"The hardest part in this is seeing the pain, not only the pain of those I love,
but the pain of everybody involved. I am sorry for that pain, I mean really
sorry....I have another 10 or 15 minutes before I have to give this pen up. What can be
said in 15
minutes? The fear settles in, the inevitable fear of the unknown. Trust in God, faith
that things will be okay. No more words...."
The above comes from a remarkable journal in which Robert Wallace West chronicles his
last month—and hours—on death row. Moments after writing those words, he walked
to the execution chamber, allowed himself to be strapped down on the gurney, then watched
while the "technician" inserted the needles and the fatal injection. Wallace was
prounced dead at 6:41 p.m. on July 29, 1997.
Sister Helen Prejean’s riveting book, and subsequent movie, Dead Man Walking,
allowed the world to glimpse the rare and quite courageous people who gather around each
man and woman sentenced to death in our country. These communities, for they are truly
that, ask the same question in the midst of the admittedly complex realities surrounding
those who have killed others: What good does capital punishment accomplish?
One of the ways for those who walked with Bobby West (and I have observed one of them,
another Catholic sister, Jean Amore, as she corresponded, prayed, and wept with him on his
last journey) to ask this central question was by publicizing his journal. The entries, as
he nears the inevitable, make compelling reading. One cannot believe how banal and polite
is the entire process as seen through this "dead man’s" eyes:
Two hours before execution: "The last meal was served 20 minutes ago,
cheeseburger, fries and coke....Chaplain at my door, guards checking every couple minutes,
asking if I need anything and taking care of my needs. The AC is getting colder. They have
cookies and crackers and fruit juice."
One hour before execution: "Was told about the upcoming parade....They are walking
now to the chamber, preparing.... Voices, can hear them talking, going about their
business. The door to the death chamber opened and closed, a bright, white neon light
pouring from within...."
West’s friends, especially his significant other, take up the account of the death
watch:
We were shown into a large room with soda machines along one side....[W]e were told
that once inside the witness room we were not permitted to show any outbursts of emotion
or we would be ‘removed’....[W]e would be able to talk to the ‘inmate’
[the condemned man] and he’d be able to hear us. Then came the interminable wait.
At 6:29 p.m. the door finally opened....Tall men in Stetsons were laughing and joking
in the outer corridor. Women were scurrying around, attending to business...business?
We entered a narrow little room—at the end, through the plexiglass was a small
brightly-lit room with Bobby lying strapped down on a gurney, his head to the left looking
upwards and the chaplain to the right....Bobby gave me the biggest smile you can imagine.
Despite what I was seeing (no words could adequately describe its horror...) I dug my
nails into the palms of my hands and smiled back and said ‘I love you, baby’ and
he said the same back to me....He turned to the window on the left (where the
victim’s family were) and apologized for the pain he’d caused and hoped that
this could give them closure....
...[T]hey began to kill him at 6:35 p.m. I kept my eyes focused on Bobby’s
breathing, and apart from a slightly throaty noise he made when the first solution was
flowing into him, he laid very still throughout....[F]or a split second I imagined
smashing the glass, cutting the IV tube and saving him, but in that same instant, I also
imagined them carting me away and then continuing with the execution anyway....So I stood
there rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but quietly observe this calculated
homicide.
THIS IS THE SORT of trauma that those who choose to walk with these "dead
men" undergo. The trauma is not occasional. Bobby West was the 132nd inmate in Texas
alone to die at the hands of the state since the reinstitution of the death penalty in
1977. Each of these cases has given rise to a community of people who suffer through the
appeals process, the rescheduling again and again of execution dates, the agony of last
days and hours as described above, and the grim finality when the "dead man
walks."
These communities also serve another purpose besides accompanying the condemned. Little
by little their testimonies, more than all the academic arguments, chip away at the death
penalty as an appropriate form of punishment. What possible good is served by such a
well-mannered, calculated form of killing? they ask with increasing insistence. Their
witness and irrefutable logic will eventually bring the United States into line with every
other civilized country in the world, which have long since abolished capital punishment.
JOE NANGLE, O.F.M., is executive director of Franciscan Mission Service and a member of
Assisi Community in Washington, D.C.
Read other articles by:
Nangle, Joe
|
Subscribe to Sojourners today at a special introductory price and save $10 off the basic rate! Click here for details.
WE WANT TO HEAR from you! Click here to share your views. Or write to "Letters," Sojourners, 3333 14th St. NW, Suite 200, Washington DC 20010; fax (202) 328-8757. Please include your name, address, and daytime phone number. Letters may be edited for space and clarity.
|
|
 |
Read other articles by:
Nangle, Joe
|
