Andrew Cohen's latest post at the Atlantic examines common thread in the Duane Buck and Troy Davis cases. "The Death Penalty: Why We Fight for Equal Justice," is a must-read. Here's an exccerpt from the beginning:
Last week, Texas officials refused to halt the execution of Duane Edward Buck even though his 1997 capital murder trial was concededly tainted by unconstitutional racial testimony from an expert witness. The Supreme Court, which temporarily blocked the execution, will review Buck's case later this month. Meanwhile, on Wednesday, Georgia officials plan to execute convicted murderer Troy Davis, whose guilt is much more in doubt today than it was two decades ago when he was sentenced to die. Despite the public protests over Davis's fate, the justices in Washington will likely have to intervene there, too, if his life is to be spared while the "new" evidence is meaningfully re-examined.
At a Republican presidential debate earlier this month, just the mere mention of Rick Perry's record execution rate -- he's overseen more executions than any governor in modern history -- generated a primal war-whoop from the partisan crowd. And as to the solemnity of the act itself, of the lethal injection execution protocol whereby the government prematurely ends a natural life in the name of the people? Evidently it has become so routine in the Lone Star State that the governor qua presidential candidate was fundraising in Jefferson County, Iowa on the night Buck was scheduled to die. I can't imagine a more solemn or important function for an elected official than presiding over an execution. But for Gov. Perry, it was just another day out of state on the campaign trail. He was available by cellphone.
The roiling uncertainty surrounding the Buck and Davis cases is a sad but timely reminder that the center has not held on capital punishment in America. The legal compact demanded by the United States Supreme Court when it reinstituted capital punishment as a sentencing option in 1976 has been broken, repeatedly, not by convicts, but by hundreds of overzealous administrators of the nation's justice systems. In Texas, Georgia, Florida, and in the other states which continue to push capital punishment, the "law" in capital cases now is mostly used as a weapon -- not as a shield for the individual against the might of government. It is not justice under law. And it is certainly not equal justice under the law. It is instead far too often a perversion of justice -- and of the Court's well-meant precedent.
In the modern era of capital punishment -- since the Supreme Court's decision in Gregg v. Georgia -- three main camps have emerged. First, there are those who are for the death penalty all the way; the ones who lament the time and money it takes from trial to execution. Then, there are those who are against capital punishment all the way; the ones who believe that the state should never be in the business of killing its own citizens. And between the two solitudes, there is a vast middle; those who believe that there is a place for the death penalty, but only if it can be administered fairly and accurately, free from the sort of arbitrary and capricious decision-making that pushed the justices to do away with it in the first place in 1972 in Furman v. Georgia.
With the Buck case coming back around later this month, with the Davis case right before us this week, with a leading presidential candidate making his capital punishment record a point of political pride, and with the Tea Party crowd cheering execution statistics, now seems as good a time as any to dig around a little at this strange legal confluence we've come to on the death penalty. Nearly 40 years after the Supreme Court first took away the death penalty, we may be closer than many people think to another turning point on capital punishment. We may be reaching the Icarus point -- and don't say I didn't warn you.
Next, a roundup of coverage of the Troy Davis case. Earlier coverage of Duane Buck's case begins at the link.
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