Most of the people I've know who have died have done so naturally; that is to say some have passed prematurely, some beyond their presumed allotted years, some at their own hands but most due to decreasing health. However, none have been as a result of homicide.
I don't know how I would feel if somebody close to me were to be murdered. I'm not sure if my grief would be less, more, or the same as if they had died of natural causes.
But one thing I would be sure of: their death would be permanent; nothing that could occur after their last breath would ever bring a next.
In less than a month, Tookie Williams will be dead. The State of California, on behalf it its citizens, will make sure of it.
Tookie co-founded the Crips in the late 60's. Their criminal activities alone, not even taking in account their long-standing feud with other gangs, particularly the Bloods, have killed hundreds, if not thousands, of people in all major cities across the United States. Many of the victims have been bystanders with little or no affiliation to gangs. While I don't condone any loss of life, those killings are absolutely senseless to me.
In the late 70's, Tookie was convicted of murdering four people in two separate robberies. While he has since shared his complicity in other gang-style murders, he maintains his innocence in the murders that led to his conviction. Nevertheless, he will remain behind bars until the day he dies.
In the three decades he has spent in prison, his has been a message of non-violence. Furthermore, he has probably prevented many others from the same lifestyle that landed him in prison. He has authored several children's books and been nominated multiple times for the Nobel Peace Prize for brokering a truce between the Crips and the Bloods.
I'm not sure if he killed the four people he is presumed to have killed. Even were he innocent of those particular crimes, his imprisonment has no doubt prevented the death of several others. A free Tookie would have killed again; even he has alluded the same.
From everything I've read about Tookie, I've read about two different people: the Tookie before San Quentin and the Tookie after San Quentin.
Because of this, I'm not sure if Tookie deserves to die. I'm reasonably certain that he does deserve to be isolated from society and to have most of his freedom and liberties revoked. I'm fairly certain that these restrictions have led him to realize what a waste of a life he led. And perhaps fortunately, Tookie will not get a chance to prove whether his change of attitude is profound and permanent or a temporary result of him being caged. Still, I don't know if Tookie deserves to die.
That decision, like all other matters up public policy, seeks to balance constitutionality and morality. But unlike most debates that come before our state and national leaders, the death penalty has a greater sense of permanency.
Errors in fact and judgment while debating our nation's annual transportation funding won't result in disastrous long-term effects. Errors in fact and judgment while determining another's guilt or innocence, however, could result in the state, on your behalf and mine, taking the life of the wrong person.
Many pro-death penalty advocates will ask for the name of one innocent person put to death for a crime he or she did not commit. That I cannot provide. I can only provide the names of those whose innocence has been proved mere hours before death. I believe the efficiency of a criminal system that convicts the innocent must also fully account for those it puts to death. That is not wholly unreasonable.
The burden of proof becomes more difficult to meet as science and technology improve. However, the life of those who credibly maintain their innocence ought not be determined by how fast science and technology can advance. I think we owe them, and ourselves, a little more.
I remember watching Minority Report at the theatre and walking away self-debating the constitutionality of a criminal system that is allowed to arrest a citizen for a crime not yet committed, but certainly would have but for the state's intervention. If the first responsibility of the State is to protect its citizens from all enemies, foreign and domestic, it's simplistic to constitutionalize the-end-justifies-the-means legislation. But eventually, we have to ask ourselves this question: how many innocent people are we willing to sacrifice in order to convict the guilty?
My answer is zero.
No penal code is perfect, not even the one in the movie. Because ours is a government of man, there will always be imperfection and doubt.
Asking for Tookie's life to be spared is difficult to defend. Certainly there are others who are more deserving. The lives of those he saved can never make up for the lives that he took. His message of peace cannot undo the years of violence and nihilism he led.
His former lifestyle has been glamorized in pop culture. White suburban kids who would no doubt soil themselves just driving down the same streets in daytime he used to walk at night rap how cool gang intitiation as replacement of the family is.
Still, I will be upset the day Tookie is put to death. In fact, I already am.
Upset that whether to kill or save him has been put into question. Upset that Tookie, and others like him, put themselves in a situation where their lives need defending.