June 14, 2001

Today I'm giving up my space in favor of a real columnist, Joel Achenbach of the Washington Post.  I've been trying to come to grips with my conflicting feelings about the death penalty, especially in the wake of the whole McVeigh incident.  Achenback's words speak more eloquently than I could ever hope to achieve.  While I don't know if I fully agree with him on all points, I believe he brings up some issues that we all need to discuss and evaluate.  Read on 

What Did You Feel When You Heard the News?

By Joel Achenbach

Washington Post Staff Writer

Monday, June 11, 2001; 11:38 AM

 

Satisfied? Did it feel like justice? Did it heal any wounds, ease any pain? Did it bring closure to the Oklahoma City tragedy?

What did you feel this morning when you heard the news?

It felt sad, that's for sure. Whatever your feelings on the death penalty, this was not a happy morning in America.

Here's another way that justice could have been served: Ignore him. Let him know, through years of inattention, that his message had persuaded no one, that he was not only wrong, he was uninteresting. Tell him that his life wasn't worth the cost of the chemicals necessary to execute him.

Never again speak his name.

Ideally the execution would have been called off at the last minute, the media would have been sent home, and the warden would have told the inmate that he could keep his final statements to himself. Also, someone might have mentioned that quoting from "Invictus" would be incredibly cliche.

Most people would agree that, if anyone deserves to be executed, it's this guy. The problem is, he's also the kind who derives satisfaction, perversely, from his own death at the hands of the government. This is what he wanted. He viewed himself a martyr. He thought himself a soldier in a great cause. He was that most dangerous of creatures, the true believer, the subscriber to a counter-reality so entrancing that he lost any normal sense of right and wrong. He believed the federal government is a monstrous, freedom-trampling, murderous entity. Thus he died in a state of affirmation  a prisoner of war executed by the bad guys.

He was no doubt thrilled that every network and newspaper offered saturation coverage of his last days and hours and minutes. This is one nasty side-effect of the death penalty: It gives a moment in the sun to someone who deserves to be locked away and forgotten. I didn't want to know his final thoughts, or the fact that his last meal consisted of two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

There are many of us who simply do not want to hear, ever again, some idiot claim that his detonation of a fertilizer bomb outside an office building was actually a military operation. There is always a tendency to seek deeper meaning in horrible crimes, to plumb the psychic depths of the killer, to search for the fountain of evil that makes such a thing possible. In truth, it's easy to hate, and easy to kill. It doesn't take genius or talent or a wonderful imagination.

No one can say that this wasn't a big news story. Not only did it involve the worst act of domestic terrorism in the nation's history, it was also the first federal execution in 38 years. But it sure was a joyless story. There wasn't much here to like. (We will ignore for the moment the freaks who get a visceral charge from executions  the type who hoot and holler and wave frying pans when someone goes to the electric chair.)

Each person can decide, based on his or her conscience, the definition of justice. Maybe some of the survivors and relatives of the victims in Oklahoma City found some solace that the killer is no longer breathing. It's interesting that fewer than 250 people showed up to watch the closed-circuit TV feed of the execution. About 1,500 people were eligible to attend. The people with most at stake chose, for the most part, to ignore the killer.

The witnesses who saw the execution were given a glimpse of a person completely unremorseful.

"He got what he wanted. He was laying there glaring right at us," said one.

"It was a totally defiant stare, that if he had the chance he would do it all over again," said another.

Call it justice if you want, but even the death penalty in this case seems too small a punishment. The victims didn't have any choice in their fate. They didn't get a last meal or a last statement. They didn't have time to get their affairs in order or send out any last letters to the media or their supporters. They didn't get to say goodbye. They didn't die painlessly.

This is justice? Then why doesn't it feel that way?