[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----KAN., UTAH, ARIZ., CALIF.

[Rick Halperin]

March 23



KANSAS:

Kansas Supreme Court to hear 'Slavemaster' appeal----John E. Robinson convicted 
of 6 murders, admits 2 others



A serial killer who used the Internet name "Slavemaster" and promises of work 
to lure women to his bondage and sadism practices will appeal his capital 
murder convictions and death sentence before the Kansas Supreme Court this 
week.

An attorney for John E. Robinson Sr. will present oral arguments before the 
Kansas high court at 9 a.m Tuesday. A live video stream of the proceedings is 
available through the Supreme Court's website, live.kscourts.org.

Robinson was 58 in October 2002 when he was convicted in Johnson County 
District Court on 2 capital murder charges in the killings of Izabel Lewicka, 
21, and Suzette Trouten, 27. Their decomposed bodies were found in drum barrels 
on Robinson's La Cygne farm.

Robinson also was convicted in Kansas of 1st-degree murder in the death of Lisa 
Stasi, whose body was never found after she was last seen in 1985. Robinson 
also was convicted on another charge involving the fraudulent adoption of 
Stasi's 4-month-old daughter.

The same Kansas jury that convicted Robinson recommended the death penalty 
after a separate hearing.

Robinson has been linked to the killing of 8 women in Kansas and Missouri 
between 1984 and his 2000 arrest in Kansas.

In Missouri he pleaded guilty - as part of a plea arrangement to avoid that 
state's frequently applied death penalty - to the 1st-degree murders of Beverly 
Bonner, a former Missouri prison librarian Robinson befriended while serving 
time on a fraud conviction, and Sheila Faith and her disabled teen daughter, 
Debbie. The bodies of the 3 women were found - after the discovery of the 
bodies in Kansas - in a Raymore, Mo., storage locker rented by Robinson.

As part of his Missouri plea agreement, Robinson also admitted killing 2 former 
employees, Paula Godfrey, 19, believed to be the 1st of his victims in 1984, 
and Catherine Clampitt, 27. Robinson was never charged in their deaths, and 
their bodies have never been found.

Robinson's case attracted national attention after investigators uncovered 
evidence of his cyber-stalking of victims through Internet chat rooms. At his 
Kansas trial, jurors were shown a videotaped sadomasochistic sex scene with one 
of his victims.

In his appeal before the Kansas Supreme Court, Robinson argues for a new trial 
based on alleged errors in the guilt and penalty phases of his trial. Among his 
arguments are the trial court's refusal to grant change of venue or suppress 
evidence, and the sufficiency of evidence to support multiple convictions.

Robinson's hearing comes at a time when the Kansas high court is under intense 
political scrutiny after a series of recent decisions in which death sentences 
were overturned even as capital murder convictions were upheld.

The most famous case involves the overturned death sentences of Reginald and 
Jonathan Carr, convicted in Wichita for the 2000 execution-style murders of 4 
people who were forced to have sex with each other before they were led to a 
snow-covered field and shot. A 5th victim that night survived the wound to her 
head and became a chief witness in the trial, which included yet another murder 
conviction for the killing of a Wichita woman several days earlier.

The Supreme Court ruled the Sedgwick County District Court erred in not giving 
the Carrs separate trials in the penalty phase.

This past July, the Kansas court upheld the capital murder conviction of former 
Topeka resident Sidney Gleason for 2 murders in Great Bend, but also vacated 
his death sentence.

Kansas Attorney General Derek Schmidt has asked the U.S. Supreme Court to 
review the Kansas decision for both the Carrs and Gleason.

In 1 other case, the Kansas court overturned the conviction and death sentence 
of Scott Cheever in the shooting death of Greenwood County Sheriff Matthew 
Samuels. That decision was later overturned after Schmidt's appeal to the U.S. 
Supreme Court, which said the Kansas court erred and remanded the case.

In yet another case, the high court cited ineffectiveness of counsel in 
overturning the conviction and death sentence for Phillip Cheatham Jr., in the 
shooting death of 2 Topeka women and critical wounding of another. Prior to the 
start of his new trial, Cheatham - now known as King Phillip Amman Reu-El - 
recently pleaded guilty as part of a plea arrangement in which he avoided a 
possible death sentence. He won't be eligible for parole for at least 25 1/2 
years after already serving 11 years in prison.

The last execution in Kansas was June 22, 1965 when James Latham and George 
York were hanged on the same day. Their executions came 2 months after Perry 
Smith and Richard Hickock were hanged for the infamous "In Cold Blood" murders 
of the 4-member Clutter family in Holcomb.

Gov. Sam Brownback is pushing for a change in the way Kansas Supreme Court 
justices are selected. Candidates to the bench currently are nominated by a 
select committee of state lawyers. The governor then makes a selection from the 
list of nominees. Brownback wants a change wherein the governor makes his own 
nomination that has to be confirmed by the Kansas Senate.

(source: Topeka Capital-Journal)

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

Case of convicted serial killer John E. Robinson Sr. to finally get appeal 
hearing



It has been almost 15 years since a stream of crimson liquid, oozing from a 
metal barrel, revealed a serial killer's grisly handiwork.

The discovery of a woman's body stuffed inside that barrel kicked off one of 
the biggest police investigations ever in the Kansas City area. It led to

8 murder convictions across 2 states and a Kansas death sentence for an Olathe 
grandfather named John E. Robinson Sr. Robinson's trial for 3 killings, the 
longest criminal prosecution in Kansas history, has produced an equally epic 
and complicated appeal. On Tuesday, it finally will be argued in front of the 
Kansas Supreme Court, 12 years after lawyers first filed the notice of appeal.

Like the police, prosecutors, defense attorneys and jurors before them, the 
court's justices face a daunting task.

"The state of Kansas has never seen a prosecution of this scale and magnitude," 
Robinson's attorneys wrote in a 2002 pretrial motion.

They summed up the case this way: "The extraordinary allegations ... are 
unprecedented in Kansas history in the nature of the charges, the technical 
nature of the evidence, the span of time covered in the allegations, the extent 
of media coverage, and the volume of evidence generated by multiple federal, 
state and local jurisdictions that committed massive and unprecedented 
resources to the investigation."

The appeal has generated what is believed to be another record: Attorneys for 
the state and defense have combined to file more than 800 pages of written 
legal arguments in advance of Tuesday's hearing. The trial transcript runs more 
than 12,000 pages.

Robinson's attorneys have raised 101 issues on appeal, ranging from how police 
secretly took bags of trash from outside his house, to how jurors were chosen 
and instructed, to how the trial judge handled a juror bringing a Bible into 
the jury room during deliberations.

The defense contends that a multitude of errors violated Robinson's 
constitutional rights and warrant throwing out his conviction and sentence.

Attorneys for the state counter that Robinson received a fair trial and that 
any errors did not rise to the level requiring a reversal.

The case first made headlines in June 2000 after authorities found 2 women's 
bodies stuffed into barrels on property Robinson owned in Linn County, Kan.

Investigators later discovered other barrels, containing 3 more victims, in a 
Raymore storage locker Robinson had rented.

The investigation also led detectives to suburban Chicago, where they 
discovered that the adopted teenage daughter of Robinson's brother was in 
reality the child of a Kansas City woman who disappeared in 1985 with her 
newborn daughter. Robinson was the last person seen with them.

The sadomasochistic lifestyles of Robinson and some of his victims provided 
salacious details for national and international news organizations that 
reported on the case.

Several of the women had moved from other parts of the country to be Robinson's 
sex slaves.

Prosecutors painted Robinson as a serial philanderer who maintained the quiet 
facade of a devoted family man. His criminal history of financial crimes belied 
the extreme violence he perpetrated against his victims.

Ultimately, he would be convicted of 8 murders, including those of three women 
who disappeared in the 1980s and whose bodies never have been found. One was 
Lisa Stasi, the mother whose daughter was raised by Robinson's brother and 
sister-in-law after Robinson engineered a sham adoption.

5 of those convictions were in Cass County, where Robinson pleaded guilty and 
was sentenced to life in prison.

His Johnson County trial is the subject of Tuesday's appellate arguments.

Jury selection alone took 3 weeks.

"It was 103 degrees outside when we started jury selection," recalled Sean 
O'Brien, 1 of Robinson's defense attorneys who now teaches law at the 
University of Missouri-Kansas City. "And there was snow on the ground when the 
verdict came in."

After another 3 weeks of trial testimony, jurors found Robinson guilty of 
capital and 1st-degree murder and unanimously agreed that he receive a death 
sentence.

Robinson, now 71, is the only person sentenced to death in Johnson County since 
Kansas reinstated capital punishment in 1994.

Several factors have contributed to the delay between trial and an appeal 
hearing.

Both the defense and state requested additional time to research and address 
the myriad legal issues. The case was put on hold for a time during a challenge 
to the Kansas death penalty law that reached the U.S. Supreme Court.

In addition, the Kansas Supreme Court has been careful to consider death 
penalty appeals only 1 or 2 at a time, and it took up the appeal of Wichita 
brothers Reginald and Jonathan Carr before setting Robinson's case for 
argument, said Joseph Luby, 1 of the lawyers handling Robinson's appeal.

In scope and complexity, only the Carr brothers case has come close to equaling 
that of Robinson, court officials said.

Assistant Johnson County District Attorney Steve Obermeier, who has handled 
Johnson County's criminal appeals for nearly 2 decades, will argue part of the 
case for the state.

"Those are the longest briefs I've ever been involved in," Obermeier said.

Luby, an attorney with the Death Penalty Litigation Clinic in Kansas City, was 
part of Robinson's defense team at trial.

"There were a broad set of facts and a broad set of evidence," he said. "That 
necessarily implicates a broad set of legal questions."

Though each side has been allotted 1 hour to make its oral presentation 
Tuesday, the court often engages attorneys in questioning that could extend the 
time, Luby said.

"This court is known for exercising great care in death penalty cases," Luby 
said. "In a death penalty case, that's certainly what everybody wants."

The case

John E. Robinson Sr. was convicted of killing 8 women: Suzette Trouten, 27, and 
Izabela Lewicka, 21, were found in barrels on his Linn County, Kan., farm 
property; Beverly Bonner, 49, Sheila Faith, 45, and her 15-year-old daughter, 
Debbie Faith, were found in barrels in a Raymore storage locker; Paula Godfrey, 
19, Catherine Clampitt, 27, and Lisa Stasi, 19, disappeared in the 1980s. Their 
bodies never have been found.

(source: Kansas City Star)








UTAH:

Herbert has until April 1 to make up his mind



Utah law allows Gov. Gary Herbert 20 days following the adjournment of the 
Legislative Session to review bills and decide whether he will either veto them 
or sign them into law. This year, that means Herbert has until April Fools Day 
to make up his mind.

One would think that with the GOP overwhelmingly controlling both houses of the 
legislature and the governor's mansion in this state that a veto on a bill 
passed by this state's legislature would be rare, but Gov. Herbert has shown 
that he is not afraid to kill legislation he feels is bad for the state of 
Utah.

Last year Herbert vetoed HB414, a bill that would have given the state 
legislature the power to enforce subpoenas - power they sought after the 
House's special committee investigating the allegations against former Attorney 
General John Swallow had trouble with several targets of that investigation 
refusing to comply with orders issued by the committee. Herbert felt the power 
would infringe on the civil rights of those being subpoenaed and that the power 
to enforce should remain with the courts. In 2013 he vetoed HB76, a much talked 
about bill that would have allowed concealed firearms to be carried without a 
permit in Utah.

And in 2012 he vetoed a sex-education bill that would have outlawed classroom 
discussion tied to the topics of sexual intercourse, contraceptives and 
homosexuality.

This year, there are 2 pieces of legislation that are generating the majority 
of discussion regarding a gubernatorial veto.

The 1st is HB396, a bill that would prevent Utah's air quality boards from 
implementing seasonal wood-burning bans.

Herbert has indicated that he's leaning toward vetoing this legislation.

He said, "You know, to just take out of the hands of our air quality board that 
have a responsibility to help us develop rules that help our environment and 
air quality, seems to be an overkill," during a news conference earlier this 
month. "To say they cannot put in place parameters and rules and regulations 
about wood burning is probably a little short-sighted, so I'm going to take a 
hard look at that."

We couldn't agree more with the governor's statements. While the issue of air 
quality is less of a concern in Southern Utah, to tie the hands of air quality 
authorities by limiting their ability to keep people from burning wood during 
the heaviest of inversion days seems beyond short-sighted to us.

The other bill generating a great deal of talk regarding a veto is HB11, the 
bill that would allow the state to execute death row inmates by firing squad if 
lethal injection drugs are unavailable.

Numerous groups that oppose the death penalty, including the Catholic Diocese 
of Salt Lake and a group called Utahns for Alternatives to the Death Penalty 
have urged the governor to veto the bill.

However, the governor has indicated he is likely to approve the legislation. 
"I'm leaning toward signing it," Herbert told reporters. "The debate is really 
more than just the firing squad. It's should we have capital punishment or 
not?"

On that point, the governor is correct. The Utah Department of Corrections 
currently has no supply of the drugs needed to carry out a lethal injection. 
While there are currently no death row inmates in Utah whose executions are 
imminent, when the time comes to carry out a death sentence issued by Utah's 
courts, will it be European drug makers who determine our stance on the death 
penalty?

Whether death comes via firing squad or lethal injection is truly immaterial. 
What should be debated is capital punishment itself. It's time for a frank, 
open and in-depth discussion of the death penalty in this state. And if we, as 
a state, determine that capital punishment, even if it means death by firing 
squad, is in line with our common values, then the means to carry out those 
sentences should be made available.

(source: The Spectrum & Daily News Editorial Board)








ARIZONA:

Juror treatment, conduct in Arias case raise questions



In the wake of the Jodi Arias mistrial, trial watchers on social media have 
demanded that the lone juror who kept Arias from death row be investigated for 
juror misconduct. And Maricopa County Attorney Bill Montgomery has said that 
his office will "review the matter."

But Juror 17, the holdout for a life sentence, may have the legal upper hand.

Her attorney, Tom Ryan, calls a probe conducted by the prosecutor during jury 
deliberations "an abuse of the office, and it's shameful."

In the wake of the post-mistrial outing of her name and address on social 
media, Ryan said, "I believe a crime was committed by the release of 
confidential juror information, and we're going to the FBI to investigate."

Juror 17 has been threatened, harassed and lives under police protection. She 
told The Arizona Republic, "No one else is being researched but the holdout. 
It's upsetting and it makes you lose faith.

"I feel that as a juror I should have been protected."

The Republic will not print the woman's name, even though it has been 
disseminated elsewhere.

Legal experts are split as to whether prosecutor Juan Martinez acted 
appropriately by conducting an investigation into Juror 17 near the end of the 
Arias sentencing retrial, when it was revealed to the court that she was the 
only juror blocking a unanimous verdict.

Martinez presented a screen grab of the woman's Facebook page with her name on 
it as evidence of perceived bias, but Maricopa County Superior Court Judge 
Sherry Stephens refused to remove her from the jury. The case proceeded to 
mistrial by hung jury.

Minutes after the mistrial was declared, the same piece of evidence - the 
Facebook screen shot - was posted online and sent to journalists waiting in the 
courthouse to interview the 11 jurors who wanted to send Arias to her death.

Juror identities are supposed to be protected. It is a crime to reveal them 
against their will.

It is a short list of people who were in the sealed court hearing where 
Martinez presented the evidence: the judge and her staff; the prosecutor; the 
case detective; defense attorneys; Jodi Arias; and victim Travis Alexander's 
family.

"When I find out who outed her, it is at least a civil case of invasion of 
privacy," Ryan said. "Whoever did this did it with intent to harm."

Or it could be a federal case, possibly with civil-rights implications.

"There is a constitutional obligation and a right to serve on jury duty," said 
Larry Hammond, a prominent defense attorney and former federal prosecutor.

"To interfere with someone's privacy while they are serving on a jury may be 
actionable," Hammond said.

The effect is chilling.

"I think we all should be concerned with the integrity of the legal process if 
the prosecutors are allowed to investigate jurors simply because they don't 
agree with them," said Arias' defense attorney, Jennifer Willmott.

"If the jury ends up saying that the community wants things a certain way, that 
may keep you from voting your conscience. Will you do jury duty if you will 
need police protection or if you need to hire a lawyer?"

It is a felony to influence, coerce or threaten a juror to change his or her 
vote, but those Arizona laws presuppose a verdict has not already been decided.

It is also in state law that juror names and biographical information are to be 
kept confidential unless ordered disclosed by the court.

According to the Arizona Rules of Criminal Procedure, the guidelines for 
conducting trials, jurors may not be forced to disclose their reasoning, "the 
subjective motives or mental processes" that led them to vote one way or 
another.

And in capital-case jury instructions, jurors are informed that they do not 
have to come to unanimous decisions as to the weight of mitigating evidence 
that may persuade them to vote for or against a death verdict.

In fact, jurors are told repeatedly during instructions to vote their 
conscience.

But the Arias case has blazed new trails, with trial watchers in cyberspace, 
both pro-Arias and anti-Arias, trying to bully, insult and influence media 
coverage and the outcome of the trial.

Juror 17 is now essentially in hiding.

"I'm not the person I was when I went into this," she said in a recent 
interview.

'NOT AN IMPARTIAL JURY'

In June 2008, Arias killed her lover, Travis Alexander, who was found in the 
shower of his Mesa, Ariz., home with a bullet in his head, nearly 30 stab 
wounds and a slit throat. Arias eventually confessed to the murder, but she 
claimed self-defense.

In May 2013, after a 21-week trial, she was found guilty of 1st-degree murder. 
The jury found the murder had been committed in an especially cruel manner, 
making Arias eligible for the death penalty.

The jury was not able to reach a unanimous verdict on whether to sentence Arias 
to death or to life in prison, however.

Angry Jodi Arias jurors say holdout had 'agenda'

A new jury was impaneled in October 2014, not to redetermine guilt or 
innocence, but only to determine whether she should get a life or death 
sentence.

Their initial vote on a sentence was split, with 7 wanting death, 4 undecided, 
and Juror 17 opting for life.

As they discussed the case, Juror 17 brought up the made-for-TV movie.

There were words thrown around.

"Right away I got the feeling that they were not an impartial jury," she said.

2 NOTES SENT TO JUDGE

2 notes went to the judge which ultimately identified how the jury was leaning.

Prosecutor Martinez asked that Juror 17 be removed in accord with other jurors' 
complaints. But Stephens noted that Juror 17 had disclosed having seen the film 
about Arias' case, and other things, on her juror questionnaire.

Later that day, Martinez produced the Facebook page, which identified Juror 17 
by name, and asked that she be removed.

Martinez again asked Stephens on March 4, to consider removing Juror 17. She 
would not. The next day, Stephens declared a mistrial.

Under state law, Arias could not be tried again. She would get life.

"I was so emotional, I was sobbing," Juror 17 said. She claimed she had gone 
home crying several nights. For the last 3 nights of the trial, she was 
escorted out separately from the other jurors.

IDENTITY MADE PUBLIC

When jurors met with reporters, they lambasted Juror 17.

They would not identify themselves. But Juror 17 had already been warned by the 
court that the public knew her name.

"I deactivated all my social-media accounts," she said. But her relatives were 
caught unaware.

Meanwhile, tweets and Facebook posts were going viral, listing her name and 
asking that it be passed on.

"My phone started ringing off the hook, so I changed my number," she said.

Her relatives started receiving threats and doctored photos. The trial watchers 
began scouring the Internet and revealing details of her life, including the 
convictions of her husband and ex-husband - and the surprise that the first 
husband had been prosecuted by none other than Martinez. That fueled 
speculation that she had been a "stealth juror" intent on undermining the 
prosecution's case.

She now has police protection.

"This woman is living in fear of her life," Ryan said. "And for what?"

LEGAL COMMUNITY DIVIDED

County Attorney Bill Montgomery would not comment on Juror 17 beyond a written 
statement issued last week.

"In instances where there is credible information of misconduct, the Maricopa 
County Attorney's Office will review the matter, request an independent 
investigation, and then seek an independent review for any potential charges 
and then for prosecution," he said. He also called on trial watchers for 
reason.

Whether Montgomery intends to pursue allegations of misconduct against Juror 17 
remains to be seen.

The legal community is split on whether Martinez should have investigated a 
juror keeping him from getting the verdict he wanted.

Jury starts deliberating in Jodi Arias sentencing trial

"You're telling people that their opinion really matters and that they should 
consult their consciences and understand that this is one of the most important 
decisions you can make," said Hammond, the defense attorney. "But please be 
forewarned that the prosecutor can conduct an investigation into your private 
dealings while you're doing that."

Michael Terribile, a defense attorney who says outright that he is not a 
Martinez fan, thinks it's OK for a lawyer to investigate a juror.

"I don't know if a lawyer does anything wrong by checking it out. It's what you 
do with the information later," Terribile said. "Where it broke down is, the 
judge didn't tell the other jurors that nobody has a right to tell anyone 
they're wrong."

But there was no debate about revealing the juror's name and personal 
information.

"That's more than troubling," said former U.S. Attorney for Arizona Paul 
Charlton. "If someone disclosed that information to intimidate her, that is of 
extraordinary concern. If it was done intentionally, then someone needs to 
answer for that."

Juror 17, meanwhile, wants no more part of jury duty.

"I don't ever want to do it again," she said. "You're asked to take an oath 
that you're going to be impartial and you're going to take everything under 
consideration. And you do, and get punished."

(source: Arizona Republic)








CALIFORNIA:

A Review: "Chessman" - Pat Brown, Jerry Brown and California's Crime of the 
Century



Crime never ceases to intrigue, especially its punishment. Half a century ago 
California executed convicted felons on a regular basis at San Quentin's gas 
chamber. That placed capital punishment at the core of the debate on crime and 
punishment in this state and the nation.

Today capital punishment is an intellectual issue; the last execution in 
California was 9 years ago. But long time capital figure Joseph Rodota brings 
the issue back to life with a new play he has written called "Chessman", which 
deals with the controversial 1960 execution of Caryl Chessman. It was an event 
that absorbed all the political oxygen in California at the time.

Rodota tells the story through the lives of five people: Chessman himself, and 
Gov. Edmund G. "Pat" Brown, his strong willed wife Bernice Brown, their young 
daughter Kathleen Brown, and, importantly, their son Jerry Brown. It is 
fascinating look at how one family deals both with a political and a moral 
crisis, for much as he hated it, Pat Brown had Chessman's life in his hands, 
and the moral battle over whether to spare his life was fought within Brown's 
own family.

Rodota's play, in 2 acts, does this by flashbacks to the 1948 trial that found 
Chessman guilty interspersed with conflicts within the governor's own family on 
how to proceed as the execution neared.

The facts on Caryl Chessman were pretty straight forward. By the time he was 25 
he had a long rap sheet and several felony convictions. In 1948, he was 
arrested as the Los Angeles "Red Light Bandit," who used a red light to pull 
over cars and then robbed the drivers. But in 2 cases, he sexually assaulted 
young women.

That brought his crimes under California's "Little Lindbergh Law", named for 
the 1930s kidnapping of famed flyer Charles Lindbergh's son. Kidnapping with 
bodily harm was a death penalty offence, and that put Chessman on death row, 
where he had been for a decade when Pat Brown became California governor in 
1959.

By early 1960, Chessman's numerous appeals seemed to have run out and his 
execution date was scheduled. But in the 12 years he had spent on death row he 
had become a famed author; his autobiography Cell 2455, death row was a runaway 
best seller; he graced the cover of TIME magazine.

Chessman also came to symbolize the then bitterly divisive issue of the death 
penalty, of which Gov. Pat Brown was a well known opponent. His case had 
attracted a worldwide audience of everyone from Albert Schweitzer to Eleanor 
Roosevelt.

As the play makes clear, had Brown been able to do so, there's no doubt he 
would have commuted Chessman's death sentence to a life term. But he could not 
because the governor could not commute the death sentence of a felon with 
multiple convictions without the approval of the California Supreme Court - 
Chessman had 5 felony convictions - and the Court had refused to allow it.

In the play we see the anguish that Pat Brown goes through, and anguish is a 
good word. Rodota, who served 2 California governors and was Gov. Pete Wilson's 
cabinet secretary, has a good feel for how California government works and the 
limitations on a governor's power as well as the pressures a governor faces.

Much of the play tracks the Pat Brown biography, California Rising, by 
journalist Ethan Rarick, who titles his chapter on the Chessman case "Anguish." 
Rodota uses actual transcripts and historical documents to illuminate this 
anguish and in doing so he presents a play with historical accuracy that also 
examines the Brown family very personal conflicts. Rodota said one of his main 
sources was Bernice Brown's oral history dictated years later.

The play's subplot is the limits of political power in our system. Gov. Brown 
cannot commute Chessman's death sentence to life imprisonment because he needs 
4 votes on the Supreme Court, and he has only 3. In the most compelling part of 
the play, Jerry Brown, the governor's 23-year-old son just departed from the 
seminary and overflowing with classical scholarship and moral indignation, 
convinces his father to provide Chessman 1 last reprieve so the legislature 
might repeal the death penalty.

In the weakest part of the play, the legislature is portrayed as uncaring boobs 
who will not repeal the death penalty. In fact, the legislature had considered 
the death penalty over many years and the Senate Judiciary hearing on Chessman 
ran 16 hours with expert witnesses from both sides. Interestingly, a transcript 
of the Senate hearing still exists, showing that the Senators gave this case a 
thorough vetting. The play is still undergoing revisions and is only at the 
"reading" stage, so perhaps the author will enhance the section on the 
legislature's actions.

The legislative leadership had made it clear they would not abolish the death 
penalty in the hysteria that surrounded the Chessman case. According to Unruh 
biographer Lou Cannon, powerful Assembly Speaker Jess Unruh was outraged that 
Gov. Brown tossed this hot potato into the legislature's lap, knowing they 
would not act. It was the beginning of a rift between Speaker Unruh and Gov. 
Brown, California's 2 most powerful Democrats, that eventually led to political 
defeat for both of them.

Pat Brown paid a tremendous political price for the Chessman case, as he 
admitted to Cannon in later interview. It made him look weak and vacillating. 
The newly elected Kennedy Administration in 1961 ignored Brown and elevated 
Unruh. In 1966, Brown was portrayed as a bumbling incompetent by the forces of 
Ronald Reagan who ousted him from office by a million votes.

In Rodota's play we see a much more sympathetic Brown, who knows he cannot 
spare this arrogant and irritating man's life, although he wants to. And in the 
end Pat Brown managed to earn the enmity of those who were for the death 
penalty and those who are against it. Rodota, with his own political 
background, might consider adding a little more on the political context of 
this crisis; while Chessman was quickly forgotten after 1960, the conflict 
lingered as a stain on Pat Brown's image from which he never really did 
completely recover.

On May 2, 1960, Chessman was strapped into the metal chair within an old diving 
bell that was San Quentin's gas chamber, a bag of cyanide capsules were lowered 
into a vat of sulfuric acid, and Chessman was dead within minutes. The play 
effectively shows these final minutes.

Perhaps the great tragedy of the Chessman-Brown dance of death is that it never 
had to happen. Brown had commuted two death sentences under the Little 
Lindbergh Law, but Chessman refused to admit his guilt despite the strong 
evidence and so he left Gov. Brown no out. As the play shows, Gov. Brown was 
trapped in circumstances beyond his control, knowing full well that his search 
for mercy for Chessman would deeply damage his political career, as indeed it 
did.

(source: foxandhoundsdaily.com)