How I Spent My Summer |
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by K. Marie Black
Imagine yourself in a 6' x 8' cell. The fluorescent lighting in the cell would send any interior decorator into orbit. The cell contains a bed, a chair, a basin, and a toilet. Very little is on the wall except perhaps pictures of your favorite stars, those offering momentary relief from the daily doldrums. You have lived 99% of your life for the last five or so years (you lost count once you started losing hope) in this cell. You have acquainted yourself with everyday sounds: the loud crash of the bars as they open and close, the rubber squishing of the guards' pseudo wing-tips, the clanking of their keys, your breathing. The other inmates' breathing. Soon, you will be moved from this cell to another one like it, a cell closer to your final destination. Like a caged animal you are awaiting the slaughter. And your hopes for reprieve are running out. When the slaughter comes it will be painful. Tick. It will be ritualized. Tock. It will be detached. Tick. It will also be sanctioned by the majority of the United States' 200 million plus inhabitants and its government.
For many of us, our days play out pretty similarly: we wake, shower, coffee, make-up, kiss, work, sleep, etc. We try to balance time for ourselves with time for others and our responsibilities. We occupy ourselves with the world around us, our place in it, and how we will make that damn student loan payment. We balance our need to be creative with our need to be "responsible citizens." It's very easy to get lost in the mechanics of life without actually living life. Living meaning fully appreciating life: all its ups and downs and roller coaster loop-de-loos. It's the age-old forest for the trees kinda thing.
During my recent tour of the Deep South, I met someone who has transcended this bourgeois search for life's meaning and has found a "higher calling." Ironically, he, along with the organization he works for, is helping people by ensuring that they live to see the next mundane set of life's events unfold. The help he provides allows his clients to live to take life for granted. He is Clive Stafford Smith of the Louisiana Crisis Assistance Center. Unfortunately, his clients happened to be some of society's worst killers and capital offenders, most of whom the majority of America would like to see fry, or said more politely, would like to apply capital punishment to.
So what's a pedestrian liberal like myself to do when I meet such commitment and dedication that is also so politically riddled? My deal was common enough: I was pro-capital punishment during college because it seemed a legitimate answer to the question, how do we as a society punish most terrible crimes? I even impressed my more conservative family members and told them that they could no longer call me a bleeding heart liberal because I was for the death penalty. But in recent years, I have become less and less sure of my stance, knowing how inequitably punishment is administered in our society's corruption-clogged, politically-oriented courts.
Clive diminished any ambiguity from my mind. He said the question I should be asking, instead of how to punish should be: what does it do for society? "The answer is absolutely nothing." A native of Cambridge, England, Clive came to the U.S. to attend college some 15 years ago. Since then, he has been working tirelessly to defend indigent clients facing the death penalty ("which are the only ones facing the death penalty," says Clive). A good part of his work has taken place at the frustrating appellate level, where he has faced odds that would make the rest of us want to take a nap. But he has persevered, and he and his team at LCAC are even on a winning streak at the pre-conviction level.
I spoke to Clive recently, and, in his decidedly dry British manner, he made me feel like a bone-headed American. He also gave me some much-needed facts surrounding death row inmates. Clive gave me insight into current southern American culture, how and why it uses the death penalty more than any other of the American states.
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