Day 90 -- Wednesday, July 29

Whenever I recall my time in Utah, I'll remember the execution of William Andrews. I first began to hear extensive coverage of this story as I drove through Montana; I previously knew nothing of the circumstances. It seems some 18 years ago, Andrews was one of a trio of men who tortured and killed five people in the process of robbing a hi-fi store in Ogden, Utah. This was not simple murder; the victims were all forced to drink Drano before they were killed. Andrews was the last remaining man convicted in the crime; the others had already been executed. He didn't deny his involvement, but he claimed that he didn't know the people were to be killed, he thought it was to be a non-violent burglary. All reports state that he poured the Drano in a cup as he was ordered to, then left the building when he realized what was going to take place.

The case, and the impending execution, stirred up all sorts of anger and dissenting opinions among the citizens of Utah. As I drove south from Idaho Falls, through Provo and Salt Lake City and east into Vernal, Utah, I listened, over the radio, as the people of Utah worked through this difficult situation. Many felt that there was no other option but to end Andrews' life; he had been convicted and sentenced, and the sentence must be carried out. Others felt his limited involvement in the crime called for a sentence of life imprisonment without parole. The problem is, 18 years ago, when Andrews was sentenced, this option didn't exist. Those who determined Andrews' sentence no doubt felt that, because of the heinous nature of the crime, there was no choice but to sentence all three of the convicted men to death. There were legal maneuverings going up to, and beyond, the final hour but, in the end, all attempts to alter Andrews' fate were unsuccessful. Shortly after 1:30 in the morning, he received a fatal dosage of lethal drugs. He died 11 minutes later.

I don't weep for William Andrews; he's no martyr. Neither is he a hero for walking away from the site of the murders; he did nothing to prevent them.

On the other hand, it seems clear that we must come up with some other solution to this problem. When the state takes a life, it stoops to the same barbaric level as the criminals it seeks to punish. Though the death penalty is often touted as a deterrent to crime, it doesn't seem to work.

Better that we remove any continued threat a convicted killer holds for society by imprisoning him or her for life. In this way, we protect the innocent, prevent the convicted from committing further violent acts and yet demonstrate our society's reverence for life.

In the end, I fear that what supporters of capitol punishment really seek is not justice but revenge. This is an understandable yearning, but one we can't afford to quench. Nothing is gained. Those who have suffered so greatly as a result of the tragic events of that day 18 years ago still suffer today. Andrews' death did not return their loved ones; it is just one more life ended. It is a dangerous thing for humans to play God. Who decides which acts deserve to be repaid with death? True, some acts are so appalling, so horrifying that a death sentence seems a fair and just societal response, but isn't it all a matter of degree? Is one crime deserving and another not? Should every murder be repaid in kind? Are there ever extenuating circumstances? What of other horrible crimes - child abuse or rape? These leave horrible and lasting scars on the victims; surely the perpetrators of these horrible acts are undeserving of our mercy. And what of the occasional instances of overturned verdicts? We've all read of men and women wrongfully convicted of crimes they didn't commit and sent to prison, only to be released years later when the truly guilty party is discovered. Even the outside chance that an innocent person could be put to death for a crime he or she didn't commit should be enough to make us discard this practice.

Finally, I believe in redemption. I was able to hear excerpts from some of Andrews' final interviews; he was an articulate, soft-spoken man who seemed deeply and sincerely sorry for the horrible acts he'd been a part of. Who knows what he might have accomplished, even from within a prison cell? Who knows how many young people he might have reached, with the story of his wasted life? Would his turning his life around, even helping to teach others to avoid his mistakes bring back the innocents who lost their lives on that horrible day 18 years ago? No, but neither did his death.


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