Reality TV - Online 24/7: Day 148
in the loft... 
CHOK
AM 1070 Radio Sarnia, Ontario 
CKNW AM 980
Radio Vancouver, BC. 
CBC Radio, Regina, SK. The Leger Marketing
survey found 52.9 per cent of respondents backed capital punishment,
while 43 per cent opposed
it and 4.1 per cent had no opinion.
"Canadians' perceptions of
the death penalty have changed in
the last few years," said
Jean-Marc Leger, head of the polling firm.
The survey suggested a
big opinion shift since 1995, when an
Angus Reid poll found 69
per cent in favour of bringing back capital punishment,
he added.
The death penalty was
banned in Canada in 1975. The last
state-run executions were
in 1962. Since then, the stiffest penalty for
even the worst crimes has
been life imprisonment.
The latest poll has a
national margin of error of 2.6 percentage
points, 19 times out of
20. It used a sample of 1,508 people telephoned by
pollsters between Aug. 3
and 13.
That was well before
the Sept.
11 events in the United States
when hijacked planes hit
New York's World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a
field near Pittsburgh,
causing death on an unbelievable scale.
But Mr. Leger said
grisly crimes, whether committed by groups or
individuals, don't appear
to have any permanent effect on
Canadians' viewpoints
about the death penalty.
"I don't think [the
death penalty] is an overriding issue,"
said Randy White, Canadian
Alliance MP for the British Columbia riding of
Langley-Abbotsford. "It's
not on the minds of many people."
Mr. White, who is
opposition critic for the Solicitor-General's
department, said he is not
convinced that bringing back the death penalty
in Canada would prevent
murders because people committing violent crimes do
not stop to ponder the
consequences.
A free parliamentary
vote held in 1987, when Brian Mulroney was
prime minister, went
against restoring capital punishment.
But the Canadian
Association of Chiefs of Police says it hasn't
changed its view that the
death penalty should be an option.
It says the noose could
be limited to crimes that are "so
terrible, so abominable,
so outrageous to public sensitivity."
Tracy Lamourie,
co-ordinator of the Canadian Coalition Against
the death penalty, sees
growing doubts about capital punishment in the
wake of wrongful
convictions and fabricated evidence.
"It really comes down
to the
lawyer you get and who can tell a
better story in court.
People are just generally less sure of the death penalty
and the way that it's
applied."
WICHITA, Kan. — Some crime victims say they
are appalled that prison inmates have access
to Web sites that allow them to place personal advertisements
promoting themselves as lonely hearts.
For example, convicted killer Sakone Donesay sent an ad to
Prisonpenpals.org that says he's looking for companionship and to, in
his
words, "maybe collide with someone whom would not mind sharing intellect
and intimate conversation."
The site and others like it -- including Jailbabes.com,
Ladiesofthepen.com
and Meet-an-inmate.com -- disgust the father of Donesay's victim.
"Does it say anywhere on there that he is a cop killer?" said Rick
Easter.
Donesay, then 14, shot and killed Easter's son Kevin, a Sedgwick County
sheriff's deputy, during a foot chase in 1996. "He's a hardened
criminal.
That's the kind of thing he could easily use to take advantage of
someone."
Someone who sees the smiling face of the person who harmed them or a
family member is victimized again, said Corinne Radke, a victims
advocate
with Parents of Murdered Children in Wichita.
Reading about what sensitive, caring people they claim to be is even worse.
"Most of them are lying," she said.
But operators defend the sites, saying they help prisoners maintain a
connection to the community.
"In most cases, the prisoners are just looking for a good friend," said
Tracie
Lamourie, director of the Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty,
which operates a free Web site that allows prisoners to meet pen pals
and
display their poetry and writings. "Strong relationships have been
built, and
that's important."
Prison officials, who starting receiving complaints about the sites
about three
years ago, say there is not much that can be done about them.
Kansas Corrections spokesman Bill Miskell said some people concerned
about the sites are under the misconception that the prisoners have
access
to the Internet.
"They do not," Miskell said. "But we can't stop them from sending mail
to
friends or family and having them contact the Internet company. We
can't stop
them from receiving mail they get in response, either."
Prison officials are allowed to monitor mail only for specific reasons,
such
as
escape plans or plotting a crime.
Miskell advises caution. He said although there are inmates looking
only for
a connection with the community, others are looking to manipulate
someone.
For example, prisoners tell pen pals they're getting out of jail next
month and
need money for a bus ticket, he said.
The pen pal might send $100, which the prisoner, who isn't getting out
anytime soon, will deposit in an account used to buy items from the
prison
commissary, Miskell said.
"People need to be careful," he said. "That's the best defense."
ENGLISH TRANSLATION : FROM Der
Spiegel
D E A T H R O W O N L I N E
The Voice of the Condemned
By Tobias Moorstedt
In the USA more than 3500 People are sitting in the
death row, many of them after
questioning processes. The internet gives them
the possibility to communicate with the
outside.
John McDewberry doesn´t have much time left
and he
has a lot to say. For seven years
the now 24 year-old sits in the deathrow of the little
village Livingston in Texas and his
last chance drifts away to escape the death on the
order of state. For an
appeal-process however the young Texan lacks
money. Because of this he calls on the
world-publicity in the internet: "This is a cry for
help!" McDewberry writes on his website.
And: "I am innocent, but can´t afford a lawyer."
Like John McDewberry some hundred inmates of the
deathrows in the USA have a
website. In the Internet the inmates show their
views - here they are looking for contacts
to the outside, ask for funds or to bomb the
responsible district attorney with
protest-mails.
Life in the deat-cell writes John McDewberry, is a
life in silence. The internet is a gate to
the outside world for the prisoners. Unlikely the
zero-medium tv, the internet not only
offers pictures and information; one can also be in
action with the great wide world. A
bit at least. The internet is the voice of the
condmned. Somehow.
Because of this John McDewberry writes for his
life. Tells, how everything happened, at
that time, at christmas eve in the year 1994. How
he started the day with a real
hangover and how he than, five hours later, with
swollen face was standing at the
house-wall, in his back six policemen, who first hit
befor asking question. However
evidences for his sights of view he rarely has.
He just has the many lines and both
pictures on his website.
Since the Supreme Court reinstated capital
punishment in
1976, the USA executed
more than 700 people. 84 last year alone.
Executions became daily routine in
America.
But it´s just a few weeks ago that the world
has been watching a building in Terre Haute,
Oklahoma, where the live of Timothy McVeigh was coming
to an end. Never before it
has been so much rumour about an execution.
Timothy McVeigh should die, who
bombed 168 persons to death four years ago. For
some days Timothy McVeigh was
standing in the middle again. And his words on
the front page of nearly every page: "I
am the lord of my faith, captain of my soul."
Not all inmates in american death-cells get so much
publicity like McVeigh. And
publicity is in a time, where trials ruled in the media
as well, often the only thing that
differs between a fast execution and a new taking up of
investigations.
For example the case of Anthony Graves. The
description of his case in the internet
persuaded the lawyer Robert E. Greenwood of his
innocence. The case was resumed.
New evidences came before court. Today Anthony
Graves has a good chance to leave
prison alive says his lawyer.
But Anthony Graves is a single case. Very
seldom the protest and the engagement of
human rights organisations make a difference at all.
And than there are stories in the internet like the
one of Olga Parlante, who was found
with cut throat on the bottom of her living room in
1997. Her son hat made a virtual burial
place in the internet with stars, angels and a lot of
crosses. The virtual grave of Olga
Parlante is just one of more than 1800 on the
cyber-cemetry for murder-victims, the
texan Charleene hall has made up. "In the
Internet, there are only websites against the
death penalty", Hall writes on her homepage. "But
what about the murder victims?"
Hall wants to give the dead a voice and she is sure:
If the dead could talk, the would
scream for revenge. She doesn´t understand
people, who are fighting against the death
penalty. "They should inform themselves better,
before the feel so sorry about these
murderers."
"As long as prisoners are waiting for death",
Tracy Lamourie would than probably reply,
"we have to give them a voice. Even if they
lie." Lamourie is the chair of the Canadian
Coalition Against the Death Penalty (CCADP) and
every week letters by people on
death row reach her; poems and photos and "new
evidences". If it´s true than what´s on
the website, the reader has to value by himself.
After the execution of an inmate, tells Lamouie,
she takes the respective site out of the
net very soon. Because time doesn´t
stand still and more people are condemned to
death and the capacity of the server is
limited. "The internet is our best weapon" says
Lamourie. But: Many inmates are in their cells
for so long, they don´t know what the
internet is.
- Der
Spiegel online edition (in German)
www.wired.com
June 12, 2001 Wired
News They don't want to die. And they're begging you to save them.
Hundreds of death row inmates have turned to the
Internet in an effort to spare their lives.
They say they are innocent and plead with the Web
community to donate money to their legal defense,
send e-petitions to governors, and read their
versions of the facts. Through sites created by
relatives, friends and activists -- many of them not
in the United States -- they are able to appeal
directly to a world-wide audience.
"I reach out to you in a cry for help! I am indigent and cannot get the
legal help I so desperately need, which may cost me my life.... You
are my last hope, without you I am fighting a lost cause!"
Those are the words of 24-year-old John Dewberry, convicted of killing a
man on Christmas Day 1994 and giving away the victim's possessions
as presents to his friends.
But just as death row inmates turn to the Internet to beg for mercy,
the families of murder victims go online to demand justice. Both sides
state their case, ask for money, and petition signatures. Some look for
clues to solve murders that are 30 years old.
Not surprisingly, the two sides frequently collide.
Here's another:
"I sit on Death Row today waiting to be executed for a horrible crime
that
I did not commit, and unless I get some sort of attention drawn to my
case, the state of Texas is going to murder me," writes Anthony Graves,
convicted with another man of killing six people and burning their
bodies.
Graves publishes his version of the events on his website, as well as a
statements by his co-defendant that state Graves did not
participate in the crime.
His story was enough to compel attorney Roy E. Greenwood to
defend him, pro bono.
"I think he's innocent," said Greenwood, who says he's spent
$30,000 of his money on the case. "He's got a good chance of getting
his verdict overturned."
Then there's the case of Gary Graham. When Graham was 17, he
was convicted of gunning down a man in a Houston Safeway parking
lot. Despite an international clamor to overturn the verdict, he was
executed last year after spending almost 20 years on death row.
Graham stridently proclaimed his innocence until the moment he
received a lethal injection similar to the one that killed Timothy
McVeigh
on Monday. His last words remain as a haunting reminder on the Web:
"They are killing me tonight. They are murdering me tonight."
(McVeigh, incidentally, did not have an "official" website, and never
proclaimed his innocence. The domains "timothymcveigh.com" and
"timothymcveigh.net" are owned by a third party who is trying to sell
rights to the Web address.)
On Pro-Death Penalty.com is a point-by-point refutation of
Graham's claims.
The site is one of three run by victims advocate Charlene Hall. The
other two are Justice For All and MurderVictims.com, where Hall has
erected a virtual memorial to over 1,800 murder victims.
She started her Web efforts after a pair of teenage girls in her
hometown were raped and strangled by a gang of six boys; one of the
girls was the daughter of her close
friend. But when she searched the Internet for information on the
death penalty, all she found were anti-death penalty sites. So she
taught herself HTML and posted information in support of capital
punishment.
Hall says she has no patience for the entreaties of convicted killers.
"Their whole point is to delay (the execution)," Hall said. "Basically
they're trying to buy time. I just feel sorry for the people that get
taken
in by that and wish they'd do a little more research before feeling so
bad
for these people."
Hall gets her share of hate e-mail for her views; she stores the death
threats and insults in a folder marked "non-victims and nuts."
Murdervictims.com serves as a hub for the surviving members of
shattered families -- people often shunned by a society that can favor
pleasantries over honesty.
Sharon Meissner, whose 18-year-old son was hanged by an
acquaintance, is a frequent poster on the site's discussion board. There
she talks about that fateful morning she found Gregg's body, and
laments that his killer was only convicted of third-degree murder
and sentenced to 25 years in prison.
"Sometimes we feel like we don't fit in anyplace," said Meissner, of
Holly,
Minnesota. "People want us to forget about our son's death, to
move on. At the board, we can talk without offending anybody."
Meissner's posts also brought her help. Her case caught the
attention of an Internet-based criminal profiler, who is
volunteering to investigate a case she believes was mishandled by
the local police.
In a tribute to her son, Meissner describes her son's mischievous
personality as the disquieting melody of one of his favorite
songs is streamed: Metallica's Fade to Black.
"My son was more than just a name in a newspaper article. He
wasn't just a story, he was a real person. I want people to know
that," she said.
Linda Purnhagen, whose nine- and 16-year-old daughters, were killed
by a father and son in Texas, was outraged by Internet postings
requesting pen pals by both men.
"I love kids and enjoy answering their questions and trying to help
them," wrote the father, Dennis Dowthitt.
Said Purnhagen: "This is a pedophile who committed murder.
They should at least put a disclaimer up there that he
murders children."
Dennis Dowthitt was executed in March. But his son, Delton, who
testified against his father in exchange for a 45-year prison
sentence, is still looking for friends: "At 16, I was convicted of
murder, please don't define me by this fact alone. I'm a work in
progress," he writes.
Many prisoners' websites are run by foreign activists who live in
countries where capital punishment is illegal. The American
Civil Liberties Union, which cites a national error rate of 68 percent
in
death penalty judgments, also hosts some convicts' sites.
"In a matter of life and death, we are getting it wrong more than 2
out of every 3 times," the group's website states.
But the ACLU also championed the cause of Dennis Dowthitt, who
maintained his innocence for 11 years, before making an emotional
confession in the death chamber.
The Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty manages Web
pages and pen pal requests for over 1,000 condemned prisoners.
Although she gets complaints from victims' families, coalition
co-founder Tracy Lamourie says she is convinced she is doing the
right thing.
Marc Klaas has repeatedly asked the coalition to dismantle a page
for Richard Allen Davis, who kidnapped and killed his
12-year-old daughter, Polly.
"This guy killed my daughter," Klaas said. "And there he is,
smiling and asking for pen pals on this website. I'd hack the (website
of the) son of a bitch if I could."
Lamourie admitted that the situation was "delicate" but
refused to change her position.
"All we can say is that as soon as there's no death penalty, we'll
take the pages down," Lamourie said. "We feel that as long as
you're killing people, we need to give them a voice."
She said her mailbox is overflowing with requests from prisoners who
want a voice online. They send her hand-scrawled notes, wistful
poems and smiling snapshots to bolster their claim: they aren't
savage animals but innocent Americans accused of crimes they
didn't commit. Lamourie scans the data in her spare time and says
she doesn't make judgment calls about whether the inmates are
telling the truth.
Many of the prisoners she supports have been locked up for
decades and have no idea what this thing called "The Internet" is,
she says. (Few, if any, prisoners have Net access).
Other inmates seem a bit too tech-savvy. Michael Toney,
convicted of rigging a briefcase bomb that killed three people,
tried to auction off seats to his execution online.
But the cries of most death row inmates will be ignored, and their
Internet sites converted into memorials when they are
executed. For some, such as Carl Johnson, their last words will ring
out on the Internet long after they are gone:
"I want the world to know that I'm innocent and that I've found peace. Let's ride."
El pabellón de los condenados a muerte está lleno de
los que dicen ser inocentes y el mundo está lleno de
gente que desprecia la pena de muerte. Todos ellos
encontraron un común denominador online. Por Julia
Scheeres.
Titulares de hoy
15 de junio, 2001
No quieren morir. Y ruegan que los
salvemos.
Cientos de presidiarios que
aguardan la muerte recurrieron a
Internet en un intento de salvar
sus vidas.
Dicen que son inocentes y suplican
que la comunidad de la Red done
dinero para su defensa legal,
envían peticiones a las autoridades
a través del correo electrónico y
leen sus versiones de los hechos.
A través de sitios creados por sus
parientes, amigos y activistas -
muchos de los cuales no residen en
Estados Unidos - tienen la
posibilidad de apelar a una
audiencia mundial en forma directa.
"¡Es un grito de socorro para que
me tiendan una mano! Soy
indigente y no tengo la posibilidad
de conseguir la ayuda legal que
tan desesperadamente necesito, lo
que me puede costar la vida...
Ustedes son mi última esperanza,
¡sin ustedes estoy luchando por
una causa perdida!"
Esas son las palabras de John
Dewberry, un muchacho de 24
años, condenado por asesinar a un
hombre el día de Navidad, en 1994,
y repartir los bienes de la víctima
entre sus amigos como obsequio
navideño.
Pero así como los condenados que
aguardan la muerte recurren a
Internet para pedir clemencia, los
familiares de las víctimas de
homicidio ingresan a la Red para
exigir justicia. Ambas partes
exponen su caso, piden dinero, y
juntan firmas. Algunos buscan
claves para resolver homicidios que
se cometieron hace 30 años.
No sorprende entonces que con
frecuencia haya un choque entre
las dos partes.
Aquí va otro:
"Espero en el pabellón de los
condenados a muerte para que me
ejecuten por un crimen horrible que
no cometí y, a menos que logre
que se preste atención a mi caso,
el estado de Texas me va a
asesinar", escribe Anthony Graves,
hallado culpable junto a otro
hombre de matar a seis personas y
quemar sus cuerpos.
Graves publica su versión de los
hechos en su sitio de Internet,
como también la declaración del
otro implicado en el homicidio,
quien manifiesta que Graves no
participó en el crimen.
Su historia fue suficiente para que
el abogado Roy E. Greenwood se
sintiera comprometido a
defenderlo, sin cobrarle nada por
sus servicios.
"Creo que es inocente", dijo
Greenwood, quien dice haber
gastado 30.000 dólares de su
bolsillo en el caso. "Tiene muchas
posibilidades de que se invalide el
veredicto."
Después está el caso de Gary
Graham. Cuando Graham tenía 17
años, fue condenado por matar a
tiros a un hombre en una playa de
estacionamiento de Houston
Safeway. A pesar del difundido
reclamo de que se anulara el
veredicto, fue ejecutado el año
pasado después de pasar casi 20
años esperando la muerte.
Graham proclamaba a viva voz su
inocencia hasta el momento en que
recibió una inyección letal similar a
la que mató a Timothy McVeigh el
lunes. Sus últimas palabras quedan
como un recordatorio
estremecedor en la Red:
"Esta noche me van a matar. Esta
noche me van a asesinar."
(McVeigh, casualmente, no tenía
un sitio de Internet "oficial", y
nunca proclamó su inocencia. Los
dominios "timothymcveigh.com" y
"timothymcveigh.net" son
propiedad de una tercera parte
que está tratando de vender los
derechos a la dirección de
Internet.)
En Pro-Death Penalty.com (que
significa "a favor de la pena de
muerte") se refutan punto por
punto las afirmaciones de Graham.
El sitio es uno de los tres que
dirige la defensora de las víctimas
Charlene Hall. Los otros dos son
Justice For All (Justicia para todos)
y MurderVictims.com (Víctimas de
homicidios), donde Hall erigió un
monumento virtual a más de 1.800
víctimas de asesinatos.
Comenzó con su labor en la Red
después de que un par de
muchachas adolescentes fueron
violadas y estranguladas en su
ciudad natal por una pandilla de
cinco chicos; una de ellas era la
hija de un amigo cercano. Pero
cuando buscó información en
Internet sobre la pena de muerte,
todo lo que encontró fueron sitios
que estaban en contra de la pena
de muerte. Por lo tanto aprendió
HTML y publicó en la Red
información a favor de la pena
capital.
Hall manifiesta que no tiene
paciencia para escuchar los ruegos
de asesinos convictos.
"Su único propósito es dilatar (la
ejecución)", señala Hall. "En
esencia lo que quieren es comprar
tiempo. Sólo siento pena por las
personas que se dejan engañar;
ojalá se pusieran a averiguar un
poco antes de sentirse tan mal por
esta gente."
Hall se ganó una buena cuota de
odio por email debido a sus puntos
de vista; almacena las amenazas
de muerte e insultos en una
carpeta con el nombre
"Trastornados y no víctimas".
Murdervictims.com sirve como
centro de reunión de integrantes
de familias destrozadas que
lograron sobrevivir: gente que a
menudo es eludida por una
sociedad que prefiere la chanza a
la honestidad.
Sharon Meissner, cuyo hijo de 18
años fue colgado por un conocido,
es uno de los que envía mensajes
con frecuencia al panel de
discusión del sitio. Allí cuenta
sobre la fatídica mañana en que
encontró el cuerpo de Gregg, y
lamenta que su asesino sólo haya
sido condenado por asesinato en
tercer grado y sentenciado a 25
años en la cárcel.
"A veces sentimos que no
encajamos en ningún lado", dijo
Meissner, de Holly, Minnesota. "La
gente quiere que nos olvidemos de
la muerte de nuestro hijo, que
sigamos adelante. En el panel,
podemos hablar sin ofender a
nadie."
Meissner también consiguió ayuda
con sus mensajes. Su caso llamó la
atención de un experto en perfiles
de asesinos que trabaja en
Internet, quien se ofreció a
investigar el caso que, según ella,
fue mal manejado por la policía del
distrito.
En un tributo a su hijo, Meissner
describe la personalidad pícara de
su hijo y se escuchan los acordes
inquietantes de una de sus
canciones favoritas: "Fade to
black" de Metallica.
"Mi hijo fue más que un nombre en
una nota periodística. No fue sólo
una historia, fue una persona real.
Quiero que todos sepan eso",
señala.
Linda Purnhagen, cuyas hijas de 9
y 16 años fueron asesinadas por
un hombre y su hijo en Texas,
estaba indignada por los mensajes
que los dos hombres publicaron en
la Red solicitando amigos para
intercambiar correo.
"Me encantan los niños y disfruto
contestando sus preguntas y
tratando de ayudarlos", escribió el
padre, Dennis Dowthitt.
Purnhagen manifestó: "Es un
pedófilo que cometió un asesinato.
Al menos deberían poner un
descargo allí que diga que asesina
niños."
Dennis Dowthitt fue ejecutado en
marzo. Pero su hijo, Delton, quien
atestiguó en contra de su padre a
cambio de una sentencia de 45
años de prisión, aún está en la
búsqueda de amigos: "A los 16 fui
condenado por un asesinato, por
favor no me encasillen por eso
sólo. Soy una persona en proceso
de construirse", escribe.
Muchos sitios de Internet
dedicados a convictos son
operados por activistas extranjeros
que viven en países donde no
existe la pena de muerte. La Unión
por las Libertades Civiles de
Estados Unidos, que denuncia la
existencia de una tasa de error del
68 por ciento en los casos con
condenas a pena de muerte,
también opera algunos sitios para
convictos.
"Cuando es cuestión de vida o
muerte, nos equivocamos en más
de dos casos de cada tres", señala
el sitio de Internet del grupo.
Pero la asociación también
defendió la causa de Dennis
Dowthitt, quien durante 11 años
sostuvo que era inocente, hasta
que finalmente confesó su
culpabilidad en la cámara de
muerte.
La Coalición Canadiense contra la
Pena de Muerte maneja páginas de
Internet y solicitudes de amigos
por correspondencia de más de
1.000 prisioneros convictos. A
pesar de que recibe quejas de los
familiares de las víctimas, una
cofundadora de la coalición, Tracy
Lamourie, afirma que está
convencida de que está haciendo
lo correcto.
Marc Klaas en varias opotunidades
solicitó a la coalición que dejara
fuera de servicio la página
dedicada a Richard Allen Davis,
quien secuestró y mató a Polly, la
hija de Klaas de 12 años de edad.
"Este tipo mató a mi hija", expresó
Klaas. "Y allí está, sonriendo y
queriendo intercambiar cartas en
su sitio. "Yo haría trizas el (sitio
del) hijo de perra si pudiera."
Lamourie admitió que la situación
era "delicada" pero se niega a
cambiar de posición.
"Todo lo que podemos decir es que
apenas se derogue la pena de
muerte sacaremos todas las
páginas", señaló Lamourie.
"Sentimos que mientras se esté
matando gente, necesitamos
facilitarles una voz."
Lamourie comentó que su casilla de
correo está abarrotada de
solicitudes de presos que quieren
tener voz online. Ella publicó las
notas manuscritas, los poemas
melancólicos y las instantáneas
sonrientes para dar fuerza a sus
reclamos: no son animales salvajes
sino norteamericanos inocentes
que están acusados de crímenes
que no cometieron. Lamourie
escanea los datos en su tiempo
libre y dice que no invita a hacer
juicios de valor acerca de si los
condenados están diciendo la
verdad.
Muchos de los prisioneros a los que
apoya estuvieron encerrados por
décadas y no tienen idea de lo que
significa eso que se llama
"Internet", explica. (Muy pocos
tienen acceso a la Red, si es que
alguno lo tiene).
Otros reclusos parecen un tanto
demasiado expertos en tecnología.
Michael Toney, condenado por
armar una bomba en un maletín
que mató a tres personas, intentó
subastar asientos para presenciar
su ejecución online.
Pero el clamor de la mayoría de los
reos que aguardan la pena de
muerte será pasado por alto, y sus
sitios de Internet se convertirán en
monumentos conmemorativos
después de su ejecución. Para
algunos, como Carl Johnson, sus
últimas palabras seguirán teniendo
eco en Internet mucho después de
haber sido emitidas:
"Quiero que el mundo sepa que soy
inocente y que encontré la paz.
Estoy listo para partir."
Once again, the death penalty has the world wondering
if government sanctioned killing is justice or vengeance.
The United States has put to death Timothy McVeigh for
setting off a bomb in 1995 that blew up the Alfred P.
Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City and killed 168
people (including 19 children under 5). Hundreds more
were injured. What he did was unquestionably evil, but his
execution has served to revive the divisive battle over the
viability of death penalty as a method of punishment by
democratic nations.
After the execution, US president George W. Bush argued
that McVeigh chose his own fate and that the victims of the
Oklahoma City bombing had been given, not vengeance,
but justice. Paul Howell, whose daughter was killed in the
bombing, was quoted by CNN as saying that the execution
“was just a big relief. Just a big sigh came over my body
and it felt real good."
But a lot of people are wondering whether the ‘retribution
through execution’ ideology used by US lawmakers and
Bush actually works. One of them is Dave Parkinson of the
Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty (ccadp.org).
Parkinson doesn’t believe another death brings the victims
any real closure in settling the matter. “These people will
have to live with the loss of their loved ones, and now the
experience of having watched the death of the
perpetrator,” believes Parkinson. “There’s no such thing as
closure through execution. It doesn’t bring anyone back.”
He will be in Loft on Fuel (7:30PM/EST) to discuss the
death penalty.
The execution of McVeigh has merely highlighted the
international criticism that exists towards the US policy and
Bush in particular. As governor Bush set a state record for
the most executions, including the first woman put to
death in decades. This was not lost on the president of the
Council of Europe's Parliamentary Assembly, Lord
Russel-Johnson, who called this latest execution sad,
pathetic and wrong.
"It demonstrated the futility of capital punishment to act as
a deterrent, giving him [McVeigh] the notoriety he sought
in committing this horrendous crime," Russel-Johnson said
in a statement. "It is high time the United States rethought
its attitude to the death penalty and aligned its position
with the great majority of the free and democratic world."
The view of “the great majority of the free and democratic
world”, fortunately, hasn’t been lost within the US. Earlier
this year, the state of Illinois suspended all executions
after it was shown that a number of death row inmates
had been unfairly tried or were in fact innocent. DNA
evidence has significantly altered their claims.
The finality of the death sentence means there can be no
error. And just last week, the case of a Johnny Paul Penry,
a mentally retarded man sentenced to death, was finally
overturned after two appeals and 20 years on death row.
As early as 1989, the American Bar Association established
a policy opposing the execution of those with mental
retardation. The ABA held that execution of such
individuals is “unacceptable in a civilized society,
irrespective of their guilt or innocence.”
In 1997, the continued imposition of the death penalty on
the mentally retarded and juveniles contributed to the
ABA's call for a nationwide moratorium on the death
penalty. Not to mention that if the United States ever
desired to enter the European Union, it would not be
allowed to do so because the EU forbids its members to
practice capital punishment.
Although Canada outlawed the death penalty in 1976, the
country remains solidly divided about its use. For the time
being, however, the reigning Liberal government has
expressed no desire to change its policy despite pressure
from a number of political foes on the right to do so.
There are nearly 600 people on California's death row,
May 14 — They are some of the worst
criminals in California history. Convicted of
killing men, women, and children and
sentenced to die at San Quentin, they are
sealed off from the world and removed from
society.
Janice Keson, murder victim's mother: "At the time
that they are sentenced behind the walls of San
Quentin — death row that's the end of their voice,
they are not to be out in this world anymore that's
why a judge sentenced them there."
Janice Keson's daughter Darlene had grown up,
and was preparing to set out on her own.
But her life was cut short when seven people
stormed her home in Salida near Manteca.
Four people were killed, including 23-year old
Darlene Paris who was murdered as she reached
for a rear door.
Three of the men responsible for her death were
sentenced to die. It was the last Janice Keson had
hoped to ever hear from them.
But that was before the Internet explosion.
Darlene Paris didn't grow up with a computer. In
fact, when her murder happened in 1990, the
Internet wasn't much of a factor in many of our
lives. But today her killers are just a mouse click
away.
Darlene's killers reached out into cyberspace.
Tipped off by a friend, Janice logged on and found
that 2 of her daughters killers — James Beck and
Gerald Cruz — were looking for pen pals.
"I broke down and I just started to cry and I
became really angry, very hostile and I thought,
'My God, how can they do this,' they had silenced
Darlene forever and yet they were still being
heard."
After she protested, the names were removed from
the site. But her battle has not ended. She says
hundreds of other inmates are still online.
We searched the Internet to see how many Web
sites we could find for death row inmates. The
result? Nearly one in five people sentenced to die
in California can be found reaching out online.
It is a virtual who's who on death row with killers
like Ramon Salcido and Richard
Allen Davis online.
Under California law, none of these inmates is
actually allowed to access the Internet but
someone on the outside can do it for them.
Dave Parkinson, death penalty opponent: "Now,
since we began in May of 1998 we've been creating
Web pages for individuals on death row."
The Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty
(CCADP) lists hundreds of death row inmates from
around the country. They offer them a place to post
poetry, comments, and artwork.
Parkinson: "If the United States is going to remain
one of the few countries in the western hemisphere
that still executes its own citizens then obviously
the American public and the rest of the world has a
right to know who the United States government
has deemed worthy of death."
But not all death row inmates who are on the Web
are limiting themselves to anti-death penalty sites,
some have Web sites dedicated just to them.
Ironically, one of the condemned men who's
reaching out is writing from the very place where he
committed his crime.
Jarvis Jay Masters — a career criminal — was
sentenced to die for planning the murder of a San
Quentin guard in 1985.
Less than a year ago, Hal Burchfield's widow
discovered that Masters was online.
Barbara Burchfield, murder victim's widow: "...I was
just aghast. I was so mad. I was so angry. I was in
such turmoil, that I physically got ill."
Masters wrote a book about life behind bars and it
is sold through the Web site to raise money for his
legal fees.
Burchfield: "Once he was convicted and put on
death row, he lost that right to those privileges.
Those privileges to have Web site. Those privileges
to sell a book."
Those who run Jarvis Masters' Web site say they
sympathize with Barbara Burchfield, but they
believe Jarvis Masters was wrongly convicted.
The Web site says masters is reformed and has
taken "vows of non-violence."
Burchfield: "You don't get to death row by being a
peaceful, nurturing, loving human being."
We tried to speak with someone from the Web site
on camera, but they declined saying, "...It's not
going to be the kind of exposure we want."
Still they believe the Web is an important tool,
helping to educate the public about the
incarcerated.
Others argue that if the United States would
abolish the death penalty, their sites would not be
necessary.
But the victims of violence see it much differently
and they are angry that inmates have been allowed
online. And they are quite clear on what must
happen.
They want them silenced. In fact two states
have stopped it — Washington and Arizona
have
both passed laws that prevent inmates from
establishing Web sites.
Lamar Brooks has one.
So does Marshay Preston.
And serial killer Frank Walls has two.
Soon, said Kurt Hutchinson, his brother Jeff Hutchinson will have
one of his own.
All of these men are inmates of the Florida Department of
Corrections, and all have (or in Hutchinson's case, soon will have)
their own pages on the World Wide Web.
Under state prison rules, none of the inmates has access to a
computer or the Internet. But families or groups outside the
prison system have taken to the Web to plead their case for them,
using their pictures and words to communicate to a public
previously unreachable from behind prison walls. All but Preston,
who is serving four years for the armed robbery of a pawnshop,
are on death row.
Brooks' family posted his Web page, contending the justice
system in Okaloosa County is rigged. The hope, said his father,
Robert Brooks, of Chester, Pa., was that it would help get Brooks
off death row.
That hope was realized on April 5, when Florida's Supreme Court
ruled that the trial court's use of testimony granted as exceptions
to hearsay rules unfairly deprived Brooks of a fair trial. As a
result, he has won the right to a new trial in the case of the April
24, 1996, stabbing deaths of Rachel Carlson, who was an Eglin Air
Force Base Hospital worker, and her daughter.
Carlson's mother, Clarissa Stuart, has posted her own Web page,
a memorial to her daughter and infant granddaughter, on the
Internet.
"A sea of tears"
"I've done a great deal of it through a sea of tears," said Stuart, of
Aloha, Ore. "The whole point has been to humanize Rachel,
because she can't speak for herself. It was inspired through love,
and grief, and just missing her.
"It's been very cathartic."
It was never her intent to rebut the Web page Brooks' family
posted for their son. Some day, Stuart said, she'll get around to
posting more information about what happened the night her
daughter and granddaughter were murdered.
But for now, she hasn't been able to muster the emotional energy
needed to do that. Meanwhile, Stuart said, she's just trying to
summon the strength and girding up for the new trial that the high
court ordered for Brooks.
"It's so easy for the focus to shift to the perpetrators while the
victims get pushed aside," Stuart said.
Through the Web page, she said, "I've met some wonderful
people who are outraged that this happened, and who have
written to me, wanting to know more about what happened."
As of mid-April, her page counter showed 4,008 hits, or page
visits.
"This one stinks to high heaven."
Robert Brooks has always believed in his son's innocence. Like
Clarissa Stuart, he attended the first trial and will return to
Okaloosa County for the new trial.
Court documents, and his own impressions of the trial, formed the
basis of the Web page he posted, Robert Brooks said.
"I tried to be as objective as possible," said Brooks' father,
whose effort is subtitled "A Rigged Justice System."
But he admits that complete objectivity can be elusive.
"I tried to get what I thought in there," he said. "It's based on my
conclusions from both the trial and from reading about it, just
what happened, as if you were a fair-minded juror. Would you find
reasonable doubt?
"I'm proud of my son. There's no way my son committed this
crime and left no evidence behind. Somebody in Crestview knows
who it (the murderer) is."
At last count, he said, the Web page, actually several pages
including exhibits, had received more than 7,000 hits. Of those,
Robert Brooks said, "only two people have contacted me to tell
me that Lamar got what he deserved."
"But the great majority blame the police," he said. "This one
stinks to high heaven."
"A true friend"
From inside his cell on Florida's death row, serial killer Frank
Walls is looking for "a true friend."
"Share your life's ups and downs, fears, hopes, dreams, ambitions,
etc.," Walls says on his Go.com Web page. "Mail is the only thing
to really look forward to in a place like this, other than visits,
neither of which I get much of."
A woman who identifies herself only as Samantha hosts walls'
Web page.
In response to a Daily News inquiry of the Web page's
webmaster, she wrote via e-mail:
"Frank Walls has had a webpage of his own on my site for
approximately two years. It came about because I am opposed to
the death penalty and therefore my web-site. He wrote to me
about a page due to a flier I sent out for death row inmates."
Two pictures of Walls on that page likely were taken in the
visitors' area of Union Correctional Institution at Raiford, said
Department of Corrections spokeswoman Sara Buchanan.
Any inmate can mail out the Web page text; even death row
inmates retain mail privileges, subject to some inspection limits.
"Lost in the system"
The Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty sponsors
Walls' other Web page, with room for his poetry and art work.
Asked why they would host a serial killer on the Internet,
CCADP spokesman David Parkinson said from his home office in
Toronto, "Many people get lost in the system. We want to
provide information on all death row cases."
The pages are meant to balance what Parkinson said was a trend
by prosecutors and the media to demonize death row inmates.
"It allows the public, at a safe distance, to see these people as
human beings, instead of as monsters, and allows them to express
themselves for what they are," he said. "It's so that people can
see the faces of the real people who have been sentenced to
death."
If Walls is guilty of the five local murders he has either been
convicted of or admitted to, Parkinson said, the Canadian
Coalition Against the Death Penalty doesn't want him out on the
street, despite their Internet support.
But they do want his death sentence commuted to a life term.
"This isn't about absolute innocence," Parkinson said. "We're
seeking lesser sentences than death."
The project has drawn its share of critics, he said.
"We're not trying to glorify these people," said Parkinson. "But
there's your side, my side and the truth. People have a right to
know what's going on, and prosecutors and judges, being elected
officials, don't want this information available to the public."
In hosting the death row inmate pages, the coalition has heard
from victims' families, to the point of threats of violence, he said.
"There's a lot of anger and resentment against the justice
system," Parkinson said. "And we can understand that."
"A Victim of Racism"
Marshay Preston's backlit Web page photo on his Geocities Web
page stands in stark contrast to the official mug shot posted on
his Florida Department of Corrections inmate population detail
page.
The Web page his father, the late David Preston, created for him
begins with a younger, smiling Marshay Preston under the
heading "Justice for Marshay Jamar Preston - A Victim of
Racism."
The page is sharply critical of Okaloosa County's court system
and those involved in prosecuting Marshay Preston for the armed
robbery of a local pawnshop. He was sentenced to four years in
state prison and is now serving that sentence at Polk Correctional
Institution.
The Web page's current status is uncertain; it may be among the
Internet's so-called orphan pages. A note at the bottom said it
was last updated Feb. 9, 1999.
Much of the information for the page came from Preston's
civil-rights activist father, who founded the Fort Walton Beach
chapter of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. David
Preston, also instrumental in founding the Monroe County
(Rochester, N.Y. area) SCLC, died March 23 last year.
An information operator in the Rochester area had no listing for
the SCLC in that region, and further attempts to obtain
information about the Web page were unsuccessful.
Outside Organizations Develop Prisoner Web Pages (LOUISVILLE, April 13, 2001, 11:48 a.m.) -- Some of
America's most dangerous
criminals want to talk to you: convicted rapists
and murderers on death row are
sentenced to die for their crimes. Yet even as
they remain confined within the
space of prison walls waiting to die, they are using
the unlimited reach of
cyberspace to solicit companionship in the outside
world.
The Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty has
a link on its website to the home pages of death
row inmates, including inmates from Kentucky.
Inmates like Larry Osborne, convicted of murdering an
elderly Whitley County couple, then burning their home
in 1997. His web page tells prospective pen pals
he is looking for a lasting relationship, and loves
hiking, fishing, and hunting.
The web pages are a great way for the prisoners to
express themselves and make friends in the outside
world, but some of the families of the people
victimized by the inmates are outraged.
Emery Nelson's son, Scott, was one of two Trinty
high school
students robbed and then murdered
execution style in 1984. One of his killers, Victor
Taylor, is on death row. Emery says seeing people like
Taylor soliciting themselves on the web online disgusts
him.
"I just think it's horrible," he told WAVE 3's Janet
Swanson . "This is nothing but a knee-jerk liberal
approach made by people who have absolutely no common
sense and could care less, in my opinion."
But the Canadian Coalition feels otherwise. The
organization's spokesperson, Tracy Lamoure, says it's an
issue of human rights, and that the website is there to
provide them an opportunity for inmates to
express themselves and make friends in the outside
world. "They're on death row," she said in a phone
interview. "So there's no whitewashing.
People who are writing to these people are aware these are
death row prisoners."
Death row inmate webpages are also found on at
Cyberspace Inmates. They were labeled "Outrage of
the Month" on Fayette County Commonwealth Attorney Ray
Larson's own website. "And you have these
yo-yos that are on these websites trying to sell
themselves as All-American boys and girls," said Larson.
And it's particularly offensive to crime victims."
Nelson says the sites are glorifying rapists and
murderers, but Lamoure disagrees: "We're not trying to
glorify these people. We're just saying they
don't need to be killed. These are people that are under
sentence of death."
Most of the sites don't provide inmate backgrounds,
so those who log on don't know an inmate's criminal
history. But still there's a lot of interest in those
on death row. The Canadian Coalition says its main
page gets about 1,500 visitors a week for more than 350
death row inmates.
Once a person gets to an inmate's webpage they can
get an inmate's address, but from there, all
correspodence is handled strictly by U.S. mail.
Obviously, these sites are highly controversial, but there are no laws against them.
By Alissa Quart
Last year, while Jennifer Martinez was surfing the
Net, she found herself confronted by the face of Beau
Greene. There he was, offering himself up in a
personal ad, looking for "fun" women. In a digitized
photo, he wore a black bike cap and T-shirt and
cradled a long-haired cat. He wrote invitingly of his
affection for Frank Zappa and his once colorful life as
a slackline logger in the Pacific Northwest, a fur
trapper on the Mexican border and a Harley mechanic.
Then he noted that his activities had narrowed
somewhat to "pacing, push-ups and music" and that
he was "open minded and interested in learning about
other cultures."
Martinez was shocked: Beau Greene was not just
another lonely divorce looking for friendship and
maybe more. Six years ago, he had killed her father,
58-year-old University of Arizona music professor
Roy Johnson--abducting him, robbing him and
beating him to death with rocks as he was about to
drive home from a concert in Tucson.
As Greene noted in his ad (but only in passing), he
was writing from death row in Arizona, where he has
been since 1996. Seeing the ad "reduced me to tears,"
says Martinez, a 39-year-old lawyer in Phoenix. "This
is the man who murdered my father, telling strangers
that he's a nice guy! He was a meth addict who had
been on drugs for a week straight before he killed my
dad. Why should he and other inmates get to post
their pictures and messages on the Web at all, telling
people to write to them because they are lonely?"
Greene is just one of thousands of prisoners, some on
death row, who are using the Web to find
companionship in the outside world. While there are
those who use computers in classes, no inmates
anywhere in the U.S. have direct access to the Web
legally. But sites that act as middlemen, posting
prisoners' pictures, artwork and musings for a fee,
have become very popular. There are dozens of
special-interest sites run by entrepeneurs, activists
and even ministers, each containing hundreds or
thousands of prisoner pages that connect prisoners
with the general population. At PrisonPenPals, where
Beau Greene's ad resided, 8,000 registered inmates
each pay $19.95 a year to keep a page up. Ken Kleine,
the operator of the Big House-meets-Penthouse
website JailBabes.com, claims his site gets 500,000
hits a year.
While victims' rights groups and citizens like Martinez
have expressed outrage at prisoners' Web presence,
the right of prisoners to send and receive mail is
protected under the First Amendment--and that is
how prisoners get their ads out and correspond with
their new friends. Legally, incoming mail may be
censored only for "legitimate interests"--if the letters
contain threats, escape plans and the like--while
prisoners' outgoing mail is protected even more,
censored only if the interests are "important or
substantial."
Prisoners have also long posted personal ads in such
publications as the Village Voice and the Advocate.
But Web personals represent new legal territory. Take
a look at PrisonPenPals or Women Behind Bars, and
what you see, depending on your point of view, is
either a way for desperate or lonely transgressors to
find much-needed human contact or an opportunity
for miscreants to find fresh marks to exploit. Either
way, what is missing from most sites is a clear
description of the potential pen pals' actual crimes.
The operators of the sites whose pages offer little or
no criminal information about prisoners maintain that
their jailed clients are entitled to receive the benefit of
the doubt. JailBabes's Kleine dismisses worries that
he might be putting users at risk by not disclosing the
prisoners' crimes. "The crimes are a matter of public
record," he says. "If a person on the outside is really
interested in a woman on my site, they can start
asking her questions and also look into her
background in court papers. There's no risk at all to
the client, as the prisoners have no freedom."
Lawrence McCollum, 33, a convicted murderer who is
serving a life sentence and maintains a Web page at
Cyberspace Inmates, maintains that he is honest with
the people who write him, coming clean about the
nature of his crime. "I don't bring it up unless they
ask, and then I am totally truthful about what I did,"
he says.
Many operators of these lonely hearts sites claim, in
fact, that they are doing good. "I like to think of
prison pen pals as a way to [let people] step out of
their tough character and make a connection with
someone unlike themselves," says PrisonPenPals
founder Priscilla Pletcher, 37, a former housewife who
began her site in 1996 after making home pages for
two prisoners she met through volunteer work in a
nearby penitentiary. Reverend Rene Mulkey, a
nondenominational Christian minister, was inspired to
create Cyberspace Inmates five years ago by her
husband's lifelong struggle to get out from under an
early prison record. The site offers genuine comfort to
prisoners like McCollum, who is serving a life
sentence at the Crossroads Correctional Facility in
Cameron, Mo., for first degree murder after killing a
woman in the course of a robbery. "I write letters to
friends in Taiwan and Europe," says McCollum. "I get
three or four letters a month, and they help keep my
spirits up a lot as I don't get many visits. It gives me
something to do, rather than brood and get angry at
the system."
Many of the prisoners who use these sites, unlike
McCollum, are doing time for crimes they hope to put
behind them sooner rather than later. In 1997, for
instance, Beth Kiesling was incarcerated for forgery
at the Carswell Federal Medical Center in Fort Worth,
Texas. By her account, she was repentant, lost and
lonely. Then she wrote an ad requesting a man who
would be a "best friend," "lover" and "soul mate" all
in one, attached a photo of herself and sent it to
JailBabes. She received 30 letters a week for the rest
of her four-month sentence. She also met David
Kiesling, who became her husband and the father of
her child. "I met wonderful people who didn't judge
me for what I had done," she says.
And for three of the five years that Judith Kelling was
in prison in Gatesville, Texas, for burglary, she relied
on the letters she received from men through
JailBabes. Out for seven months and now working in
construction, Kelling is dating one of these men, a
trucker from Philadelphia. "He came to visit me in jail,
kept in touch and was very supportive," says Kelling,
40, who lives with her sister in El Paso, Texas.
"JailBabes was my main contact with the free world."
Law enforcement officials, however, argue that
inmates should not be socializing quite so
energetically with ordinary citizens. Christina Polce, a
spokesperson for the Connecticut Department of
Corrections, notes that while the state does not
prohibit prisoners putting up ads online through a
third party, it does not condone it. She recalls a case
where a man who had fallen in love with a prisoner he
met through the Web called Polce's office after the
inmate began sending him death threats. "There's
such a potential for manipulation and scamming," she
says. Adds John Stein, a director of the National
Organization for Victims Assistance: "Though we are
operating on the assumption that there are First
Amendment rights that allow prisoners online
through a carrier, we'd be happy to see the end of it
all."
Stein is half right. According to Mary Lynne
Werlwas, staff attorney at the Prisoner's Rights
Project of the Legal Aid Society, rules about
"kiting"--the use of a third party for Web access for
any sort of communication--vary from prison to
prison and from state to state. She recalls that one of
her own inmate clients in New York State had a letter
from her taken away and was told it was censored
because it contained "Internet information"--a
printout from a Web site. "The laws that monitor
prisoners' third-party online presence may well
emerge in states where prison guards are a powerful
political lobby," Werlwas says. "While the laws are
potentially toothless they are adopted to stifle
dissent."
Jennifer Martinez was fortunate: she lives in Arizona,
a state with a soft spot for law-and-order legislation.
After she saw Greene's ad, she and her mother
successfully lobbied for the passing of House Bill
2376, sponsored by then-State Representative Jean
McGrath. The bill prohibits inmates from posting or
retrieving information online via a friend, relative or
company in Arizona. Martinez spoke out to the media
and members of law enforcement groups around the
country in favor of the bill. "It was the first political
issue I had been active in," she says. Last August,
Arizona joined New York in legally banning prisoners
from using other people to get to sites.
Prisoners' rights advocates argue, however, that
convicted criminals need more, not less, Internet
access. The Web can help them follow developments
in case law, gather information about their own cases
and disseminate it to the general public. Kai-lin Hsu,
an editor of the book A Jailhouse Lawyer's Manual,
notes that the most recent legal information often hits
the Web before it is printed in hard copy. "Web
access would help them," says Hsu. "We get letters
from prisoners who say they can't get access to
books because of prison space concerns, and the Net
is certainly a space-efficient way for prisoners to
become educated about the judicial system."
Tracy Lamourie, cofounder of the not-for-profit
website Canadian Coalition Against the Death
Penalty, which maintains a number of Arizona
death-row prisoners' pages, takes this argument a
step further. She believes that the prisoners' Web
pages function as a sort of anti-death penalty bulletin
board. "How could you fault someone sentenced to
death for wanting to put up court transcripts of their
cases on the Web?" she asks. "We want people to
see who our government is planning on putting to
death." And Lamourie endorses the desire of
death-row prisoners to find pen pals. "The Internet
allows prisoners to get help, be it from friends,
human-rights activists or religious communities."
People on both sides of this dispute agree, however,
that it is almost impossible to enforce a ban on remote
access. Mike Houston, spokesman for the New York
Department of Correctional Services, insists that no
New York prisoners are online, but a look at
PrisonPenPals suggests otherwise. And clearly there
are plenty of prisoners out there making innovative
use of their remote Web connections. In May 2000, a
man serving a one-year prison term in New York for
telemarketing fraud was found to have masterminded
a fraudulent Internet stock-picking scheme from his
jail cell. Michael Toney, a death-row prisoner in
Texas, tried to sell front-row tickets to his own
execution on eBay starting at $100 each.
Even Martinez admits that the new Arizona law has
proved to be almost entirely ineffective. "We have to
allow [inmates] to get mail, and we can't prevent them
from contacting parties outside of prison," she says.
"Prisoners online is an issue ahead of its time: we can
take away prisoners' good time credits for using
third-party Web access, but how will prisons know
that Arizona prisoners are posting online unless they
pay a correction staffer to go to all of these websites
all the time?"
Nonetheless, for Martinez there has been one
positive outcome of her battle against prisoner
websites. Late last year, Beau Greene's Web page was
finally removed. Martinez will never have to see him
looking for love again
http://www.onmagazine.com/on-mag/magazine/article/0,9985,103342-2,00.html
The Journal Gazette Fort Wayne, Indiana
Top
news story ! Sunday March 4, 2001 - http://www.journalgazette.net/
Death appeal draws support Allen glitch
kept blacks off jury, defense says
By
Laura Emerson - The Journal Gazette
Some see him as a cold-hearted cop killer. Others see him as an artist,
writer
and
defender of the downtrodden.
Many see Zolo Agona Azania as another man on death row who is using
their tax
money to fund an endless string of appeals.
Azania, 46, has managed to avoid death for nearly 20 years. An Allen
County jury
sentenced the Gary man to death in 1982 for fatally shooting a Gary
police officer
during a 1981 bank robbery. At the time, his name was Rufus Lee
Averhart.
He's challenging a jury's decision in 1996 to resentence him to death.
The jury
consisted of 11 whites and one Hispanic woman.
Azania and his attorneys claim a computer glitch in the jury selection
process
eliminated a majority of potential black jurors from the selection pool.
Now, death penalty opponents from around the world are expected to
focus their
attention on Allen Superior Court beginning March 13, when attorneys
working on
Azania's behalf will argue that the computer glitch violated Azania's
constitutional
rights.
These opponents have sent letters and e-mail messages to Judge Kenneth
Scheibenberger, telling him they're paying attention to the case. Some
are
expected to attend, said Michael Deutsch, an attorney appointed by the
Indiana
Supreme Court to represent Azania.
Several defendants have unsuccessfully challenged their Allen County
convictions
based on the 1996 computer glitch, but this will be the first death
penalty appeal to
scrutinize the county's jury selection process.
Described as an intelligent man by one of his defense attorneys, Azania
has
tried
to use every legal avenue to stay alive.
Getting this far
In 1982, Azania became the first person in Allen County to be sentenced
to
death
since 1959. The trial was moved to Allen County because of pre-trial
publicity.
The state Supreme Court upheld Azania's murder conviction, but reversed
the
death penalty sentence in 1993.
A new penalty phase was heard in February 1996 in Allen County. A jury
recommended death, and Scheibenberger sentenced Azania to die by lethal
injection.
Neither set of trial jurors knew it, but Azania previously was
convicted of
manslaughter for killing a 69-year-old Gary man during a 1972 burglary.
In November, the state Supreme Court said it would allow Azania to
challenge his
second death sentence based on the alleged computer error. It also said
Azania
could present alleged newly discovered evidence relative to his guilt.
Allen County officials said the computer glitch discovered in late 1996
caused
many Wayne Township voters to be omitted from lists of potential jurors.
Azania's attorneys argue that the alleged computer error caused the
"systematic
exclusion" of black voters, because more than 70 percent of Allen
County's black
population lives in Wayne Township. Wayne Township encompasses
south-central
Fort Wayne.
Azania is black. The officer he was convicted of killing was white.
County officials say the problem occurred when a jury selection program
was
changed in late 1995 to expand the jury pool from 10,000 to 14,000
registered
voters for the 1996 year.
Deutsch contends the irregularities existed back in 1982, when Azania
was first
convicted. If Deutsch were to argue that point successfully, it could
overturn
Azania's original conviction and require a new trial on both the
evidence and the
death penalty phases - nearly 20 years after Azania was convicted.
Several jurors at his 1982 trial told The Journal Gazette they
sentenced Azania to
death because of evidence that showed Azania stood over a wounded,
unarmed
police officer and fired a bullet into his chest.
A juror said they didn't recommend the death sentence for two other men
involved
in the murder because jurors felt Azania was the person most
responsible for the
officer's death.
Appellate history
Azania's attorneys think they can show that the exclusion of Wayne
Township
voters was systematic, not random.
If they can prove county officials systematically excluded voters, they
might
succeed in getting Azania yet another sentencing hearing.
At first blush, it doesn't appear likely.
The Indiana Court of Appeals has ruled against three defendants who
filed
challenges based on Allen County's 1996 jury selection process.
In the case of an Allen County man convicted in 1996 of drug
possession, the
appellate court wrote that the man failed to show purposeful
discrimination on
Allen County's part or a violation of his Sixth Amendment right to a
jury pool
consisting of a fair cross section of the community.
The appellate court wrote that jury panels are not required to
constitute a
microcosm of the community, although the primary goal of the jury
selection
process is to produce a reasonable cross section of the community.
Deutsch, a partner in The People's Law Office in Chicago, said there
was no clear
record in the prior appellate cases as to what the problem was, how
long it existed
and its actual effect.
Michelle Kraus, one of the defense attorneys appointed to represent
Azania in
1996 said a large number of jurors showed up, but only four of them
were members
of a minority group. One, a Hispanic woman, was placed on the jury of
12.
Because the county keeps no records of jurors' races, a person would
have to go
through some elaborate statistical research to get answers to such
questions as
who was excluded and what percentage of blacks were excluded, Deutsch
said.
Azania's attorneys have hired a statistician to do that, and Deutsch
believes that
could cause Azania's appeal to have a better outcome than the others.
"I'm optimistic we'll succeed," Deutsch said.
Even if things don't turn out the way Azania's lawyers hope they do,
Azania can
still take his claims to federal court, Deutsch said.
International support
Azania has received a considerable amount of support, especially
from people in
Europe, said Tracy Lamourie, co-director of the Canadian Coalition
Against the
Death Penalty. Her group's Internet Web site hosts Web pages for more
than 300
people on death row around the world, including Azania.
His page includes some of the art he has drawn since being sent to the
Indiana
State Penitentiary in Michigan City in 1982.
"We're trying to show the real faces and cases of people on death row,"
Lamourie
said.
Azania's cause appears on several Web sites. One describes him as "an
ex-offender and tireless activist on behalf of the downtrodden."
It says Azania was stopped by police on his way to a grocery store,
pistol-whipped and arrested without a warrant or explanation, then
"framed on
trumped-up charges."
It urges people to call or write Indiana officials on Azania's behalf.
Many have
followed that urging, even sending e-mails to The Journal Gazette.
Another Web site describes Azania as a "politically conscious activist,
who
at the
time of his arrest and capture in 1981, was actively involved in the
movement for
the self-determination of New Afrikan people."
Azania's commitment to the liberation and independence of New Afrikan
people
within the United States influenced the way the police, prosecution and
courts
treated him, according to the Web site, maintained by the Prairie Fire
Organizing
Committee in Chicago.
Such information isn't likely to be featured in next week's hearing.
Instead, attorneys will focus on statistics, procedures, intent and
outcome.
PUBLISHED SUNDAY, MARCH 4, 2001 http://www.journalgazette.net/
Although Canada abolished the death penalty in the 1970s, surveys show a slim majority of Canadians favor it. Many of them and their religious leaders are examining their beliefs as courts block the extradition of two of their countrymen, accused of a brutal murder in the United States.
Churches back Canadian high court's opposition to executions in United States
27 February 2001 (Newsroom) — A coalition of
churches endorsed
a Canadian Supreme
Court decision that prevents two Canadians accused of
murder in Washington state from
facing the death penalty in the United States .
The Canadian Council on Justice and Corrections
(CCJC), which has 11 member
denominations, asserted in a statement that the death
penalty is morally wrong and that
Canada should seek to guarantee it is not carried out
on residents beyond its borders.
Glen Sebastian Burns and Atif Ahmad Rafay, who are
being held in Vancouver, British
Columbia, were charged in the 1994 murder of Rafay's
parents and sister at their home in
Bellevue, Washington, a suburb of Seattle. The two, who
were 18 at the time of the
murder, allegedly confessed to an undercover Royal
Canadian Mounted Police officer that
they committed the crime to collect insurance.
Canada's Extradition Treaty with the United States
gives the Minister of Justice the right
to seek assurance that the death penalty will not be
carried out, but the Supreme Court
ruled that seeking that assurance is required,
according to Constitutional principles. In
1997, Allan Rock, who was then Minister of Justice,
said he did not request assurance
because of the brutal nature of the crime. The three
victims were bludgeoned to death
with a baseball bat.
In its February 15 ruling, the court said "at the
international level, the abolition of the
death penalty has emerged as a major Canadian
initiative and reflects a concern
increasingly shared by most of the world's
democracies." Allowing the two Canadian men
to be put to death in the United States would "shock
the conscience" of Canadians, the
court said.
Since 1962, however, when Canada conducted its
last execution, polls have
shown Canadians in favor of the death penalty. A
recent survey, though, shows a
decline in support from about 67 percent in 1995 to
52 percent. "Even people who would
normally defend the death penalty and aren't
convinced by the other arguments we might
make have been hesitant now because of all the
information that has come out about
errors in the justice system," said Tracy Lamourie
of the Canadian Coalition against
the Death Penalty, a public policy action group
based in Toronto.
Illinois governor Jim Edgar, for example, said he
put a
moratorium on executions because
of the state's "shameful record of convicting innocent
people and putting them on death row."
The CCJC's Rick Prashaw said he agrees that many
practical considerations have caused
people to reconsider their position but hopes that the
moral arguments his group advanced
in the case have had impact. "We think it's a
principle, that it doesn't stop at any
boundary, the 49th parallel," said Prashaw, the group's
communications and youth justice
coordinator. "We think it's wrong for everyone,
everywhere, in every case."
Lamourie said she hears most Canadians arguing
against the death penalty not so
much on religious grounds but on their concept of
human rights. "I like to think we
are a society that tries to do the best we can for
our population," she said. “This is why we
have health care and education and probably young
offenders acts that are a little too
lenient. But we are not just ready to throw away
someone who may have done something
wrong."
"We see it as a question of the sanctity of life,"
Prashaw said of the death penalty. "We
see that as a continuum to be argued from the beginning
of life to the end of life. It's a
respect of life that isn't forfeited by anyone's action
or behavior, as horrific or reprehensible
as actions may be, such as taking someone's life."
The Supreme Court, in its 9-0 ruling, stated that
"the fact that successive governments
and Parliaments over a period of almost 40 years have
refused to inflict the death
penalty reflects, we believe, a fundamental Canadian
principle about the appropriate limits
of the criminal justice system." But the legality of
the death penalty should not be
determined by public opinion, Prashaw insisted. "We
don't think it's the kind of moral
issue that just gets determined by majority rule," he
said. "To us it's a matter of
education, that we do have to work the country." The
Ottawa-based group conducts
workshops on justice in churches around the country.
Church members are divided on the
issue within congregations, whether the denomination
tends to be conservative or
liberal, Prashaw said.
Canada officially abolished the death penalty in
1976. Washington state is one of 38
American states that have made it legal. The lawyers
for Burns and Rafay say that if King
County, Bellevue's jurisdiction, seeks life
imprisonment their clients will be extradited
immediately. Otherwise they will be set free in Canada,
according to law.
Canada is "going with most of the world" on the
death penalty
issue, Lamourie pointed
out. "We are backing away from the idea of capital
punishment and looking at is as more
of an aberration," she said. At least 30 countries have
eliminated the death penalty
since 1980, bringing the total to 108.
Countries that allow the death penalty cannot enter
the European Union, Lamourie noted.
But opinion polls in major European countries show a
majority favor capital punishment.
Polls in Britain are similar to the United States,
where about two-thirds to three-quarters are in favor. Polls in Italy
show about half the population wants the death penalty reinstated.
Italy's Senate was listed as was an official intervener in the Burns
and Rafay case.
Jan. 25, 2001 - On the night of June 24, 1985, the lives of Loyd
LaFevers and Randall
Cannon became entwined forever with that of Colorado state Sen. Ken
Chlouber.
On Tuesday, Chlouber plans to watch LaFevers' execution in McAlester, Okla.
"This guy committed the most horrible murder you could ever imagine,"
Chlouber said of the man convicted of killing his aunt. "It was almost
16 years
ago. And this guy has continued to live - and live very well - at
taxpayers'
expense. I mean, this guy should have been exterminated that very next
day.
I would have been glad to do it for them, without hesitation."
LaFevers and Cannon murdered the matriarch of Chlouber's extended
Oklahoma family, 84-year-old Addie Hawley. They did it in such a
vicious
manner that even today, years after the crime, the officers who
investigated it
remember it for its cruelty.
"I think this trip should be dedicated to seeing this vicious murderer
fly through
the gates of hell, and I want to be there when he does," said Chlouber.
LaFevers and Cannon broke into Hawley's Oklahoma City home
shortly after she returned from church. The men went to Hawley's
house because they wanted to steal her car, according to trial
testimony.
After breaking into the home, they severely beat Hawley and stuffed her
into
the trunk of her car. They eventually drove her to a vacant lot,
set her
on fire and torched the car.
When firefighters responded to the report of a grass fire, they found a
nude
and barely alive Hawley in the middle of a burned vacant lot.
Based on a jailhouse confession, Oklahoma investigators are convinced
Hawley also was
repeatedly raped by LaFevers. He was acquitted of a rape charge. Hawley
was
still
conscious when firefighters found her. They poured bottle after bottle
of saline solution on
the burns that covered 60 percent of her body. Her words were
incomprehensible.
By the time Chlouber's mother and brother arrived at Baptist Hospital,
she was near
death and couldn't speak at all.
"There were no last words. That kind of always bothered my mom. You
always want to
say goodbye," Chlouber said. "I guess what bothered me more - or as
much - was the
effect it had on my mom."
His mother went from being an "outgoing country gal" to a virtual
recluse. After her
sister's murder, his mother had new locks installed on her doors and
windows.
"It virtually made her a prisoner in her own home," Chlouber said.
His mother, while still a teenager, had moved from the Texas Panhandle
to Oklahoma City to
live with her sister after Hawley married. While she attended high
school in Oklahoma City,
Chlouber's mother lived with Hawley. The two became "incredibly close."
"My aunt Addie was the oldest of all my momma's brothers and sisters.
So she was
kind of the head of the family," said Chlouber. "Everything happened at
Aunt
Addie's,
everything happened there."
"This was the woman (Hawley) who in her whole life I don't think she
ever did anything
wrong. We have so many gray areas in society anymore. Right and wrong
was very clear to
her."
Chlouber says he has never wanted to sit down with LaFevers.
"I have no desire to talk to him," said Chlouber. "I'd like to
kill him. I'd like to kill him
in the same manner he executed my aunt. I know my momma wouldn't be
proud of me for
saying that. I'm probably not proud of myself for saying that.
"But that is just the way it is. There is no way around that. It's real life, real people."
However, there is a chance that LaFevers won't be executed Tuesday.
Today, his
lawyers will ask the Denver-based 10th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals to
block
the
execution.
They claim that from the results of recent DNA testing, it can be
inferred that Cannon was
the primary culprit and LaFevers' involvement - if any - was minimal.
Cannon remains on
Oklahoma's death row for Hawley's murder.
LaFevers has said he doesn't want to die. On the Canadian Coalition
Against the Death
Penalty web site, LaFevers writes:
"I was born 8-28-65. I've been incarcerated since June 26, 1985. I've
been on death row
since May 1st, 1986. I'm in the final stages of my appeal process. I'm
just looking for
someone to share some thoughts and dreams with. . . . My
interests are I read a little bit, I
piddle around with different little hobby craft projects. I guess my
key interest at this
moment is just hoping and trying to stay alive."
LaFevers' lawyers won't comment, referring instead to their briefs
filed with the court of
appeals. Oklahoma prosecutors did not return phone calls.
LaFevers was tried twice, once in 1986 and again in 1993. An appellate
court ordered the
second trial, saying Cannon and LaFevers shouldn't have been tried
together.
Chlouber said he's felt a little guilty being in Colorado, removed from
what
happened in
Oklahoma.
"It was always so devastating to my mom and to everybody down there
that was still there,"
Chlouber said. "And of course, I was the one when growing up who
couldn't wait to get out
of that dirt. I wanted Oklahoma in that rear view mirror.
"So now I'm determined to see this through to conclusion. I just want
to be there for the
end. I want to see that period at the end of his sentence."
