[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----TEXAS, N.H., FLA., LA., NEB., ID., NEV.

[Rick Halperin]

July 15



TEXAS:

With a man's execution days away, his victims react with fury or forgiveness



For the past 3 months, Christopher Anthony Young has awoken in his 10-by-6 foot 
concrete cell on death row and had to remind himself: He's scheduled to die 
soon.

As the day crept closer, the thought became more constant for Young, who's 
sentenced to die for killing Hasmukh "Hash" Patel in 2004.

"What will it feel like to lay on the gurney?" he asks himself. "To feel the 
needle pierce my vein?"

Mitesh Patel, who was 22 when Young murdered his father, has anxiously 
anticipated those moments, as well. He wonders how he will feel when he files 
into the room adjacent to the death chamber and sees Young just feet away 
through a glass wall.

For years, Patel felt a deep hatred for Young. He wanted to see him die. Patel 
knew it wouldn't bring his father back. But it was part of the process that 
started 14 years ago when Young, then 21, gunned down Hash Patel during a 
robbery at Patel's convenience store on the Southeast Side of San Antonio.

3 months ago, though, his attitude began to change. He started speaking to 2 
filmmakers who were working on a documentary about Young. He learned Young has 
3 teenage daughters, feels deep remorse for the murder and wants to be a 
positive influence on children who were once like him.

Patel made a decision: He wanted Young to live.

For others, though, memories of the morning of Nov. 21, 2004, are much more 
difficult to forgive.

Just before the murder, Young pointed a gun at a woman and raped her at her 
home while her 3 children watched, court records state. The woman told the San 
Antonio Express-News she's still furious with Young and can't forgive him - at 
least not yet. So are her mother and her children.

"I don't necessarily agree with the death penalty, but I can't say I would 
spare his life," said the woman, whom the Express-News is not identifying 
because she is a rape victim. "These are things you don't forget."

Young and Patel - along with their families - hope they'll be able to stop 
Young's execution, which is scheduled for Tuesday, and reduce his sentence to 
life in prison without parole. Both want to work together to start a mentorship 
program for young men who have experienced trauma and are prone to violence or 
gang life.

"You have to move past the hate," Patel said. "If there's a chance for 
positivity, go fight for that."

The woman who was raped, though, doesn't believe Young truly has changed.

Young's family, including his 3 daughters, have been thrown into a very public 
debate about capital punishment. 2 of his daughters were babies when their 
father was arrested. They have struggled to come to terms with their father's 
actions, but they still yearn to have some sort of relationship with him.

The families have worked to provide a sense of normalcy for the girls so they 
can have a future. If the execution goes on as planned, Patel said he wants to 
be there for the girls to provide mentorship and guidance.

Patel said this path, one of forgiveness and advocacy, is one of the best ways 
to honor the legacy of his father, an immigrant who came to the United States 
in the 1970s to help his family. Hash Patel was 53 when he died.

"He was a genuinely good person," Patel said. "Growing up, I always saw he did 
whatever he could to help."

Childhood trauma

Young grew up on the East Side with his mother, Dannetta, and his 4 siblings.

He was a smart kid, his family says. He loved playing outside, especially 
basketball and football. He also loved to rap with his older brother, Don'ta.

Young lived with his mother, but he was very close with his father, Willard 
"Chuck" Young. The 2 would work on cars - his dad was a "car fanatic," Young 
says - or go fishing. Young's father was a cook, and Young loved his Southern 
dishes, like gumbo, jambalaya, rattlesnake and squirrel.

"I remember the snake," Young said recently at the Polunsky Unit in Livingston. 
"It was alright. It didn't taste bad. I'd eat it again."

Young's father never explicitly talked about it, but in hindsight, Young 
wonders if his father was a gang member. Young doesn't remember him wearing 
gang colors, but he did spend a lot of time with other gang members in the 
area. His Uncle Michael was a gang member, too.

When Young was 8, he spent the day with his father at the annual Martin Luther 
King Jr. March. Afterward, Young's father dropped him off at his 
great-grandparents' home. He promised he'd return in 15 minutes.

Hours passed, and Young's father didn't show. Late that evening, a police 
officer knocked on the door. Chuck Young had been shot 5 times during an 
apparent carjacking just blocks away. His body was tossed from the car onto the 
street. His white Cadillac was found miles away on the West Side.

Young doesn't remember the next few days. It wasn't until the wake, when he saw 
his father's body in the casket, that reality struck.

Young's grandmother, Cherlye "Belinda" Benson, said her grandson didn't speak 
for 2 weeks after the murder. He was in a catatonic state.

Young was haunted by the murder. He remembers spending hours watching a VHS 
recording of a segment on a local news station re-enacting the crime. He still 
remembers the video vividly: 3 men entering the white Cadillac, the actor 
playing his father getting shot several times through the seat, his body being 
tossed to the ground.

Young also clearly remembers seeing his father's car after it was returned by 
police. Dried blood plastered the front. There was a bullet hole in the seat.

A few months later, another crime rocked the family: One of Young's relatives, 
whom he was very close to, was raped and impregnated by her mother's boyfriend, 
court records state.

Young became withdrawn, his family said. Once happy and outgoing, he now was 
quiet and reserved, rarely speaking in school. No one got him therapy.

After his dad's murder, Young began spending more time with the local Bloods. 
He already was familiar with many because of his father. He wanted to follow in 
his father's footsteps. He wanted a sense of family. He decided to join.

A 'happy guy'

Hash Patel immigrated to the United States when he was a young man to help his 
parents, who owned a struggling farm in India. His wife, Mina, stayed in India 
for a year before joining her husband. Their young daughter, Rinal, lived with 
her aunt and uncle before joining her parents a few years later.

Patel was a mechanical engineer - he had designed fire system sprinklers in 
India - but his degree didn't help him in the U.S., so he worked a number of 
odd jobs. He lived 1st in Pennsylvania before moving to Texas.

In 1982, Hash and Mina had the 2nd child, a boy, Mitesh.

The family bounced between Houston, Dallas and San Antonio before settling in 
the Alamo City in 1988. Hash decided he wanted to work for himself, so he 
purchased the Mini Food Mart on East Southcross.

Hash Patel was a hard worker. For years, he would work seven days a week, 
refusing to take any time off. Eventually, the family was able to convince him 
to close the store at noon or 2 p.m. Sundays so he could attend a Hindu temple.

Growing up, Mitesh didn't understand why his father wasn't home that often. 
Now, Mitesh appreciates the work ethic his father instilled in him and his 
sister.

Hash Patel was well-known in his neighborhood. He gave nickels to children who 
frequented the store and would allow kids to take home items even if they were 
a bit short on cash, Express-News archives show.

Patel bought a 1970 Buick Skylark when he first arrived in the United States. 
He still drove it, years later. Customers would look for the Skylark to see if 
Patel was there and the store was open.

One former customer told the Express-News in 2004 that Patel had prayed for him 
and offered words of encouragement when the customer had contemplated suicide. 
Another friend recalled how Patel spent several months beside the bed of a 
nephew who was injured in a motorcycle accident.

"He was a friendly, happy guy," daughter Rinal Doshi said. "Everybody liked 
him. Everybody that met him liked him."

Trouble begins

Young, meanwhile, continued to grapple with his father's death.

He began selling crack cocaine when he was 13, but he managed to keep it secret 
from his family. He smoked marijuana and drank, but he didn't use hard drugs - 
at least at first.

At school, Young was uninspired. The schoolwork was too easy. He started 
missing school. When he was told he would have to repeat 9th grade, he dropped 
out.

LaKristle Dilworth met Young when she was 14. They fell in love and quickly 
became inseparable. With her, Young would talk about his father. "What if he 
hadn't dropped me off that morning?" he asked her. "Maybe he would still be 
alive."

Some nights, Young would sleep at Dilworth's house. He'd often jump out of bed 
sweating after a bad nightmare, she recalled.

Benson, Young's grandmother, knew her grandson still was struggling with his 
dad's death. She encouraged Young and his brother to share stories of their 
dad. For the 1st time, she took Young to his father's grave.

But Benson, who has helped raise all her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, 
said she had no idea how troubled Young was. One day, when Young was around 16, 
she found a white substance in his room. It looked like bars of soap. She 
called her husband.

"Roy," she said. "What does crack look like?"

That evening, Benson sat down with her grandson. "What are you thinking?" she 
asked him. "You stay away from that stuff." On other occasions, she talked to 
him about the dangers of gangs.

In fall 2003, Dilworth found out she was expecting a child with Young.

The couple had been together for five years at that point, but Dilworth was 
growing increasingly worried about Young. He had always been part of a gang - 
something she was OK with, because she felt it brought them protection - but he 
had begun hanging out with even shadier characters, many of whom did hard 
drugs.

Finally, she decided to break up with him. She was several months pregnant.

Young began dating another woman, but he still had a good relationship with 
Dilworth. He would check on her and attend her prenatal doctor's appointments, 
she recalled.

One day, after they had broken up, Young's brother called Dilworth and asked 
her to stop by Young's place. When she arrived, Young was high and agitated. 
She had never seen him that way. That's when she knew he had begun doing harder 
drugs.

In June 2004, their daughter, Crishelle, was born.

That year, Young learned his new girlfriend was expecting a child as well. The 
pair fought often, and on at least 2 occasions, he beat her, court records 
show.

One time, 2 weeks before the birth of his 2nd daughter, Young grabbed his 
girlfriend as she was heading home. He pulled her outside, punched her and 
threw her in a ditch, court records show. He stopped hitting her only after she 
lied and told him her water had broken and she was in labor, the records state.

Their daughter, Christajha, was born in September, just a few days after her 
father's 21st birthday.

Fateful encounter

On Nov. 20, 2004, the day before the murder, Young's girlfriend told him she 
wanted to permanently end their relationship. Young accosted her, records 
state, pulling her out of her vehicle, beating her and taking her car, purse 
and cellphone.

That evening, Young drank 15 to 21 beers and smoked marijuana all night, 
records state. He didn't sleep. When morning came, he smoked crack cocaine.

About 9 a.m., Young headed to the Reserve at Pecan Valley apartment complex on 
East Southcross. There, he approached a woman returning from Patel's store. He 
knocked on her door and forced his way inside, asking where the money was.

The woman responded that she had only $28. At that point, Young told her to get 
undressed and asked her to perform oral sex on him, the records state. Her 3 
children, who were 7, 4 and 2, watched.

After the rape, Young forced the woman into her red Mazda Protege, but she 
quickly was able to escape through the passenger-side door. Young drove off 
without her. Minutes later, Young entered Patel's store. Prosecutors said he 
pointed a gun at Patel and told him to "give up the money."

Young, who did not testify in his own defense, said he still was "drunk as 
hell" at the time. He saw Patel's hand go under the counter after he pointed 
the gun at him and Young assumed Patel was reaching for a gun. Patel, though, 
actually was reaching for the panic button. Young fired a shot away from him 
and told him to stand still.

Patel kept moving, he said, a statement backed up by court records.

"That's when I shot him in the hand, thinking he was reaching for a weapon," 
Young said recently. "The bullet went into the top of his hand, through his 
wrist and hit him in the chest. That's when he fell."

Young fled the store. Police found him later that morning, holed up in a nearby 
house with a prostitute and some drugs, the records state.

The reckoning

During the trial, Young's lawyer didn't deny that Young killed Patel. Instead, 
he argued there was no evidence Young committed the murder during the course of 
a robbery. No money was taken from the store, court records show.

Surveillance video from the store showed Young entering with a gun, but the 
audio was difficult to hear. A police detective testified that he could not 
discern what was being said. An investigator with the Bexar County district 
attorney's office, though, said he could clearly hear the words, "Give up the 
money."

Young also denied that he raped the woman. A rape test confirmed there was 
evidence of saliva on Young's genitals and there was a 99 % probability the 
saliva belonged to the woman, records state. However, the crime lab technician 
who analyzed the test did say it was possible the saliva belonged to someone 
else.

In a recent interview with the Express-News, Young said he expected to be found 
guilty of Patel's murder. His family, too, understood there had to be 
consequences for his actions. But both Young and his family didn't believe he 
should be charged with capital murder.

Young's lawyer advised Young not to testify in his own defense - something 
Young regrets, in hindsight. According to Young, the lawyer said there was no 
reason to raise a defense because the prosecution hadn't proven without a 
reasonable doubt the murder occurred during a robbery. Thus, they couldn't 
sentence him to death.

When the jury did come back with his sentence, Young was shocked. His mother, 
Dannetta, gasped and fainted.

For years while on death row, Young remained bitter and angry, consumed by 
hatred. He still had a strained relationship with his mother and they didn't 
talk for several years. But he did stay in contact with the rest of his family, 
sending letters regularly to his grandmother and relatives.

Roughly twice a year, he was able to see his daughter, Crishelle, but she 
didn't understand the reality of his situation. She was a year and 8 months old 
when her father was sent to prison. Dilworth, her mother, didn't feel it was 
her place to explain what her father had done. She told her daughter he had 
been sentenced to life in prison, but avoided questions about the crime.

Young's absence was difficult for Crishelle. When she was 5, she returned from 
a visit to the prison with dozens of questions. "Why can't my daddy give me a 
kiss?" she asked her mom.

A few years later, when she was 8, Crishelle's school hosted a father-daughter 
dance. Dilworth had to explain that Crishelle wouldn't be able to attend. Every 
day leading up to the dance, Crishelle would return from school crying.

One day, Dilworth called her cousin crying. She explained her predicament, that 
no one was able to take Crishelle to the dance.

The day the dance arrived, Dilworth and her daughter got an unexpected visit 
from 3 cousins and Dilworth's uncle. They were all dressed to the nines. 
Crishelle, it turns out, would be able to attend the father-daughter dance.

Around that time, Young's attitude began to change, too. For years, he had 
refused to accept the reality of his situation. He was angry that he had been 
sentenced to death. But as Crishelle grew older, he realized he needed to 
mature for her.

2 years ago, when Crishelle was 12, Young finally explained why he was in 
prison. He also told her he had been sentenced to death.

"That was probably the hardest day of my life," Young said. "It was even worse 
than getting the death sentence. To see her break, I broke down."

Young longed to have a relationship with his 2nd daughter, as well. As a baby, 
she was taken into state custody and put in the foster care system, making it 
difficult for Young to find her.

In May of last year, Young received a surprise. He had asked his brother, 
Don'ta, to reach out to Maria Marshall, a woman he had briefly dated as a 
teenager, because he wanted to reconnect with her. Don'ta contacted Marshall on 
Facebook and she almost immediately responded. Then, she told Don'ta that Young 
had a teen-age daughter, Na'Quita.

The news was a shock to Young. But then, he saw a picture of Na'Quita and 
couldn't deny she was his child. She looked just like his mother and 
grandmother. She also looks like her half-sister, Crishelle.

Marshall, it turns out, had become pregnant when they both were teenagers. She 
tried finding Young after Na'Quita was born to no avail. Then, she heard about 
the crime and that he had been sentenced to death. She assumed the execution 
happened soon thereafter.

For years, Marshall tried to protect her daughter from the news. She told 
Na???Quita her father was "missing in action." Eventually, she planned to tell 
her the truth: That her dad was a murderer who had been sentenced to death.

But then, Don'ta reached out. The news shocked Marshall and Na'Quita. At first, 
it was difficult. Na'Quita struggled to come to terms with what her father had 
done.

"I know he's a better person now, but it's hard for a 17-year-old to wrap your 
head around it," Na???Quita said recently. "It was kind of hard at first, but 
now that I'm getting to know him, it's more smooth."

Due to Marshall's busy work schedule, Na'Quita wasn't able to meet her dad for 
several months. They did communicate by letter, and then, in November, Na'Quita 
met him for the 1st time. Their relationship is young - and challenging at 
times - but Na'Quita is glad she's been able to get to know her father.

"You have to forgive," Na'Quita said. "That's the way I see it."

A different perspective

For others, though, forgiveness isn't that simple.

For several years after the crime, the woman Young raped struggled to get her 
life back on track. Then in her mid-20s, she moved in with her mother. She 
refused to open the door when the doorbell rang. Her family had to go grocery 
shopping for her.

Her children, who witnessed the rape, had a difficult time coping as well. Her 
oldest daughter, who was 7 when her mother was raped, had to be put on 
antidepressants. To this day, she still has memories of that morning.

The woman barely could sleep at night. She woke up with nightmares of Young 
raping her. Eventually, she began drinking heavily so she could fall asleep. At 
one point, she had a psychotic break and ended up in a hospital.

After Young was sentenced to death, she worried he might escape. She called the 
warden at the Polunksy Unit, where Death Row is housed, and had him describe 
the prison's security measures.

The woman was raised to be a devout Christian and a God-fearing woman. But her 
relationship with God suffered. She trusts God less. "Why me?" she asks.

About 5 years ago, with help from her family, she began to get her life back on 
track. She started going to school and got her associate's degree in education. 
She studied psychology and tried to learn what would compel a person to commit 
such a heinous crime.

The woman, now 39, has a 10-year-old son who born after the rape and has been a 
blessing in her recovery. But it's been difficult at times, too. She won't 
allow her son to play with toy guns because they bring back memories of that 
morning.

"It's a shame," she said. "Little boys like to play cops and robbers."

For awhile, she was able to forgive Young. But recently, as the case began 
getting national attention, the wound was reopened. She doesn't believe Young 
is a changed man.

"I believe he is a changed man because he went to prison," the woman said. "He 
had no choice."

As a Christian, she's struggled to come to terms with the death penalty. She 
doesn't believe in capital punishment, but she can't force herself to advocate 
for Young's clemency.

"I'm not asking for him to die," she said. "I'm not asking him to live, 
either."

She's amazed by the Patel family's strength, but despite her best efforts, 
she's not ready to forgive again. One day, she hopes she can.

"I want to get back to my family," she said. "I want my mind to be with them. I 
want my normal life back."

A new chapter

After the murder, RinalDoshi and Mitesh Patel returned to San Antonio to help 
care for their mother, Mina, and prepare for the funeral.

The family knew Hash Patel was influential in the community, but they were 
overwhelmed by the love and support that poured in. They estimate over 2,000 
people attended his funeral. It was standing room only.

6 months earlier, Doshi had given birth to her 1st son. She stayed in San 
Antonio for several months after the murder, raising her newborn son and 
helping their mother. Mina and Hash Patel had been married for nearly 30 years.

"Her world collapsed around her that day," Doshi said recently. "My dad was her 
whole world. She didn't know how to cope with it."

Every evening, Mina Patel would go to bed crying. Her daughter would try to 
comfort her, but she struggled to find the right words.

"What do you say to make her understand?" Doshi asked. "What she was wanting we 
were unable to give her."

Every morning, Mitesh Patel would wake early and drive his father's 1970 Buick 
Skylark, the car he purchased when he first arrived in the U.S., and head to 
the Mini Food Mart. Patel would park his father's car in a parking spot on the 
far right, the same place his father parked. Eventually, the family sold the 
store.

To this day, the family still feels Hash Patel's absence. Rinal Doshi talked to 
her dad every day on the phone. Sometimes, she still picks up the phone to call 
him before she realizes she can't. Mitesh Patel was never able to introduce his 
father to his wife and 3 children.

For years, the Patel family supported the death penalty. In March, when a 
representative from the state of Texas called to inform the family that Young's 
execution date had been set, it felt like the final chapter.

Then, about 3 months ago, 2 filmmakers arrived at Patel's doorstep and 
explained they were working on a documentary about Young. They had video of 
Young apologizing directly to Mitesh Patel, and they wanted to know if Patel 
would like to see it.

At first, Patel was weary. He didn't want to see the video. But he was 
interested in finding out more, especially after he learned more about Young.

Mitesh talked to his family, and they began rethinking their views on the death 
penalty. Together, the family decided to support Young's bid for clemency. "Let 
him live and God will save his soul," Mitesh's uncle said.

Today, Mitesh Patel doesn't know how he feels about the death penalty. "It 
hasn't made the murder rate any lower," he said. What he does know is it 
doesn't make sense to execute someone like Young, who feels deep remorse and 
has a family.

After the Patel family came forward in late June, the case has gained national 
attention. A Change.org petition to support Young's bid for clemency - which 
was subsequently rejected Friday by the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles - 
has 40,000 signatures and counting. A NowThis short documentary about the case, 
published online earlier this week, already has 1.1 million views on Facebook 
and YouTube.

Several celebrities have highlighted the case, too. Common, a well-known 
American rapper, wrote about Young's bid for clemency, as has Sister Helen 
Prejean, a prominent death-penalty activist who wrote "Dead Man Walking."

On Monday, Patel's wife, Shweta, gave birth to their 3rd son. With support from 
his family, Patel has handled most of attention, all while juggling the duties 
of fatherhood.

On Thursday evening, after his wife was discharged from the hospital, Patel 
flew to New York to discuss the case on several national television networks. 
Breaking news dominated the news cycle, but he did film several segments about 
the case. In them, he speaks directly to Gov. Greg Abbott, asking him to stay 
the execution.

As the execution on Tuesday looms, Young's legal options are dwindling. His 
lawyers have asked Abbott to issue a 30-day reprieve, which would allow them to 
pursue additional appeals. They have also sued the Texas Board of Pardons and 
Paroles, alleging the board???s decision to reject Young's bid for clemency was 
influenced by racism.

Execution pending

Young isn't afraid to die. "It's the only thing in life that's guaranteed," he 
said recently. But he worries about his family: His mother, Dannetta, with whom 
he finally has a relationship. His 75-year-old grandmother, Cherlye, who helped 
raise him. His 3 daughters.

In the months leading up to Tuesday's execution, Young has tried to help 
prepare his family for his death. His grandmother and mother have begun making 
funeral arrangements. If the execution goes on as scheduled, they're planning a 
small wake and will bury him next to his father.

Initially, Young said he didn't want any of his family to attend the execution. 
"I wouldn't put nobody through that," he said. "I don't see any benefit in 
anybody watching somebody die like that." But recently, he has indicated to his 
grandmother he might allow her to attend.

Crishelle's mother will try to keep her daughter busy all day.

Dannetta will spend the evening in Livingston with her husband, after spending 
the day seeing her son a final time.

Cheryle will either attend the execution or quietly sit at home and say a 
prayer.

The rape victim will spend time with her family, away from the news, perhaps on 
the beach.

Mitesh will be at the execution. He wants Young to know he tried to save his 
life, and that he's remorseful Young won't be able to have a positive impact on 
someone else's life.

"I can't forget what he did 14 years ago," Patel said. "He did what he did. The 
facts are the facts. He acknowledges that. But I can look beyond that."

(source: San Antonio Express-News)








NEW HAMPSHIRE:

Override death penalty veto



To the Editor: There is absolutely no reason for New Hampshire to have the 
death penalty.

I was extremely disappointed when the governor vetoed the repeal. The death 
penalty is inhumane and does not deter crime.

It's embarrassing to live in a state that still has it on the books. 
Legislature, override the veto!

Laura Crawford, New London

(source: Letter to the editor, Union Leader)








FLORIDA:

Death penalty case sees testimony from medical examiner, others



Amanda Cloaninger Colley was shot 9 times and her friend, Lindy Mosler Dobbins, 
3 times, the day they were killed in a shooting spree in Colley's MuraBella 
home nearly 3 years ago.

That was the testimony of chief medical examiner Dr. Predrag Bulic on the 2nd 
day of the death penalty trial of James Terry Colley Jr.

And it was testimony - more than an hour's worth - that James Colley sat 
through with his head down, keeping his eyes from the autopsy photos of the 2 
women he is accused of killing.

He is facing 2 counts of 1st-degree murder in the shooting death of Dobbins and 
his estranged wife as well as 2 counts of attempted 1st-degree murder and 
various burglary charges stemming from the shooting.

Bulic's afternoon testimony came during a full day of state's witnesses who 
were called to walk jurors through the case. It all followed the 1st day of 
testimony in which the 2 survivors of the rampage - Amanda Colley's boyfriend, 
Lamar Douberly, and her friend Rachel Hendricks - told jurors what they 
experienced the morning of Aug. 27, 2015, at 260 South Bellagio Drive.

During questioning from Assistant State Attorney Mark Johnson, Bulic told 
jurors that although Amanda Colley had been shot by 9 separate bullets, her 
body had been wounded several more times. The number of wounds, he explained, 
were the result of various entrance, exit and re-entrance wounds resulting from 
single bullets, some of which passed through her arms and legs before 
re-entering her body elsewhere.

Bulic described the wounds to her limbs as "defensive wounds," some of which 
were likely sustained while she was sitting or lying on the floor trying to 
shield her vital organs from the gunshots.

Though several of the wounds she sustained could have killed her, Bulic said, 1 
bullet that passed through a hand and entered her neck, severed her carotid 
artery and spinal cord and would have been "immediately lethal."

That was also the case for 2 of 3 wounds sustained by Dobbins, who was shot in 
the right temple and right shoulder as well as a foot as she tried to hide in a 
closet of her friend's home.

Other witnesses on Friday included Det. David Causey with the St. Johns County 
Sheriff's Office who performed forensic examinations of both James Colley's and 
Amanda Colley's phones.

During questioning by Assistant State Attorney Jennifer Dunton, Causey 
testified that James Colley had called his estranged wife 22 times the morning 
she was killed, left at least 4 voicemail messages and sent several text 
messages, many of which suggested that Colley was upset over learning that his 
wife was having an affair.

In 1 voicemail Colley can be heard telling the mother of 2 that "You are lucky 
I don't tell our children about this," and in others he asked her to "Please 
talk to me, please."

The trial resumes Monday morning.

Prosecutors are expected to rest their case later that day, with Colley's 
defense team, Garry Wood and Terry Shoemaker, calling their 1st witnesses on 
Tuesday.

(source: St. Augustine Record)








OHIO----impending execution

Federal judge allows open phone line during Ohio execution



A federal judge is allowing the use of an open phone line to his courtroom 
during an Ohio execution scheduled for next week.

The decision by Judge Michael Merz again permits a system created last year 
when defense attorneys tried unsuccessfully to stop an execution based on the 
inmate's reaction to the lethal drugs.

Under the order, attorneys for death row inmate Robert Van Hook and an 
assistant attorney general will be on the line with the judge in case something 
goes awry.

The 58-year-old Van Hook is set to die Wednesday for the strangling and 
stabbing death of David Self in Cincinnati in 1985. His attorneys fought his 
execution, citing his childhood physical, mental and sexual abuse, but he is 
now out of appeals.

(source: Associated Press)








LOUISIANA:

Hearing wraps for convicted killer, decision about death row future could come 
in a year



Testimony has ended and the process has begun for Rapides Parish Judge Patricia 
Koch to start making a decision if she will vacate the conviction and death 
penalty sentence of quadruple murderer Darrell James Robinson.

Robinson was sentenced to death in 2001 for the 1996 murders of a family of 4 
in the Rapides Parish community of Poland. Throughout the summer, 
post-conviction attorneys for Robinson have been trying to build a case that 
Robinson had ineffective defense during his trial and that the prosecutor at 
the time withheld information. Both have denied wrongdoing. They have also been 
trying to prove that someone else was responsible for the murders.

On Friday, the state called Owen McDonnell, a crime scene reconstruction expert 
to testify, but that testimony got off to a rocky start because Judge Koch 
limited a significant portion of his testimony by not qualifying him on several 
fronts including trajectory, blood stain patterns, and firearms after 
Robinson's lawyers argued that he was not specifically qualified as an expert 
in those areas. That drew criticism and a hint a filing a writ from special 
prosecutor Hugo Holland. Ultimately, McDonnell was allowed to testify, but 
Robinson's attorneys objected throughout.

Later, we heard from a psychologist who testified in earlier weeks.

After transcripts are completed, each side will have 60 days to submit briefs 
to Judge Koch and then she will start making a decision. That could take a year 
from now.

"I wish he was at the end of the line," Holland told News Channel 5. "Her 
decision, regardless of what it is, is automatically going to be appealed to 
the Louisiana Supreme Court. They have to decide whether she is right or wrong, 
whichever way she rules. And, then this defendant has even more federal relief 
he can bring. Fortunately, federal courts move faster than state courts, but 
it's a slow track, intentionally so by these defense lawyers in getting this 
guy to the death chamber."

(source: KALB news)




NEBRASKA:

Aubrey Trail enters not guilty pleas for all charges



"There is no one that wants a trial more than Aubrey Trail," said Joe Murray, 
Aubrey Trail's attorney after a hearing Friday morning.

Trail, accused of murdering Sydney Loofe, was arraigned on 2 charges in the 
Saline County District Court.

He's pleaded not guilty to both the charge of 1st degree murder and improper 
disposal of human skeletal remains.

This hearing came just a day after the Attorney General's Office announced they 
will seek the death penalty in this case.

Trail's attorneys said this is exactly what they expected.

"We haven't seen the evidence yet but they'll have to prove it, and Trail wants 
a trial," Benjamin Murray, Trail's attorney said,

The judge said this means the Attorney General's Office will have to prove 2 
things: that Trail has a history of serious assaultive or terrorizing criminal 
activity, and that this case, his alleged murder of Sydney Loofe, showed 
exceptional depravity.

When asked why seek the death penalty, Corey O'Brien with the Attorney 
General's Office said the law required it. O'Brien made no further comments, 
telling the media it would be "inappropriate" to do so at this time,

Trail's attorneys say this case, which is unlike any other they've worked on, 
is only getting started. They said a trial is more than 6 months away.

Trail will be back in court on August 20 for a status hearing.

Unlike Trail, Bailey Boswell, who is facing the same charges, hasn't been 
arraigned in the district court.

She will be back in the Saline County Court on July 24.

(source: KLKN TV news)








IDAHO:

Woman allegedly killed for $800----Kamiah man accused of stabbing woman and 
dumping her body near Winchester almost a month ago



A Kamiah man has been charged with 1st-degree murder for allegedly stabbing a 
Clarkston woman to death.

Cole J. Marcell, 24, originally of Lewiston, had an initial appearance Friday 
afternoon in Nez Perce County 2nd District court. Magistrate Judge Greg 
Kalbfleisch set bond at $1,000,000, and a preliminary hearing was scheduled for 
July 25.

Marcell appeared by video from the Nez Perce County Jail and sat with his hands 
folded in front of his face while answering Kalbfleisch's questions with a 
simple "yes, sir" or "no, sir." Nez Perce County Prosecutor Justin Coleman said 
he will decide whether to seek the death penalty after the homicide 
investigation concludes.

The body found Saturday at Mud Springs Pond near Winchester has been identified 
as 32-year-old Sarah N. Warden. An autopsy report found Warden had numerous 
slashes and puncture wounds that appeared to come from a knife. The autopsy 
also found she had signs of head trauma. The body had decomposed and may have 
been at the pond for as long as a month, according to court records.

Court records indicate Marcell allegedly intended to rob Warden of a Social 
Security check valued at $800.

Marcell was arrested in connection to the murder Wednesday by Orofino police 
after he reported for a probation meeting. Officers targeted Marcell as a 
suspect after he allegedly admitted to stabbing a woman to two fellow inmates 
in June at the Clearwater County Jail, where he was incarcerated on unrelated 
charges. Marcell allegedly told the inmates he "stabbed Sarah in the throat." 
He also claimed he ordered 2 accomplices to stab Warden 10 times each so they 
would be implicated in the murder and not "snitch" on him, according to court 
records.

Warden's debit card was found on Marcell when he was arrested, as well as a 
large, sheathed knife.

Marcell and 2 other unidentified people - a man and a woman - reportedly took 
Warden out near Waha sometime between June 1-7. That's where Marcell allegedly 
slit Warden's throat with a fillet knife. Marcell told investigators the 2 
unidentified people with him each stabbed Warden multiple times.

Nez Perce County Sheriff Joe Rodriguez said the case is being investigated and 
deputies are seeking information about the two unidentified individuals. 
Rodriguez declined to release any details on other possible suspects, saying he 
didn't want to tip anyone off. Rodriguez said additional search warrants are 
being executed but the exact location of where Warden was killed is not clear.

Rodriguez said Marcell was acquainted with Warden.

Information about the case originally was withheld since the body was found on 
Nez Perce Tribal land, and the FBI took the lead on the investigation and 
clamped down on releasing details.

Warden was last seen alive May 31 in Clarkston.

Marcell was questioned after his arrest Wednesday and claimed he took Warden 
out near Zaza and Soldier's Meadow roads along with the two other individuals. 
He claimed the unidentified man grabbed Warden out of the truck and told him to 
slash her throat. Marcell allegedly admitted to "barely" cutting Warden's 
throat, drawing blood.

The case is being tried in Nez Perce County since Marcell told investigators 
the alleged killing took place near Waha, about 22 miles from where Warden's 
body was found.

Marcell has a lengthy criminal history spanning from the time he was a 
juvenile. Much of his past charges involve battery and are comprised of mostly 
misdemeanor offenses including drug possession and theft. Marcell was charged 
with felony domestic battery and attempted strangulation in Clearwater County 
in September 2013, but he pleaded guilty to a reduced misdemeanor charge.

Marcell was assigned a public defender through the firm Magyar, Rauch and 
Associates.

1st-degree murder is punishable by life in prison if the death penalty is not 
sought.

Nez Perce Tribal police, Clarkston police, Rathdrum police, the Lewis County 
Sheriff's Office and the Idaho County Sheriff's Office assisted in the 
investigation. Anyone with information pertinent to the case is encouraged to 
call the Nez Perce County Sheriff's Office at (208) 750-2088, ext. 4744.

(source: The Lewiston Tribune)








NEVADA:

Time to bring firing squads, hanging back to Nevada



In 7 states and Washington, D.C., terminally ill patients can get a 
prescription from their doctors to kill themselves. Nevada state government, 
however, can't legally obtain the drugs needed to kill a convicted murderer who 
wants to die. Welcome to 2018.

The on-again, off-again - and now off indefinitely - execution of Scott Dozier 
reads like a parody in The Onion. Americans have figured out how to put a man 
on the moon, replace casino employees with machines and create self-driving 
cars. Along the way, they lost the ability to execute a murderer convicted of 
dismembering a man.

This isn't another example of government incompetency. It's the result of an 
increasingly successful effort by death penalty opponents to stymie executions. 
But first, some history.

In 1775, all 13 colonies had the death penalty and only Rhode Island had it for 
fewer than 10 crimes. Along with murder, offenses such as rape, stealing horses 
and counterfeiting carried the punishment of death. The First Congress passed a 
crime bill that included the death penalty and allowed judges to order the 
dissection of the convicted after executions. Something to remember when 
considering the historical context of the Eighth Amendment's prohibition 
against "cruel and unusual punishments."

Over the next 2 centuries, executions went from public spectacles to closed 
events, and the preferred method went from hanging to electrocution. In 1921, 
Nevada was the 1st state to adopt lethal gas as a form of execution. Several 
states also abolished the death penalty. In 1972, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled 
that states were administering the death penalty too randomly and overturned 
600 death sentences. In response, states refined their statutes, and in 1976 
the Supreme Court reaffirmed the constitutionality of the death penalty.

In 1977, Oklahoma and Texas started the lethal-injection trend, which soon 
became the preferred method of execution. Today, 33 states allow it. Some allow 
death by electrocution, lethal gas, hanging or firing squad, but generally only 
as a secondary method.

This presented an opportunity for death penalty opponents that didn't involved 
legislation. If they could stop states from obtaining the drugs used for lethal 
injection, they could stop most executions. That's exactly what they've done.

"Anti-death penalty advocates pressured pharmaceutical companies to refuse to 
supply the drugs used to carry out death sentences," wrote Justice Samuel Alito 
in the 2015 case Glossip v. Gross. The campaign then extended to Europe and 
pressuring the Italian and Danish governments to stop companies from selling 
drugs used in lethal injections. Under the Obama administration, the Food and 
Drug Administration even started seizing drugs used in lethal injections.

There are good reasons to be concerned about the death penalty, but the 
inability to find an appropriate method of execution isn't one of them. 
Government shouldn't be allowed to force a company to sell it a drug, but that 
doesn't mean executions have to stop.

In recent years, Utah brought back the firing squad as an execution method for 
instances when it couldn't perform lethal injections. Tennessee did the same 
thing with the electric chair.

The Nevada Legislature should follow suit. If death penalty opponents want to 
prevent lethal injections, bring back the firing squad or gallows.

(source: Opinion; Victor Joecks, Las Vegas Review-Journal)

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

Fentanyl And The Death Penalty



NPR's Renee Montagne speaks with Robert Dunham of the Death Penalty Information 
Center about Nevada's attempt to use fentanyl for an execution.

RENEE MONTAGNE, HOST:

States around the country have been struggling to acquire drugs for lethal 
injections. As the state's supplies have run out, many pharmaceutical companies 
have balked at having their products used for executions. The state of Nevada 
this week was forced to postpone the execution of convicted murderer Scott 
Dozier. That's because the manufacture of midazolam, one of the drugs in the 
lethal cocktail, sued the state and a judge disallowed its use. What stands out 
about this postponed execution is that Nevada had hoped to become the first 
state to use the opioid fentanyl in a lethal injection. Robert Dunham is with 
the Death Penalty Information Center, which takes on the issue of how the death 
penalty is administered. Thank you for joining us.

ROBERT DUNHAM: Good morning.

MONTAGNE: What do you make of Nevada's attempt to add fentanyl to its drug 
cocktail?

DUNHAM: Well, I think fentanyl is not really the drug of choice. I think it's 
an accidental drug, if you will. The drugs that states previously had relied 
upon have become increasingly difficult for them to obtain. And once they 
couldn't obtain them, they started looking elsewhere. That's how they came 
across fentanyl.

MONTAGNE: But, of course, this is the drug many of us have heard of because 
it's at the heart of the opioid crisis in this country.

DUNHAM: And that's one of the ironies about this because the whole 
constitutional issue in lethal injection is whether the method of executing 
somebody is cruel and unusual. And that comes down to whether it has a 
substantial risk of unnecessary pain. And it's somewhat ironic that at the same 
time that the Justice Department and states are talking about how dangerous 
fentanyl is the states are now turning to it as a supposedly safe way of 
killing prisoners.

MONTAGNE: Yeah. Well - and, again, it has never been used in an execution so 
far. Is there some sort of protocol states must follow before they introduce a 
new drug to the cocktail?

DUNHAM: There's a requirement that each state has a protocol, but what that 
protocol is is a matter of state law. So states can choose whatever drugs they 
want to so long as they pass constitutional scrutiny.

MONTAGNE: Well, what about these lawsuits? Ultimately, could that mean the end 
of lethal injection as a form of capital punishment?

DUNHAM: That's a good question, and I think that what we're seeing is that 
states are looking for different alternatives. Some states have looked to 
change the drugs that they're using. Others have gone from a multiple-drug 
protocol to a single-drug protocol. And other states have looked for different 
methods altogether. So you have Utah that's adopted as a backup the firing 
squad, and you have Oklahoma and Alabama and Mississippi who've adopted as a 
backup nitrogen gas. Tennessee has gone for the electric chair as a backup. So 
states are looking at all the different options.

Some have also said, well, if we're not going to be able to carry it out 
through a method that we think is the most humane way, we're going to do away 
with the death penalty altogether. And that's been part of the debate when it 
comes to the executions, for example, in Utah. Even after they adopted the 
firing squad as a backup, the next year they introduced a bill that would 
abolish the death penalty. And although it hasn't been enacted, that's 
something that the states are seriously considering. So everything is on the 
table, and I think that we're going to see different states reacting 
differently, and that's in part because some states are more conservative than 
others. Some states are more concerned about ensuring that the executions are 
done as painlessly as possible. And other states, regrettably, have indicated a 
willingness to breach contracts and mislead drug distributors in order to 
improperly obtain drugs.

MONTAGNE: Robert Dunham is executive director of the Death Penalty Information 
Center. Thanks for joining us this morning.

DUNHAM: My pleasure.

(source: npr.org)