Memoir for a Murderer Too Young for Capital Punishment
The other day an old memory struck me. Thirteen years ago, a friend I had when I was a pre-teen was convicted of murder. The prosecution pursued the death penalty but to no avail; my friend was sentenced to life in prison without parole as a 15 year old. I start searching via google for documents regarding the case and found the information that I had only heard about years ago through heresay. Apparently, my friend was part of a 3-boy group that planned on taking over their highschool; a religious school for the discipline of thebehaviorally deviant. When the conspirators believed that a new kid at school posed a threat to their plan they killed him. One kid bludgeoned the poor soul with a brick then proceeded to beat him; but it was my friend who pulled out the knife and slit his throat.
I remember meeting Joe and we became fast friends. He introduced me to stealing. At our afterschool athletic activities, Joe showed me that people left their belongings in lockers without locks all the time and that they had money. I remember being shocked watching him rob people but hungry for it myself; my family was poor since my dad had lost his job – i remember, in particular, the last christmas where instead of a grand pine tree in our home reaching to heights of 8 feet, we had a 4′ plastic tree donated to us by a friend. Rather then having gratitude for the alms my family received during this hard time, I coveted what we had before and what others have. Watching the theft, it was not long before I started doing the same myself. I started stealing from stores too; candy bars from the local cornerstore that I would then sell at school to get even more money.
Strangely, I don’t even know how I used this new-found source of income. I do, however, remember when I got caught. I had stolen some books from a local book store. My mom noticed the new books in my book shelf and started asking questions; my lies were transparent and she eventually got from me that I had stolen them. I remember weeping as she dragged me to the store with the books to apologize. The store manager looked at me sternly as I wept and threatened, ‘I could call the police you know’. And that was the end of that; I didn’t steal again and I distanced myself from Joe.
Soon thereafter, Joe’s father died. I remember attending the funeral (it was my first) and weeping at the sight of my friends father who died unexpectedly. Who would have thought – an avid triathlete having a heartattack in his 40’s? I remember wiping my eyes and looking over at Joe who was stoic; I remember thinking him being strong in light of the situation and, out of pity, thought I would befriend him again in this time of need. Instead, Joe dropped out of the athletic program; and being that he lived far away, I never saw him again.
I learned that Joe’s mother married a family friend after his wife succumbed to cancer less than a year later. Joe’s 11 year old brother tried to commit suicide and failed, instead, hospitalized. Within the following year, Joe’s stepfather died as well – again, cancer. Joe lost 2 fathers in 2 years and exposed to a brother who wanted to die; it was no surprise to find out his behavior forced his mother to send him to a correctional school. He wasn’t there for more than a year when he murdered another boy.
I wonder if that road could have been me. The environment Joe’s life was ripe with tragedy and mine has experienced numerous blessings intermixed with it’s difficulties. I feel lucky but I feel guilty. By experience I felt the punishment for my crime, and now by precept I know the wrath of grievous sin. I cannot help but wonder that the prosecution tried to give a 15 year old the death penalty.
I’m not sure where I stand on capital punishment. Reciprocal murder for the vengeful sounds appealing in the hypothetical situation; but it is still murder. Thou Shall Not Kill. Maybe serving the rest of your life without freedom, an essential eternity in purgatory, is better penance (at the least, longer penance) than that unknown we call ‘death’. I suppose I’m against capital punishment – at least, if I ever had a say in condemning another to death. I don’t believe that other’s cannot pursue the death pentalty; if they want the burden of their own vengeful murder that is their choice. But, actually, I’ve no idea. If my son/daughter was murdered I don’t know if I would think as rationally as I do now. In such a situation I may want blood.
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