to indefinitely delay the execution until the state conducts a
review of the death penalty in Oregon. Kitzhaber has not responded. 2
"medically trained professionals" will then insert catheters, one in each arm,
set up the intravenous lines and affix a heart rate monitor. A 3rd will
supervise. The medical team, chosen by the superintendent, all must be
licensed. Premo would not say what type of license they must have, though he
said those selected handle IV insertion as part of their regular jobs.
As a precaution, the IV team will also wrap Haugen's hands in gauze to ensure
he does not make any profane hand gestures to the witnesses, though Premo
stressed that he is confident Haugen will not.
Once the IV team finishes and leaves the room, the assistant superintendent
will check the restraints, the lines and the heart rate monitor.
The corrections director will then call both the governor and the attorney
general to ask if they are ready to proceed. If they approve, Haugen will be
permitted a few minutes for a final statement. Even at this point, Haugen could
call off the execution and the staff would stand down, Premo said.
But once the 1st drug is administered to induce unconsciousness, the execution
would be underway. As Haugen lies on the gurney, he will be able to see any
friends he has asked to witness the execution through a window, while other
witnesses will be hidden behind 2-way glass.
A few minutes after the drug has been delivered, Premo will test Haugen's
responsiveness. If Haugen is unconscious, Premo will signal the executioner to
continue.
The medical team will monitor his heart activity on an electrocardiogram and
will tell Premo the time of death. The corrections director will relay the
information to the governor and attorney general. A medical examiner will be on
hand and Haugen's body will be sent to a mortuary and funeral home.
(source: The Oregonian)
********************
Oregon executed 60 men since 1903----Once public, hangings became private to
avoid crowded spectacle
60 convicted killers, all men, have been put to death since Oregon legislators
abolished public hangings in 1903.
Behind walls at the Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem, state-sanctioned
killings have been carried out in three ways: on the gallows, in the gas
chamber and in the lethal-injection room.
A look at the changing ways of execution in this state:
On the gallows
Acting to curtail public hangings that drew large crowds to county courthouses,
state lawmakers moved the gallows inside the state penitentiary in 1903.
On June 29, 1904, Harry Egbert was the 1st condemned killer to hang at the
penitentiary. He was put to death for killing 2 Harney County sheriff's
deputies.
Before a noose was slipped over his head and the trap door was sprung, Egbert
summed up his fate this way: "Bad raising and bad company were the cause of my
downfall."
In 1912, 4 men died on the gallows — the most killed at one time.
In all, 40 men died on the gallows between 1904 and 1931.
In the gas chamber
Executions by lethal gas began in this state in 1939, about 3 years before the
Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor triggered America's entry into World War II.
The life of LeRoy Hershel McCarthy, 27, ended in the gas chamber on Jan. 20,
1939. He was sentenced to death for killing a Portland resident during a $26
robbery.
17 more gas-chamber executions ensued between 1940 and 1962.
The youngest person executed in Oregon, John Anthony Soto, 17, died in the gas
chamber on March 20, 1942. He was convicted of killing 2 men and 1 woman in
Umatilla County.
Leeroy McGahuey was the last person put to death in Oregon's gas chamber. The
logger was convicted of killing a Central Point woman and her 2-year-old son
with a claw hammer. He was executed on Aug. 20, 1962.
2 years after McGahuey's execution, Oregon voters repealed the death penalty by
60 % of the vote in November 1964.
2 days later, then-Gov. Mark Hatfield commuted the death sentences of 3 people,
including the 1st woman to be sentenced to death in this state. Jeannace
Freeman, 20, was convicted of murdering her female lover's young son by
throwing him off a bridge in Jefferson County in Eastern Oregon. She was later
freed from prison.
Voters reinstituted capital punishment by lethal gas in 1978, but it was struck
down by the Oregon Supreme Court in 1981.
When voters overwhelmingly reinstated the death penalty in 1984, they opted to
execute with a sterile needle.
Lethal injections
2 men have been executed by lethal injection, one in 1996, another in 1997.
Both dropped their appeals, essentially volunteering to be put to death.
After a 34-year hiatus, capital punishment resumed in Oregon when Douglas
Wright was executed shortly after midnight on Sept. 6, 1996.
Wright was sentenced to die for killing 4 homeless men he had lured from
Portland to the Warm Springs Indian Reservation in 1991. He also was charged in
federal court with the killing of a 4th homeless man, an American Indian who
also was killed in Central Oregon.
Before the killing spree, Wright murdered a Portland woman and her daughter in
1969. He served a fraction of his 35-year sentence before he was paroled in
1982.
Facing execution, Wright revealed from death row that he had also kidnapped,
molested and killed a 10-year-old Portland boy, Luke Tredway, in 1984.
In his final statement, Wright apologized to the victim's family and said he
"can no longer live with my guilt, my personal shame, nor my unbearable grief
for the death of Luke Tredway."
Salem double killer Harry Moore was executed on May 16, 1997.
The crimes that brought Moore to the lethal-injection room were committed on
June 5, 1992. He shot his former father-in-law, Thomas Lauri, in the head as
the victim sat in his pickup outside a Salem post office, just a few blocks
from the penitentiary. Moore then went to the home of Lauri's ex-wife, Moore's
half-sister Barbara Cunningham, and shot her to death.
In waiving his legal appeals, Moore described life on death row as unbearable.
His execution was delayed about 16 minutes while prison staff struggled to find
a suitable vein in his left arm for the lethal injection. They eventually had
to use his left hand.
(source: Statesman-Journal)
NORTH CAROLINA:
Juror explains death sentence for Hembree
A Gaston County jury sentenced convicted killer Danny Hembree to death Friday.
A male juror told Eyewitness News it wasn't a difficult decision for him, and
it didn't take long for all the jurors to agree on the death penalty for the
2009 murder of Heather Catterton.
After a judge read the sentence Friday, Hembree had a lot to say, shouting, "I
love you" to his family. He also apologized to the family of 17-year-old
Heather Catterton and asked to read the lyrics to a Johnny Cash song about
prison. A portion of the lyrics said, "Prision, I hate every inch of you."
Outside the courtroom, the Gaston County District Attorney praised the jury's
decision.
"The verdict said that [Catterton's] life had value," said Locke Bell.
Catterton's father breathed a sigh of relief.
"This is gonna bring closure," said Nick Catterton.
Hembree still faces murder charges in the deaths of 2 Gaston County women. The
district attorney told Eyewitness News he will decide next week whether to try
those cases as well.
(source: WSOC News)
IDAHO:
Demonstrators voice their position on Rhoades’ execution
Bright lights cast shadows in the darkness Friday morning as the first
protesters arrived. As the sun rose over the South Idaho Correctional
Institution, roughly 100 demonstrators gathered to voice their opposition to
capital punishment in one prison lot, while a dozen turned out in support of
Paul Ezra Rhoades’ execution in another.
Most of those opposed huddled in a circle, lighting candles while Mia
Crosthwaite of Idahoans Against the Death Penalty led a prayer. A smaller
cluster simply sat facing the prison in silence. For those in favor of the
execution, motivations ranged from showing support for the victims and their
families — at least one pro-death-penalty demonstrator had known a Rhoades
victim personally — to expressing the importance of free speech and assembly.
But regardless of their motivations, they all had one thing in common:
Convictions strong enough to brave the early morning cold and darkness.
“I think it’s immoral and it’s wrong to have state-sanctioned killings, and I
think that for a nation that claims to be a nation of Christians, we’re a
nation of hypocrites,” Michael Lucero of Caldwell said. “Actions speak louder
than words, and we need to have our voices heard. The laws will never change
until the people’s hearts change.”
On the other side of the field, Craig Bennett stood with a sign depicting
victim and schoolteacher Susan Michelbacher, accompanied by the words “My
teacher, my friend.” Bennett, an 8th and 9th grade student of Michelbacher’s,
described her as one of his favorite teachers.
Michelbacher disappeared a few years after he sat in her classroom, Bennett
said. When he first heard the news, he thought there must be some mistake. When
her body was found a few days later, however, he said he wasn’t surprised. With
a small child at home, he said, she wouldn’t have left town on her own.
Bennett was visibly emotional Friday as he talked about the lessons and
memories he carries nearly three decades later.
“For me, it’s not about the politics, although there is that component, of
course. For me, it’s about remembering that there were victims involved in
this,” Bennett said. “I’m honestly conflicted about the death penalty, for or
against. But that’s not what brings me out here.”
Colin McNamara of Boise braved the frigid Friday morning in a red t-shirt to
lend his voice to the crowd. He wasn’t making any particular statement, he
said, he’s just “built for the cold.” He added a scarf to the ensemble as the
morning progressed, though it may not have helped much.
“As a citizen or Idaho, it disturbs me that this man is being put to death in
my name,” McNamara said. “I am part of the apparatus that kills him. So I came
here to pray over that fact.”
Some demonstrators had endured the cold for hours when Rhoades was executed at
9:15 a.m. Protesters formed a line and faced the prison complex as the
appointed time arrived, standing in silence for several minutes with their
heads bowed in silent prayer. As the sun came out from behind the clouds, they
returned to their vehicles quickly and quietly.
“We’re going to do away with the death penalty,” demonstrator Henry Krewer said
as the crowd dispersed. “It’s going to happen. And because it’s going to
happen, it’s like the guy killed on the last day of the war. Why are we killing
people when we know where the tide is going?”
In a recent Idaho Press-Tribune online poll, 89 % of respondents voiced their
support for Rhoades’ execution, though comparatively few faced the chilly
November morning to counter those protesting the event. For Chris Bentley of
Boise — who favors capital punishment — the right to assemble and speak freely
is the most important thing, regardless of one’s position.
“I wanted to come out and support any voice to be heard,” Bentley said. “I’m
definitely more on the side of being for the death penalty, but I understand
where they’re coming from as well.”
(source: Idaho Press-Tribune)
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