Norm Pattis, a well-known Connecticut criminal attorney, is
reconsidering capital punishment, the death penalty abolished by the General
Assembly in 2012.
The death penalty was “broken” said the abolitionists, by
which they meant it could not be executed. As a practical matter, they were
right.
Capital punishment was so hedged about with seemingly
endless processes that it took the state of Connecticut nearly twenty years to put to death mass murderer Michael Ross,
who had raped and strangled most of his eight victims, the last two fourteen
year-old girls. Had not Mr. Ross pulled the plug on his own appeals process, he
might still be with us. Connecticut’s capital punishment law was “broken”
because the sometimes pointless navigation through all the legal breakwaters made the execution of the sentence nearly
impossible. But instead of mending it – retaining the punishment for multiple
murder crimes or the murder of public safety officers for example -- the
General Assembly ended it.
Mike Lawlor, later appointed by Dannel Malloy as the
Governor’s undersecretary for criminal justice policy and planning and for many
years the co-chairman of the state’s Judiciary Committee, was an early
proponent of abolition. The General Assembly abolished capital punishment
prospectively – which means that the eleven death row inmates still awaiting
punishment will be executed, after their appeals processes run out, in the
absence of a law prescribing the death penalty for the crimes they had
committed.
Asked on WNPR’s program, Where
We Live, whether he thought prospective repeal was advisable, Mr. Lawlor, artfullydodging the bullet, said that Connecticut was not alone in repealing the death
penalty prospectively: “Of the six states that have repealed the death penalty
in the last few years, all of them did it prospectively. There's nothing unique
to Connecticut."
It is hardly reassuring to note that
six states other than Connecticut had violated a rule of law that informs every
law ever written. Nulla
poena sine lege – “Where there is no law, there is no transgression” – is a
part of the Natural Law that informs all laws, including all statutory and
constitutional law. When Samuel Johnson
was reporting on debates in the House of Commons, he offered this gloss on the
doctrine: “That where there is no law there is no transgression, is a maxim not
only established by universal consent, but in itself evident and undeniable;
and it is, Sir, surely no less certain that where there is no transgression,
there can be no punishment.”
Punishments meted out in the absence of laws prescribing
such punishments is the hallmark of tyrants who wink at injustice, including
King John of England, who was forced to
sign the Magna Carta by the victims of his lawless rule. The six states that
abolished capital punishment prospectively are hardly templates of proper
justice.
It was not a regard for justice but rather legislative
cowardice that persuaded members of Connecticut’s General Assembly to retain a
punishment abhorrent to them for current murders on death row after they had
abolished the law prescribing capital punishment for future murderers. Connecticut’s
cowardly legislators knew they could not abolish capital punishment for Steve
Hayes and Joshua Komisarjevsky –
two paroled prisoners with long rap sheets convicted by juries of their peers
of having cruelly murdered three women in Cheshire, a mother and her two young
daughters – without stirring up a hornet’s nest of opposition. And so, by
abolishing the law prospectively, anti-death penalty legislators violated every
argument they put forward as justifying the abolition of the death penalty. And
they also violated a cardinal rule of justice – no, THE cardinal rule of
justice: To administer a punishment in the absence of a law warranting the
punishment is the very essence of lawless tyranny.
Death penalty opponents in 2012 asserted that the death
penalty should be abolished because it was “cruel and unusual punishment” and a
form of “judicial murder.” And so they abolished the law but retained the
punishment in the case of the eleven men awaiting their cruel and unusual
punishment on death row. But to punish a man with death in the absence of a law
prescribing such punishment is quite literally – judicial murder. And, please
notice, the punishment is irrevocable, precisely the argument used by death
penalty abolitionists to abolish the law.
“Having voided the death penalty,” Connecticut Commentary noted on the day the abolition bill passed, “what possible moral reason can be
advanced to justify what should rightly be regarded as murder, plain and
simple? No possible justification can be advanced that does not do violence
both to the law and the moral sense of just men and women. The death penalty
abolition bill as proposed – with its prospective feature – is political Babbitry
of the worst kind, a fainthearted retreat from legislative
responsibility. The Democratic General Assembly, having messed its pants with
this ill proposed bill, will now expect the courts to wash its diapers and
apply through judicial edict the retroactive feature it was too politically
cowardly to attach to it.
Mr. Pattis – who thinks, sometimes dangerously, outside the box -- was brought to a reconsideration of the death penalty by a reading of Edward
Wilson's "Social Conquest of the Earth" and studious reflection on press
reports concerning bombing terrorist Dzhokhar Tsarnaev's jury selection in
Boston. Mr. Pattis remains unconvinced
that life in prison without possibility of parole is less torturous than the
death penalty, nor is he persuaded that “lethal injection is by definition
cruel and unusual punishment.”
One of Mr. Wilson’s chief concerns is the social weal and
collective adaptation. Mr. Pattis writes, “What do bombers contribute to the
social weal? I'm hard-pressed to think of anything, although I know that
Tsarnaev is far from the sum of his worst moments.?? In the war known simply as
the struggle to survive, does there come a time in which the survivors can say,
simply, enough?”
The fatality of capital punishment – jury determinations may
be wrong – still provides Mr. Pattis with reason enough to oppose the practice –
but…
“But—and the fact that the word "but" appears at all in this context surprises—I'm hard-pressed to agonize over the destruction of those who seek to destroy me and what I value. A world of perpetual love and peace is a theologian's dream, not mine. Am I condoning tinkering with the machinery of death? Not at all. I'm merely recognizing that we've always done so, and probably always will. The marvel is that we paralyze ourselves in agonizing over it.”
Comments
To make it so, would create a special class of citizen, with special protections not afforded the entire citizenry.
To make it so, would create a special class of citizen, with special protections not afforded the entire citizenry.
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Connecticut's pols installed and operated the death penalty for the same reason and in the same manner as Baraq Obama operates the U.S. military. Mr. Obama, emulating Monica's Boyfriend, draws lines in sand, fires a few missiles, drops a bunch of bombs, and declares victory. The object is to appear as much as required to satisfy his electorate as if he really is concerned with national interest and with vanquishing U.S. enemies. Connecticut's legislature has long been of the opinion that they are morally better than the death penalty, but also of the opinion that being soft on crime is generally not a formula for winning elections. So, we got a death penalty that was simply never imposed. The pols can appear tough, and let the courts do the dirty work of perpetual postponement.
I must admit, that I hadn't worried a wit about the guys already on death row who the legislature intends to continue pretending to intend to execute. I figured that ex post facto laws were only those applied subsequent to the offense. You have caused me to reconsider. But, Connecticut's criminal management bureaucracy is incapable of executing anyone in any case.
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A law may have an ex post facto effect without being technically ex post facto. For example, when a law repeals a previous law, the repealed legislation is no longer applicable to situations to which it previously was, even if such situations arose before the law was repealed. The principle of prohibiting the continued application of such laws is called Nullum crimen, nulla poena sine praevia lege poenali