[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----LA., OHIO, KY., OKLA.

[Rick Halperin]

May 29



LOUISIANA:

What to do about capital punishment likely will be on the agenda for a few more 
years



Louisiana has struggled for more than a decade over the death penalty - and a 
few more years could pass before the Legislature addresses the issue again.

The inability to carry out capital punishment, coupled with the costs 
associated with it have left some lawmakers questioning whether capital 
punishment is effective in deterring violent crime - or worth the bang for the 
buck.

At the same time efforts to make executions easier, including changing the mode 
of death, have been as unsuccessful as the more frequent movements to abolish 
capital punishment.

"I just don't see a widespread appetite for abolishing the death penalty at 
this time," said Pete Adams, executive director of the Louisiana District 
Attorneys Association. Additionally, he said getting rid of the death penalty 
would lead to more efforts to eliminate life without parole sentences.

"The Republican part of me says 'Why are we engaged in a program that clearly 
doesn't work'," said Baton Rouge Sen. Dan Claitor, who has sponsored 
legislation to do away with capital punishment.

"I see Louisiana as engaged with the idea and less with the reality," he added.

8 years have passed since Louisiana put someone to death.

In 2010, Gerald Bordelon - who killed his 12-year-old stepdaughter - waived his 
appeal and volunteered to be executed. The last execution of a convicted 
murderer who didn't volunteer was 16 years ago in May 2002.

Currently, 70 individuals are on death row, but they may never be put to death 
because Louisiana no longer has access to the pentobarbital or combination of 
midazolam and hydromorphone used in lethal injections.

Additionally, 11 defendants are awaiting trials for capital offenses as the 
state struggles with the cost of providing their legally required defense team, 
which consists of a lead counsel, an associate counsel, a fact investigator and 
a mitigation expert.

Over the past 2 years, legislative efforts to abolish the death penalty have 
gained traction but have been unsuccessful.

After battling legislation this past session to place the 10-2 verdict rule on 
the fall ballot and require a unanimous jury to convict criminals, taking on 
capital punishment was, perhaps, too much political pressure, said Democratic 
New Orleans Sen. JP Morrell, a former public defender who sponsored the bills 
to do both.

And next year is an election year for many legislators, meaning lawmakers will 
default to the "status quo," leaving little room for any seismic shift in 
government, he said.

Even if he was faced with the possibility of putting someone to death who 
killed someone he loves, he wouldn't change his stance because life in prison 
is harsh enough, Morrell said.

"I'm very aware of what the criminal justice system is like - I know being in 
prison for the rest of your life is hell," he said. "I wouldn't feel like if 
someone were convicted to life in prison that that person would be 'getting 
off' with that."

Rep. Terry Landry, a Democrat from New Iberia, has advocated abolishing the 
death penalty in both the 2017 and 2018 regular sessions.

His attempt in 2017 included an amendment to bring the issue to voters on a 
ballot but lost by one vote in the House Committee on the Administration of 
Criminal Justice. A similar measure by Claitor cleared the Senate but was 
sidetracked after Landry's bill was defeated.

Landry tried again in 2018, but his bill failed after 10 Republican committee 
members voted against the 7 Democrats and 1 Independent for the bill.

Morrell, whose own measure cleared a Senate committee, decided not the bring it 
up for a vote on the Senate floor after Landry's effort was defeated.

Before entering the House in 2012, Landry was the head of the Louisiana State 
Police and was involved in the investigation of Derrick Todd Lee, a convicted 
murderer sentenced to death after being linked to the deaths of 7 women in 
south Louisiana. Awaiting execution, Lee died in early 2016 from heart disease.

Though he believes all evidence points to Lee's guilt, Landry said he still 
wouldn't carry out the punishment today. But he can't say the same if it was 
someone close to him.

Landry's "spiritual and religious convictions" and the expensive cost of 
capital punishment serves as his reasons to continue efforts to abolish the 
practice.

"Our teachings say if you're going to be pro-life, you've got to be pro-life 
from the womb to the tomb," he said. "You can't be against abortion and be for 
the death penalty."

One of the difficult issues to address when discussing the death penalty is the 
emotional impact the victims' families endure and whether a life for a life is 
justified. Claitor says people are frequently wrong in their assumptions about 
what the victims' families do and don't want because families have a tremendous 
capacity to forgive and heal without putting someone to death.

Once offenders receive a death sentence, they can pursue automatic appeals to 
both the state and federal courts. Jay Dixon, a public defender on the 
Louisiana Public Defender Board, said the process after conviction includes an 
evaluation of whether the court and jury got the verdict right or made an error 
in the ruling, if the prosecution cheated or hid evidence and if there was 
ineffective assistance to counsel defendants.

"It is a lengthy process and thank goodness we have it because Louisiana would 
have definitely executed innocent men," he said.

Over $100 million has been used just on public defender funds since the board 
was formed in 2007, he said, and those costs don't include prosecutors' 
spending, court spending, hotels for jurors for 2 weeks, police costs or lab 
costs for capital punishment cases.

Additionally, Dixon said districts receive 65 % of the board's funding, 
resulting in improved districts, but problems for the board to provide teams on 
capital punishment cases.

The state Department of Corrections cited no significant cost difference 
between housing death row inmates and other offenders.

Under current law, Louisiana allows the death penalty for those convicted of 
1st-degree murder and 1st-degree cases of rape when the victim is younger than 
13 years old, as well as the crime of treason.

11 people have been freed from death row in Louisiana, including Corey 
Williams, an intellectually disabled man who spent 20 years behind bars after 
being arrested at 16 years old for the murder of a pizza deliveryman. Williams 
was freed on May 22 after pleading guilty to the lesser charges of manslaughter 
and obstruction of justice.

The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 2002 that intellectually disabled defendants 
could not be executed.

(source: The Advocate)








OHIO:

Attorney driven by belief that even worst offenders deserve fair trials



The angry emails, phone calls and letters began shortly after she first stood 
in court to represent the man accused of kidnapping, raping and murdering 
Reagan Tokes.

"The thing I heard most was, 'How do you sleep at night?'" Diane Menashe said. 
"I get that a lot."

After 20 years as a criminal defense attorney, much of it spent trying to save 
defendants' lives in death-penalty cases, Menashe knows the job comes with its 
share of public scorn. But none of her previous cases triggered as much 
hostility as her defense of Brian L. Golsby, a convicted sex offender who 
abducted and brutalized the 21-year-old Ohio State University student before 
fatally shooting her.

Kort Gatterdam, who teamed up with Menashe in defending Golsby, said she 
endured more criticism than he did for handling the case, largely because she's 
a woman.

"It particularly appalled people that she would dare defend this accused rapist 
and killer," he said. "That's why she took more of a hit."

Her willingness to take on such a case, he said, "says a lot for her 
character."

For Menashe, 44, it boils down to a strong opposition to the death penalty and 
a commitment to the proposition that everyone charged with a crime, "no matter 
how egregious," has a constitutional right to a fair trial.

She estimated she has represented about 30 death-penalty defendants in her 
career, at least a half-dozen of whom have gone to trial. Her most high-profile 
client before Golsby was Daryl Lawrence, sentenced to death in 2006 by a 
federal jury for killing Columbus Police Officer Bryan Hurst during a bank 
robbery.

Menashe recently was appointed, along with defense attorney Frederick Benton, 
to the case of Quentin L. Smith, facing the death penalty in the February 
shooting deaths of 2 Westerville police officers. She also is representing 
clients in 2 death-penalty cases pending in federal court.

"I think the death penalty is barbaric," she said. "The studies show that it's 
not a deterrent, and it's actually more expensive than putting someone in 
prison for the rest of their life."

Menashe said she's felt that way since at least the 10th grade, when an 
examination of the death penalty in a government class cemented her opinion. 
She had decided back in the 2nd grade that she wanted to be a lawyer after 
playing one in a school play in her hometown of Seattle.

"I represented Tommy the Toothbrush," she said.

Menashe had a privileged upbringing, thanks to a father who owned food 
brokerage and marketing companies. But she felt a calling to represent criminal 
defendants with whom she has little in common.

"I come from real affluence," she said. "My clients for the most part are 
impoverished and not well-educated. I went to private schools, boarding school 
in California for my last 3 years of high school. I've traveled the world. When 
I see someone who doesn't have any advantages and no support system, it really 
hits me hard. Every day, I think about how incredibly fortunate I am."

Her father, Jack Menashe, said 2 words always come to mind when he thinks of 
his daughter. "She's competitive and she's tough," he said.

"She easily could have taken over management of my businesses," had that been 
her goal, he said.

Diane Menashe went off to Purdue University to play softball, but instead 
decided to join the rowing team. She excelled at it for four years and, for 
three summers, was selected to participate in the U.S. Women's National Team 
Pre-Elite Camps, a collegiate feeder system for the Olympic and national teams.

She got her undergraduate degree in political science and headed to Tulane 
University Law School in New Orleans, where she got the chance to participate 
in an actual death-penalty case through a criminal-law clinic.

"It was an absolutely eye-opening experience," she said. "It was clear ... this 
is definitely what I want to do."

Menashe earned her law degree in 1998 and came to Columbus for a job with the 
Ohio public defender's office in the death-penalty division. 2 years later, she 
was co-counsel in her 1st death-penalty case, in Champaign County Common Pleas 
Court.

She spent 3 years as a public defender and has been in private practice since, 
always on her own, never joining a firm. "I feel like there's something to be 
said for doing it all on your own," Menashe said. "When you rise, you rise, and 
when you fall, you fall."

She always has a co-counsel, as the law requires, when she handles a 
death-penalty case. Her most-frequent partner has been Gatterdam, whom she met 
at the start of her career when he ran the trial section for the state public 
defender's office.

"Our skill sets are drastically different, and they complement each other," she 
said. "He loves motion practice and writing. Not me. The best part for me is to 
stand up and give a closing argument without any notes."

Their personalities are different, too, Gatterdam said.

"She's blunt," he said. "Her personality, if you don't know her, can be 
off-putting. She doesn't sugar-coat anything. That honesty is a positive. 
Maybe, at times, some would think it's not a good strategy, but it's worked 
pretty well for her."

Franklin County Common Pleas Judge Colleen O'Donnell was just beginning her 
career at the same firm where Gatterdam worked when she met Menashe.

"She's very direct in how she communicates," O'Donnell said. "She's so honest 
and direct and prepared that she can catch people off-guard. As a woman, it was 
something I admired. I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to emulate it in my 
career, and I don't know that I have, but I really appreciated her example."

O'Donnell, like Menashe, is a resident of Grandview Heights and has gotten to 
know her away from the courthouse. As intense as she can be in a courtroom, she 
has another side, O'Donnell said.

"She is able to separate herself from her work. She's lighthearted, funny and 
easygoing."

Assistant U.S. Attorney David DeVillers, who has been the opposing counsel in 
several of Menashe???s cases in federal court, said "she's kind of fun to be in 
trial with."

"A lot of trials her and I do involve very violent crimes, very tragic," he 
said. "She is able to blow off steam with some humor at sidebars or when we're 
talking about the case. A lot of it is gallows humor."

Menashe's favorite method of stress reduction is through frequent workouts at a 
gym in Grandview.

"I go there religiously, 6 days a week probably," she said. "Exercise is 
critical to me. It's how I keep my sanity."

She also spends as much time as possible with friends, including her boyfriend 
of 4 years, Matt McCune, who is in the commercial real estate business and 
competes in Ironman triathalons.

Her toughness was never tested more than in 2003 and 2004, when she fought 
charges that she tampered with evidence and obstructed justice in the murder 
case of a police officer in New Vienna, a Clinton County village.

Village officials were accused of destroying documents in the case. The officer 
told investigators that Menashe, his attorney, had encouraged him to gather up 
those documents.

Her freedom and her career were on the line until she passed a polygraph 
examination and the felony charges were dismissed.

"It was an absolutely horrible experience," Menashe said. "It financially broke 
me. It's a testament that it didn't break my spirit. I think there are a lot of 
defense attorneys who would have hung it up."

That "dark time" left her with "good perspective," she said. "It goes to the 
point that innocent people do get charged with crimes."

Golbsy didn't fall into that category. The evidence against him was so 
overwhelming that she and Gatterdam knew from the beginning that their job was 
to prevent a death sentence.

Menashe even took a different approach than usual in her closing argument to 
the jury during the sentencing phase of the trial.

"In other death-penalty cases, I've said, 'Give him life' or 'Give him a life 
sentence,'" she said. "But I felt like there wasn't anyone who would want to 
give Brian Golsby anything because his actions certainly hadn't deserved that. 
So the wording I used in Brian's case was, 'Don't kill him.'"

She is proud of the result of the March trial, in which the jury convicted 
Golsby of the crimes but spared his life. He is serving a sentence of life 
without parole.

It isn't lost on Menashe that she had a lot in common with Golsby's victim, "a 
young woman trying to do the right things: working, going to school, trying to 
be a good friend, girlfriend and daughter. But that's separate and apart from 
the fact that Mr. Golsby deserves the right to a fair trial and due process."

Some members of the public understood that. Menashe estimates that 20 % of what 
she heard was supportive.

She saved a hand-written letter from a Westerville woman who saw television 
coverage of the trial.

"I am not excusing his crime any more than you were, but I was deeply touched 
as I watched you defend this broken and outcast soul," the woman wrote. "It 
took a lot of courage on your part to even take this case."

The letter serves as "a great reminder of why I do this work," Menashe said.

(source: Columbus Dispatch)








KENTUCKY:

Jury selection to begin in trial of men accused of murdering Marine



Jury selection is scheduled to begin Tuesday in the trial of two men accused of 
murdering a U.S. Marine.

Quincinio Canada and Dawan Mulazim are accused of killing Jonathan Price and 
injuring his wife, Megan, in a Lexington shooting in June 2014.

Nearly 4 years later the 2 suspects are finally expected to go to trial. Canada 
and Mulazim could face the death penalty.

? On the 1st anniversary of Price's death, his mother showed WKYT's Kristen 
Kennedy what her son meant to her and how she remembers him.

"I'll be honest, there's not been a day that I haven't cried at some point," 
Debbie Price said at the time. "It's like there's a hole in my heart, and I 
don't think it can ever be repaired, but I'm grateful that I have good memories 
to help fill in that hole."

Canada and Mulazim, charged with murder and robbery, could be put to death if 
convicted. The trial had been pushed back before, which is not uncommon for 
capital murder cases, Fayette Circuit Judge Pamela Goodwine explained to WKYT's 
Hillary Thornton last year, in discussing the challenges that such cases 
present.

Online court records show that jury selection is scheduled to begin at 9 a.m. 
Tuesday inside Fayette Circuit Court. Family members said jury selection alone 
could last into next week. It is unclear how long prosecutors expect the trial 
to last.

(source: WKYT news)








OKLAHOMA:

Man accused of killing father free on $400,000 bond



A Blanchard man accused of killing his father and faking it as a suicide in 
2012, is free on $400,000 bond.

James Kyle Brooks, 37, is charged in Stephens County District court with 
first-degree murder deliberate intent, records indicate. If convicted he could 
face the death penalty, life without parole or a life sentence.

Brooks had been in jail and held on no bond since his initial court appearance 
on March 22. Accused of murdering his father in August. 2012, Brooks' 
motivation was a $500,000 insurance policy taken out without the father's 
knowledge, according to investigators.

Marlow police first undertook the investigation on Aug. 8, 2012, after 
responding to a report (from James Brooks) "that his father had shot himself" 
at his home at 506 W. Chickasaw, according to an affidavit filed in court. 
Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation Special Agent Robert Williams related 
the events and investigation that followed.

Police found James Brooks waiting at the door and his father, Timothy Brooks, 
sitting in a chair, wearing nothing but shorts. He was dead from a gunshot 
wound that entered his upper abdomen. A 12-gauge shotgun with the muzzle 
pointing upward was propped between his legs. According to the affidavit, James 
Brooks walked over his father's body and picked up the shotgun before he was 
ordered to put it on the ground and step away. After he was escorted out and 
placed in a police unit, James Brooks became agitated and demanded to leave, 
the affidavit states. He was taken to the police station for interview.

Brooks first said that he was estranged from his father and hadn't spoken in at 
least a year, according to the affidavit. He said his father had mental health 
issues. The son said his mother had died. Although the parents were divorced, 
his father refused to believe she was dead and refused to attend the funeral.

(source: swoknews.com)