June 23
TEXAS:
Texas prepares to execute 500th prisoner
The US state of Texas is preparing to execute its 500th convict since the death
penalty was restored in 1976, a record in a country where capital punishment is
in decline elsewhere.
On Wednesday, in the absence of a last minute pardon, 52-year-old Kimberly
McCarthy will receive a lethal injection in Huntsville Penitentiary for the
1997 murder of 71-year-old retired college professor Dorothy Booth.
"What we do is we carry out court orders," said Jason Clark, spokesman for the
Texas Department of Criminal Justice. "It's our obligation to carry this
execution out."
Activists opposed to the death penalty are due to gather at the red brick state
prison, known as the "Walls Unit," to mark the milestone with a protest against
a punishment they regard as a holdover from another age.
In 1976, the US Supreme Court lifted a moratorium on the use of the death
penalty and since that date 1,336 have been executed across the country, more
than 1/3 of them in Texas alone.
"It is obviously still the leader of executions in the nation, but it is
limited to a handful of counties," said Steve Hall of the StandDown Texas
Project, which has campaigns for a new moratorium.
"Texas leads with the number of executions and death sentences but there's no
doubt you're seeing the same trend to decrease that you see nationally."
Richard Dieter of the Death Penalty Information Center, an academic watchdog,
agreed.
"Despite this major milestone, we expect the total number of executions to be
less than last year and a new drop in death sentences," he said.
According to DPIC's figures, there are 3,125 convicts on death row in the
United States and, if Wednesday's execution goes ahead, McCarthy will be the
17th prisoner put to death in the first 6 months of 2013.
But numbers are dropping: 43 people were executed in 2012 down from a peak, in
2002, of 71.
American juries are also imposing capital punishment in fewer cases, with only
78 death sentences last year, down by around 3/4 since the 1990s -- although
violent crime is also down.
And, while 32 of the 50 US states still have the death penalty on the books,
many have imposed a de facto moratorium, with few or none of the executions
carried out and convicts languishing on death row.
Activists like Dieter say this shows that these states will eventually formally
abolish the death penalty, but supporters of the ultimate penalty note that it
retains the support of American voters.
"By measurements like the number of executions, death sentences and states, the
death penalty is in decline," admitted Robert Blecker, a professor at New York
Law School.
"But, in terms of the popular support, that is fairly constant. It is not in
decline," he said, noting that the proportion of voters backing execution
always increases in the wake of "egregious" crimes.
Opinion polls consistently show that between 60 and 65 % of Americans back the
death penalty, indicating that support goes beyond the roughly 50-50 left-right
divide in US electoral politics.
High-profile recent crimes like the gun massacres in a Connecticut school and a
Colorado cinema, and the bomb attack on the Boston marathon, will only increase
public support for capital punishment, Blecker added.
Nevertheless, abolitionists like Gloria Rubac of the Texas Death Penalty
Abolition Movement see what she calls "light at the end of the tunnel."
She told AFP the 142 suspects who were condemned to death but then cleared on
appeal have become "ambassadors for change" campaigning against death
sentences, which are now largely concentrated in 6 southern states.
For some, there is also an economic argument. Contrary to popular perception,
it could cost more to execute someone than to hold them for life, once the
extra legal, security and logistics costs are added.
The Death Penalty Information Center estimates that each death penalty case in
Texas costs taxpayers between 2 and 3 million dollars, or around 2 to 3 times
more than imprisoning someone for 40 years.
*******************
Texas death row inmate awaits final judgement
Hank Skinner escaped execution in 2010 by only 20 minutes after a dramatic
11th-hour reprieve. He now regards this as a miracle.
The 51-year-old, who was convicted in 1995 of the brutal triple murder of his
girlfriend, Twila Busby, and her 2 adult sons, has protested his innocence for
years, despite DNA evidence against him.
Haunted by the possibility of execution, the wait has taken a mental toll, says
Skinner, who admits that in one sense, death may come as a relief.
"Living under the sentence of death is never off, it's always on your mind.
It's always sitting on your chest, it's always on your shoulders and they're
killing people about once a week. It's so heavy because there's a pall of death
over this place," he told AFP in an interview.
He tries to paint a picture for outsiders: "If someone kidnaps you and takes
you down to the basement and they have jail cells there, 6 of them. There are 6
people here and every morning they come down with a gun with 6 bullets. They
point it at you and you hear somebody die right next to you".
"The first 10 times it happens, you think you'd be glad it's not you, but after
so many times, watching it happen to somebody else, you'd be praying the gun
would go off on you."
Texas prosecutors argue that recently re-examined DNA evidence taken from the
crime scene proves Skinner's guilt.
They point to a knife found caked with his blood, and blood spattering on the
walls of a room where 2 of the killings took place.
Skinner's legal team counter by insisting the DNA evidence paints only a
partial picture of the scene, that Skinner was injured and that questions
remain about the disappearance of a bloody jacket worn by Busby's late uncle.
Skinner points out that the 1st round of tests showed the presence of a 3rd
person's DNA at the scene whose name has not been determined.
As things stand, barring another twist to his case, Prisoner Number 999-143 is
still on death row, at the Polunsky Unit jail in Texas.
But Skinner said he has not given up hope of a final reprieve.
And while he insists he is innocent, he is adamant that even the guilty among
his fellow death-row inmates deserve pity.
"I've been here 20 years now and they have killed 400 people since I've been
here," he says into a telephone sitting behind a reinforced glass divide. The
500th execution is scheduled for Wednesday in nearby Huntsville.
"People don't realize, they say 'Oh these guys are monsters' or whatever.
They're not, they're just regular people just like me".
"You walk in the normal world you'd find the same people you find here, they're
just people who made terrible awful mistakes but they can't be judged by the
single worst thing they've done in their life."
During his incarceration, Skinner has married a French wife, the militant
anti-death penalty activist Sandrine Ageorges, who regularly visits him.
Skinner longs for a day when he can taste freedom and take Ageorges in his
arms.
"The girlfriend that was killed she was the woman of my dreams," says Skinner.
"I have the same thing for Sandrine. You've seen love at the first sight,
that's pretty much what it was.
"I definitely see her as my 2nd chance, we think so much alike, it's amazing.
We got married by proxy ... when I get out of here we're gonna have another
marriage ceremony where I can be there and I can really kiss her."
Despite the looming veil of execution, Skinner says he retains a lust for life.
"I am a big party person, I like to make love, I like to have a good time, I
like to laugh, to tell jokes," he says.
He regards his 2010 reprieve, when the US Supreme Court stayed his execution in
order to consider the question of whether DNA tests not requested by his trial
lawyer could be carried out, as a "miracle."
He vividly recalls his last meal, the journey to the execution chamber, and the
realization that he had been spared.
"When they took me over there to kill me ... they brought my last meal.
"I ate it all, the whole time I could look right up in bars through this door
and there's the gurney and the microphone hanging there and the witness window.
Literally looking at death".
"Getting in a bus to go to a place you've never been, like a different planet.
The unknown, I've never died before. I don't know what it's like. But I know
it's permanent," he laughs.
"My head was buzzing, and I dropped the phone. I couldn't hear anything, I
thought I was floating. I couldn't believe it," he said of the moment when he
realized he had escaped execution by a matter of minutes.
Although he holds out hope of winning his freedom, Skinner has revealed the
last words he then had thought of: "Before this body is even cold, I will walk
again."
(source for both: Agence France-Presse)
**************************
Texas town where detention and death is a way of life
With 7 prisons, a cemetery for dead inmates and its infamous execution chamber,
the business of detention and death is a way of life in the Texas town of
Huntsville.
In this neat and tidy city north of Houston, prisoners recognizable by their
white uniforms, maintain public green spaces under a blazing sun and the gaze
of a guard, sitting on the edge of a car.
"These are trustees," says the corrections officer. The inmates in question are
low-level criminals convicted of crimes such as car theft or burglary.
Out of Huntsville's population of 38,000 people, 14,000 are prisoners while a
further 6,000 are guards or employees of the Texas Justice Department.
Instead of tourist signs pointing out antique shops, the tomb of famous Texas
Governor Sam Houston, or other places of interest, a visitor is guided to the
various prisons: the Wynne Unit, the Byrne Unit, Hollyday Unit.
"Prison, it's an industry here," says Kathreen Case, executive director of the
Texas defender service. "It is their industry, it is amazing how many people
can earn their lives out of it."
Prisons generate 16.6 million dollars in wages per month, while nearly 200
educators from the Windham School District contribute another 740,000 dollars
each month to the local economy, according to the local Chamber of Commerce.
"It's a prison town, everybody knows somebody that works in the prison system,"
says Gloria Rubac, an activist who campaigns for the abolition of the death
penalty in Texas. "It's a very prison-oriented town."
Prisoners are put to work in a number of schemes, doing everything from
manufacturing their own clothes or the uniforms of prison guards to feeding and
raising chickens.
"If we didn't have the prison system and if we didn't have the university, I
don't know if you'd even have a traffic light in this town," said Jim Willett,
former warden and commissioner at the Walls Unit, the oldest of 7 prisons.
An imposing building guarded by high red brick walls, the Walls Unit is set
just a short distance from downtown Huntsville.
In the northeast corner of the building, topped by a watchtower, is the
execution chamber, reveals Willett, who gave the green light to 89 executions
in his 30-year career.
The clock on the facade of the building is the usual gathering point for
anti-death penalty activists ahead of each execution.
They will gather again here Wednesday for the 500th execution scheduled since
the reinstatement of the death penalty in the United States in 1976.
Previously, those sentenced to die were also imprisoned at the facility, but
due to over-crowding amid soaring convictions, they were transferred to the
Ellis Unit and later to the maximum security Polunsky Unit.
A few hours before execution, the prisoner is taken from death row, a concrete
fortress topped by razor wire where narrow slits are the only openings to the
outside world, and transferred to the Huntsville execution chamber.
The condemned prisoner's final journey is a scenic route along the shores of
Lake Livingston, surrounded by cedar forests. The precise route of a prisoner's
final journey is never revealed for security reasons.
Since his retirement, Willett has taken over responsibility as curator for the
Huntsville prison museum, one of the most popular stops on the tourist trail,
where exhibits include the final words of those executed.
Pride of place is given to "Old Sparky" the nickname for the electric chair,
which was responsible for sending 361 prisoners to their deaths before its use
was discontinued in 1965.
Large syringes and straps on display reflect Texas's transition to the use of
lethal injection as the preferred method of execution.
A gift shop sells mugs and T-shirts with death row symbols as well as novelty
items notable for their black humor, including "Solitary Confine-mints."
A couple of blocks away is Hospitality House, a charitable organization run by
2 baptist pastors which aims to offer support to the families and loved ones of
those who are condemned to death.
"The families shouldn't be punished," says Debra McCammon, the executive
director of Hospitality House, describing them as "the other victims of crime."
It is also here that the prison chaplain prepares families in order to avoid
"hysteria or panic" during executions.
A guided tour of the city's jails ends with the cemetery of prisoners, situated
on a green hill shaded by sycamore trees.
Some 3,000 concrete crosses have been erected at the site since the 1st burials
in the 19th century. Many graves are anonymous, while some are identified only
by their prisoner number.
Others carry a single 1-word epitaph: "Executed."
(source: Global Post)
************************
The innocent men haunted by years on death row
He spent 16 years on death row in a US jail, narrowly escaping 2 dates set for
execution. Now Anthony Graves is 1 of about 140 people who walked free after
being cleared of any crime.
His case is a beacon for activists seeking to ban capital punishment, which was
reinstated in the United States in 1976.
Since then more than 1,300 people have been executed, but 142 have been
exonerated by the courts. Graves was number 138.
"How do you compensate a man you took so much from and that you can never
replace," says Graves.
He was wrongly accused of murder and spent more than two years in prison as his
case was tried, before then languishing for another 16 on death row.
"They took 18 years of my life, that they can never give me back. They still
owe me my opportunity to raise my children, they stole my opportunity to make
free choices," he said.
Since he walked out of the prison gates in October 2010, this father of three
boys says he has learned to appreciate the small things in life. "What a
blessing to open your eyes every morning, see the sun rise," he tells AFP.
He had been sentenced to die in 1994, accused of multiple murders.
He was convicted after being named as an accomplice by another suspect and
because the prosecution maintained the crimes could not have been carried out
by one person acting alone.
6 years later in 2000, the killer Robert Carter confessed just weeks before his
own execution to having lied that Graves was his accomplice.
But despite the 11th-hour confession, Graves remained behind bars for another
10 years in the notorious jail in Livingston, Texas -- the state which on
Wednesday is set to carry out its 500th execution since 1976.
"The worst place you could imagine, like a hell-to-be, 24/7, 18 1/2 years,
every day, you can feel chaos, sadness and grief, that's death row."
300 people went to their deaths during his enforced sojourn.
"Texas executes a lot. I was there for 300 executions. I knew most of the guys.
We became like family," he says.
Forensic science paved way for reforms
"After months of investigation and talking to every witness who's ever been
involved in this case, and people who've never been talked to before, after
looking under every rock we could find, we found not one piece of credible
evidence that links Anthony Graves to the commission of this capital murder,"
said special prosecutor Kelly Siegler.
16 years after the trial, Siegler has finally concluded that Graves "is an
innocent man."
Another 141 men, 71 of them African Americans, have been cleared of any crime
in 26 US states, according to the non-profit organization the Death Penalty
Information Center.
"If statistics are any indication, the system may well be allowing some
innocent defendants to be executed," said former Supreme Court judge Sandra Day
O'Connor.
In fact, at least 10 people, including 6 in Texas, have been executed despite
major doubts about their guilt, according to the center.
"There is no way to tell how many of the over 1,000 people executed since 1976
may also have been innocent," it says.
"Courts do not generally entertain claims of innocence when the defendant is
dead. Defense attorneys move on to other cases where clients' lives can still
be saved."
The center points to some possible examples -- Carlos DeLuna, executed in 1989
despite a mountain of evidence that he was not the killer and the repeated
confessions of another man; Cameron Willingham, put to death in 2004 for
killing his 3 children in a fire even after an inquiry carried out after his
execution ruled that the blaze was not a result of arson; Troy Davis, executed
in 2011 even though 7 out of 9 witnesses recanted their statements.
The fear of executing innocent men and women has always been at the core of the
passionate arguments by those against capital punishment.
"The steady evolution of this issue since the death penalty was reinstated in
1976 has been accelerated in recent years by the development of DNA technology,
the new gold standard of forensic investigation," said the center's director
Richard Dieter.
"This science, along with a vigorous re-investigation of many cases, has led to
the discovery of a growing number of tragic mistakes and freed inmates."
This helped prompt many reforms, says Steve Hall from the Texas advocacy group
StandDown. He points to such things as the opening of an office of convictions
integrity, and post-conviction access to DNA testing.
"We've seen too many examples where the system got it wrong. With the death
penalty, once you execute, you can't correct," he said.
(source: Global Post)
CONNECTICUT:
Death Penalty Bias Case Heats Up, Even After Trial Is Long Over
8 years and millions of taxpayer dollars after it began, the end is finally
near in a habeas corpus lawsuit by 5 convicted killers who claim that
Connecticut's death penalty is racially, ethnically and geographically biased.
The trial in the case concluded 6 months ago, and a ruling is expected by fall.
The end phrase of a lawsuit is often a time of quiet before the decision - but
this case is actually growing louder.
In recent days, David S. Golub - the lead attorney for the death-row inmates
who are seeking to have their death sentences converted to life sentences
without parole - fired a verbal salvo.
He told The Courant that he'd filed legal papers last month saying that the
state's statistical expert witness, who has been paid more than $1 million so
far, ended up agreeing with the inmates' claim that, in Golub's words, "there
are statistically significant racial and other disparities in death penalty
prosecutions in Connecticut."
"This is a stunning admission by the state's own expert witness that was never
revealed until the time of trial," said Golub, of Stamford. Golub represents
death row inmate Sedrick Cobb, convicted of capital felony, kidnapping, murder,
sexual assault and robbery in a 1989 attack on Julia Ashe, 23, of Watertown.
However, the expert in question, Stephan Michelson of North Carolina, disputed
Golub. He told The Courant that Golub's statement was inaccurate because it
made too much of his agreement with narrow conclusions of the inmates' expert
statistical witness, Stanford Law School professor John J. Donohue III, who
also has been hired at taxpayer expense.
"What Golub says is so obliquely related to the case that one must know he has
no evidence supporting the [inmates'] actual claims in the case," Michelson
said. "I can't say what Golub hopes to achieve. My guess would be that he is
trying to prepare the public to be angry at the judge, who will surely find
that Golub has not proved his case."
Superior Court Judge Samuel J. Sferrazza is expected to issue a final ruling by
fall. The office of Chief State's Attorney Kevin Kane, which has represented
the state and opposed the inmates' claims of bias, has until July 1 to file its
final brief.
The state legislature in 2012 abolished the death penalty, but only for future
crimes. The 11 men on death row still face execution. In addition to Cobb, the
other convicted killers who are petitioners in the case are: Todd Rizzo, Daniel
Webb, Robert Breton Sr. and Richard Reynolds
Kane, for his part, said Friday that "it's a pendiing case, and I am not going
to comment publicly until the case is over."
The arguments that Golub made in his final brief last month - arguments he
amplified in his comments to The Courant last week - show the intensity and
complexity of the case as it nears its conclusion.
Donohue, on the inmates' behalf, studied 205 death-eligible cases from 1973 to
2007 to reach his conclusions. Michelson, for the state, has done lengthy
reports of his own, saying Donohue's research is flawed by incorrect procedures
and data, among other problems. Donohue has issued similar criticism of
Michelson's work.
Golub, the inmates attorney, provided excerpts from an October trial
transcript, in which he asked Michelson if he agreed with a few of Donohue's
findings, and Michelson said yes. As worded by Golub in the transcripts, those
findings were:
There was "a statistically significant disparity in capital charging based upon
the difference [in] the rate of charging for black defendants who killed white
victims and white defendants."
"If a black kills a white, there [is] a statistically significant disparity in
Connecticut about whether he'll get charged with capital felony as opposed to a
white defendant.'
There is "a very strong disparity in capital charging based on the race of the
victim being white."
Golub said that Michelson reached those conclusions in August 2010, but did not
include them in a written report and did not voice them until last fall's
trial. "It's hard to imagine that the legislature would not have voted to
abolish the death penalty outright" - instead of just in the future - "if
Michelson's conclusions had been revealed in 2010," Golub said.
"This is nonsense," Michelson responded. He also said he had included the
findings in his report. "Of course they were in the report. How else would
Golub know about them?"
"I did report disparities apparently related to race, in charging. But the case
was not about, and cannot be about, who is charged with a capital felony,"
Michelson said. He said that the issue is sentencing, and there are too many
variables beyond the initial charge. For example, convicted killers undergo
court hearings on whether there are sufficient "aggravating factors" to execute
them. "Being charged "with a capital felony is not the same thing as charged
with a pending death sentence," he said.
In sentencing, Michelson said, there was "not a hint of racial disparity."
Michelson quoted a 2010 claim by the inmates that said: "Petitioners allege
that their convictions for capital felony and resultant death sentences are
unconstitutional, in that: (1) death sentences imposed pursuant to
Connecticut's capital punishment scheme are imposed in a wanton, freakish,
arbitrary and capricious manner; and (2) Connecticut's capital punishment
procedures are impermissibly infected by racial, geographic, and/or gender bias
and disparities."
Michelson added: "There is no claim here, unless one reads "procedures"
broadly, that anyone is discriminated against in capital felony charging. ...
That is, what they are yelling about now was not their claim, but is the only
disparity they can find."
Kane's office, advised by Michelson, wrote in a pre-trial brief that Donohue's
study "included no variables pertaining to factors that are of vital importance
to a prosecutor's decision whether to seek the death penalty. "Those factors
include the strength of the state's case for guilt of a capital felony and the
existence of provable statutory aggravating factors."
Golub said that Donohue estimated that Donohue has been paid about $250,000 so
far for his work, including statistical studies and expert testimony, but
probably is owed "millions." Donohue and the half-dozen or so attorneys
representing the inmates in the case have been paid through the office of the
state's Chief Public Defender, Golub said. Golub said he and the other private
lawyers are being paid $100 an hour, much lower than their normal rates.
The public defender's office didn't have any estimates of the case's costs to
taxpayers readily available on 1-day's notice last week.
Kane's office has been using its own staff lawyers to defend the state's
position, and has paid Michelson just over $1 million, records show.
Sferrazza presided over the trial for more than 10 days from September to
December in a makeshift courtroom inside Northern Correctional Institution in
Somers, a maximum-security prison that houses death row. The public could watch
on TV monitors in a courtroom at Superior Court in Rockville.
(source: Hartford Courant)
PENNSYLVANIA:
2 Escapees From Greene Co. Jail Captured
Authorities in Greene County say the 2 men who escaped from the Greene County
Jail on Saturday afternoon have been recaptured.
State Police in Waynesburg say Jason Roe and Rocco Iacovone escaped from the
Greene County Jail in Franklin Township Saturday around 12:30 p.m.
2 hours later, troopers say the 2 were caught in a wooded area less than a mile
away from the jail.
Both Roe and Iacovone are considered violent offenders. Neither has been
convicted of the charges that sent them to jail.
"These are very violent offenders, one is awaiting trial for criminal homicide
and the other for armed robbery, so it was critical that we get them back into
custody immediately," said Trooper Barton Lemansky, of Pennsylvania State
Police.
Roe is currently awaiting trial for criminal homicide, and could face the death
penalty for a Greene County murder that took place in the fall of 2012.
Iacovone was in prison for an armed robbery that happened in Weirton, W. Va.
State police from the Waynesburg, Washington and Uniontown barracks combined
forces sending out saturation patrols in the woods.
"All the police officers involved in the search very...immediately established
a perimeter and started to saturate the wooded area before they got near
members of the public," said Trooper Lemansky.
A state police helicopter and a fixed-wing aircraft were also used, and spotted
the men still wearing their prison uniforms in a densely wooded area.
Troopers on ground level took the men into custody.
They are now facing escape charges. They were arraigned Saturday night.
State police are investigating the circumstances of just how the men were able
to escape from jail.
(source: KDKA)
NORTH CAROLINA:
Even with new law, obstacles still stand in way of executions resuming
North Carolina hasn't executed anyone since 2006, and even with a new bill just
signed into law Wednesday designed to restart the death penalty, North Carolina
isn't likely to resume executions anytime soon, according to legal experts and
prosecutors.
That's because of the numerous legal challenges that are pending surrounding
the death penalty, including ongoing lawsuits over the state's lethal-injection
method and the recent repeal of the Racial Justice Act that Gov. Pat McCrory
signed Wednesday.
"North Carolina is unique in the Gordian knot surrounding the death penalty,"
said Jeff Welty, assistant professor of public law and government at UNC Chapel
Hill.
The bill that McCrory just signed may untangle some of those threads, but
others remain, Welty said.
Forsyth County District Attorney Jim O'Neill said he expects it will be quite a
while before executions resume.
"I think that although the Racial Justice Act has been repealed, its short
existence has enabled death-row inmates and their attorneys to continue
litigating some of the original issues, and so the Racial Justice Act
supporters have ensured that the cases of death-row inmates will continue to be
tied up in the courts for years to come," he said.
The last person North Carolina executed was from Forsyth County: Samuel
Flippen, a former Clemmons resident who was convicted of killing his 2-year-old
stepdaughter. He was put to death on Aug. 18, 2006.
North Carolina has 152 people on death row, including 13 from Forsyth County.
Out of those, 5 have exhausted their federal and state appeals - Danny Dean
Frogge, Thomas Michael Larry, Cerron Thomas Hooks, Errol Duke Moses and Carl
Stephen Moseley. All of them have pending claims under the Racial Justice Act.
No executions have occurred in North Carolina since 2006 because of a de facto
moratorium resulting from an ongoing controversy over the state's
lethal-injection method.
Death-row inmates filed lawsuits in federal and state courts arguing that the
state's 3-drug lethal-injection method constituted cruel and unusual
punishment. Several federal lawsuits have been stayed, pending a ruling from
the N.C. Court of Appeals in a separate lawsuit.
"(The death penalty) remains the law of the land and we will continue to do our
duty to uphold it," said Noelle Talley, a spokeswoman for the N.C. Attorney
General's Office.
The new law that McCrory signed Wednesday not only repeals the Racial Justice
Act, which provided a way for death-row inmates to get their sentences reduced
to life if they proved racial bias, but also provides legal protection for
medical professionals assisting in executions and changes the protocols for
lethal injection.
But even with the new law, executions won't resume quickly, some say.
Welty said the new law might not stop litigation on North Carolina's
lethal-injection protocols.
"One thing we know about capital litigation is that it's possible to contest
anything," Welty said.
Another obstacle is that there is a national shortage of the drugs used in
lethal injections. Some drug suppliers have been unwilling to provide drugs if
they're going to be used in executions.
And even though the new law protects physicians from the N.C. Medical Board, it
might not protect them if they move to another state, Welty said. Because of
that, some physicians might be reluctant to assist in executions, he said.
But according to prosecutors and legal experts, the biggest delays will come
from the repeal of the Racial Justice Act. About 144 death-row inmates have
pending claims under the Racial Justice Act.
The repeal is supposed to be retroactive, voiding all pending claims, but
prosecutors and legal experts agree that inmates likely will argue that their
claims should be heard.
"Virtually every defendant who has filed a claim will argue that the repeal
can't be applied retroactively even if it purports to be retroactive," Welty
said.
Ken Rose, attorney for the Center for Death Penalty Litigation in Durham,
agreed.
"Because they passed the repeal and may have applied it to people who have
currently filed claims, that question is going to (have) to be resolved whether
this repeal is intended retroactively," Rose said. "Unfortunately, it adds
another procedural layer to the appeals."
Separately, the N.C. Supreme Court is considering an appeal in one of four
cases from Cumberland County in which a judge commuted death sentences to life
after finding racial bias in jury selection. Prosecutors have asked the Supreme
Court to review the ruling in the other 3 cases.
Many of the pending Racial Justice Act claims have been stayed until the
Supreme Court rules.
Welty said inmates who are alleged to have committed their crimes while the
Racial Justice Act was in place may have a stronger argument that their claims
should be heard. But regardless, most inmates who have filed a Racial Justice
Act claim will be making the same argument, he said.
Another wrinkle is that some death-row inmates have filed new claims stemming
from problems with the State Bureau of Investigation???s Crime Lab, Rose said.
An audit done in 2010 showed that SBI agents misrepresented blood evidence and
withheld critical notes from defense attorneys over a 16-year period.
Welty said he has no idea when executions will start back up.
"It's hard to tell," he said. "I don't anticipate it will be anytime really
soon."
**
More Information
Number of inmates on death row in North Carolina: 152
Racial breakdown:
81 black
61 white
7 Indian
4 other
Forsyth County has 13 inmates on death row - Blanche Taylor Moore, Carl Stephen
Moseley, Thomas M. Larry, Darrell C. Woods, Russell Tucker, Errol Duke Moses,
Danny Dean Frogge, Raymond Thibodeaux, Cerron T. Hooks, Timothy L. White,
Jeremy Dushane Murrell, James R. Little and Timothy Hartford.
5 of the 13 Forsyth County death-row inmates have exhausted their normal
federal and state appeals (they also have filed claims under the Racial Justice
Act, which might have more litigation based on the repeal): Danny Dean Frogge,
Cerron T. Hooks, Thomas M. Larry, Carl Stephen Moseley and Errol Duke Moses.
Wayne A. Laws of Davidson County has been on death row the longest - arrived on
Aug. 21, 1985.
Mario McNeil of Fayetteville is the most recent addition to death row - arrived
on May 29.
[source: N.C. Department of Correction, Center for Death Penalty Litigation,
Journal research]
(source: Journal Now)
FLORIDA----impending execution
Miami killer slated for execution Monday leaves brutal legacy
Marshall Lee Gore, pony-tailed strip-club patron, seemed affable enough when he
bought a drink for a dancer named Tina.
Within a few months, his charm vanished. He raped and stabbed Tina, bashed her
head into a rock and left her half-dead in a South Dade trash pile. Then Gore
kidnapped her 2-year-old son.
Both victims survived. Not until cops captured Gore 3 days later in Kentucky,
and detectives connected the dots, did it become clear that he was responsible
for a staggering string of rapes, robberies and 2 murders stretching up the
Florida peninsula.
Now, 25 years later, Gore is scheduled to be put to death at 6 p.m. Monday by
lethal injection for the strangulation murder of Lauderhill exotic dancer Robyn
Novick. Her body was discovered in a trash heap near Homestead as officers
looked for Tina's kidnapped child.
Gore, 49, leaves behind a slew of shattered families. Gone is the
smooth-talking listener that proved alluring to women, replaced by an inmate
with a legacy of defiant outbursts and outlandish claims - the latest, that he
is being executed for "organ harvesting" and "to be a human sacrifice."
"He was smart, cunning, intelligent, charming and he was heartless. No
conscience whatsoever," said retired Miami-Dade sexual battery detective Louis
Passaro, who investigated Gore's crime spree. "Nobody should be shedding a tear
for this guy. It's no loss to humanity."
Gore's lawyer is still fighting for a last-minute appeal, saying he should be
allowed to explore claims Gore should not be executed because he is insane. The
Archdiocese of Miami, which opposes capital punishment, is planning an 11:45
a.m. vigil for Gore and his victims on Monday at St. Martha Catholic Church,
9301 Biscayne Blvd.
Novick was 30 when she fell victim to Gore in March 1988.
She grew up in suburban Cincinnati. After a brief marriage, she moved to South
Florida. Her parents, who had a condo in North Miami-Dade, bought her a home in
Lauderhill to make sure she was safe.
A petite woman, Novick was a longtime credit representative for General Motors.
She drove a yellow 1987 Corvette convertible with the license plate ROBYNN.
But with bills piling up, she began moonlighting as a dancer at Solid Gold in
North Miami-Dade. She quit after a couple of weeks, but by then she had met
Gore, a man she knew as Tony.
On March 11, 1988, Novick was supposed to be meet her boyfriend, Scott Baum,
for a date. But first, she told him, she had to meet Tony. She told a friend he
was paying her $2,500 to deliver some documents. "Nothing illegal," she
reassured her friend.
A witness saw Novick and Gore leave the Redland Tavern in her Corvette. One of
Gore's pals later told police the killer was driving her Corvette the next day.
Coral Gables police soon found the Corvette abandoned, the top down. Gore's
last name was scrawled on a note found in the car.
Days later, police discovered Tina, the dancer from Tootsie's, who had been
beaten, slashed in the throat, stripped naked and left for dead in a
Homestead-area field. She survived, barely.
"I could tell you it was the worst beating I had ever seen in 30 years of
police work,' said former detective Passaro.
As officers fanned out to search for the missing child, they discovered
Novick's body. She had been stabbed in the chest and had a belt tied around her
neck. She was covered with a blue tarp.
Gore later locked Jimmy, the kidnapped child, in a kitchen cabinet in a
freezing abandoned house in Georgia. By luck, a neighbor heard the boy's cries
and rescued him.
FBI agents nabbed Gore in Kentucky.
Suspicion soon fell on Gore for the disappearance of Tennessee college student
Susan Marie Roark, who had disappeared 2 months earlier. She was last seen in
his company. In April 1988, Columbia County deputies found Roark's body,
reduced to almost a skeleton, off a rural forest road. Gore grew up in Cutler
Ridge and served time in federal prison on a firearms conviction.
Women were drawn to him. He listened, gave good advice and cooked them meals.
But he was also known for his ego and quick, raging temper.
"Once I was in the car with him and he was really nice and we were laughing,
then I accident hit the window with my keys and he started yelling at me and
cussing at me," a 17-year-old high school senior who said she was raped by Gore
told The Miami Herald in 1988.
In all, Gore was suspected of at least 15 sexual assaults, the attempted murder
of a girl in Broward and the 2 murders. Police said he stole 1 woman's black
Mustang and her personal property.
Throughout his trials, Gore proved unpredictable in court.
During his 1989 trial for the attack on Tina, he shocked the court by walking
off the witness stand in the middle of cross examination. The television
cameras unnerved him, he claimed.
When the clerk read the guilty verdicts, Gore chuckled and clapped. His howling
and insults, many directed at his own lawyers, continued over the years as he
was tried, convicted and sent to death row for the Novick and Roark murders.
His antagonism bought him some time. On the witness stand in his 1995 trial for
Novick's death, he repeatedly jousted with prosecutors. The Florida Supreme
Court later overturned his conviction and ordered a new trial, saying a
prosecutor had crossed the line for telling jurors Gore "deserves to die."
A new jury nevertheless convicted him. He returned to death row.
"He really believed he could manipulate the system as he was able to manipulate
these women before he killed them and left them for dead," said former
Miami-Dade prosecutor Gary Rosenberg, who tried Gore in 3 cases. "The death
penalty was made for someone like him. He was never going to stop doing what he
was doing."
His raging behavior has continued, even in prison - he recently threw his cell
TV set in a fit of rage because other inmates were making noise. A panel of
psychiatrists, appointed last month by the governor to evaluate Gore before his
execution, found that he was mentally sound for execution.
They noted, though, that he spun a conspiracy theory: The "Illuminati" is
executing him to sell his organs. One senator, he insists, wants his eyeballs
to give to his son.
"This fantastic, imaginative scenario," the panel reported to the governor,
"was patently a fabrication designed to mislead the panel and avoid
responsibility for his past actions."
(source: Miami Herald)
**************************
Execution set for man charged with Birchwood woman death
A Birchwood family will finally receive closure Monday when the man that killed
their daughter is executed.
Marshall Lee Gore sits in the Florida State Prison in Florida for the murder of
Birchwood resident Susan Roark and another Florida woman.
According to the Miami-Dade Herald, the execution is set for June 24th at
6:00p.m. at the Florida State Prison in Starke.
Susan Roark was last seen alive January 30, 1988, in Cleveland, Tennessee, with
Marshall Lee Gore. Her remains were found in Columbia County, Florida a few
months later.
(source: WRCB News)
********************************
The world failed Steven Cozzie, and he returned the favor
In this business, it's tempting to try to predict the news. Like many of our
readers, I closely followed was happening in a DeFuniak Springs courtroom for
most of the last 2 weeks.
A young Seagrove Beach man named Steven Cozzie was found guilty of sexually
assaulting and brutally beating to death a young Georgia girl who was visiting
the area with her family.
The body of Courtney Wilkes, who was almost 16, was found hours after leaving
her family on the beach outside their condo to go for a walk with Cozzie.
For almost 2 years, the case edged closer to trial. Along the way, Cozzie fired
at least 1 public defender and took offense to his name being mispronounced.
Meanwhile, Courtney's family returned to Georgia, heartbroken. They celebrated
her 16th birthday, and then her 17th, without her. Her classmates graduated
from high school.
Cozzie's attorney did little to defend him from the charges. A 2nd attorney
focused on the penalty phase, fighting to humanize the young man accused of
committing an inhuman act.
For 2 days last week, we learned that he'd been bullied, beaten and sexually
abused most of his life. A parade of witnesses touted the deviant behaviors
he'd either witnessed or been subjected to. A psychologist told us his IQ was
83.
In a courtroom photo, Cozzie was smiling at someone, looking like a little boy
who didn't quite mind all of the attention. Goofy was the word that came to
mind when I studied his face. Goofy and kind of sad.
I'll be honest. I thought the jury would vote against execution. I was wrong.
They unanimously recommended death rather than life in prison without parole.
Now it's in the hands of the judge who heard the case.
I wasn't there. I didn't hear all of the testimony. I did not carry the weight
on my shoulders borne by those 12 jurors.
Courtney's mother told the media she would go back to the graveyard in Georgia
where Courtney was laid to rest and share the verdict with her daughter.
That beautiful girl who came here to have fun is missed and always will be.
Will the world miss Steven Cozzie? I don't know and I guess it doesn't matter.
Did the world fail him?
It did. And he returned the favor.
(source: Wendy Victoria, NW Florida Daily News)
************************
Judge to hear convicted murderer's motion for new trial --- Delmer Smith, 41,
was convicted last year of murdering Kathleen Briles, who was found dead in her
Terra Ceia home in August 2009. He was sentenced to death last month.
Convicted murderer Delmer Smith will be back in court Wednesday to seek a new
trial.
Smith, 41, was convicted last year of murdering Kathleen Briles, who was found
dead in her Terra Ceia home in August 2009. He was sentenced to death last
month.
According to our partner paper, the Bradenton Herald, his attorney filed a
motion for a new trial on June 3. If that doesn't happen, Smith wants a new
penalty phase, and said there is new evidence to be considered.
(source: Bradenton Herald)
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