Salvation on Death Row

by John T. Thorngren

  ***

  In November of the same year, Martin Gurule and six other Death Row inmates escaped from the Ellis Unit outside Huntsville. Martin drowned in a nearby creek, and the hounds quickly corralled the other six. Within six months, the TDCJ moved the male Death Row to a more secure setting at the Polunsky Unit about sixty miles to the east of Huntsville.(104, 105)

  This escape and relocation of male Death Row inmates had a strong effect on the six of us remaining on female Death Row. It was quite evident to me that their escape was a demoralizing affront to the TDCJ system. Our imprisonment changed dramatically. They moved all of us to the Multi-Purpose Facility Unit, where Karla Faye had been before leaving for Huntsville. MPF is essentially a psych center for suicidal inmates and those needing regulation for their psychotropic medications. A nurses’ station anchored this section from another part that has twelve cells (the new Death Row): six cells on each side of a day room. When Texas added the death penalty for killing a child under ten years of age, I knew Death Row needed more room.

  There were eight of us now as Brittany Holberg and Kimberly McCarthy had boarded the death train. Compared to our previous confinement, this was a dungeon. We each occupied a small cell behind a solid steel door. No table, no chair, just a sink, a toilet, and a bed. You ate with your tray on the bed or on one of the fixtures. Room to turn around? Barely. And room to pace? None. Even an animal in a cage at the zoo has room to pace in a circle.

  Five of us were no longer work capable and were able to enjoy only one hour of rec per day outside of our cell, rather than two. They scheduled this one-hour rec time so early in the morning that no one wanted to go. Of these five, three chose not to work, and another inmate and I entered Ad Seg on orders from the medical department because of carpal tunnel syndrome; we were not able to work at pulling cotton apart for seven and a half hours and get an extra hour of rec time.

  One of the nearby schools brought some newspapers and magazines for us. The general population could read them, but the prison administration decided we couldn’t. Another privilege removed. Through the grapevine and letters, we found that the male Death Row inmates had televisions outside their cells along the run and could watch from seven in the morning until eleven at night. We had no televisions; our single chance to watch one was in the rec room during our limited one-hour-per-day visit, two hours if work capable. Strip searches took place at least once, and sometimes as many as eight times, every day, often before and after a time when we never had left our tombs or before and after transporting us from the rec room back to our cells—as if we could materialize something out of the air and hide it on our person when the guards are standing beside us from start to finish.

  Surprise cell searches were so frequent that they were hardly a surprise. On one such search, a guard opened a little wooden box that held some of my special pictures in an album, jammed her hand ruthlessly inside the folders, and scattered some of the pictures on the floor. Then she slammed the lid closed, and I saw the metal clasp puncture one picture. When she left, I opened the box and yelled in agony. I started crying. The clasp had gouged a hole in the last picture taken of my deceased daughter, Stephanie, right through her face as she lay in her coffin—the little doll from a different universe with Sammy so many eons ago. Later I confronted the guard: “You ruined the last picture of my daughter when you slammed the lid down on my lock-box.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have had it loose in that box,” she snarled.

  Although I pointed out that it was in an album, she turned away. I then showed it to the lieutenant on our unit, who said, “What do you want me to do about it?” Later, I placed it in an envelope with a note to Warden Baggett. She had it repaired, but you can still see the damage. Nonetheless, I was grateful.

  Now I knew exactly how David Ruíz felt when he said he didn’t expect the Holiday Inn, but he did expect “to be treated as a human being.” The primary punishment phase in the general population section, those who are serving time, is the loss of freedom. In addition to that, Death Row inmates have the punishment of the waiting-to-die status. Certainly that should be enough without harassment and humiliation. There was no reason for all the searches, especially the strip searches, because there had been no instances of misbehavior in our unit.

  Consequently, I prepared a To-Whom-It-May-Concern letter in April 1999, outlining these grievances, and published it in the Canadian Coalition Against the Death Penalty (CCADP).(106) The CCADP is a website maintained and updated by Dave Parkinson and Tracy Lamourie and “has offered free web space to over 1,000 Death Row Prisoners Since 1998.” I also sent corresponding copies of my letter to Judge William Wayne Justice and Attorney Donna Brorby, the lead attorney for Ruíz, et al. In my letter, I noted the horrible abuse of the mental patients in the section adjoining Death Row, in the Psych Center.

  I heard one officer say, “We had to pepper spray that nut three times. She just sat there batting that pepper spray up in the air.” I also noted how one inmate had died in the Psych Center. She came here from another unit suffering from internal bleeding, apparently from blunt force trauma. It was a Friday, and there were no doctors available. She was placed in a cell with nothing but a paper gown, no pad, no blanket—nothing. And she just lay there on a cement floor under bright lights. She wouldn’t move. She wouldn’t eat. That night, on the third shift, the lone officer on duty noticed dark matter oozing from her mouth, nose, and ears, and that she lay in “feces black as tar, which meant it had blood in it.” The officer would not open the cell to check on her. She said she needed to have Security present to open a cell. The poor girl lay on the floor of that cell, slowly dripping out her lifeblood, until Monday when the “doctor” (actually a physician’s assistant) finally arrived. However, the PA would not see her, and she died on Wednesday. I could hear their conversations, especially the last one when an officer looked in and said, “Oh, my, what happened? She won’t wake up.” And then I could see with my mirror extended through the bars that the warden and medical personnel were going in and out. Soon, they removed the inmate on a gurney, and we could see the Coryell County ambulance coming in through the back way. The other details I got from a friendly correctional officer.

  In the last paragraph of my letter, mostly directed at Justice and Brorby, I specifically asked if we were still under the Ruíz Death Row Activity Plan or were “these people” no longer under this court order? Brorby did answer, “Judge Justice has released federal oversight on the TDCJ for all matters except the medical and mental health and retardation (MHR) issues.” In order to satisfy their legal obligations, the TDCJ fired two nurses and a doctor, which I suppose was nothing more than sacrificing a few scapegoats.

  In October, Suzanne Margaret Basso joined us, bringing the total condemned to nine. In November, I sent a sworn affidavit summarizing this April letter to Amnesty International published by Deja.com, a group absorbed by Google, Inc., some years later.(107) I had now been on Death Row for nineteen years. I was still clinging to my prayer-requested hope on the forthcoming evidentiary hearing.

  CHAPTER 20

  I was not present at my second evidentiary hearing, but I heard the details by telephone from my attorneys at Baker Botts. I wish I had been there to see the brightness inside the courtroom, because the truth did come out in the light. We had new evidence regarding my Sixth Amendment right to “effective assistance of conflict-free counsel at trial,” namely, further exposure into the credibility of my court–appointed attorney, Jim Skelton. This hearing was a full evidentiary hearing with verbal testimony. First presented at this hearing was the fact that the State Bar of Texas disbarred Skelton in 1997 regarding his failure to respond to a grievance filed against him. In this grievance, Steve Garza, a former police officer in federal prison for “conspiracy to possess cocaine with intent to distribute”(108) paid Skelton—I believe it was ten thousand dollars—to file a motion for appeal. Skelton told Garza that he
had presented an oral argument to an “interested” Fifth Circuit panel, and Garza’s conviction had been affirmed on appeal. No wiggle room here—a tape recording confirmed this conversation. In truth, no such oral argument ever occurred, and Garza’s appeal had been dismissed for “want of prosecution” months before Skelton told Garza of the fictitious argument and affirmation. With less legalese, Skelton did not perform on behalf of his client and lied to him about doing so. After presenting this material, Skelton took the stand. “Have you ever lied to your clients?” He responded, “If I have to, I will.”

  I understand that Robert Pelton, Skelton’s former law partner and co-counsel in my second trial, also took the stand. When the judge asked him, “Did you at any time during the trial in question tell Mr. Skelton that you felt that it was a conflict of interest for him to represent Ms. Perillo?”

  “Yes,” he responded, “I told him that it was my opinion that his relationship with Linda Fletcher had developed a conflict of interest in his representation of Perillo, and further, that it was unethical.”

  These two testimonies emphasized Skelton’s lack of credibility and his conflict of interest with respect to his relationship with Linda Fletcher during my second trial. While representing her, did he convey any confidential information? Did he know that my version of Fletcher’s involvement would not only aid my defense but also bring her up on potential perjury charges? This hearing overturned my conviction, but, of course, allowed the state a timely appeal, which they did with all deliberate speed and fury.

  But my hope was growing. I knew I had committed a terrible crime and deserved punishment, but not death. I knew God had planned something better for my life.

  CHAPTER 21

  Sister Helen Prejean and I corresponded frequently after Karla Faye’s death. I noted that at a London conference she said, “Human beings are capable of redemption and change.” When people saw and heard Karla Faye Tucker, support for the death penalty dropped to 48 percent in Texas. It is easy to kill a monster but very hard to kill a human being. The people of Texas could see Karla Faye had changed. Yes, she had committed a horrible crime, but over time she had moved beyond that act into a “loving human being.”(109) Karla Faye put a face on the death penalty. People could see the love of God shining from her eyes and hear the “unerring faith” in her words.

  Where Karla Faye was the poster child for redemption, Betty Lou Beets was a champion for the “mentally ill, the impaired, the abused.”(110) These were the factors that influenced her life and subsequently, through her actions, earned her the media nickname: The Black Widow. But she never got a chance to expound on this as fully as I am sure she would have liked, nor on the positive note that she too was redeemed in Christ Jesus. In January 2000, the state scheduled Betty Lou Beets for execution on February 3.

  They moved her to the other side from us into a separate cell. With barely thirty days left, she had little time to get help and fight for her life. I know they pushed her execution through quickly so Texas would not have time to see another female face fighting for her life in the media, thereby creating another embarrassment for Governor Bush. Betty Lou had been a member of our family of four—now only three—for fourteen years. I had seen her change from a hardened blonde to a sweet-smiling, sixty-two-year-old great-grandmother with gray hair.

  The day room, or rec room as we referred to it, divided our twelve cells in MPF. Both facing sides of Plexiglas allowed me to look and wave at Betty Lou on the other side. In the evening, we would flick our cell lights on and off as a sign of faith for the coming night. When they took me to shower in the morning, the officer let me stop in front of Betty Lou and talk for a few minutes. Prison life has so few pleasures that those it does allow are amplified and treasured. One such simple pleasure is to look out the window and gaze at a tree or a bird. Though it was winter, dark and cloaked in temporary death, Betty Lou could look out her rear windows and absorb God’s creations: an evergreen representing life everlasting; the leafless skeleton of a tree, life to be reborn come Easter; and a wren puffed twice her normal size from the cold, the Biblical bird that God knows even when she falls. Then the warden blocked her outside window with a vinyl cover so she couldn’t enjoy such a pleasure, a minor thing to many but everything to an inmate. Why they denied her this simple joy in her last moments, I will never understand. It was utterly cruel.

  Betty Lou had been abused—physically and mentally—by her former husbands, whom she claimed abused her in part because of her hearing loss. She often quoted Helen Keller on which handicap Helen would have had restored if it could have been. “Hearing,” she said, “because hearing connects you with the world.” Betty Lou stressed her abuse, her handicap, and her redemption in several publications on the CCADP website and in various media interviews.

  Mary Robinson, who was doing a lot of legal work on Betty Lou’s case, had T-shirts made with a picture of Betty Lou sporting a black eye from spousal abuse. Mary Robinson held a rally in front of the state capitol in Austin, protesting Betty Lou’s execution. I wrote an article to CCADP noting Betty Lou’s abuse, that she had brain damage from frequent blows to the head, and that she lost her hearing as a child from measles. I always felt that her head injuries also contributed to her hearing loss. Her attorneys made a last-minute appeal to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals and subsequently to the U.S. Supreme Court based upon inept counsel during trial and the fact that her abuse, a mitigating factor, was not introduced in evidence. The court rejected her appeals. The final decision now rested with the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles.(111, 112)

  The Board of Pardons and Paroles voted not to commute Betty Lou’s sentence to life nor to grant a 180-day reprieve to review her case. The hoped-for reprieve would have occurred under the 1991 Texas Senate Concurrent Resolution 26 that requires the board to focus upon pardon applicants whose crime arguably was a response to “severe spousal abuse.”(113) Since the Board had voted not to consider Resolution 26, Betty Lou’s attorneys sued the board, an appeal also rejected by the Fifth Circuit Court. This rejection left little legal option for Governor Bush except to grant a thirty-day stay of execution. He declined and sided with his appointees. The court now rescheduled Betty Lou’s execution for February 24. On the eve before, she wrote a farewell letter to her friends that appeared in CCADP.(114)

  Dear Friends,

  Today has started without me as a part of the human race. I now rest in the arms of My Heavenly Father inside his pearly gates.

  Oh, how blessed I was to have you, how blessed I hope I’ve been to you, to try to show that His grace is all we really need. I never could have made it without our Father’s love, without all your love and support. What our Father has brought together let no one tear apart.

  My prayer is I’ve left this hard lesson. Heal the lost, impaired, disabled, battered, and for all who are in need, stick by the banner and carry it on. Help one another right where you are, near or far. Give your heart in all that is right and good. Bring knowledge to those who don’t understand, that they can reach out and learn what they can do for themselves and others.

  Always remember the battle is not over, but show up, put on the armor of God and let Him fight the battles through us. Then and only then will we win.

  Trust that we all ran a good race and we won together. I’ll leave this earth knowing I was loved by many. God is pleased and blessed that your faith was instilled in Him. His rewards are yours.

  I love you all and will see you on the other side. God blesses you all. Keep the faith and give all the glory to God.

  Love,

  Betty

  ***

  Compared to Karla Faye’s execution, Betty Lou’s had much less publicity and many fewer protests. There were not very many at a protest rally in Austin and not very many outside Huntsville during her ordeal.

  During an execution, beginning at five in the afternoon, an open-chapel service is h
eld at Mountain View for the victim. Executions take place at six, and after the announcement of their being “officially dead,” the service concludes. Other than the open-chapel service for Betty Lou, there wasn’t much happening that day. I think a part of the nonchalance was due to the fact that Texas had now become inured to killing a female—no big deal.

  Jim Willett was the warden at the Walls Unit and presided over Betty Lou’s execution. His remarks summarize the public viewpoint as well as that here at Mountain View.

  “When Betty Beets’ execution was approaching, I worried for my staff and myself as I knew how the execution of Karla Faye Tucker had affected some of the staff. However, Beets did not have much to say and did not exhibit a personality that drew people to her, and it turned out to be no different really than the men I’d dealt with.”(115)

  Willett and those wardens before and after him are not the proverbial ax-wielding executioners in black hoods. They undoubtedly have the most difficult job on this earth. Jim is a Christian with a strong faith who believes in the Biblical principle that the state has the divine right to execute: “…But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he [the state] does not bear the sword for nothing. He [the state] is God’s servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer.”(116) Note that this is from the New Testament, not the Old that contains the eye-for-an-eye law. Note further that Romans 13:4 is not a mandate; God’s mercy on those who have committed murder is biblically well-documented.

  For a better understanding of God’s heart regarding capital punishment, one should read The Biblical Truth About America’s Death Penalty by Dale S. Recinella.(117) Recinella received a master’s in theological studies from the Ave Maria University Institute of Pastoral Theology and a law degree from the University of Notre Dame. He has taught international law and business ethics in Europe, at St. John’s University in Rome and at Temple University in Rome. He is a licensed lawyer in Florida and a prison minister comforting the condemned and their victims. He has published numerous books and articles helping so many to understand God’s Word on the death penalty.