When I started at the criminal justice program at Sam Houston State University in 1996, I was a definite supporter of the death penalty. Someone close to me had lost two people she loved in a extremely brutal manner and it had solidified my belief that the death penalty was right and it was just. I also had a rather naive belief that the justice system was fair and just. Well, what do you expect I was young. Through my studies my eyes were opened to truths and stories that I had been woefully unaware of for most of my life. Now don't get me wrong, I know that our system is flawed but I do think that it is better than so many other so called justice systems out there. I believe that our system works, for the most part and that the vast majority of the time it is guilty people that get convicted. However, there in lies the problem...the vast majority of the time and not all the time because like it or not there are innocent people that end up in prison. The fact is that if you are poor and a minority you are far more likely to be convicted of a crime you are charged with, innocent or guilty. Now when you translate this into deciding death or life, then you have to stop and think for a bit.
I honestly do wish there was a fool proof way to know that the person convicted is actually guilty but there isn't and since that is the case then I had to rethink my support of the death penalty. When I was a blind believer in the death penalty I was also a believer that the death penalty was a deterrent and I labored under the delusion that it was cheaper. HOWEVER, these two justifications for the death penalty are far from being true. The death penalty is not a deterrent for crime and there have been times when it has actually made the chain of events worse. Also the cheaper part is total bs. It is far more expensive to execute someone that it is to put them in prison for life. There were a couple of other events that happened while I was in college that helped to change my mind. While I was at Sam, Karla Faye Tucker was scheduled for execution. Now, I had read the book that detailed her crime and let me tell you, if there was ever a poster child for someone that "deserved" the death penalty then she was the girl. Her crimes were horrific. Seriously, I am not overstating this, it was horrific. There was much debate about why she should or shouldn't be executed and I was firmly of the mind that she should be executed. I knew that she was now clean and that she had been saved and I didn't doubt and still don't that this was genuine. I hope for her sake that she had found salvation. So, like so many other CJ students when the day came for her execution I went to the prison and joined the gathering outside. Let me tell you something, what I saw that day disturbed me to my core. I understand that she had committed horrific murders and I felt that the death penalty was the just punishment for her crime but I don't think any one's death is a reason to celebrate. I don't think that death is a reason to throw a kegger and that is what I saw that day. People laughing, cheering, and drinking like it was a frat party. It was a disgusting display of humanity, or lack there of. I walked away from that experience changed.
The event that really sealed the deal for me was stepping foot in the death chamber. As part of my criminal justice fraternity we were able to tour several prisons in and around Huntsville. Well I happened to go on the tour for the Walls Unit. This is the unit that is right down the street from campus and while the actual prison isn't high security it does house the death chamber. About a week before the prisoner is to be executed they are transported to this unit and housed in a cell about (I suck as distances) 100 feet from the actual death chamber. So as part of our tour we saw all of the different parts of the prison and learned the history. The very last stop was this last stop death row and the death chamber. Before entering the death chamber, the guard told us that some of us may not be able to stay in there and that was not uncommon. He told us to leave and just wait outside for them and then he lead us in. Now many in my group were excited to see it and most were not bothered by being in the room. However, as soon as we were lead in it was like a weight settled around me. I stood as far back from the bed they strap the inmate to as I could and listened to the guard explain the process. Standing there and thinking about all of the people that had died in that room was just a lot to take in. Death and evil were as physical of a presence in that room as the students standing there. It didn't take long before I was overwhelmed and knew that I couldn't stay. There were three of us I think that had to leave and all of us had felt the same way. I can still remember the feeling that there were evil souls in that room with us. It may sound crazy to some but until you stand there you just can't understand. Leaving the prison that day, I began to rethink more than ever my belief in the death penalty.
My change of opinion and heart had been a gradual thing and it really was the culmination of learning and events that changed my mind but it did. I stop and think now and I don't feel like I was put on this earth to judge who should live and who should die. I also feel like those that support the death penalty should admit that it is retribution that they are seeking. The problem with this is that retribution is not supposed to be a part of our justice system. Fact is our justice system is flawed. I don't think it is hopelessly flawed but it is flawed enough that I could not send a person to death row. There are far too many factors that skew the system and justice along the way that I think it is far better to house someone for life than to administer our personal retribution.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Sunday, March 23, 2014
I Can't Deny I AM a Southern Girl
I know I am a Southern girl. I find more peace with trees and lakes than in tall buildings and busy sidewalks. Now don't get me wrong, I like the city. I was born in Houston and I was raised in Houston and I do love everything that the city has to offer BUT when I am seeking peace and tranquility it isn't the city that provides it for me. I think like most Southerners I also have this deep seeded love of home. When I was starting my undergrad, way back when I was 19 (I took a year off), I went to many college campuses and for the most part as soon as I stepped on campus and walked a bit I would get a feeling as to whether I belonged there or not. Seriously, I got a gut feeling and I went with it. My Dad took me to a bunch of different campuses, I think he was living out his college dreams, that he wanted me to think about going to and among them were some great schools. However, the moment I stepped foot on the campus at Sam Houston State University I KNEW deep down in my soul that I was home. I knew that was the campus, the school that I should go to and I did. It was the only one I applied to and when I got in I was so happy. The trees, the size, the small town surrounding it, just everything about it invited me in and showed me that this was the place for me. I never for one moment of my three years on Sam's campus regretted it. I made wonderful life-long friendships there. I got a top-notch education and in general had a fabulous time at school.
So fast forward 8 years (after graduation) and I was again contemplating schools. Now I had enjoyed my time so much at Sam that I didn't exactly graduate with a stellar gpa and I was clueless what to do when I graduated so I just got a job. So here I was, about 8 years later at a cross road in my life. I knew in my heart that the job I had was not where I wanted to be in twenty years, I had passed up an opportunity to move up at work because I knew that I didn't want to stay....BUT what did I want to do? Well, I went back to school. I knew I couldn't get into grad school because that gpa just wasn't great. So I decided to get another undergrad degree. I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do and I bounced around some with the degrees but took classes online. After a few years I finally decided to get on with things and I had settled on a degree (English) so I was once again contemplating colleges. This is a much different concept when you are 35 than when you are 20. I thought about going back to Sam and I even applied and was accepted but I knew that I would never be able to recapture what I had there when I was 21. So instead, I applied to the University of Houston and have spent the last three years taking classes online.
Now I have been on campus a time or two but I never really had the opportunity to get a feel for the campus. Those visits were mainly hurried and done with a specific purpose and then I left. However (and I swear I am getting to the whole I am a Southern girl thing), last fall I was at a point that I could no longer take classes online, I HAD to go to campus. So with the support of my awesome bosses, I signed up for classes on T/TH mornings. Last fall, I finally did get more of an appreciation for the campus. I had some quiet mornings, sipping coffee and listening to the water in the fountains but the weather wasn't always welcoming and I spent more time inside than outside. There were other factors that played into my state of mind last fall that also effected how I felt. So now I have reached the point. This spring semester is my last at UofH, I graduate in May. A multitude of things have changed for me in the last few months and I am in a better frame of mind mentally. So finally I can look at the campus with new eyes. Throw into the mix that the weather has been getting steadily better around here and well it allowed me for the first time to see and feel my campus. It inspired me to write what follows. This was written Thursday morning, 3/20 at about 10 am.
In all my time of strolling the pathways of the campus I had never heard the tolling of the bells on the clock tower. The seclusion and serenity of the inner campus is remarkable when you think it is surrounded by the fourth largest city in the country. As the clock began to play and then the bells began to relay the hour the sound seemed to seep into my mind. Glancing around at the grandeur and grace of the old trees I began to have images of a small Southern town, oaks as old as the South draped in Spanish moss, women in rocking chairs sipping sweet tea from a mason jar from their front porch, children running barefoot trying to catch lighten bugs, and it suddenly felt as if for the first time the campus was showing me this is home. This was the choice that I was supposed to make for this part of my story. Funny that it took this long for her to welcome me but she did it in such a spectacular way today.
Those images of Southern life my sound like clichés but they really aren't. These are images I remember from my childhood. These are images that are still played out in small towns all through the south all the time. These are the images and all of the smells and sounds that go with them, that speak to my soul in a way that few other things can and ever will. I know that no matter where life may take me, this place, these images, these people will always be home.
So fast forward 8 years (after graduation) and I was again contemplating schools. Now I had enjoyed my time so much at Sam that I didn't exactly graduate with a stellar gpa and I was clueless what to do when I graduated so I just got a job. So here I was, about 8 years later at a cross road in my life. I knew in my heart that the job I had was not where I wanted to be in twenty years, I had passed up an opportunity to move up at work because I knew that I didn't want to stay....BUT what did I want to do? Well, I went back to school. I knew I couldn't get into grad school because that gpa just wasn't great. So I decided to get another undergrad degree. I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do and I bounced around some with the degrees but took classes online. After a few years I finally decided to get on with things and I had settled on a degree (English) so I was once again contemplating colleges. This is a much different concept when you are 35 than when you are 20. I thought about going back to Sam and I even applied and was accepted but I knew that I would never be able to recapture what I had there when I was 21. So instead, I applied to the University of Houston and have spent the last three years taking classes online.
Now I have been on campus a time or two but I never really had the opportunity to get a feel for the campus. Those visits were mainly hurried and done with a specific purpose and then I left. However (and I swear I am getting to the whole I am a Southern girl thing), last fall I was at a point that I could no longer take classes online, I HAD to go to campus. So with the support of my awesome bosses, I signed up for classes on T/TH mornings. Last fall, I finally did get more of an appreciation for the campus. I had some quiet mornings, sipping coffee and listening to the water in the fountains but the weather wasn't always welcoming and I spent more time inside than outside. There were other factors that played into my state of mind last fall that also effected how I felt. So now I have reached the point. This spring semester is my last at UofH, I graduate in May. A multitude of things have changed for me in the last few months and I am in a better frame of mind mentally. So finally I can look at the campus with new eyes. Throw into the mix that the weather has been getting steadily better around here and well it allowed me for the first time to see and feel my campus. It inspired me to write what follows. This was written Thursday morning, 3/20 at about 10 am.
In all my time of strolling the pathways of the campus I had never heard the tolling of the bells on the clock tower. The seclusion and serenity of the inner campus is remarkable when you think it is surrounded by the fourth largest city in the country. As the clock began to play and then the bells began to relay the hour the sound seemed to seep into my mind. Glancing around at the grandeur and grace of the old trees I began to have images of a small Southern town, oaks as old as the South draped in Spanish moss, women in rocking chairs sipping sweet tea from a mason jar from their front porch, children running barefoot trying to catch lighten bugs, and it suddenly felt as if for the first time the campus was showing me this is home. This was the choice that I was supposed to make for this part of my story. Funny that it took this long for her to welcome me but she did it in such a spectacular way today.
Those images of Southern life my sound like clichés but they really aren't. These are images I remember from my childhood. These are images that are still played out in small towns all through the south all the time. These are the images and all of the smells and sounds that go with them, that speak to my soul in a way that few other things can and ever will. I know that no matter where life may take me, this place, these images, these people will always be home.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
My Opinion - Bella, Katniss, & Role Models
I read a lot and along those lines I read a lot of young adult fantasy type books. I enjoy reading all types of books. I first read the Twilight books because I saw the ads for the movie and thought it look interesting. I went to see it and thoroughly enjoyed it. Since I understand that the book is pretty much always better than the movie, I immediately went out and bought the books. I read all four of them in a week. I seriously got little sleep and just read them and when I was finished I read them again. I know there are some that are throwing up right now because I just admitted how much I love the Twilight books. Yeah I can see how easy it is to judge them from an adult perspective but I think that too many people forget what it was like to be a teen girl. Seriously, most teen girls are (or think they are) awkward and don't feel pretty. They usually have a crush on a guy that they see as somehow unattainable. So what happens when this guy suddenly is interested in them? What happens when he suddenly thinks they are beautiful? They don't believe it, they often fall into the realm of self doubt. Hell there are a whole lot of adult women that react the same way. I don't think that this makes Bella a weak person, it just makes her a normal teenage girl.
I have heard a lot of criticism of Edward being an "abusive" personality and character but I just call bullshit on that as well. Seriously have these people actually read the books? He isn't abusive, he simply wants to protect her from everything that could harm her. Isn't that what we do with people we love? And let's face it, in his world there are lots of things that could harm her. I don't know, I just don't see how people can be so critical of these characters and of Stephenie Meyer for writing them. In the end, Bella proves just how strong she really is. She does everything that she can to protect her family and her child. She has grown up and is no longer that self-doubting teenager. She learns that there are more important things in life than her love for Edward, it is her love for her child. Isn't that something that we hear mothers say all the time? Isn't that something that we would expect a strong person to think? Isn't this something that we admire Katniss for? I mean Katniss is Prime's mother, for the most part, and she does whatever she has to do to keep her safe. So why is Katniss considered such a hero and Bella is considered a weak, abused, horrible role model?
Honestly, I don't think fictional people should be our daughters or sons heroes. These people are not real. It is vastly more important for us to expose kids to real life heroes, people whose stories are real and not the figment of some one's imagination. People should read and they should read a lot but we should not look to these characters to be our heroes or our inspirations. To do that demeans in some way the real heroes that surround us every single day. Take the time to find out the stories of those around you and it will surprise you how heroic everyday people can be. I wouldn't want my daughter to be Bella, Katniss, or Tris when she grew up. I would want her to be herself, to find her own path and her own inspirations along the way. Books are wonderful and the foster imagination and offer an escape but they should never replace real people in our lives.
I have heard a lot of criticism of Edward being an "abusive" personality and character but I just call bullshit on that as well. Seriously have these people actually read the books? He isn't abusive, he simply wants to protect her from everything that could harm her. Isn't that what we do with people we love? And let's face it, in his world there are lots of things that could harm her. I don't know, I just don't see how people can be so critical of these characters and of Stephenie Meyer for writing them. In the end, Bella proves just how strong she really is. She does everything that she can to protect her family and her child. She has grown up and is no longer that self-doubting teenager. She learns that there are more important things in life than her love for Edward, it is her love for her child. Isn't that something that we hear mothers say all the time? Isn't that something that we would expect a strong person to think? Isn't this something that we admire Katniss for? I mean Katniss is Prime's mother, for the most part, and she does whatever she has to do to keep her safe. So why is Katniss considered such a hero and Bella is considered a weak, abused, horrible role model?
Honestly, I don't think fictional people should be our daughters or sons heroes. These people are not real. It is vastly more important for us to expose kids to real life heroes, people whose stories are real and not the figment of some one's imagination. People should read and they should read a lot but we should not look to these characters to be our heroes or our inspirations. To do that demeans in some way the real heroes that surround us every single day. Take the time to find out the stories of those around you and it will surprise you how heroic everyday people can be. I wouldn't want my daughter to be Bella, Katniss, or Tris when she grew up. I would want her to be herself, to find her own path and her own inspirations along the way. Books are wonderful and the foster imagination and offer an escape but they should never replace real people in our lives.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
What is Love
So I am writing a paper for my history class on the link between "the inherent criminality of blacks" and miscegenation laws in the United States. To say that researching this topic is both depressing and heartbreaking is an understatement. To review medical journals and see terms like mongrel and hybrid thrown about in reference to children makes me sick to my core. However, there is a very important reason to learn about the past. We must understand where we came from in order to keep from going there again. It is rather disturbing to see the government regulate who a person can marry but well that is still going on. Which begs the question, how far have we come as a society? Have we really become the progressive society that we pretend to be? Or are we simply a bunch of fakes that pay really good lip service to ideals that we claim to have? The way I view it people should only be judged by their character and actions and nothing else. Who a person loves is their business and no matter what religion I am, it is ultimately NOT my place to judge. My faith taught me to love my fellow man and that whatever actions they take will be between them and God, not me. Call me crazy but I thought that this is what Christianity was all about. So I think the question isn't really what is love but perhaps a better question is why not love?
Below is a snippet of my introduction for my history paper. All comments are welcome.
Boy meets girl. They fall in love. They get married. They have kids. They live happily ever after. This is the formula for every story that we were told as children. This is what we were supposed to strive for in our lives. This idea of love and a happily ever after. So what happens if one of the people in this equation is black? Does this make a difference? For the vast majority of people the answer is a resounding no. The only thing that matters in this equation is the love, not who we love. However, this was not the case for so many. Those that felt that race was an important part of the equation set out to make it impossible aka illegal and they succeeded in many places. This notion that the government can regulate who we can and can't love is not one that has died out today but I get ahead of myself.
Below is a snippet of my introduction for my history paper. All comments are welcome.
Boy meets girl. They fall in love. They get married. They have kids. They live happily ever after. This is the formula for every story that we were told as children. This is what we were supposed to strive for in our lives. This idea of love and a happily ever after. So what happens if one of the people in this equation is black? Does this make a difference? For the vast majority of people the answer is a resounding no. The only thing that matters in this equation is the love, not who we love. However, this was not the case for so many. Those that felt that race was an important part of the equation set out to make it impossible aka illegal and they succeeded in many places. This notion that the government can regulate who we can and can't love is not one that has died out today but I get ahead of myself.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Rose Petals on the Floor
So as I said before I was going to be flexing my creative muscles on here and well a friend of mine had a really really shitty day. For some unknown reason she likes when I write so I am writing this little snippet for her in hopes that it helps her end her day on a better note than she started it.
So the writing prompt that I picked was "Write about rose petals strewn on the floor." Instead of taking that to the obvious, overly done and overly sentimental romantic scene, this is what I came up with instead. Enjoy!
Detective Chris Robinson made his way towards Katy's apartment. Stopping short of the door way, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Chris unholstered his Beretta and approached with caution. He knew there was no way that Katy would leave her door open on purpose, she was way to cautious of a girl to do that. Bracing himself for what was to come, he pushed open the door and announced his presence, "HPD! Katy are you ok?" The stillness of the apartment coupled with the scene that lay before him chilled him and filled his soul with dread. His feet crunched the glass as he made his way into the room. Bright red rose petals, glass, water, and blood were strewn across the floor. Stepping carefully, he continued to check the apartment. Empty, completely empty. Grabbing his radio to call in the report and request CSI, Chris turned back and saw what he had missed as he came in, a bloody hand print on the door frame as if someone was trying to keep from being dragged out the door. His hope now was that he would find Katy in time.
So the writing prompt that I picked was "Write about rose petals strewn on the floor." Instead of taking that to the obvious, overly done and overly sentimental romantic scene, this is what I came up with instead. Enjoy!
Detective Chris Robinson made his way towards Katy's apartment. Stopping short of the door way, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Chris unholstered his Beretta and approached with caution. He knew there was no way that Katy would leave her door open on purpose, she was way to cautious of a girl to do that. Bracing himself for what was to come, he pushed open the door and announced his presence, "HPD! Katy are you ok?" The stillness of the apartment coupled with the scene that lay before him chilled him and filled his soul with dread. His feet crunched the glass as he made his way into the room. Bright red rose petals, glass, water, and blood were strewn across the floor. Stepping carefully, he continued to check the apartment. Empty, completely empty. Grabbing his radio to call in the report and request CSI, Chris turned back and saw what he had missed as he came in, a bloody hand print on the door frame as if someone was trying to keep from being dragged out the door. His hope now was that he would find Katy in time.
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