Things that keep me awake at night

I know someone who is on death row.
I know his family, his brothers and sisters.
I know the family of the girl that he killed in a murderous jealous rage
I knew her father, who took his own life, grieving over the loss of his daughter

I wonder about Pat a lot
I wonder what drove him to commit such an awful crime
I wonder what goes through the minds of his brothers and sisters when they think of him
I wonder if he is afraid

I find that I am at odds with myself. Part of me thinks that no punishment is harsh enough for those who commit heinous crimes. Part of me thinks that we should string them up on the courthouse lawn, and make everybody watch. This is what happens if you kill somebody. To quote Ron White, “if you kill somebody (in Texas), we will kill you back.

But then I ask myself, does the punishment really fit the crime? I remember in an ethics class in high school, the local prosecutor came and showed us pictures of a crime scene. I can still hear his voice 25 years later, telling us that the only fitting punishment for these “animals” is the death penalty. I think at that time we still used the electric chair. That seems quite harsh to me. But does the punishment really fit the crime?

What happens to rapists? Do we rape them back?
What happens to child molesters? What could we possibly do to them that would fit their crime?
What happens to men who beat their wives? Or wives who exact revenge and mutilate their husbands?
What happens to people who swindle old people out of their retirement?
What happens to someone who starves his retarded son to death?

This really does not make sense to me. All of the other crimes involve jail time, and a fine, and eventually parole.
Only one punishment actually involves causing bodily harm to the criminal

This does not seem consistent to me. Part of me thinks that the most appropriate thing to do is what is happening to the 20th hijacker. He is locked in a super max prison. In a tiny cell. Only getting out one hour a day. Only going outside once or twice a week. I have read that most people in the supermax prisons will eventually go insane. That would scare me worse than a needle. The idea of years going by and never getting a visitor. The idea of dying in prison, and nobody caring, or knowing that I had passed. Of truly becoming a person who’s only identity is a number. That no one knows, that the world forgets about. Perhaps that is the ultimate punishment.

Yet, for all his crime, and all the hurt that Pat caused, I must finally ask myself, could I lead him to his cell, lock the door, and then walk away?
Could I lead him to the gurney, and close the curtain, and then open the valves that drip death into his arm?

I honestly don’t know. Am I weak? Maybe. Do I believe that the true responsibility for life and death in this world is in God’s hands? Most definitely. I know that there is something to be said for forgiveness. Maybe if it was my sister that was killed I would feel differently, but maybe not.

Peace