[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----TEXAS, PENN., VA., N.C., GA., FLA.

[Rick Halperin]

Oct. 3



TEXAS----new execution date

Coy Wesbrook has been given an execution date for March 9; it should be 
consideed serious.

Executions under Greg Abbott, Jan. 21, 2015-present----10

Executions in Texas: Dec. 7, 1982----present-----528

Abbott#--------scheduled execution date-----name------------Tx. #

11---------October 6----------------Juan Garcia-----------529

12---------October 14---------------Licho Escamilla-------530

13---------November 3---------------Julius Murphy---------531

14---------November 18--------------Raphael Holiday-------532

15---------January 20 (2016)-----Richard Masterson--------533

16---------January 27---------------James Freeman---------534

17---------February 16--------------Gustavo Garcia--------535

18---------March 9------------------Coy Wesbrook----------536

(sources: TDCJ & Rick Halperin)






PENNSYLVANIA:

Death penalty sought in Owego native's Pa. murder----Jury trials in Lancaster 
County, Pa., are scheduled for next year


The 2 men accused of sexually assaulting and murdering Owego native Nicole 
Mathewson in Pennsylvania will face jury trials next year, and 1 suspect could 
face the death penalty if convicted.

Thomas Moore, 26, and Marcus Rutter, 16, were charged in the Dec. 15 death of 
Mathewson, then a 32-year-old Lancaster school teacher. Police say they 
intended to commit a burglary at her residence.

Prosecutors in January announced an intention to seek the death penalty for 
Moore, whose jury trial in Lancaster County is expected to be held in April. 
Pennsylvania Gov. Tom Wolf declared in February a moratorium on the state's 
death penalty, but the prosecution's intent to seek it remains intact for 
Moore's trial, Moore's defense lawyer Jeff Conrad said.

"The Commonweath can still proceed with an intention to seek the death 
penalty," Conrad, of Lancaster, said Friday. "Whether or not it will be imposed 
is another story."

Rutter is not eligible for the death penalty due to his age, according to 
prosecutors. His trial was scheduled for Jan. 11, 2016.

Both trials are expected to last up to 3 weeks, according to court records.

Mathewson, a 2000 graduate of Owego Free Academy, has been remembered by her 
family for her contagious laugh and good heart.

She was employed a 6th-grade teacher at Brownstone Elementary School in the 
Conestoga Valley School District.

"Nicole served here in exemplary fashion for 7 1/2 years. She will be greatly 
missed," Superintendent Gerald Huesken said in an email after her death.

The morning of Dec. 15, Lancaster police were dispatched on a report of an 
unresponsive woman in a house on North Franklin Street. The woman was 
identified as Mathewson, police said.

Detectives later identified Rutter as a suspect, court papers said, and he was 
taken into custody that same evening in a residence less than a mile from where 
Mathewson was found.

>From there, investigators say, Moore was also linked to the crime and he was 
taken into custody Dec. 16 in Lancaster Township.

Mathewson died as a result of "multiple traumatic injuries," police said.

Moore and Rutter have been charged with multiple felonies related to her 
murder, including criminal homicide, burglary, criminal conspiracy to commit 
burglary and robbery, and involuntary deviate sexual intercourse.

They are being held in the Lancaster County jail while awaiting trials.

(source: pressconnects.com)






VIRGINIA----execution

The execution of Alfredo Prieto: Witnessing a serial killer's final moments


It is undeniably disturbing to drive to the scheduled killing of another. A 
hurricane brewing in the distance, slicing steady rain through the gray day. 
The 1st song on the car radio: "Enter Sandman," by Metallica. Passing the old 
Lorton prison on the way out of Fairfax County.

But the state of Virginia handles the execution of convicted murderers in a 
precise and professional way. Similarly, serial killer Alfredo R. Prieto lived 
the final moments of his life with his own version of professionalism, 
maintaining the same passive look he held through his 3 long trials in Fairfax, 
and defiantly refusing to show any remorse or regret as he issued a rehearsed 
final statement similar to a pro athlete being interviewed after a game. He 
thanked his "supporters" and then snapped, "Get it over with."

They did. He entered the death chamber at 8:52 p.m. Thursday, and was dead by 
9:17 p.m. A diverse crowd of witnesses watched every moment intently, some in 
the chamber with him, some victims' family members and friends in a room 
peering through 1-way glass, and then about 18 more people - lawyers, 
corrections officials, and 4 reporters including me - facing him straight on 
from another room. We watched what appeared to be an utterly painless death for 
a man who brutally killed 9 people and devastated 9 families, and here is how 
it unfolded:

3 p.m.: 6 hours before Prieto's scheduled execution, there is a court order in 
place postponing it, and no one knows whether the execution will happen. In 
Richmond, lawyers are arguing about whether the 1st drug used in Virginia's 
lethal injection process will cause undue pain to Prieto. When they are done, 
U.S. District Judge Henry E. Hudson doesn't immediately issue a ruling. The 
execution remains in limbo.

At Greensville Correctional Center in southern Virginia, visitor logs show that 
Prieto is visited by his mother, Teodora Alvarado, his sister Yolanda Loucel, 
his brother Guillermo Prieto, all from Pomona, Calif.; and a Catholic prison 
chaplain, the Rev. Richard Mooney from Petersburg. It's not clear whether 
Prieto's family stayed for the execution. Mooney would come in and take a seat 
in the main witness room minutes before the execution started, but would not 
say whether Prieto asked to be absolved of his sins.

6 p.m.: Judge Hudson lifts the stay on the execution, ruling that Prieto's 
lawyers had not shown that the drug pentobarbital would cause him pain. One of 
the lawyers who argued his case in Richmond, Elizabeth Peiffer, also joins us 
in the witness room, sitting next to Mooney.

7 p.m.: Various groups arrive at the prison in Jarratt, Va., just off 
Interstate 95 and 20 miles north of the North Carolina line. Deidre and Matt 
Raver, the sister and brother of 22-year-old murder victim Rachael Raver, are 
present as is Velda Jefferson, the mother of 24-year-old murder victim Tina 
Jefferson. Several relatives and family friends join them. No relatives of the 
5 people slain by Prieto in California are present, though they are following 
the news online.

Also arriving is Ray Morrogh, the Fairfax County prosecutor who co-chaired the 
1st Prieto trial with then Fairfax prosecutor Robert Horan, along with his 
chief deputy Casey Lingan, who assisted in the second and third Prieto trials. 
They are joined by retired Detective Bob Murphy, who was a Fairfax cold case 
detective in 2005 when the word came in that a DNA hit on 2 unsolved homicides 
from 1988 had linked a prisoner in California - Prieto - to the deaths of 
Raver, her boyfriend Warren Fulton, and Jefferson. Morrogh and Lingan take 
seats in the front row along with the jury foreman from the 2nd Prieto trial, 
who wanted to express his support for the victims but did not want to be 
identified. They will sit about 6 feet from Prieto, as they did at the trials, 
when Prieto wore high-collared shirts to hide his gang tattoos, and hid his 
shackled ankles under a tablecloth spread over the defense table.

8 p.m.: Of the 4 media witnesses, Frank Green of the Richmond Times-Dispatch 
and Brent Epperson of WBRG radio in Lynchburg are veterans of the process, 
having seen multiple executions. They are joined by Alanna Durkin of the AP, 
seeing her 1st, and me, having witnessed 1 previous lethal injection in 
Missouri. We are given a briefing of how things are expected to go.We are told 
that Prieto had a final meal but asked that its contents not be revealed. It is 
noted that he can only request food available from the prison kitchen, no 
steaks or extravagances from the outside.

As we take vans from one building to another, the rain keeps pounding down, and 
the night gets progressively gloomier. As is usual on an execution night in 
most prisons, the general population, which is more than 3,000 here, is on 
lockdown, so the ambient racket is minimal. Guards in rain gear are everywhere, 
and everyone's movements are closely tracked by radio traffic. There is chatter 
about the arrival of the secretary of public safety, former assistant Arlington 
prosecutor Brian Moran. He will join us soon in the witness room.

8:45 p.m.: We are led to the witness room, about 15 feet wide with 4 tiered 
levels of plastic chairs facing a large pane of glass. Beyond that, the death 
chamber, and an empty white gurney with supports jutting out on either side for 
the patient's arms. We have been told that Prieto is in a cell adjacent to the 
death chamber. Morrogh, Lingan and the jury foreman are in the front row. A big 
sign above the glass window declares, "Media Must Be Seated in Rear of the 
Room." So we are.

8:50 p.m.: A thick, anxious silence fills the room. We are all staring at the 
empty gurney. The electric chair is apparently nearby, and ready, but Prieto 
chose lethal injection.

8:53 p.m.: Prieto emerges from his cell, handcuffed and shackled, surrounded by 
6 guards. He is somewhat heavier than when we last saw him in Fairfax in 2010, 
and his hair is thinner. He is wearing glasses, a blue work shirt, blue work 
pants and sandals with no socks. The guards lift him on to the gurney, remove 
the cuffs, and then place 2 leather straps across his chest, 2 more straps 
across his legs, 1 around each ankle, and then strap down each hand.

8:55 p.m.: A curtain in front of our window is closed so that medical personnel 
cannot be seen placing intravenous tubes into each arm and a heart monitor on 
his chest.

9:03 p.m.: The curtain is still closed. Moran receives word that the 4th 
Circuit Court of Appeals has rejected an appeal of Judge Hudson's ruling from 6 
p.m.

9:07 p.m.: The curtain is still closed. It's been 12 minutes. Is something 
wrong? Can they not find a vein? I look at Frank Green. He shakes his head 
knowingly. This is standard. Mooney is reading his Bible. The silence is 
suffocating.

9:08 p.m.: The curtain opens. Prieto's arms are extended onto the supports, IV 
tubes in both forearms. A prison official asks if he has any last words and 
holds a microphone down to him. He is fully strapped down, but raises his head 
slightly to say quickly: "I would like to say thanks to all my lawyers, all my 
supporters and all my family members. Get this over with." We can't hear the 
last part because the audio in our room is unclear, but prison officials taped 
it and listened to it several times to get it exactly right.

9:09 p.m.: Prieto lies back, and there is no more sound. His face is 
emotionless, not sad or fearful or angry. The only movement is his chest 
heaving. He is presumably receiving the dose of compounded pentobarbital, 
blamed in the extended pain episodes experienced by inmates elsewhere. Now it 
is really quiet.

9:12 p.m.: A guard stands by Prieto's head, watching his chest still moving. 
There are 2 more guards to Prieto's right, and three correctional officials 
standing by a wall to his left, including Harold W. Clarke, the state director 
of the Department of Corrections. Clarke is holding a red phone connected to 
the governor's office, but he is not talking. No one is talking. We are 
watching for any sign of life. Or death.

9:13 p.m.: A guard moves to Prieto's feet, takes off his sandals and pinches 
Prieto's feet. We learned in the Richmond hearing that this is done to see if 
the 1st drug has effectively sedated the prisoner. Prieto doesn't move. The 
pentobarbital has made him unconscious without incident.

9:15 p.m.: Prieto does not appear to be breathing. He should have received a 
2nd drug to stop his lungs, and then a 3rd drug to stop his heart.

9:17 p.m.: Warden Eddie L. Pearson emerges from a curtain behind Prieto and 
announces, "The Fairfax County court order has been carried out at 9:17 p.m." 
Prieto is dead.

9:18 p.m.: The curtain closes. We are soon ushered out.

9:50 p.m.: Prieto's body is taken by ambulance to the medical examiner's office 
in Richmond. He is gone.

I first met Dede Raver in 2000, 12 years after her sister was killed in Reston. 
A DNA match had been made with Tina Jefferson's slaying in Arlington, but there 
was still no suspect. Raver would become active in pushing for more funding for 
DNA use in crime fighting, and now it is everywhere. And now, her sister's 
killer had been caught, convicted and put to death.

"To me, the whole thing is so surreal," she said late Thursday night. "It's 
lasted so long, it's hard to believe it's come to an end."

She said of Prieto: "I did not see any emotion in him. It kind of haunts me 
because I kind of know that's the expression my sister saw. I found it 
absolutely disturbing." She did not expect him to apologize or offer 
condolences. "But I'm glad that I went," she said, "because my mother really 
wanted to. [Veronica Raver, who attended all 3 Prieto trials in Fairfax despite 
suffering from stomach cancer, died in 2013.] So I did it on her behalf."

It was Ray Morrogh's 3rd time witnessing an execution, which he felt was only 
right as a prosecutor who sometimes seeks the death penalty. "I thought Prieto 
died a much easier death than any of his victims," he said. "He passed very 
quietly. The way he was administered the lethal injection and went to sleep, 
I've seen family and friends struggle to the last heartbeat. His death was a 
lot easier than those women who begged for their lives."

>From the back row, Prieto's death was the culmination of a sad 15-year journey, 
starting with speaking to the Ravers and the Jeffersons when their daughters' 
cases were first linked in 2000. Then in 2005, I learned from excited cold case 
detectives Murphy and Steve Milefsky that they had a break in the unsolved 
17-year-old double killing. Prieto would soon enter Virginia as he would leave 
it, in cuffs.

In 2006, I waited outside Fairfax police headquarters for Prieto to arrive from 
California late one night, and asked him, "How will you plead?" He looked at me 
and said without missing a beat, "Not guilty." I sat with the Ravers, Fultons 
and Jeffersons through 3 long, painful capital murder trials from 2007 to 2010. 
Not once did Prieto rise to proclaim his own innocence or deny the charges, 
though he had 2 of Virginia's best defense attorneys, Peter Greenspun and 
Jonathan Shapiro, raising mental deficiency and every other argument in hopes 
of saving his life. I once filed my own motion to get a camera in the 
courtroom, horrifying Post lawyers, which Judge Randy I. Bellows graciously 
allowed me to argue. (Denied.) I took 1 last shot and wrote to Prieto last 
month asking for an interview. (No reply.)

But Morrogh and countless others are right that the muted process of lethal 
injection seems disproportionate to the violent horror that brought us here. 
The clinical professionalism of the execution is the government's compromise 
between those who would stage public hangings and those who would abolish the 
death penalty. In the end, as with most compromises, neither side feels truly 
satisfied.

(source: Tom Jackman, Washington Post)






NORTH CAROLINA:

It's time state lawmakers listened to Pope Francis on death penalty


When Pope Francis addressed Congress late last month, one of the loudest and 
longest rounds of applause came after he said the Golden Rule reminds us of the 
responsibility to protect and defend human life at the early stage of 
development.

But the pope then said he has supported the global abolition of the death 
penalty since the beginning of his ministry.

"I am convinced that this way is the best, since every life is sacred," Pope 
Francis said. He continued: "Society can only benefit from the rehabilitation 
of those convicted of crimes."

Not surprisingly, those words received a much shorter and quieter applause from 
Congress than the pro-life comments.

But the pope made his point. If life is sacred inside the womb to those who 
oppose abortion, then why do some of those same people believe it can be taken 
outside the womb at the government's hand?

A Republican member of the N.C. General Assembly made the same point during a 
news conference, staking out a position not popular among his colleagues.

"Also, most Republicans profess to be pro-life, and I think some conservatives 
are wondering whether being pro-life and supporting the death penalty is 
consistent," said Rep. Jon Hardister of Greensboro.

The conservative Hardister held a news conference to state his opposition to 
the death penalty. With him was Nebraska state Sen. Colby Coash, also a 
Republican. Coash led the charge for the repeal of that state's death penalty 
earlier this year.

Hardister believes it's logical for conservatives to oppose the death penalty. 
It's inefficient and expensive, many people have been exonerated from death 
row, executions have been botched across the country, and there is no clear, 
consistent evidence that the death penalty deters crime, he argued. He believes 
death sentences should be replaced with life in prison without the possibility 
of parole.

Coash said he first started to oppose the death penalty when he attended an 
execution at the state penitentiary as a college student. Those who wanted the 
convict to die partied in the parking lot, with a barbecue and a band. They 
counted down the execution as if they were counting down on New Year's Eve.

"And it was a sight that stuck with me," Coash said. "And I said to myself at 
the time, 'This isn't the way it's supposed to be. We're not supposed to be 
celebrating death in this way.'"

To believe in the death penalty is to trust the government is going to get it 
right, Coash said. Nebraska state officials had a long discussion about what 
power they wanted to give state leaders and state government.

"The death penalty just tipped us over the edge," he said. "That was just too 
much power."

Ernie Pearson, a Raleigh attorney and founding member of Conservatives 
Concerned About the Death Penalty in North Carolina, brought the conversation 
back to Christianity. He said he led a prison Bible study and has seen 
criminals with lengthy sentences make very sincere changes in their lives.

"If we stand for right-to-life and believe that an unborn infant is entitled to 
an opportunity to breathe their first breath and become all they can be, we do 
not have the right to take away a person's life if there's any chance that God 
can redeem them, and there's always a chance," Pearson said.

The political courage of Hardister and Coash should be commended. The time has 
come for a serious talk about whether capital punishment is right for North 
Carolina.

Maybe politicians need to do more than applaud the values they say they 
support.

(source: Opinion; Patrick Gannon, News & Observer)






GEORGIA:

A Media Witness - 11Alive's Jeff Hullinger's Personal Account Of Kelly 
Gissendaner's Execution


I've been interviewed by 11Alive's Jeff Hullinger many times. Today, I wanted 
to interview him. Hullinger was an official witness to the execution of Kelly 
Gissendaner in the early hours of this morning. He reported the events leading 
up to the execution via twitter. While neither trying to be the story nor 
report a personal opinion point of view, it's clear that he assumed this role 
demonstrating a very transparent human quality. The experience was clearly not 
one of joy for him, nor one to be sensatinalized or hyped. Instead, he did 
exactly what the role requires: He gave a window to a horrible event that all 
among us wish were unnecessary or did not happen. Below are his words, prepared 
for us, in witness for what he observed.

We were ushered onto prison grounds with heavy security. I've never been in a 
maximum security prison. Spending 6 hours inside for the execution drove home 
the enormity of death and hopelessness , No iPhone no money, no medicine, no 
rings, no watches, no freedom.

I asked an imposing bald guard who doesn't make eye contact for permission to 
use the restroom. Only one at a time under his supervision. With 3 experienced 
reporters in a break room near the warden's office we sat. Combined they had 
witnessed 23 executions. Strangely this gave me comfort. I felt somewhat at 
ease in Prison that maybe this would be okay.

Together we sat under guard with pencils and paper and water for 6 hrs. talking 
politics, government and Burt Reynolds movies. This began at 6:20 and ended 
when the guard came and retrieved us tersely at 11:39 saying "grab your stuff".

We exited through a long tunnel bunker to a waiting van - we see DA Danny 
Porter, AG Sam Olens - It's foggy, zero visibility - the road is lined with big 
men toting big automatic weapons in black armor. Through checkpoints we went 
silently, flanked by razor wire.

We were the last in to a small building that looks like a concession stand at a 
high school football game. We entered seeing 3 church style pews with lots of 
men. Then right in front of us is Kelley Gissendanner -- on the gurney, arms 
outstretched with needles and tubes. She makes eye contact as we enter the 
room. She begins to sob, I avert my eyes trying to compose myself. She is 
somewhat agitated or nervous.

The chamber door closes behind with a clang. No one is to exit. We are told, 
"There is medical attention (a doctor) if you need it."

The warden appears as a sort of host. A prayer is said; Gissendanner is crying, 
sobbing, wailing. Gissendaner singing a panicked "Amazing Grace" is a searing 
thought tonight. The hymn will not sound the same to me again.

"I'm sorry" she says to her husband, an "amazing man who didn't deserve it". . 
. She wants to take it back, She wanted her Children to know she went out 
signing Amazing grace.

The faces of those viewing were empty, forlorn, mostly male, and mostly turned 
away. A woman sobs & sings. Compassion is only present in thought.

Listening to prayer in the middle of this execution - in this awful place - 
felt necessary but unheard by a deity. An image I will never forget: The face 
of Kelly Gissendaner went from crimson to gray in the span of minutes, from 
sobbing to silence.

Death came before the doctor's pronouncement. Hands went from flexing to 
stillness. Minutes of silence on both sides of the glass. It was over 10 
minutes.

And when it was over, I wanted to sprint to the prison van amidst the razor 
wire. I wanted someone to take me somewhere to collect myself and pray.

I was home at 3:30AM couldn't sleep. Instead, after witnessing the execution, 
at 6:45AM I WAS packing my little boys lunch & taking him to school. I thank 
God for this.

I will never do it again.

(source: peachpundit.com)

**********************

Punishment befitting the crime


On Wednesday, Sept. 30, 2015, at 12:21 EST, under the authority of the State of 
Georgia, with the tacit approval of the governor, Kelly Renee Gissendaner was 
pronounced dead from a lethal injection of pentobarbital. She had been 
convicted of conspiring with her lover, Gregory Owen, in the February 1997 
murder of her husband, Douglas Gissendaner. She was the only woman on Georgia's 
death row; a state that hadn't executed a person who didn't actually carry out 
a killing since the U.S. Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976. 
The supporters and detractors of the death penalty were quick to fight for the 
limelight.

2 of Gissendaner's 3 children had begged for clemency; addressing the parole 
board and releasing a video pleading for their mother's life; discussing their 
own struggles with forgiveness. Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano, Pope Francis' 
U.S. diplomatic representative, sent a letter to the parole board on behalf of 
the pontiff, citing an address the pope made to Congress in which he called for 
the abolition of the death penalty, asking for a commutation of Gissendaner's 
sentence "to one that would better express both justice and mercy."

Conversely, Douglas Gissendaner's family released a statement Monday pointing 
out that Douglas was the victim and that Kelly Gissendaner received an 
appropriate sentence. "As the murderer, she's been given more rights and 
opportunity over the last 18 years than she ever afforded to Doug who, again, 
is the victim here," the statement says. "She had no mercy, gave him no rights, 
no choices, nor the opportunity to live his life."

That this was unfolding before us at 6 a.m., over Pop Tarts and backpacks, 
didn't allow for self-reflection on my opposition to the death penalty. The 
boys had a bus to catch in 20 minutes and they had questions. It was intriguing 
to see the events through their eyes based on their own experiences. Our 
children are very clear on our position that injustice does not necessitate 
greater retribution. They experience it every day; one of the siblings will 
have some egregious behavior and the other would like to use that injustice as 
justification for a punch in the face or a push to the ground. We go to great 
lengths to explain to them that, simply because a sibling makes a poor choice, 
they are not relieved of their responsibility to make good choices; abhorrent 
behavior doesn???t justify similarly egregious action on their behalf.

On the flip side, I understand that's just our rule - the law in our land and 
within our walls. I can appreciate the sense of moral indignation that builds 
looking into the face of malevolence as well as the satisfaction, finality, and 
self-righteous satisfaction that may arise from watching such a person be 
removed from society by our hand. Often, I find my position legitimately 
challenged by advocates of the death penalty demanding the ultimate consequence 
for actions we agree are so heinous that simply hearing of the deeds brings 
tears to the eyes of even the most hardened among us. Reminders that some 
people are just evil to their very core.

What I can't reconcile is my desire for retribution with my belief in what we 
teach our children; violence does not justify more violence. I would feel 
hypocritical to support taking a life for taking a life. The punishment of 
death is unforgiving, the application often skewed disproportionality, and 
perpetuates a wake of family destruction and despair. That Owen, who actually 
committed the murder, is eligible for parole in 2022 while Gissendaner was put 
to death is not lost on me. I question the seemingly arbitrary difference based 
on legal options available to the accused. The devastating crimes scream for 
justice; consequences are critical to provide order in society, I am just not 
ready to celebrate or believe that justice can be provided with the push of a 
button; it just isn't that simple.

(source: Marc Forrest is a Morning Sun columnist)






FLORIDA:

More motions filed in Mesac Damas case, including future dates and which 
photographs to show to jury


The 1st-degree murder and death penalty case against Mesac Damas continues to 
crawl toward a potential 2016 trial date, with several motions scheduled out 
during a hearing Friday.

Prosecutors and Damas's lawyers are waiting for the U.S. Supreme Court to hear 
oral arguments in two weeks about whether Florida's death penalty sentencing 
scheme is constitutional. In the meantime, lawyers working Damas's case on 
Friday set dates for January and February 2016 to hear several motions, 
including whether to limit which photographs will be presented to jurors.

Damas, 39, is accused of killing his wife and 5 children, all younger than 9 
years old, in their North Naples home in September 2009. Damas confessed to the 
homicides following his arrest and in emails to the Daily News.

(source: Naples Daily News)