Helen Prejean

by Joyce Duriga

  Helen Prejean

  Helen Prejean

  Death Row’s Nun

  Joyce Duriga

  LITURGICAL PRESS

  Collegeville, Minnesota

  www.litpress.org

  Cover design by Red+Company. Cover illustration by Philip Bannister.

  © 2017 by Order of Saint Benedict, Collegeville, Minnesota. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, microfilm, microfiche, mechanical recording, photocopying, translation, or by any other means, known or yet unknown, for any purpose except brief quotations in reviews, without the previous written permission of Liturgical Press, Saint John’s Abbey, PO Box 7500, Collegeville, Minnesota 56321-7500. Printed in the United States of America.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017935290

  ISBN 978-0-8146-4663-2 978-0-8146-4687-8 (ebook)

  Society proceeds sovereignly to eliminate the evil ones from her midst as if she were virtue itself. Like an honorable man killing his wayward son and remarking: “Really, I didn’t know what to do with him.” . . . To assert in any case, that a man must be absolutely cut off from society because he is absolutely evil amounts to saying that society is absolutely good, and no one in his right mind will believe this today.

  —Albert Camus, Reflections on the Guillotine

  Contents

  Foreword by Robert Ellsberg

  Chapter One

  The Moment That Changed Her Life

  Chapter Two

  Her Early Years

  Chapter Three

  Patrick Sonnier

  Chapter Four

  Dead Man Walking

  Chapter Five

  The Death of Innocents

  Chapter Six

  The Church and the Death Penalty

  Chapter Seven

  Her Thoughts on the Death Penalty

  Notes

  Bibliography

  Foreword

  If the United States one day leaves the company of nations that still practice capital punishment, that may owe much to the efforts of one American nun, Sister Helen Prejean. Her classic work, Dead Man Walking, belongs in the company of such landmarks as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring and Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin: books that transformed consciousness and altered history.

  The present biography tells the fascinating story that led up to Sr. Helen’s book, and of her ongoing campaign, through tireless speaking and writing, to abolish the death penalty. Among the surprising stories is the account of her meetings with Pope John Paul II, and her influence in steering Catholic teaching toward an explicit rejection of capital punishment—a position explicitly embraced by Pope Francis and by the US Catholic bishops.

  So identified is Sr. Helen with her cause that it is surprising to remember the substantial portion of her life spent in a more traditional form of religious life. From her Cajun roots in Baton Rouge, to her decision at the age of eighteen to enter the Sisters of St. Joseph, there was no foretelling her later role as one of the prophetic witnesses of our time. The most intriguing part of this story, in fact, is the gradual journey by which she came to understand the social implications of the Gospel.

  In her early career, largely spent teaching in her order’s schools, she had accepted the idea that the primary aim of Catholic life was to prepare believers for heaven—not to be concerned with worldly issues like poverty and injustice. But from the time she joined other sisters in moving into a housing project among poor African Americans, she began to read the Bible and to see the world around her through different eyes.

  As Sr. Helen’s story demonstrates, the Christian life entails a continuous call to conversion—a matter of responding to that voice that comes to us, through circumstances or the needs of our neighbors or our moment in history. It is a voice that calls us deeper into the heart of our vocation. In Sr. Helen’s case, that voice came through a request to write to a prisoner on death row. That invitation, in turn, opened a door on a relationship that would change her life forever.

  In the average life, such transformative opportunities may occur more often than we know. How often do we pass them by? Perhaps it may be in reading the story of this remarkable woman that we will confront the invitation to take our own first steps on the risky journey of faith.

  —Robert Ellsberg

  Chapter One

  The Moment That Changed Her Life

  Sister Helen Prejean is living on adrenaline and nerves. Last night sleep wouldn’t come. At 3:00 a.m. she gives up. By 6:30 a.m. she’s on her way from New Orleans to the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola and the “death house,” the name for the part of the prison where inmates on death row are executed.

  Waiting for her there is Elmo Patrick Sonnier—a thirty-four-year-old, white Cajun man scheduled to be executed by the electric chair in two days on April 5, 1984, at midnight. Sonnier and his brother Eddie abducted a teenage, white couple out for a night on lovers’ lane in the fall of 1977. They raped the girl and then shot them both in the head after forcing them to lie face down on the ground. The state sentenced Pat to death by the electric chair. His brother Eddie received two life sentences.

  Going through the prison on the way to see Pat, Sr. Helen passes out from hunger—she didn’t eat that morning—and from a bronchial infection that’s brewing in her lungs. She ends up on a table in the prison hospital and learns this is where they will bring Pat after the execution to run an EKG. He may be the next person lying on that table, she thinks.

  When prison officials return her to the death house, she learns no one told Pat what happened to her, and he worried that he would have to go through the execution alone. After a short prayer service with a priest chaplain where Pat receives Communion, Sr. Helen and he talk through a mesh screen and share stories to pass the time—some about their attempts with the governor for a stay of execution and some about small topics like birds and hunting. Sister Helen tries to wrap her mind around the fact that in a mere thirty hours or so, Pat could be dead. It’s not like he has a terminal illness, just a scheduled execution. Pat admits he is afraid, but tells Sister they won’t “break” him.

  That night Sr. Helen stays at her mother’s house, which is closer to Angola than her home in New Orleans. Family and friends join her. She takes a sleeping pill to help her rest. The next day, April 4, when she arrives at Angola it is a beautiful day—the sun is shining and the sky is blue. Sister Helen first stops to see Pat’s brother Eddie Sonnier, who is also serving his sentences in Angola. News reports that morning feature stories about Eddie writing to the governor saying he committed the murders, not Pat, and that they planned to execute the wrong person.

  Next Sr. Helen heads over to see Pat. At 3:15 p.m. a friend visits. No word yet from the governor or the courts on a stay of execution. Just after 5:00 p.m. the electrician arrives to make sure the chair is ready. At 6:00 p.m. it’s time for Pat’s final meal: a steak done medium well, potato salad, green beans, hot rolls with butter, a green salad, a Coke, and apple pie.

  Soon they hear from the warden that the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals turned down Pat’s petition for a stay of execution. Now they wait for the governor. In the meantime, prison staff trickle in readying things for the execution. At 8:40 p.m. word comes from the attorneys that the governor also turned Pat down. As the guards shackle his hands and feet, Pat collapses to one knee, looks at her and says, “Sr. Helen, I’m going to die.”

  He makes out his will, leaving her all of his possessions and writes to his brother asking him to take care of himself and telling him that he loves him. Prison staff shave Pat’s head and his eyebrows so they won’t catch on fire during the execution. They also cut o
ff his left pant leg and shave that leg.

  At 11:30 p.m. the guards arrive to take Pat. They put a diaper on him, which angers him. Sister Helen is allowed to walk with Pat to the death chamber. He asks the warden if she can hold his arm. He agrees. It’s the first time she’s touched him. As they walk she recites the words of Isaiah 41:10, “Do not be afraid . . .”

  The oak execution chair, nicknamed Gruesome Gertie, awaits Pat in the death chamber, which has the green walls and a clock ticking on the wall. Witnesses sit on the other side of the room behind glass. The fathers of the victims are there along with the press, Pat’s attorneys, and the doctor who will verify his death. Sister Helen notices an exhaust fan running. It will remove the smell of burning flesh from the death chamber.

  The warden asks Pat if he has any last words. He does. Pat asks for forgiveness from Lloyd LeBlanc, the father of David LeBlanc, one of the murdered teens. He says his brother committed the murders, but he is sorry all the same. No words for Godfrey Bourque, the father of Loretta Bourque. Pat knows Bourque has been speaking in the press about how much he has been looking forward to Pat’s execution so he offers him no apology. Pat turns to Sr. Helen and tells her he loves her. “I love you too,” she says.

  Prison staff place a metal cap on Pat’s head. It has an electrode attached to the top, which is connected to a wire that comes from a box behind the chair. Next they fasten an electrode to his leg, the one they shaved earlier. Then they strap his head to the chair with a piece of leather around his chin. Lastly they cover his face with a grayish-green cloth.

  The warden nods to the executioner who flips a switch that pushes nineteen hundred volts of electricity through Pat, then five hundred, and then nineteen hundred again. A few minutes later the prison doctor pronounces Pat dead at 12:15 a.m., April 5, 1984.

  On the way home from the prison, Sr. Helen’s friends must stop the car so she can vomit. This early morning experience ends the two-year journey Sr. Helen made with Pat Sonnier. It also changes the course of her life and puts her on the road she calls a vocation from God as “death row’s nun.”

  Chapter Two

  Her Early Years

  Sister Helen Prejean is a diminutive woman and a force of nature. She’s quick to laugh and quick to crack a joke. Her Southern drawl charms the audiences of this gifted storyteller—her voice lowers as she tells a serious or grim part of a story and rises at funny or exciting parts. She doesn’t wear a habit; she keeps her hair short and dark, wears glasses, and has a cross around her neck and a simple, gold band on her left-hand ring finger.

  Now in her seventies, Sr. Helen, a Sister of St. Joseph, continues to crisscross the country, speaking to anyone who will listen—church and school groups, university students, elected officials, and news media, to name a few. She speaks about the need to end capital punishment in the United States. It’s a topic Sr. Helen knows a lot about since she has accompanied six people on death row to their executions and in recent years has taken up the cause for those unjustly condemned.

  Even though she authored two books—one a national bestseller—and has an Oscar-winning movie about her ministry, along with a play and an opera, she doesn’t rest on her laurels. Sister Helen continues to accompany people on death row, most recently Richard Glossip, who is on death row in Oklahoma. She has taken his case around the world and even to Pope Francis, petitioning for Glossip’s exoneration because she believes he is innocent of the crime of which he was convicted.

  She doesn’t take time for pursuits like watching baseball or following the ins and outs of Hollywood. This woman has a mission from God, and it encompasses her entire being.

  Helen was born on April 21, 1939, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Louis and Gusta Mae Prejean (pronounced pray-zhan). She was the middle child between her sister Mary Ann and her brother Louie. The Prejean children had a privileged upbringing. Louis Prejean was a successful lawyer, and Gusta Mae was a nurse at Our Lady of the Lake Hospital in Baton Rouge. Theirs was a faith-filled, Catholic household.

  The Prejeans prayed the rosary every night and on car trips. They attended devotions like Benediction at Sacred Heart Parish and instilled in Helen a love for the Mass. At one time, prior to their marriage, both Louis and Gusta Mae discerned calls to religious life. Her parents lived the faith they passed on to their children. Louis often helped people who couldn’t afford legal representation and even helped some of them buy homes once they were back on their feet. Sister Helen recalls her mother, Gusta Mae, as a compassionate, warm, people person who would make little satin pillows for her patients who had abdominal surgeries so they could hold them when they coughed.

  Louis and Gusta Mae laid the foundation for a strong prayer life that continues in Sr. Helen’s life today. “What prayer is for me is listening. The basic prayer is ‘What do you want me to do?’ It’s the invitation to come and just say, ‘Is this what you want me to do?’ Then to try to be able to do it in a spirit of calmness,” she says.1

  Despite her busy travel schedule, Sr. Helen finds time to pray while on the road. “I’ve learned how to do it in the air at thirty-five thousand feet. I’m on airplanes a lot so an airport can be my cloister,” she says.2 The anonymity of the airport also gives her time to read, to pray, and to be quiet in the Lord.

  She feeds on the Scripture, often using the daily Mass readings as food for meditation. Sometimes something sparks, sometimes it doesn’t, but she is faithful to setting aside time for contemplation, listening, and prayer so she’s sure she’s doing God’s will in her life. “There is wholeness in it too—to be able to live a loving life and to be able to keep growing and stay on the edge,” she says. “You don’t say, ‘Oh, well, I’ve done a few good things and I want to sit back. Hey, we’ve got a book; we’ve got a movie and an opera. We’ve won an Academy Award.’ ”3

  It comes as no surprise Sr. Helen uses Mass readings for inspiration, since as soon as she could drive during her freshman year in high school, she started attending daily Mass. She went to the all-girls St. Joseph Academy in Baton Rouge, which was run by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Medaille (pronounced may-die).

  Despite her religious upbringing, Sr. Helen was not a perfect, pious child. That title she gives to her elder sister Mary Ann whom she considers “wonderful,” the better athlete, and the brave one.

  “I was a crybaby. I was always being hurt,” Sr. Helen recalls. “We would be with the boys, and they would have a swing. They would throw the rope up to you with the little wooden seat on it. You’d have to jump from the limb, grab the rope, and be on the swing. I was scared to death. I was the last one in the tree. I’m going, ‘I don’t want to fall.’ Mary Ann is going, ‘Jump. Grab the rope.’ ”4 It was the same on the diving board. Sister Helen, in her fear, would stand on the board afraid to jump. Everyone behind her yelled “Jump!” At the same time, Mary Ann did a perfect swan dive from the high board.

  Growing up, the Prejean children often played on the family’s five-acre property. Their mother regularly sent them outside to play. By the time they reached high school, the Prejean sisters were singing in the glee club. They always loved to sing. Helen sang soprano and Mary Ann sang second so they harmonized.

  While the Prejeans sang often on family road trips, prayer never ceased to silence the kids. When the three kids were in the back seat of the station wagon getting punchy and rambunctious, Gusta Mae Prejean would say in a loud voice, “In the name of the Father, and the Son . . . ” The next thing the kids knew they were praying the rosary and had calmed down. To this day, Sr. Helen calls it “Ritalin for kids.” Those moments taught her how to pray and meditate.

  The Prejean family laughed often and told stories. Helen was one of the extroverts. Mary Ann was the introvert. In high school, Helen took an interest in public speaking and entered oratorical contests. Mary Ann didn’t like to speak out, but when her sister Helen ran for student body president, Mary Ann found her voice. “
The whole school knew that Mary Ann was the one great in sports but didn’t like to talk in public, so I asked her to be my campaign manager, and we blew the lid off the place,” Sr. Helen recalls. Mary Ann stood up in front of the student body and said, “You all know I hate to give talks.” Everybody in the audience is saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She says, “But I’m here because I really believe my sister, Helen, will be the best student body president.”5 She won by a landslide.

  The two sisters took different paths in their adult lives but remained close. Coming into adulthood in the 1950s left few options for women. If you didn’t marry, you became a nun. Women who entered the “no-man’s” space in between were pariahs. Helen never pictured herself marrying, having a family and a white picket fence. She wanted lots of time for her spiritual life. Early on, Helen desired to be a mystic like St. Teresa of Avila or St. Catherine of Sienna. A family didn’t fit into that vision.

  As Helen observed the culture, she saw that single women didn’t have a real place but the nuns were alive, funny, and faith filled. The Sisters of St. Joseph at her high school were leading examples, taking students on retreats and teaching them how to pray better. In 1957 at age eighteen, Helen Prejean decided she was called to religious life and joined the community, taking the name Sr. Louis Augustine (after the Second Vatican Council she dropped the name for her own). She entered an apostolic community where they prayed like women in cloisters but also brought the Gospel out among the people through teaching.

  The Sisters of St. Joseph trace their origins to Le Puy-en-Velay, France—a town in south central France located on the western side of the Loire River—where in 1650 Jesuit Fr. Jean Pierre Medaille drew together a group of women who desired to work for the poor and live lives steeped in faith. Le Puy is notable for other things besides the congregation’s founding. The town’s Cathedral of Notre Dame de Puy is one of the historic starting points for the St. James Way (El Camino), the famous pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. More than 1,500,000 people walk a portion or all of El Camino each year. If that’s not enough, a statue of Notre Dame de France stands high on a rocky outcropping, keeping watch over the town.