In this opinion piece Senator Tim Kaine celebrates Virginia's elimination of the death penalty. I understand his gratification that his state which as the capital of the confederacy was the defender of slavery, the executioner of John Brown, and executed more people in its long history than any other state.
I remember the pride I felt when the City of Rome lighted the Colosseum in tribute to New Jersey's legislative repeal of capital punishment in December 2007. A few months later I organized a day long symposium on repeal at Seton Hall Law School. The theme was Rabbi Shalom Spiegel's maxim "Justice cools the fierce glow of moral passion by passing it through reflection". I wrote an introductory essay titled Herald of Change? And indeed several states have followed suit, though California and Nebraska took one step forward and one back.
But as I read Kaine's essay I was surprised to learn that he - a former defender in capital cases (and veteran of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps) - had, while Governor, allowed executions to go forward despite his personal opposition. Why?
Could he not have imposed a moratorium? Virginia Governors serve only one term. Was he looking forward to running for Senate? Is his acquiescence any different than the New Jersey trial judges and state Supreme Court Justices who acquiesced in the people's legislative will but rigorously reviewed every case? Employing what Justice John Wallace called "super due process" the New Jersey Supreme Court effectively blocked executions for twenty five years. Was that complicity in evil, acquiescence or virtuous heeding of the law? Governor Brendan Byrne had an easy answer. He vetoed the restoration of the death penalty until term limits pushed him out and traditional Republican moderate conservative Thomas Kean won election.
Notre Dame Professor John Garvey and Amy Coney Barrett (then a Circuit court law clerk) in 1998 proposed that recusal was the right choice for a Catholic judge. But when Barrett reached the Supreme Court she did not recuse, but allowed the profoundly impaired Lisa Montgomery to be executed for a bizarre and ghastly 2004 killing. Montgomery was the first woman executed by the federal government United States.
What does the oath of office require of our officials - judges, Governors and Presidents? The Supreme Court has held that an order of nuns who object to artificial contraception practiced by their employees may not be compelled to fill out a form declaring entitlement to exemption from providing coverage in their health plans for such medicines. And the court seems poised to reverse the Third Circuit Court of Appeals which refused to compel Philadelphia to contract with Catholic Social Services which refuses to provide foster care or adoption to unmarried couples or even to same sex married couples of whose union it disapproves. Is such conscience a command or an option? Was Kaine right to "follow the law" by allowing executions to go forward? Should he have refused to participate in the capital punishment process?
- GWC
Tim Kaine: Virginia’s ending the death penalty shows other states how to do the same - The Washington PostBy Tim Kaine
Tim Kaine, a Democrat, represents Virginia in the U.S. Senate and was governor of Virginia from 2006 to 2010.
I met my wife, Anne, a native Virginian, in law school in the early 1980s. Idealistic youngsters, we grappled with whether to live in Richmond or my hometown of Kansas City. A key consideration in our choice of Virginia was the Biblical phrase “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” There seemed to be so much work to be done here.
As Susan Dunn explains in her book “Dominion of Memories,” Virginia was America’s wealthiest and most populous state until the late 1820s and the producer of a huge percentage of its leaders into the 1840s. But Virginia lost influence toward the end of America’s first century, largely because of its choice to cling to the institution of American slavery it had helped create.
When I arrived in Virginia in 1984 to work as a civil rights lawyer, evidence abounded how much work needed doing. And one of the key struggles was Virginia’s overuse of the death penalty.
Virginia is the death penalty capital of the United States. Beginning with the first execution under a colonial government in 1608, we have executed 1,390 people, more than any other state. Following the Supreme Court’s decision restoring the death penalty in 1976, Virginia has executed more people than any state except Texas. And the painful history exposes the fundamental racism of capital punishment.
In the 19th century, Virginia executed 513 Black people and only 41 Whites. Before the Civil War, the criminal code made certain crimes capital offenses for Black residents that were noncapital offenses for White people. And even after the Civil War, when crimes such as rape were technically capital offenses for everyone, the ultimate punishment was used only against Black people. Fifty-six people were executed for rape or attempted rape in Virginia between 1908 and 1965 — all were Black.
As I began my legal career, I represented death-row inmates on a pro bono basis. One prisoner was executed in 1987; we shared his last meal a few minutes before the state electrocuted him. I represented another executed in 1996, walking him into the death chamber and holding his hand while he was strapped to a table for the state to kill him by lethal injection. These searing experiences, face-to-face with the humanity of my clients, made me pray for the day when Virginia would discard this brutal institution.
Early in my political career, a campaign consultant looked at the cases I had worked on and said, “You clearly never planned on running for office.” And my lifelong opposition to the death penalty became the key political weapon against me in the 2005 governor’s race, with ads featuring victims’ suffering families and claims I wouldn’t even execute Hitler. My victory despite these attacks suggested a softening of the public’s position on the death penalty.
As governor I kept my word to Virginians that I would follow the law by allowing numerous executions to go forward. The days those sentences were carried out were among the worst of my life. But I vetoed many bills expanding the death penalty and helped implement changes to professionalize and better compensate criminal defense attorneys. The combination of shifting popular attitudes and a commitment to high-quality defense teams had essentially halted new death sentences. The last capital conviction in Virginia was 10 years ago, and that case was reversed on appeal.
Tim Kaine, a Democrat, represents Virginia in the U.S. Senate and was governor of Virginia from 2006 to 2010.
I met my wife, Anne, a native Virginian, in law school in the early 1980s. Idealistic youngsters, we grappled with whether to live in Richmond or my hometown of Kansas City. A key consideration in our choice of Virginia was the Biblical phrase “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” There seemed to be so much work to be done here.
As Susan Dunn explains in her book “Dominion of Memories,” Virginia was America’s wealthiest and most populous state until the late 1820s and the producer of a huge percentage of its leaders into the 1840s. But Virginia lost influence toward the end of America’s first century, largely because of its choice to cling to the institution of American slavery it had helped create.
When I arrived in Virginia in 1984 to work as a civil rights lawyer, evidence abounded how much work needed doing. And one of the key struggles was Virginia’s overuse of the death penalty.
Virginia is the death penalty capital of the United States. Beginning with the first execution under a colonial government in 1608, we have executed 1,390 people, more than any other state. Following the Supreme Court’s decision restoring the death penalty in 1976, Virginia has executed more people than any state except Texas. And the painful history exposes the fundamental racism of capital punishment.
In the 19th century, Virginia executed 513 Black people and only 41 Whites. Before the Civil War, the criminal code made certain crimes capital offenses for Black residents that were noncapital offenses for White people. And even after the Civil War, when crimes such as rape were technically capital offenses for everyone, the ultimate punishment was used only against Black people. Fifty-six people were executed for rape or attempted rape in Virginia between 1908 and 1965 — all were Black.
As I began my legal career, I represented death-row inmates on a pro bono basis. One prisoner was executed in 1987; we shared his last meal a few minutes before the state electrocuted him. I represented another executed in 1996, walking him into the death chamber and holding his hand while he was strapped to a table for the state to kill him by lethal injection. These searing experiences, face-to-face with the humanity of my clients, made me pray for the day when Virginia would discard this brutal institution.
Early in my political career, a campaign consultant looked at the cases I had worked on and said, “You clearly never planned on running for office.” And my lifelong opposition to the death penalty became the key political weapon against me in the 2005 governor’s race, with ads featuring victims’ suffering families and claims I wouldn’t even execute Hitler. My victory despite these attacks suggested a softening of the public’s position on the death penalty.
As governor I kept my word to Virginians that I would follow the law by allowing numerous executions to go forward. The days those sentences were carried out were among the worst of my life. But I vetoed many bills expanding the death penalty and helped implement changes to professionalize and better compensate criminal defense attorneys. The combination of shifting popular attitudes and a commitment to high-quality defense teams had essentially halted new death sentences. The last capital conviction in Virginia was 10 years ago, and that case was reversed on appeal.
No comments:
Post a Comment