[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----PENN., GA., FLA.

[Rick Halperin]

Jan. 31




PENNSYLVANIA:

Executed at 16, Delco boy was innocent, maintains Media author


Sam Lemon of Media has spent more than 30 years researching what he believes 
was the unjustified execution of 16-year-old Alexander McClay Williams for the 
1930 murder of a Glen Mills school matron. He is presenting a program on the 
subject Feb. 7 at Media Fellowship House. Lemon is director of the 
Organizational and Strategic Leadership graduate program at Neumann University, 
Aston.

By the time he reached his 16th birthday, Alexander McClay Williams had 
achieved a dubious distinction at the Glen Mills School for Boys, a facility 
for adjudicated youth in Thornbury. Assigned there in 1926 when he was 12 by 
Delaware County Judge W. Roger Fronefield because he had set fire to a barn on 
Baltimore Pike, he became the reform school's longest resident "inmate."

The way Glen Mills Superintendent Major Hickman saw it, the boy, who was the 
second oldest of a poor African-American family of 13 children, would probably 
have been "imprisoned" there until he was 21, the maximum age allowed, because 
of constant "disobedience" and "malicious mischief."

Instead, Williams would achieve another, more grim distinction.

At 7:03 a.m. on June 8, 1931, a little more than 6 weeks shy of Williams' 17th 
birthday, 2,000 volts of electricity were discharged into his body at Rockview 
Prison in Centre County. 5 months earlier, the boy, who was described in 
newspaper accounts as "slight," had been convicted by an all-white jury of 
fatally stabbing 34-year-old Glen Mills matron Vida Robare 47 times with an ice 
pick.

"Alexander appears to be the youngest person executed by the state of 
Pennsylvania," said Sam Lemon, a Media author and educator who has spent more 
than 30 years researching the case.

>From 2 to 4 p.m. Feb. 7 at Media Fellowship House, 302 S. Jackson St., Lemon 
will present a Power Point program open to the public about his findings on the 
case, which he expects to publish this spring in a book titled "The Case That 
Shocked the County."

"This case has haunted me, a 16-year-old kid sitting in the electric chair with 
a hood over his head. I'm sure he was crying his eyes out, not understanding 
why he was there, how this all came to be," said Lemon, who was formerly 
employed as a social worker for 13 years with Delaware County Children and 
Youth Services.

The 64-year-old Media resident first became aware of the case around age 10 
when his grandmother, Maud Ridley, talked about it. Her father - Lemon's 
great-grandfather - William H. Ridley, in 1891 became the 1st African-American 
admitted to the Delaware County Bar Association. He was the son of Cornelius 
and Martha Jane Parham Ridley, who fled to Media after escaping slavery at a 
Virginia plantation. They were assisted by a Quaker family named Yarnall from 
Providence Friends Meeting, where Lemon is currently a member.

In October 1930, William Ridley, who was the only African-American attorney in 
Delaware County, was ordered by the court to represent the young Williams.

"He did not like the case," Lemon said. "It didn't make sense to him. The kid 
had signed a confession 2 weeks before he was assigned the case. His strategy 
had to be either to throw him on the mercy of the court or to impugn the 
integrity of the detectives."

Lemon said his great-grandfather concluded there would be no benefit in 
discrediting the white detectives before an all-white jury of 3 men and 9 
married women, the most women ever selected in Delaware County "on an important 
murder case," according to the Jan. 5, 1931, edition of the Chester Times, 
forerunner of the Delaware County Daily Times.

Lemon's book will be another step in his mission to exonerate the teen who, by 
today's standards, appeared to have been developmentally disabled and who he 
believes was unwittingly forced into confessing to a crime most likely 
committed by the victim's ex-husband, Fred Robare.

"Neither Vida or Alexander deserved to die. They both were murdered in a sense. 
On his death certificate, it says 'judicial execution,' but it was murder 
because he didn't do it," said Lemon, who is now director of the Organizational 
and Strategic Leadership graduate program at Neumann University in Aston.

He believes at least 3 of Williams' constitutional rights were violated: his 
Fifth Amendment right not to incriminate himself; his Sixth Amendment right to 
confront any witnesses; and his 14th Amendment right to due process and equal 
justice under the law.

"There was no physical evidence, no fingerprints, no witnesses, no parents or 
attorney present when he was questioned," said Lemon.

Lemon is not alone in his assertion. He has shared his findings with legal 
experts, painstakingly culled from newspaper clippings of the Chester Times, 
Glen Mills School and Delaware County records, the Ancestry.com website, the 
Delaware County Library System's newspaper archives, and the official 
transcript of Williams' 2-day trial in January 1931.

Robert Keller, a former Delaware County prosecutor who now is a criminal 
defense attorney, has reviewed Lemon's 95-page Power Point presentation on the 
case and has met with Delaware County judges who agreed to waive costs for the 
trial transcript to be copied so he can review it.

"It is too early for me to formulate an opinion concerning the guilt or 
innocence of the child, but it is clearly an important case for all to hear 
about. The justice system of the '30s failed this young African-American and it 
is rewarding to see that our bar association and the county judges want the 
matter investigated and brought to the public's attention," said Keller, 
himself a former Delaware County assistant district attorney.

He is a board member of the Delaware County Bar Association and is working with 
Lemon, who has a doctorate in education from the University of Pennsylvania, 
along with bar association executive director William L. Baldwin to present an 
educational program about the case for all Delaware County lawyers and the 
public.

"More importantly, I am interested to represent this juvenile who was put to 
death, pro bono, to explore whether there is any possibility of redress in 
court. At a minimum I would like to explore a pardon," said Keller.

He believes the cards were stacked against the boy from the beginning of the 
case.

"He was questioned continually without counsel and his lawyer did not have the 
tools or manpower to properly represent him," Keller said. "The government 
brought in extra prosecutors and investigators to prepare their case and the 
defense had nothing."

Keller noted that bloody fingerprints found at the scene apparently were not 
evaluated and that other suspects, including Robare's husband, were not 
investigated. The entire trial lasted only 2 days and Williams was executed 5 
months later.

"An all-white jury heard the case and it appeared that there was very little 
sympathy for the child defendant," said Keller.

The Pennsylvania Innocence Project has also expressed an interest in the case, 
said Lemon.

"It is my honor to play a part uncovering the dark history of our judicial 
past," said Keller.

Despite the fact that the United States Supreme Court outlawed the death 
penalty for anyone under age 18 in 2005, Pennsylvania law still permits 
execution of people as young as 16, Williams' age when he went to the electric 
chair 85 years ago.

"This is in conflict with the Supreme Court and the governor must be taking 
that into consideration," said Keller, referring to the moratorium Gov. Tom 
Wolf placed on executions when he took office last year.

Williams' birth date of July 23, 1914, was correct on his June 8, 1931, death 
certificate, but his age was obviously altered by someone who changed the "6" 
to an "8" by writing over it, making him appear 18, the age that also was 
consistently misreported in news accounts of the case.

Also apparent on the Oct. 4, 1930, death certificate of Vida Robare, who 
Delaware County Deputy Coroner George H. Rigby indicated in black ink died of 
"puncture wounds to the heart," is that someone later added in blue ink "caused 
by ice pick in hands of Alexander McClay Williams." Lemon noted that coroners' 
certificates of death typically do not identify assailants and Williams was not 
charged with the crime until several days after the autopsy.

The 2 tampered documents are among many instances of what Lemon feel are 
questionable prosecutorial and judicial conduct uncovered in the case, not the 
least of which was that Fronefield, the same judge who committed the boy to 
Glen Mills, presided at his trial 4 years later and sentenced him to death. 
Fronefield also sustained an objection by Delaware County District Attorney 
William J. MacCarter Jr. when Ridley questioned Det. Michael C. Testrall on the 
legality of removing the boy from Delaware County Prison to obtain a 3rd 
confession during a car ride, when a court order indicated he was only to be 
released from prison to attend a magistrate's hearing.

"It was a hostile court, a hostile prosecution and a hostile judge and it 
showed what a predicament Ridley was in. If the judge didn't care that the 
detective broke the law to get a confession, there was no hope of a fair trial 
at that point," maintained Lemon.

When Vida Robare's body was initially discovered by her ex-husband around 5 
p.m. Oct. 3, 1930, in her 2nd-floor bedroom of Cottage No. 5 where she had been 
on her bed reading a magazine love story and eating a pear, none of the 600 
students - then referred to as "inmates" - were suspects. In addition to 47 
stab wounds, suggesting the ferocity of a crime of passion, Mrs. Robare had 
suffered a fractured skull and broken ribs.

According to an Oct. 4, 1930, Chester Times article, Glen Mills School Board 
Member George T. Butler said all the boys had been accounted for and noted, "I 
don't see how a boy could have done this deed."

Butler would later testify in court that flogging students with a flat strap 
below the waist was considered a "humane form" of punishment at Glen Mills. 
Lemon said Williams had been flogged four times. One of his crimes was stealing 
110 cans of boot black that Lemon theorized Williams liked to huff because it 
contained ethylene glycol, an ingredient no longer found in shoe polish.

"The school is a far different and more progressive place today," said Lemon, 
who noted that without Glen Mills School officials' permission to review 
Williams' records, he never would have been able to uncover the facts that may 
help clear the teenager's name.

Delaware County Chief Detective Oliver N. Smith told the Chester Times on Oct. 
4, 1930, "This crime was committed by a full-grown and strong man. The woman 
was unmistakably athletic and could have fought off a boy."

Lemon said it appears detectives did not realize that Fred Robare, the 
full-grown man who discovered the victim's body, was not her husband, but her 
ex-husband who had followed her to Glen Mills, where she lived with their 
10-year-old son Dale, and had gotten a job as a farm instructor. Lemon was able 
to locate the divorce decree via the Internet.

"They had divorced in 1921. The cause was 'extreme cruelty.' She had filed for 
divorce in Michigan. That fact never came out," said Lemon, who added that Mrs. 
Robare had also worked in Maryland and New Jersey after the divorce.

When the prosecutor put Williams on the stand and asked him why he killed Mrs. 
Robare, the boy, who had lived in the dormitory connected to Cottage No. 5, 
testified it was to get back at Mr. Robare, who would often kick him. Williams 
said that Mrs. Robare would intervene and then Mr. Robare would beat her. Mr. 
Robare's assaults on Williams were so frequent that the boy eventually was 
transferred to Cottage No. 3. Lemon ssaid that both Mrs. Robare and Glen Mills 
School Assistant Superintendent B.E. Welch had apparently been kind to Williams 
during his time there.

"I think it is a far more compelling case that Fred Robare is the killer 
because Alexander had no history of violence, and added to the fact they had 
been divorced 9 years on the grounds of extreme cruelty. The husband had a 
history of violence. Alexander did not. The husband had a reason to be angry 
with her. Alexander did not," said Lemon.

Lemon also suggested it did not make sense that Williams would kill Mrs. Robare 
because she was 1 of his 2 allies at the school, she was taller than him and 
she outweighed him by about 25 pounds. Furthermore, at trial, August E. 
Schneider, who had been supervising Williams the afternoon of the murder and 
had sent him on 2 errands to pick up shovels, then deliver the receipt for the 
shovels, testified the teenager had returned from both errands in a timely 
fashion, appeared calm and was wearing the same clothes, which were not 
blood-stained.

Lemon said that Williams would have had to get through several locked doors to 
reach Mrs. Robare. When her body was found, her watch and $15 - then during the 
Depression the equivalent of about $200 today - were still on her dresser. Only 
her keys were missing, which the assailant would not need to exit the building. 
They were later found in the school's power house reservoir. At trial Hickman, 
the school superintendent, said Williams led authorities to the ice pick, which 
was stowed in a hole in the wall of the tunnel beneath Cottage No. 5. Lemon 
said detectives had a mason break another hole in the wall, then instructed 
Williams "to reach in and grab that ice pick," 1 of 2 from Mrs. Robare's 
kitchen.

"If his fingerprints weren't on the ice pick before, now they were and any 
other ones were smudged," said Lemon.

During his first 2 interrogations, Williams denied murdering Mrs. Robare, said 
Lemon. Hickman testified on Jan. 6, 1931, that Williams "finally" confessed to 
the crime the night of Oct. 7, 1930, "after I left him alone for about 20 
minutes. He sobbed out his story, 'I did it.'" Detectives extracted 2 more 
confessions from the boy, the third one on Oct. 9. Lemon said Hickman told 
Williams that he was "seen" in Mrs. Robare's cottage, but never said who had 
seen him.

Lemon tapped 2 certified school psychologists with the Delaware County Juvenile 
Detention Center to evaluate Williams' history. They said Williams appeared to 
be intellectually deficient, had limited language comprehension and lacked the 
violent tendencies necessary to commit a spontaneous crime of passion, as it 
appeared Mrs. Robare's murder was. They said his confession was "typical 
behavior for lower-functioning, troubled juveniles."

"Here's a very malleable suspect. The kid would say anything you wanted. He had 
already been flogged four times in school. He had been abused already and was 
mentally challenged," said Lemon. "I think Fred Robare did it and somehow led 
investigators in that direction."

Lemon said Mr. Robare delivered 2 versions of how he discovered his ex-wife's 
body. He initially told authorities he had last seen Mrs. Robare around 1:30 
p.m. Oct. 3, when matrons were on their break time and "officers" such as 
himself left to work with the boys at their various trades.

"He came back at 5 o'clock to the cottage with a work crew of 11 boys and he 
gives the key to one of the boys to open the cottage and the boy tells him the 
door is already open. He goes up to the 2nd floor and finds her,'" said Lemon.

However, Lemon said a newspaper in Michigan quoted a letter Robare wrote to his 
parents saying he returned to the cottage and waited downstairs for supper and 
when Mrs. Robare didn't appear he went upstairs and found her body. Their son, 
who was visually impaired, had returned home earlier but did not notice his 
mother's body.

Lemon believes Mr. Robare may have returned to the cottage mid-afternoon and 
was spurned by his attractive ex-wife when he made sexual advances, causing him 
to fly into a rage. She may have also threatened to report him for being 
derelict in his school duties, speculated Lemon.

At least 1 distant relative of Fred Robare agrees with Lemon's theory. Fred's 
brother, Daniel Robare, was the great-grandfather of Teresa Smithers, a 
59-year-old Michigan writer and family historian who began researching the Vida 
Robare case about 10 years ago. Last year she was put in touch with Lemon by 
another distant Robare cousin, Jane Ward Hamilton, who Lemon had contacted via 
Facebook.

"I do not officially represent all Robares, but as a part of that bloodline, I 
think it is high time we changed our family karma by finding out the truth of 
this murder and vindicating a wrongly accused boy. I want to leave my children 
a heritage of courage, strong women and resilience, not alcoholism and domestic 
violence," said Smithers last Thursday.

Smithers noted that she has long felt Williams was innocent of Mrs. Robare's 
murder and that Mrs. Robare was killed by her ex-husband, but she never knew 
quite what to do about those feelings.

"I truly didn't think anyone else would care besides me, so it was a great joy 
to find out Sam Lemon was even more committed to this story," she noted.

Susie Carter, the last survivor of Williams' 12 siblings, was only 16 months 
old when her brother was executed, so she never really knew him. While growing 
up in Middletown, she would hear bits and pieces about him from various people 
who insisted the boy was innocent, but never knew all the details until Lemon 
contacted her in 2014.

"Well, I was sure he hadn't done it then," said the Chester resident who will 
be 86 on Monday. "It's been like that for years and even today they're doing 
the same thing, saying the black man did it."

Carter plans to attend Lemon's program next Sunday at Media Fellowship House 
along with her daughter, Osceola Williams of Upper Chichester, Williams' 2 
daughters and 1 of Williams' brothers. Williams feels her uncle was done an 
injustice because he was poor and he and his parents probably did not 
understand what was happening.

"His mother said police told him if he just said he did it, they would let him 
go home. He was a little slow and the cards were stacked against him. He was in 
reform school because he set a fire. It was not a violent crime he did," said 
Osceola Williams, who is named for her grandmother.

Williams said she did not understand why her grandmother was always sad, until 
she learned about her uncle's execution at age 16.

"Now I know why. She lost a child. She was a very loving mother but she never 
seemed happy," said Williams.

She would also like to see Williams' name cleared.

"He shouldn't have been killed," he said. "My grandmother has been dead for 50 
years. It would be nice if she's up in heaven, that she could smile."

85 years ago Alexander Williams mother did try to vindicate her 16-year-old son 
with the help of a group called The Citizens Committee to Raise Funds for 
Alexander McClay Williams, chaired by the Rev. Arthur E. Mann, pastor of 
Trinity UAME Church in Media. By coincidence, Lemon now resides in the building 
that once was the church parsonage.

"I'm living in Rev. Mann's old house. Maybe that is why I am a little bit 
haunted by this case," said Lemon.

The group hired a white attorney, Henry A. Gouley, who first tried an insanity 
plea to delay or commute Williams' death sentence with the Pennsylvania Board 
of Pardons, then pursued a theory that a white schoolmate from Quakertown had 
goaded Williams into committing the murder. Neither attempt was successful, 
although they did get as far as a magistrate's hearing over the alleged 
accomplice, 2 days before the teenager's execution. It was painfully apparent 
even then that Alexander Williams did not understand what was happening to him, 
as reported in the June 6, 1931, Chester Times account of the hearing.

When cross-examining Williams, the other boy's attorney asked him: "Do you know 
you are going to your death Monday?"

"I didn't know it 'til you said so," Williams replied.

Lemon noted that the vicious murder of Vida Robare, a beautiful white woman 
born on Valentine's Day in 1896, was "a horrible crime that repulsed people." 
It was reported in newspapers all across the country and in Canada.

"I think there was a lot of anger and authorities wanted to solve it right 
away. The issues of racism and poverty played a huge role then as they do now," 
said Lemon. "Look at the disproportionate number of black men in prison. Look 
at the number of black men killed by police."

Lemon likens Alexander Williams' case to such recent cases as 17-year-old 
Trayvon Martin, who in 2012 was fatally shot by neighborhood watch volunteer 
George Zimmerman as he returned from buying candy and soda at a convenience 
store in Sanford, Fla., and 12-year-old Tamir Rice, who was shot to death in 
2014 by police in a Cleveland, Ohio, park where he was seen holding what turned 
out to be the replica of a gun as he sat on a swing.

"My goal is not to prove Fred did it - although looking at the evidence I think 
he did it - but the goal is to see Alexander is exonerated and that his 
conviction is vacated because he did not do it," said Lemon.

He does hold out hope. On Dec. 17, 2014, Fourteenth Judicial Circuit Court 
Judge Carmen Mullen overturned the 1944 conviction of George J. Stinney Jr. 
because she determined his confession had been coerced. Stinney was executed at 
age 15 in Alcolu, S.C., for killing 2 white girls he and his sister had been 
seen talking with a few days earlier. He was only 5 feet, 1 inch tall and 90 
pounds when he was executed, so small that a Bible had to be used as a booster 
seat when he sat in the electric chair.

According to a news service account of Alexander Williams' execution in the 
June 8, 1931, edition of the Chester Times, "Williams passed his last hours on 
Earth quietly. He conferred with Father McCreesh and walked to the death 
chamber early today without sign of visible emotion."

A reporter from a Berks County newspaper saw things differently.

"The Reading paper said he was sobbing and barely able to walk," noted Lemon. 
"He had to be carried by prison guards to the death chamber."

IF YOU GO..."The Story That Shocked the County" featuring Sam Lemon, 2-4 p.m. 
Feb. 7, Media Fellowship House, 302 S. Jackson St., Media. Free and open to the 
public.

(source: delcotimes.com)






GEORGIA:

Lawsuit seeks to end death row drug secrecy in Georgia


Lawyers for an inmate set to die in days are asking a conflicted federal 
appeals court to weaken Georgia's law that keeps secret the source of the 
state's lethal injection drug. It's the toughest of a number of secrecy laws 
passed in recent years by death penalty states eager to stabilize their 
execution drug supplies.

States said the laws protect companies that fear retaliation for their 
association with the death penalty. Most were enacted after drug manufacturers, 
many of them in Europe, stopped selling their products for executions, citing 
ethical concerns.

"There are certainly secrecy laws in other states, and some of them create 
extraordinary secrecy, but nothing reaches the level of Georgia," said Megan 
McCracken, a death penalty expert at the University of California at Berkeley.

Georgia stopped a lethal injection in March because of a problem with the drug, 
the barbiturate pentobarbital made by a compounding pharmacy. A Department of 
Corrections video shows solid white chunks falling against the syringe's 
plunger in a solution that should be clear. Citing this example, some 11th U.S. 
Circuit Court of Appeals judges have expressed concern about Georgia's secrecy 
law.

Lawyers for death row inmate Brandon Astor Jones - convicted of killing a 
convenience store manager in 1979 and scheduled to die Tuesday - argue that 
Georgia's execution method carries "a substantial risk of significant harm," 
violating his constitutional right against cruel and unusual punishment. But 
because of the secrecy law, they say, they don't have enough information to 
make that claim, which violates his due process right.

Similar arguments have been rejected by three-judge panels of the 11th Circuit, 
setting a binding precedent.

Georgia's law says the identifying information of any entity or person 
participating in an execution is a "confidential state secret," meaning it 
can't be revealed - not even for a judge's review or under seal in a court 
case.

After the defective drug halted Kelly Gissendaner's execution in March, 
officials investigated and took steps to ensure it wouldn't happen again, state 
lawyers argued in response to Jones' complaint. The problem was clearly 
rectified as Gissendaner and 2 other inmates were executed last fall with no 
sign of pain, state lawyers wrote.

But Jones' lawyers say the investigation lacked transparency, and they aren't 
convinced officials determined the problem's cause.

State lawyers say Jones doesn't have a right to know every detail of the 
execution method, an argument that's been made in 11th Circuit opinions. State 
lawyers also say the law protects the source of the drugs from "rabid 
manipulations of death penalty opponents."

Citing the doubts raised by Jordan and Martin - as well as a 2014 opinion by 
11th Circuit Judge Charles Wilson noting "the disturbing circularity problem 
created by Georgia's secrecy law" - Jones' lawyers argue that 3 judges on that 
federal appeals court have now suggested that law doesn't comply with the 
Constitution.

They are requesting a full-court review by the 11th Circuit, which could 
overturn the established precedent.

Any full-court ruling would be significant as it would be binding in Georgia 
pending any appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, said Robert Dunham with the Death 
Penalty Information Center, which tracks issues related to capital punishment. 
It also could serve as a reference for lawmakers in other states and would have 
persuasive, though not binding, authority in other federal courts, he said.

(source: Philadelphia Tribune)






FLORIDA----impending execution

His plea for life at Florida's highest court


Michael Lambrix was supposed to die on Nov. 30, 1988.

He was moved to a special "Death Watch" cell near the execution chamber.

He met with the warden, who explained the process. He met with the chaplain. He 
met with the kitchen supervisor to plan his last meal.

"As I sat only feet away from the electric chair, I could feel the hum of 
electricity as the guard tested the chair to make sure it was working 
properly," Lambrix wrote in his book titled, "To Live and Die on Death Row." 
"Every minute of every hour ticked, each that much louder than the last. 
Somehow I felt my heartbeat itself became synchronized to the clock on the wall 
- when that ticking came to a stop, so would my heart."

The court issued an emergency stay on his execution, and it was rescheduled for 
the next day.

THE RULING

On Jan. 12, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that Florida's system for sentencing 
people to death is unconstitutional, because it gives too much power to judges 
and not enough to juries.

The ruling said juries play only an advisory role in recommending death while 
the judge can reach a different decision. The court handed down its decision in 
the case of Hurst v. Florida, siding with Timothy Lee Hurst, who was convicted 
of a 1998 murder. A jury voted 7-5 in favor of death, and a judge imposed the 
sentence.

Under Florida law, the state requires juries in capital sentencing hearings to 
weigh factors for and against imposing a death sentence. But the judge is not 
bound by those findings and can reach a different conclusion. The judge can 
also weigh other factors independently.

In the Supreme Court's opinion, Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote that "The Sixth 
Amendment requires a jury, not a judge, to find each fact necessary to impose a 
sentence of death."

Roughly 10 hours before he was set to die, a full stay was granted so Lambrix's 
appeal could be heard in federal court.

Lambrix, 55, has again been scheduled to die.

Gov. Rick Scott signed the inmate's death warrant last year, setting his 
execution for Feb. 11.

But that was before the U.S. Supreme Court earlier this month found that the 
way Florida handles death penalty cases is unconstitutional.

Now, the question is whether that Hurst v. Florida ruling changes Lambrix's 
fate.

"Some of the best legal minds in the country are trying to answer that 
question," said Adam Tebrugge, a Bradenton defense attorney who previously 
filed a motion for clemency in Lambrix's case.

The Florida Supreme Court has refused to delay Lambrix's execution, which would 
be the 1st in the wake of the ruling. Attorney General Pam Bondi's office has 
said the new ruling doesn't apply to Lambrix.

Oral arguments are scheduled Feb. 2 before the Florida Supreme Court.

True crime

Lambrix's case sounds like the plot of a true crime novel or the lyrics of an 
old country song.

2 people dead after a night on the town in the swamplands of Glades County.

A woman reports her boyfriend as the murderer.

An affair between that girlfriend - the star witness - and lead investigator.

A man sentenced to death row.

The twists and turns of Lambrix's case are many and complex.

Lambrix sat down with a reporter from the Herald-Tribune in 2014 to discuss his 
case.

It was 1983. Lambrix and his girlfriend, Frances Smith, ran off to Glades 
County. Lambrix was a fugitive, having walked away from a work-release center 
where he was serving time for a bounced check. Smith left behind her husband 
and children.

On Feb. 5, a Saturday, the couple caught a ride into the town of LaBelle, 
halfway between Fort Myers and Lake Okeechobee and home of an annual Swamp 
Cabbage Festival. They met a man at a bar who called himself Chip, but his real 
name was Clarence Moore. Moore was waiting for his girlfriend, Aleisha Bryant, 
to end her shift as a waitress at a nearby restaurant.

The 3 drank and talked. Then they met up with Bryant and headed to another bar 
to dance.

As the bar cleared and closing time neared, the couples made a plan: grab a 
bottle of whiskey and some Coke, then head to the trailer where Lambrix and 
Smith were staying.

Smith cooked up some spaghetti.

Lambrix said he and Moore went outside, planning to play a prank on the women. 
Lambrix got Bryant to come outside and when she did, Moore jumped out and 
scared her.

Lambrix said the couple began arguing, so he headed inside.

Then, he heard a scream. Figuring the couple had run across an animal, Lambrix 
said he grabbed a tire iron and walked into the dark.

When he got close enough, Lambrix said he saw Moore sitting on top of Bryant, 
slamming her head against the ground. Lambrix said he shoved Moore.

"He immediately sprung back up toward me and came at me," Lambrix said. "I 
instinctively started swinging the tire iron."

An autopsy report shows Moore was struck 4 times on both sides of his head.

Lambrix tried to carry Bryant - who outweighed him - to the trailer, but he 
couldn't. When he put her down, he realized she wasn't breathing.

"That's when I realized she was already dead," Lambrix said.

Instead of going to the police, Lambrix and Smith dragged the bodies into the 
nearby woods and buried them in shallow graves. Lambrix tossed his bloody 
clothes and the tire iron over a bridge into a creek below. Then the couple 
left town in Moore's Cadillac.

The plan was to abandon the car, but Smith got pulled over while driving it. 
She was arrested for aiding and abetting Lambrix, a fugitive. Authorities 
realized the vehicle belonged to a man who had been reported missing.

Smith told the police several stories and, on Valentine's Day, she went with a 
lawyer to the State Attorney's Office.

"That's when she said she knew where 2 bodies were buried," Lambrix said.

Soon after, Lambrix was arrested on 2 charges of 1st-degree murder.

His 1st trial ended in a hung jury after jurors deliberated late into the night 
without reaching a verdict. Because there was not a nearby hotel to sequester 
the jurors, the judge declared a mistrial.

Before his 2nd trial, Lambrix said prosecutors offered him a deal: plead guilty 
to 2nd-degree murder in exchange for a prison sentence of 22 to 27 years.

Lambrix refused, claiming that Moore killed Bryant and he killed Moore in 
self-defense.

Authorities said Lambrix - with plans to rob the couple - lured them outside 
one at a time, choking Bryant to death and fatally beating Moore.

After hearing the evidence at the second trial, it took the jury 45 minutes to 
reach a guilty verdict. They later recommended the death penalty in a 10-2 vote 
for Bryant's death and an 8-4 vote for Moore's.

Lambrix has spent 3 decades on death row at Florida State Prison, filing 
unsuccessful appeal after unsuccessful appeal.

Lambrix claims that the judge had it out for him and that members of the jury 
were too familiar with the case. He claims a tire iron presented as the murder 
weapon couldn't possibly have been the one he used, because storms would have 
washed it too far downstream to be found. The shirt presented as the one he was 
wearing was a small, which Lambrix explains would never have fit his 5-foot-10 
frame. But the biggest problem, Lambrix said, is that a private investigator 
discovered Smith - the star witness - was allegedly having an affair with the 
lead investigator for the State Attorney's Office.

"This is a 1 witness case and she's it," Tebrugge said. "There is a whole 
variety of evidence that Frances (Smith) is not a reliable witness."

Tebrugge, the Bradenton attorney who spent 23 years as an assistant public 
defender for the 12th Judicial Circuit, filed a request for a new clemency 
hearing and interview in December 2014 for Lambrix. He wanted a chance to 
present the evidence that went unmentioned at trial and the positive qualities 
that Lambrix has demonstrated while incarcerated. He hoped that it might lead 
to having Lambrix's death sentence commuted to life in prison.

Tebrugge only learned that the clemency request was denied when he received 
news that the death warrant was signed.

Hurst v. Florida

Citing the Hurst v. Florida case, Lambrix's attorney, William Hennis of the 
Capital Collateral Regional Counsel, requested a stay of execution.

At the time, the Supreme Court had not ruled that Florida's death penalty is 
unconstitutional.

Florida juries, after convicting someone of 1st-degree murder, take a vote on 
whether to recommend the death penalty as punishment then provide that to the 
judge. But the judge has sole discretion over sentencing someone to life or 
death. For death to be an option, at least one aggravating factor must be 
proven beyond reasonable doubt.

Attorneys for Timothy Lee Hurst argued that handing that decision over to the 
judge instead of the jury is unconstitutional. In Hurst's case, a jury 
recommended a death sentence in a 7-5 vote, but did not present any findings of 
an aggravated factor. The judge, however, determined that 2 aggravators existed 
and imposed a death sentence.

"It departs from the procedures that apply in every other state that allows 
death sentencing," states the Hurst brief filed in May 2015. "And it undermines 
the jury's basic Sixth and Eighth Amendment functions as responsible factfinder 
and voice of the community???s moral judgment."

The high court ruled on Jan. 12 in an 8-1 vote that Florida's death penalty 
indeed violates the Sixth Amendment.

"8 justices of the Supreme Court ruled that a jury must determine whether the 
ultimate penalty against someone - taking their life away - is imposed rather 
than the judge," said Michael Barfield, vice president of the American Civil 
Liberties Union of Florida. "Most people perhaps did think that that was always 
the case, but not in Florida. Florida is an outlier in the manner in which the 
death penalty is imposed."

That ruling prompted Hennis to file an updated request for an indefinite stay 
of Lambrix's execution, which the Florida Supreme Court denied.

Hennis, however, has been granted a request to provide oral arguments this 
week. Attorneys for Lambrix and the state will receive at most 20 minutes to 
argue whether Hurst v. Florida applies to Lambrix's case, "including whether 
Hurst is retroactive, the effect of Hurst given the aggravating factors in 
Lambrix's case and whether any error is harmless," according to a Florida 
Supreme Court order scheduling the arguments.

Hennis did not return a message seeking comment.

If Hurst v. Florida is deemed retroactive, it would apply to the 389 inmates on 
Florida's death row, including Lambrix.

"He's the next scheduled execution so that's why all of the attention is 
starting to focus on this case," Tebrugge said. "That's why it's disappointing 
that the Florida Supreme Court has ordered this expedited briefing when the 
questions are very complicated."

The Florida Supreme Court has ordered that 6 other death row inmates can file 
briefs on how Hurst v. Florida might apply to their death sentences before oral 
arguments are heard in their cases. One of those inmates is Michael King, who 
was convicted in 2009 for the abduction, rape and killing of North Port's 
Denise Lee. The same jury that convicted King also recommended 12-0 that he die 
for the crimes.

Besides King, orders can be filed on behalf of Richard Knight, convicted in a 
Broward County case; Raymond Bright, convicted in a Bay County case; Dontae 
Morris, convicted in a Hillsborough County case; Jacob John Dougan, convicted 
in a Duval County case; and Eric Lee Simmons, convicted in a Lake County case.

"The ACLU believes that the decision must be and will be applied retroactively, 
meaning that everyone who is currently sentenced to death under that defective 
system must be given a new sentencing hearing," Barfield said. "The ACLU 
doesn't believe the death penalty should ever be applied, but if we are going 
to apply it, it should be unanimous and it should be imposed by the jury."

Left wondering

Lambrix is left wondering when he'll die and whether it will be by natural 
causes or poison coursing through his veins.

"You go through a process, and at the end of the process you have the 
acceptance that death is the probable outcome," Lambrix previously told the 
Herald-Tribune. "Some of the guys back here compare it to having a gun put next 
to your head. Each time you go through this clemency thing or the possibility 
of a warrant or an appeal being denied, it's like they're playing Russian 
roulette with you and pulling the trigger.

"You're playing with powers bigger than you and there's not much you can do."

? Lambrix doesn't consider himself religious, but says he is spiritual. He says 
he believes things happen for a reason, though he can't figure out why things 
happened the way they did.

Lambrix wonders if he could have done something different to change that night 
in 1983. Sometimes he wonders if karma caught up to him. Or maybe he simply 
overreacted.

"You can't get away from the fact that 2 people died that night and 1 person 
died at my hands," Lambrix said.

He's worked hard to find worth. Practically illiterate when he was sent to 
death row, Lambrix has learned to read and write. He's learned law to work on 
his own case and others.

His real interest, though, inspired by the movie "Back to the Future," is 
theoretical quantum physics.

"I'm completely infatuated, obsessed with this super string theory," Lambrix 
said. "I love thinking about it because it provides that escape mechanism - 
that fantasy of being able to go through this imaginary wormhole back to that 
night and change events. I could go back and be a good father, be a good 
husband, live a good life.

"There is a certain measure of comfort thinking in an infinite number of these 
alternate realities, Chip and Aleisha are living a happy life wherever they 
might be."

Lambrix tries to find redeeming qualities in people, even his neighbors who 
have committed horrendous crimes or been notorious serial killers, like Ted 
Bundy.

"I try to see something good in everybody," Lambrix said. "If you go through 
life throwing stones, sooner or later, those stones are going to get thrown 
back at you."

Lambrix said he also knows there are plenty of innocent people on death row.

"Florida has had more people exonerated from death row than any other state in 
the nation," said Barfield, the ACLU of Florida vice president.

Some have been exonerated by DNA evidence, but not all cases have that. Without 
DNA, exoneration can be nearly impossible.

Lambrix doesn't feel that his case is an anomaly, but is, instead, indicative 
of the criminal justice system. He has evidence he wants to present, but it's 
not DNA, and no one wants to hear it.

"I'm just another death row prisoner," Lambrix said. "The last thing I want is 
for anyone to blindly take my word for this. I just want a fair review."

(source: Herald Tribune)

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

Michael Ray Lambrix, a/k/a Cary Michael of Florida Receives an Execution Date 
of February 11, 2016


Michael Ray Lambrix, a/k/a Cary Michael, is scheduled to be executed at 6 pm 
EST, on Thursday, February 11, 2016, at the Florida State Prison near Raiford, 
Florida. 55-year-old Michael is convicted of the murder 35-year-old Clarence 
Edward Moore (a/k/a Lawrence Lamberson) and 19-year-old Aleisha Dawn Bryant on 
February 6, 1983, in Glades County, Florida. Michael has spent the last 31 
years on Florida's death row.

Michael had previously served time for check fraud. At the time of the murders, 
a warrant was out for Michael's arrest, as he had walked away from a State 
Halfway house.

On the evening of February 5, 1983, Michael Lambrix and his roommate, Frances 
Smith, went out to a local tavern, where they met Clarence Moore and Aleisha 
Bryant. Lambrix and Smith invited Clarence and Aleisha back to their trailer to 
eat.

At some point, Lambrix invited Clarence to go outside with him. Approximately 
20 minutes later, he asked Aleisha to also come outside. Approximately 45 
minutes after that, Lambrix returned to the trailer, along. He was wearing a 
bloody shirt and holding a tire iron. Lambrix told Smith that he had killed 
Clarence by hitting him with the tire iron and Aleisha by strangulation.

Smith helped Lambrix clean up and bury the bodies. Lambrix also threw his 
bloody shirt and the tire iron into a nearby stream.

On February 8, 1983, Smith was arrested on an unrelated charge. While in 
custody, she informed police about the buried bodies. Police investigated and 
found the bodies, along with the bloody shirt and tire iron.

Lambrix insists that he is innocent of the crime for which he has been 
convicted. According to Lambrix, he and Smith spent the evening drinking and 
dancing at various clubs until the early morning hours of February 6, 1983. 
They then decided to go back to Lambrix's trailer for a few hours, until 
Aleisha had to return to work. Clarence was going to drop her off at work 
before heading to Miami, Florida. While at the trailer, Lambrix and Clarence 
went outside to retrieve something from the vehicle.

While outside the 2 decided to play a prank on the 2 women, scaring them. They 
were only able to lure Aleisha outside. Clarence scared her by jumping out of a 
feed trough. When Lambrix and Clarence began laughing, Aleisha began verbally 
assaulting Clarence. Lambrix left the 2, whom he assumed were in a 
relationship.

When Lambrix returned to the couple, he saw Clarence beating Aleisha. Lambrix 
claims that he pulled Clarence off Aleisha. When Clarence attacked Lambrix, 
Lambrix hit him several times with a metal rod (tire iron). Both Clarence and 
Aleisha died from their injuries.

Lambrix was convicted on 2 counts of murder and sentenced to death.

Lambrix and his attorneys have alleged that he had an unfair trial, that the 
prosecution withheld evidence, and misrepresented the facts of the case, 
including evidence. Lambrix also alleges that the trial judge prevented him 
from testifying.

The Supreme Court of the United States recently ruled that Florida's death 
penalty sentencing structure was unconstitutional, as jurors only provided 
recommendations for sentencing to the judges, allowing judges to overrule the 
recommendation of the jury. Lambrix and his attorneys are arguing that the 
Supreme Court's ruling should be retroactive, meaning all inmates on death row 
should be given new sentencing hearings.

Please pray for peace and healing for the families of Clarence and Aleisha. 
Please pray for strength for the family of Michael Lambrix. Please pray that if 
Michael is innocent, lacks the competency to be executed, or should not be 
executed for any other reason that evidence will be presented prior to his 
execution. Please pray that Michael will come to find peace through a personal 
relationship with Jesus Christ, if he has not already.

(source: theforgivenessfoundation.org)

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

How the nation's lowest bar for the death penalty has shaped death row


Florida has more than 170 people on death row today who may not have been 
condemned to die in any other state - the result of its 1-of-a-kind law that 
allows a jury to recommend capital punishment by a simple majority vote, a 
Tampa Bay Times analysis has found.

Unburdened by the need to reach a unanimous decision, Florida juries typically 
don't. 2/3 of the people Florida has executed since 1995 were condemned to die 
on the recommendation of fewer than 12 jurors, the Times analysis found.

No other state allows juries to recommend death by a 7-5 vote. Of the 32 states 
that have the death penalty, 29 require a unanimous vote of 12. Alabama 
requires 10. Delaware calls for jurors to unanimously agree on whether the 
defendant is eligible for the death penalty, but their sentencing 
recommendation can be split.

Jurors are divided on most Florida executions

The number of inmates Florida has executed since 1995 might be very different 
if the state required more jurors to agree before sending prisoners to death 
row.

First take away the 7-5 cases. No other state allows a single juror to decide.

Then remove the 8-4s. The chart is now showing cases with at least 9 votes, 
which Florida prosecutors recently proposed making the state's new standard.

Take away 9-3 cases to see how many others would meet the bar in Alabama, which 
requires at least 10 votes - the next most lax state after Florida.

Remove the 10-2 votes. More than 1/2 of the cases are now gone.

Take away the 11-1s. Only 1/3 of Florida's executions were unanimous - the 
level required in 29 of 32 states.

Note: Analysis excludes death sentences ordered by judges without jury 
recommendations, and two cases where sentencing information was not available.

This month, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down Florida's death penalty statute, 
forcing the Legislature to rewrite it. Although the court did not explicitly 
address the issue of non-unanimous jury votes, legal experts say this part of 
Florida's law is in constitutional jeopardy.

The Times reviewed more than 450 death penalty cases dating back decades to 
determine how juries voted in the penalty phase of capital trials. The juries' 
sentencing recommendations are merely advisory, another unusual feature, but no 
Florida judge has ignored a jury's guidance in nearly two decades.

The Times found that prisoners who were sentenced to death based on 
non-unanimous jury recommendations were far more likely to have their cases 
overturned on direct appeal, or to be ultimately acquitted.

Florida leads the nation in death row exonerations. Of the 20 people who have 
been exonerated and for whom sentencing information is available, 15 were sent 
to death row by a divided jury. 3 others were cases in which judges imposed the 
death penalty over a jury's recommendation of life in prison.

"Those figures confirm our greatest fears about the Florida statute," said 
Robert Dunham, executive director of the Death Penalty Information Center. 
"Because of the unreliability of non-unanimous sentences, it's long been felt 
they increase the risk of sentencing innocent people to death."

The latest exoneree, a Pasco County man named Derral W. Hodgkins, was condemned 
to die in 2013 after a jury recommended the death penalty for the murder of his 
former girlfriend Teresa Lodge in 2006. Despite his previous conviction for a 
horrific crime - he admitted to raping and driving his car over a 12-year-old 
girl - only a bare majority of jurors agreed that he deserved the death 
penalty. They voted 7-5.

Hodgkins walked off death row in October after the Florida Supreme Court threw 
out his conviction. The court called the prosecutors' case "purely 
circumstantial" and said they had mischaracterized crucial DNA evidence, 
portraying it in a light that flattered their narrative.

Several years before Hodgkins there was Herman Lindsey, who was convicted and 
sent to death row for killing a woman during a Fort Lauderdale pawnshop 
robbery. The murder took place in 1994, but police pinned it on Lindsey 12 
years later, and a jury voted 8-4 to recommend death.

In 2009, the Supreme Court voted unanimously to overturn Lindsey's conviction. 
Laying out the evidence in the case, the justices said none of it linked 
Lindsey to the scene of the crime and all of it was circumstantial.

"The state's evidence, while perhaps sufficient to create some suspicion, is 
simply not sufficient to support a conviction," they wrote.

Of the 389 people currently on Florida's death row, 4 out of 5 were sent there 
by a non-unanimous jury that could not sentence them to death in almost any 
other state, according to the Times analysis. Only 77 are condemned to die 
because a jury voted unanimously, and 22 others waived their right to a jury.

And yet, data on convictions, exonerations, and executions suggest that these 
non-unanimous jury verdicts often don't survive scrutiny by appellate courts. 
The Times analysis found that a person sentenced to death row by a unanimous 
jury is more likely to be executed than someone condemned by a divided jury.

Over the course of the past 2 decades, the state has executed 59 people. 1/3 of 
them were sentenced to death by unanimous juries, compared with 1 in 5 of the 
prisoners in the state's general death row population.

It's impossible to say with certainty whether Florida would send more or fewer 
people to death row if a future law required jurors to reach a unanimous 
decision. No one knows in which direction today's 7-5 or 9-3 juries would swing 
if everyone had to agree.

"Florida has long been an outlier state with regard to our death penalty 
scheme," said Assistant Public Defender Pete Mills of the 10th Judicial 
Circuit, who chairs the Florida Public Defender Association's death penalty 
committee.

"That's a polite way of saying that we are the kid everybody knew in grade 
school that ate paste."

Most exonerated death row inmates were split votes

More death row inmates are exonerated in Florida than anywhere else in America.

But many of those cases might not have reached death row if Florida used even 
Alabama's lenient standard. At least 17 were sentenced to death on the 
recommendation of 9 jurors or fewer.

Without those 17 cases, Florida would drop from 1st in the country to No. 10.

The quality of the jury deliberations in the Hodgkins case may demonstrate how 
flawed cases can wind up on death row.

After taking an initial vote, six jurors raised their hands in favor of 
condemning Hodgkins to death. 6 hands went up in favor of life in prison 
without parole.

"There wasn't a person who didn't believe he was guilty," said juror Francine 
Gillam, 66. But that wasn't the question they were tasked with answering. 
Gillam, a devout Catholic, said she was one of several jurors who couldn't 
bring themselves to vote for capital punishment, not because they doubted the 
state's evidence, but because of their religious convictions.

"We were just deadlocked," said juror Jay Stamper, 55. "For almost the whole 
time we were in there, it was 6-6."

They went around 1 more time, each person giving the reasoning behind the vote. 
By the time everyone had spoken, 1 woman had changed her mind. Asked how long 
this process took, three jurors interviewed by the Times estimated 
deliberations lasted an hour or 2.

"It wasn't that much of a discussion," Gillam recalled. "We kind of batted the 
issues around the table, like, should this monster live?"

"1 person changed her mind and that was that," Stamper said.

To the defense attorneys who represented Hodgkins at trial, the fact that their 
client's life hung on 1 juror's about-face was stunning.

"That's crazy," defense attorney Bjorn Brunvand said. "First of all I'm shocked 
they didn't have problems with whether or not he was guilty. But then, just the 
fact that it's so whimsical ... it doesn't sound like their decision was based 
on any significant consideration of the aggravating or mitigating factors."

In 2006, the Capital Jury Project, a consortium of researchers who study 
decision-making in death penalty cases, released the results of a survey of 
jurors from 13 states. In it, they found that jurors who were not required to 
reach a unanimous vote to recommend a death sentence were more likely to take 
less time to make a decision.

Among all those surveyed, Florida jurors were the fastest decision makers - 38 
% reported spending an hour or less on their sentencing recommendation.

Florida jurors were also the least likely to ask to review testimony or read a 
transcript during deliberations, and the most likely to reach a decision after 
only 1 vote.

The study called it "an apparent rush to judgment."

Hodgkins' acquittal shocked the jurors who learned about it, several of whom 
said they feared he would murder again. But the fact that the Florida Supreme 
Court reversed a death sentence recommended by a closely divided jury is no 
surprise.

Nearly 1/2 of all 7-5 jury decisions are overturned on appeal, according to a 
study by the Florida Senate's Criminal Justice Committee. Analyzing jury 
verdicts from 2000 to 2012, the committee found that 47 % of 7-5 decisions were 
either overturned and sent back for a new trial, or the defendant was 
acquitted. In some cases, the prisoner's sentence was reduced to life without 
parole.

By comparison, 63 % of unanimous jury decisions over the same period were 
upheld by higher courts.

It's not that state Supreme Court justices see the closely divided jury 
recommendations and decide to overturn the case. But experts in jury dynamics 
and death penalty cases say that because there's less discussion, Florida 
jurors are less likely to raise the specter of doubt or spend hours examining 
the case for possible holes.

"When they can do less than a unanimous verdict, people on the jury can look 
around and see, well, we've got e8 people voting for death. If I vote for life, 
then I can go home and say I didn't vote for death, and the guy still gets the 
death penalty," O.H. Eaton Jr., a retired circuit judge and nationally 
recognized death penalty expert, testified before a state Senate committee last 
week.

"Whereas when you have a unanimous verdict, everybody's got to work, and 
they've got to come to grips with the issue, and they've got to make a 
decision."

Florida prosecutors are pushing a bill that would require jurors to reach a 
unanimous decision on whether the aggravating factors in the case outweigh the 
mitigating factors. But when it comes to recommending a sentence, the bill 
raises the standard only to a supermajority, a 9-3 vote.

State Attorney Brad King of the Fifth Judicial Circuit in Ocala told lawmakers 
last week that jurors aren't always honest during voir dire - the questioning 
of prospective jurors - about their true feelings on capital punishment.

"We need some safety valve for that 1 particular, or those 3 particular jurors 
that just say: 'I can't do this,'" King said.

To many defense attorneys, the prosecutors' bill reads like an obvious attempt 
to hold onto their advantage in death penalty cases.

Asked what would have happened if they had been required to reach a unanimous 
verdict, jurors in Hodgkins' case joked they might still be deliberating years 
later.

Stacey Ness, a juror who voted in favor of the death penalty, speculated that 
the case would have ended in a life sentence.

"You can only convince so many people, and if someone is truly set in their 
religious beliefs, like a real strong Catholic, they're not going to impose the 
death penalty," she said.

Gillam, who opposed the death penalty at the time, guessed the opposite.

Both sides had apparently been willing to bend, but the discussion never 
reached that point.

(source: tampabay.com)

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

The conservative case against the death penalty


Last month the U.S. Supreme Court struck down Florida's death penalty statute 
by an 8-1 vote. The court's decision in Hurst v. Florida has once again brought 
the issue of the death penalty to the forefront. As a result, I felt this was a 
good time to ask my fellow conservatives who still favor the death penalty to 
re-think their positions. I will provide a few reasons why.

Most conservatives share a deep and fundamental distrust of "Big Government," 
and its inability to effectively and efficiently carry out even the most menial 
tasks. The process of the death penalty is a prime example of Big Government 
inefficiency. Mistakes happen, and a mistake in imposing the death penalty can 
mean the wrongful killing of an innocent person. According to the nonpartisan 
Death Penalty Information Center, 156 people have been exonerated from death 
row since the death penalty was re-enacted following the 1972 Furman v. Georgia 
Supreme Court case, which struck down death penalty statutes across the 
country. Of those 156 death row exonerations, Florida has led the nation with 
26, followed by Illinois with 20 and Texas with 13. In 2014 alone, 6 death row 
inmates were exonerated based on actual innocence. Many of the 156 death row 
inmates who have been exonerated had previous death warrants signed and some 
had come within hours of execution, only to later be exonerated by proof of 
actual innocence.

Make no mistake about it: Innocent men have been executed. Cameron Todd 
Willingham was executed in Texas in 2004 for allegedly setting fire to his own 
home, killing his three daughters. Three subsequent investigations have shown 
that the fire was not arson, and probably caused by faulty wiring. In 2015, the 
prosecutor on his case was charged with misconduct by the Texas Bar for 
withholding material evidence from Willingham's attorneys.

To some in our justice system, the execution of an innocent man is of no 
concern. Oklahoma County District Attorney Bob Macy, who personally sent 73 
defendants to death row, was quoted by the New York Times as stating his belief 
that executing an innocent person is a sacrifice worth making in order to keep 
the death penalty in the United States. Also, when Louisiana death row inmate 
Glenn Ford was exonerated in 2014, the prosecutor on his case admitted that he 
was partly responsible for Ford's wrongful conviction because he was not as 
interested in justice as he was in winning.

>From a taxpayer prospective, the cost of the death penalty far exceeds the cost 
of life without parole. In 2000, the Palm Beach Post reported that the 44 
executions carried out in Florida between 1976 and 2000 cost an average of $24 
million each. Richard Dieter, executive director of the Death Penalty 
Information Center, recently testified that Florida spends $51 million a year 
above and beyond what it would cost to punish all 1st-degree murderers with 
life in prison without parole. The increased housing costs alone for the 
inmates on death row is $3.4 million a year more than the cost of housing the 
average male inmate, according to data collected by the Commission On Capital 
Cases in 2008.

And the exorbitant cost is coming with little return. Florida has executed a 
total of 92 inmates since 1972. There are currently 389 inmates on Florida's 
death row, 13 having been there since the 1970s. At the current rate of 
execution, it would take over 150 years to execute just the inmates currently 
on death row.

Conservatives who have publicly stated their opposition to the death penalty 
include former U.S. Sen. Jack Kemp, Col. Oliver North, columnist Tucker 
Carlson, talk show host Laura Ingraham and George Will. John McLaughlin, 
creator and host of "The McLaughlin Group," has called the death penalty the 
"biggest government waste." CNN Crossfire's conservative co-host S.E. Cupp has 
written an excellent editorial, "The conservative case against the death 
penalty," for the New York Daily News, which you can find on Google.

The United States is the only Western nation that still retains the use of the 
death penalty. Europe rid itself of capital punishment in the early 1980s, and 
the U.S. is now 5th in the world for the greatest number of executions after 
China, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq. Is this the company we wish to keep?

(source: Opinion; James Purdy has served as public defender of the Seventh 
Judicial Circuit since 2005. He has practiced criminal law in Florida for over 
36 years as both a defense attorney and prosector. As an assistant attorney 
general, he argued death penalty cases in the Florida Supreme Court on behalf 
of the state of Florida. He served as chairman of the Volusia County Republican 
Party in 1999----Daytona Beach News-Journal)