Osler's Razor

Yesterday Tall Tenor sent me a remarkable story from Atlantic Monthly revolving around the wrongful conviction and death sentence given to a man named Glenn Ford in 1985 in Louisiana.

Released after 30 years because the district attorney asked for the charges to be dismissed due to new evidence, the state of Louisiana is fighting against paying Mr. Ford any compensation.  Meanwhile, Ford is dying of stage four lung cancer.

In the middle of all this, one of the prosecutors in the case has written a memorable letter of regret regarding the case.  In that letter the prosecutor, A.M. "Marty" Stroud III, begins this way (after a few preliminaries:

I was at the trial of Glenn Ford from beginning to end. I witnessed the imposition of the death sentence upon him. I believed that justice was done. I had done my job. I was one of the prosecutors and I was proud of what I had done.

The death sentence had illustrated that our community would brook no tolerance for cold-blooded killers. The Old Testament admonishment, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, was alive and well in Caddo Parish. I even received a congratulatory note from one of the state's witnesses, concluding with the question, "how does it feel to be wearing a black glove?"

Members of the victim's family profusely thanked the prosecutors and investigators for our efforts. They had received some closure, or so everyone thought. However, due to the hard work and dedication of lawyers working with the Capital Post-Conviction Project of Louisiana, along with the efforts of the Caddo Parish district attorney's and sheriff's offices, the truth was uncovered.

Later, Mr. Stroud reveals a more human part of the story:

In 1984, I was 33 years old. I was arrogant, judgmental, narcissistic and very full of myself. I was not as interested in justice as I was in winning. To borrow a phrase from Al Pacino in the movie "And Justice for All," "Winning became everything."

After the death verdict in the Ford trial, I went out with others and celebrated with a few rounds of drinks. That's sick. I had been entrusted with the duty to seek the death of a fellow human being, a very solemn task that certainly did not warrant any "celebration."

In my rebuttal argument during the penalty phase of the trial, I mocked Mr. Ford, stating that this man wanted to stay alive so he could be given the opportunity to prove his innocence. I continued by saying this should be an affront to each of you jurors, for he showed no remorse, only contempt for your verdict.

How totally wrong was I.

To be moral, the death penalty must be perfect-- we must know that innocents won't be killed. Capital punishment is a product of humans, though, and we humans can never be perfect, or create perfection.  The death penalty cannot, then, ever be moral.