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Even in death disgraced

Yesterday, at 3 p.m., a man named Anthony Lee Chaney lost his life. Almost 18 years ago, a man named James Jamison lost his life when he was shot by Chaney. Chaney's attorney, in a last minute effort to save his client's life, claimed that Chaney was mentally ill at the time. There is no question that the death penalty is a hypocritical way of punishing homicide, but it is also equally as abhorrent to use an insanity plea to excuse a criminal of culpability at the last minute.

Whether Anthony Lee Chaney was aware of himself at the time, James Jamison was brutally gunned down and killed on Labor Day 1982. He was a man whose life was valuable to those he loved. He most likely had a family. That family who was most likely eager to see that his killer be brought to justice.

Chaney went through a trial, was convicted and sentenced to die. His lawyers in the trial had ample opportunity to bring up his mentally instability and introduce witnesses who would testify on his behalf. A jury of Chaney's peers heard his case, and decided that he was guilty. An attorney who represented the state then sought the death penalty for the crime. A judge reviewed this, and decided that the punishment fit the crime.

For the last 18 years, Chaney's case has most likely gone through numerous appeals. Most death penalty cases do. Maybe his attorneys have been saying he's mentally ill all along. But lately they have used phrases like, "at the time," suggesting that Chaney was sane then, and could fully realize his crime. Saying that criminals are insane at the time of killing is a no-brainer. It is easy to say that you were insane at a time that forever changes and shapes the meaning of your existence. Taking responsibility for your actions is far harder to do. As Chaney's last minutes alive ticked by, people who loved James Jamison probably waited for his crime to be punished. What these people probably realized, after having a span of 17 years pass, is that no punishment will bring back their loved one. But having the criminal who killed him not even admit his guilt must hurt even more.

Our society does not structure its death penalty cases to be pleasant or comfortable for either the victim's or the criminal's side. And when a life is at stake, no one should be terribly comfortable. So we try to build in enough checks into the system to prevent innocent men and women from being executed. Appeals are repeatedly made to everyone from the Supreme Court to the governor. This creates a dramatic environment in which criminals are not asked on their last days to be repentant for their crimes, but rather to do whatever they can to ensure that they live. Sometimes this includes making claims of false innocence or saying they were insane "at the time."

In the last tense hours of a death row inmate's life, second thoughts about guilt and innocence are reviewed. This process is so serious and takes so long because it is flawed. After a life is extinguished, there is not going back. The very thought of executing an innocent man fuels this manic, emotional process, and makes every second leading up to the execution uncertain.

There are plenty of noble groups who come to the aid of criminals who are given the death penalty. These group's passions are justified, issues of life and death are hard to feel blas­ about. What is lost in this group's drive to save lives, is that there is often a crime that justifies punishing at issue. On the other side of the execution room is a family who lost a loved one.

Whether these anti-death penalty groups enjoy hearing it or not, Anthony Lee Chaney was convicted of killing someone. The death penalty is an archaic form of punishment, and a flawed one. Its very set up robs families and friends of victims of the right to ever hear that the person who snuffed out their loved one's life is sorry for their crime.

Defense attorneys and right to life groups who encourage their clients to make last minute appeals that are not based on fact conduct themselves shamelessly and dishonor the victim by their policy of encouraging their clients not to take full responsibility for their crimes. Furthermore, criminals who cry wolf make it harder for truly innocent people to get their convictions overturned. Anthony Chaney missed one of his last opportunities for redemption and forgiveness when he allowed his lawyers to make that appeal, and that is a shame.

Lora J. Mackel is a history junior. She can be reached at editor@wildcat.arizona.edu.