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Dale Baich: In defense of death row

Dale Baich has watched 16 men die. 

Over the course of his career as a federal public defender, Baich has parsed through the many legal webs entangling death row inmates and protocol in the years, months, weeks and days leading up to their executions. He has watched people walk from death row, and he has sat in the witness room. 

Now, he draws on his experience with the hope of influencing the dialogue on death row and execution methods, as Arizona continues to grapple with its fraught past with capital punishment. 

Questions and answers have been lightly edited for style and clarity. 

How did you get here? 

When I first started practicing in Cleveland, I had a partner and we had a general practice, and I wasn’t the best businessman. After five years, it was time to try something else, and there was a position open at the state public defender’s office in Ohio with the death penalty unit. 

What expectations did you have about capital defense? How did that change over time? 

It’s very serious and consequential work. And what I learned along the way is that not only do you need to understand the law and how the courts work, but the work is really about the client. To me, I’m representing a client in a case as a lawyer who represents people on death row. My job is not to get rid of the death penalty. My job is to try and convince a court or a clemency board that the death penalty is inappropriate in this case. So, that’s how I’ve approached it. 

One of the frustrating things about the work is the way the system is structured, and as a case goes through the judicial process, people think that more judges are looking at the conviction and sentence to make sure that everything that happened was fair. 

The reality is that as a case goes through the process, courts are limited as to what they can review, what they can decide. There’s a lot of deference by the courts, to what happened at trial. So that part is frustrating, because you may find something new that is significant, that would have made a difference at trial, but the courts say we cannot look at this because there’s a statute or there’s a U.S. Supreme Court decision, and it’s hard to explain that to the client. 

How did you approach your relationship with a client? What does it require? 

Trust is key. What you have to be willing to do is spend time talking with and meeting clients. And I want to be clear that this isn’t something that one person does. There’s a team of people there. There may be two or three lawyers on the case. There are investigators, both fact investigators and mitigation investigators. There are paralegals so, you have this team, and you know, you’re all in working for the client, and someone on the team needs to have that connection. 

It takes some clients a little longer to trust. There are clients who have mental impairments that make it difficult for them to understand and to trust and to share what they’re thinking. Those are challenges, but it’s just really important to be there for the client.

Any clients in particular stick out in your mind when you reflect back? 

I have a client in Ohio that I’ve represented since 1991. In 2000, the state did some DNA testing. They found some biological material, tested it, and hid it from us for eight years. We get the test results. We eventually get into court. We have a hearing, and the judge decides that case was murder, rape and burglary, and the judge said the state’s theory of trial was it was a single assailant, and since the DNA excludes him from the rape, it excludes him from murder, and vacated the conviction and ordered a new trial. 

Eventually, the judge allowed him to be released on bond, so he walked from death row to freedom, and he was living as a free person for two and a half years, did not get in any trouble, went to see his pre-trial service officer when he was supposed to do that. I was in Cleveland, and I got to meet him for lunch at a restaurant and sit across a table. And then, two and a half years after he was released, the Ohio Supreme Court decided that the judge who vacated his conviction did not have jurisdiction and reinstated the conviction, and the next day, he was back on death row. And the reason the judge did not have the jurisdiction is that, under Ohio law, the defendant needs to request the DNA testing. Here, the state did it on its own, and then hid the results from us for eight years. We have the results, yeah, and the court, relying on this jurisdictional technicality, sent him back to death row, where he is today.

What is it like to traverse through changing case law? 

It’s really sort of surreal. Using this case as an example, he went back to death row in 2018. We filed a clemency application in 2022, we are in federal court. The clemency board in Ohio won’t hear the case. The federal court case has been pending for almost three years. And that’s frustrating. It’s frustrating and surreal. And then, being at the end of the line with a client, and trying to litigate issues and getting courts to be interested in those issues, and at the same time trying to prepare the client for what is likely going to happen. There’s a lot of challenges in trying to do that. 

On the flip side, when have you had success? 

My old office had cases where we walked two people off of death row because of evidence that was withheld by the state. So those were celebrations. But it took the system so long for that to happen. It’s frustrating when people say, well, the system worked, the guy got out, or the system worked, the death penalty was vacated. But it takes a long time for that to happen. We have to be patient and we have to be diligent. 

Part of this work is assessing, at the end of the line, how states carry out executions. What have you seen in the way of changes to executions? 

Initially, when we started to litigate issues related to the Arizona protocol, the Department of Corrections basically would say, trust us. And what we learned along the way through discovery, through clients being executed, is that we couldn’t trust the Department of Corrections to follow its own protocol.

That was obviously a concern, but we just kept our foot on the gas. I think along the way what has come out is that Arizona’s process is more transparent now than it was in 2010 when I witnessed the first execution here. The public, through the media, gets to see more of the process. And I think the public is more educated on the process. It’s all about transparency and holding our public officials accountable.

In Arizona, we’ve seen some pushes to alter methods of execution, to add the firing squad or reexamine lethal injection. What should the state consider? 

I think the solution is life without parole. Because the person who committed the crime is going to be removed from society for the rest of their life. They’re going to be in the custody of the Department of Corrections, and the family members of the victim are not going to be re-traumatized for the next 20, 30, 40 years, because what happens is whenever a case moves from one step to another, the press will write about it. The victims’ advocates are required to notify the family members and they relive the trauma they experienced when they lost their loved one. I think that life without parole is a workable solution. It’s sound public policy. 

When you look back on your work, what change do you think you have affected? 

What we try to do is give our clients dignity, humanity and to hold our system accountable. If the state decides that it’s going to take the life of one of its citizens, the client deserves all the protections and resources to hold the state accountable.

What should people look out for as the state moves toward another execution? 

The bottom line is that the death penalty is about politics, the decision of who is targeted for the death penalty is a political decision by the county attorney. The decision to seek an execution warrant is a political decision by the attorney general. One of the frustrations is that people think that the death penalty is all about justice and fairness, but it’s not. It’s all about politics. 

How have you seen the sentiment on executions change over the course of your career? 

When I started doing this work, support for the death penalty was about 80% nationally, and we are at a point now where it dips below 50% if life without parole is offered as an alternative to the death penalty. That’s come about because of education, the reporting on all the exonerations from death row, I think they’re at 200 now. And the litigation over the methods of execution where you know people now know that it’s not a guy just laying on a bed and going to sleep, that it’s really a very violent act going on, and I think, a sense of understanding that people change. 

A client who committed a horrible, horrible act on the worst day of his life is a different person as time goes on. I have seen clients grow. They’ve turned inward, and there’s this strength that they have. Many of them can’t believe that they did what they did. They simply cannot believe it. They’re not denying it. But, because there were drugs or alcohol or they were mentally impaired at the time, now that they’ve been removed from some of those conditions and getting a little bit of treatment, not doing the drugs and alcohol, they’re different people. 

We’re not who we are on the worst day of our life. 

Arizona executes second death row inmate this year

Key Points: 
  • Department of Corrections executed death row inmate Richard Djerf 
  • Medical team ran into some difficulties inserting Djerf’s IV line 
  • Witnesses said process otherwise went smoothly 
Richard Djerf (Courtesy of Arizona Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry)

The state executed Richard Djerf, a man convicted of murdering four members of the Luna family, by lethal injection on Friday morning, marking the second death row inmate to see their sentence carried out in the past year.

According to a deputy director at the Arizona Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry and five members of the media, the medical staff experienced some difficulties inserting the IV lines into Djerf’s arm. 

Otherwise, witnesses described the execution as “clinical,” noting a relatively swift death following the first administration of lethal drugs. 

Attention continues to hover over the state’s execution process, given a history marked with false starts, “botched” executions and a more recent, though incomplete, independent review that raised some reservations about the lethal injection process.  

But Djerf’s execution today, and the execution of another death row inmate earlier this year, passed without any major complications and in accordance with department procedure. 

Djerf was sentenced to death in 1996 for the murder of the Luna family — Albert, 47, Patricia, 42, Rochelle, 18, and Damien, 5. He has sat on death row ever since, exhausting his appeals in 2019. 

“The death penalty is the law of Arizona and yet each time the state asserts this ultimate measure of justice, we must recognize the seriousness and the solemnness of taking a life,” Attorney General Kris Mayes said. “Today should be about the members of the Luna family who Richard Djerf brutally murdered that September day in 1993. Those four innocent victims deserve justice, and their loved ones deserve closure to the Luna Family and other crime victims like them.” 

Mayes named Djerf as the next inmate to be executed by lethal injection in May of this year. The Arizona Supreme Court issued a warrant of execution on August 19 and set the execution for October 17.

According to witnesses, Djerf was brought into the execution room at 10:01 a.m. Five officers strapped his hands, legs and torso to the table and laid a white sheet up to his chest. The restraint process was visible through overhead cameras, which were shown on screens. 

The curtains opened, and a four member medical team entered the room to begin the IV insertion process. 

Witnesses said the medical team started the process at about 10:13 a.m. One witness said it took a handful of punctures to start the IV. Another witness said they could see blood as the medical team continued to try to insert the IV.  But witnesses said they did not see any obvious wincing or signs of pain.

The right IV was successfully inserted after five minutes, while the left arm took nine, with IV insertion complete at 10:21 a.m. Djerf’s warrant was read at 10:23 a.m., and the medical team started administering the drugs at 10:24 a.m. and ended at 10:28 a.m. 

Witnesses reported some grunting and heavy breathing. And though Djerf kept his eyes closed for the entirety of the execution, witnesses said Djerf seemed to be sedated quickly. Within six minutes, they reported no movement or no visible breathing. 

A member of the execution team checked Djerf’s pulse around 10:32 a.m. and pronounced him dead at 10:40 a.m.. 

When asked if he had any last words, Djerf said, “I do not.” 

According to ADCRR deputy director John Barcello, the victims’ representatives did not attend the execution. Witnesses said Director Ryan Thornell was absent as well. 

Both Mayes and Mitchell were in attendance. 

In a statement, Mitchell called Djerf a “prime example of why the death penalty exists.” 

“Today was a day of final justice—not only for the memory of the four innocent lives he took, but also for the only surviving son and the extended Luna family, who have carried the weight of that loss every single day,” Mitchell said. “May this bring them some measure of finality.” 

Prior to Djerf, Mayes and Mitchell witnessed and oversaw the execution of Aaron Gunches, a man convicted of the kidnapping and murder of Ted Price in 2002, earlier this year.  

The department maintains it is “confident in both the quality and quantity of its pentobarbital supply,” citing a quantitative chemical analysis showing “sufficient concentration of pentobarbital” and a sterility test verifying the drug’s expiration date. 

According to Barcello, the county medical examiner took custody of Djerf’s body and will be issuing a certificate of death.

“I personally observed the process of the events today,” Barcello said. “By all counts, the process went according to plan, without any incident.” 

Rep. Nguyen’s bill aims to make political killings a capital offense

Key Points:
  • Head of House Judiciary Committee aiming to make political assassination capital offense
  • Rep. Quang Nguyen wants to deter targeting people for political beliefs
  • Lawmakers often float ideas before bills can be filed on Nov. 17

The head of the House Judiciary Committee is crafting legislation to make political assassination a capital offense.

Rep. Quang Nguyen said he wants to deter anyone who would target people for their political beliefs. The Prescott Valley Republican said while it was the shooting death of political activist Charlie Kirk that spurred the idea, he said such legislation is necessary to prevent similar attempts on others in Arizona, regardless of where they are on the political spectrum.

He also told Capitol Media Services his legislation is crafted so that even unsuccessful attempts result in an automatic life sentence without the possibility of parole.

Separately, Senate President Warren Petersen wants lawmakers to approve a measure renaming a major freeway in and around Phoenix after Kirk. He said it will ensure “his legacy lives on.”

But in a press release — Petersen did not return repeated messages — the Gilbert Republican who is running for attorney general also inserted a religious component. He said renaming the freeway goes beyond honoring Kirk and is “a call for each of us to press on in faith, to live courageously for Jesus, and to stand firm in the principles Charlie so boldly championed.”

Neither of those is actual legislation, at least not yet. Bills for the 2026 session cannot be filed with the House or Senate clerk’s office until Nov. 17.

None of that, however, keeps lawmakers from floating ideas before then. And Nguyen said he already has approached House attorneys to help craft his measure.

The more far-reaching proposal — at least as relates to law and order — is the proposal about punishment for political assassinations.

Nguyen said he’s not looking to craft an entirely new law. Instead, he wants to add the fact that a killing was carried out for political purposes to the list of things that jurors can consider when deciding between a life sentence and the death penalty.

Under Arizona law, what might be called an ordinary murder does not make the perpetrator eligible for execution. Instead, jurors must find one or more “aggravating circumstances.”

These already include things like murder for hire, whether the victim was a peace officer, prior murder convictions and whether there was premeditation. There even is a provision for “premeditated and deliberate” murder of any elected or appointed official or candidate for office.

Nguyen, however, said something more is needed, something that covers anyone — public official or not — who is targeted based on political beliefs.

“In this country, you should be able to speak freely,” he said. And that, said Nguyen, includes Kirk.

“This is now not just an attack on Charlie Kirk,” he said. “And it is an attack on the American institution.”

Conversely, Nguyen said his legislation will cover only what prosecutors — and, ultimately, jurors — determine is a killing over political beliefs.

So, for example, he said, his legislation would not have applied in the case of murdered Arizona Republic newsman Don Bolles who died in 1976 after a bomb was placed under his car. In that case, the motive for the murder was to stop him from investigating real estate deals.

Nor, Nguyen said, would it apply if someone were to target him for assassination based on the fact that he is Vietnamese — or even his religion.

“If I’m a Catholic, which I am, and I said ‘I’m a Catholic’ and somebody shot me, that is not a political statement,” he said. “That is religiously being discriminated.”

This, he said, is different.

“If I speak about freedom and I speak about supporting President Trump and I’m speaking about recruiting young voters to become conservative and I’m being assassinated, that is clearly politically motivated,” Nguyen said.

So how does someone’s motive get ascertained?

“Criminals are not very bright,” said Nguyen. And he said they often leave behind other clues, including writings, website postings and even conversations with others.

“This is a necessity I see to deter bad guys from doing this stuff to both parties, Democrats and Republicans,” he said.

All that, he acknowledged, is based on the assumption that a death penalty or life imprisonment is enough to dissuade would-be shooters. And that presumes that some assailants are looking to make a statement and, in some cases, assume they are going to get killed in the attack.

“You can’t fix stupid,” Nguyen said. But he said if it prevents just one out of every 10 attacks, the proposal has served its purpose.

What Petersen is proposing, by contrast, is not based on deterrence but the argument there’s a reason to put Kirk’s name on the roadway which runs for 78 miles from central Phoenix, out to the eastern edge of Mesa and then circles back around through Chandler and back into the west side of Phoenix.

“Through God’s grace, by renaming this highway we can ensure that his name, his mission, and his witness to the gospel will endure for generations to come,” Petersen wrote in his press release. “Even in the midst of sorrow, God’s Word reminds us that hope endures.”

Merits of the measure and the political component aside, there may be legal issues.

Most notably, Arizona law declares that it is the State Board on Geographic and Historic Names that has purview, not only on what certain features like mountains and rivers are called, but also whether to put names on highways and “designate the most appropriate and acceptable names and spelling of these names for use in maps and other governmental documents.”

In fact, it was that board that voted in 2019 to designate the last 22-mile stretch of Route 202 as the Ed Pastor Freeway. That is the official name, with signs erected to that effect by the Department of Transportation.

“The intention is not to remove that name,” said an aide to Petersen. However, she did not explain how it would coexist with the Senate president’s proposal, dubbed the Charlie Kirk Memorial Loop 202.

And there’s something else.

That law — the one that gives the naming power to the state board — specifically says it cannot commemorate anyone “until that person has been deceased at least five years.”

The board has ignored that requirement in the past, as it did in 2003 when it renamed a mountain and a Phoenix freeway that runs adjacent to it in honor of Lori Piestewa. That year, she was the first Native American woman to die in combat while serving in the U.S. military and the first woman in the U.S. military killed in the Iraq War.

In that case, however, some other circumstances may have resulted in board approval.

Both the mountain and freeway had been named Squaw Peak, a name that then-Gov. Janet Napolitano — who appointed most of the board members — said is offensive to many tribes.

A spokesman for Gov. Katie Hobbs, asked about both measures, said his boss does not comment on bills she has not yet seen.

In Their Words: Tony West

Tony West believed in public service. As a Republican, he served five terms in the House and three in the Senate from 1973 until 1988. A concurrent resolution to honor his life said: “Tony was well-known for his tough anticrime bills and fiscal conservatism during his tenure in the Arizona Legislature, but his legislative career also reflects his social conscience.” He championed legislation to establish programs for the hearing impaired, county sports authorities, and funding for crime victim compensation. 

He moved on to be the state treasurer from 1991 to 1998, where he was instrumental in passing Proposition 102 in 1998, a measure that allowed the State Permanent Land Trust to invest in equity securities, which drove up the fund’s balance by billions of dollars. 

West’s political career came to an end in 1999 when the Arizona Supreme Court stripped him of his seat on the Arizona Corporation Commission because during his campaign and during the election process he sold securities, a conflict of interest for someone serving on the commission, which regulated securities. 

West, a rancher whose family “were pioneers in the cotton industry in Arizona and California,” died on Jan. 14, 2016, at the age of 78. 

The following interview is part of the Arizona State Library Oral History Project, which started in 2006, and is printed here as an occasional feature called In Their Words. Below are excerpts from West’s undated interview with the project in which he discusses a vote that haunted him, getting elected to the Legislature, and the struggle to attain funding parity between Arizona State University and the University of Arizona. 

Capital Punishment

I have only one vote out of the thousands and thousands of votes that I cast, that I look back and circumspect, that I made the right vote. And that was my freshman year on the Judiciary Committee. I had promised everybody — in those days capital punishment was a big deal — and I had promised everybody in my district that I would support capital punishment for those people guilty of heinous crimes. Well, remember, I said earlier that I’m a pro-lifer, so there’s a conflict between the sanctity of human life in the womb.

I rationalized that people have forfeited their right to live by some heinous crime, taking somebody else’s life. And I supported the capital punishment bill, but that’s always haunted me whether I made the right decision or not.  

Running for the Legislature

In 1972 I had a friend who was a speaker of the House by the name of Tim Barrow call me and say that he wasn’t going to run again, and he wanted to know if I was interested in running for his seat in the House. I told Tim that, yeah, I did have an interest, particularly as I could, you know, be of some service to the public. I believe in public service, but it would depend on his two running mates. One was Ray Rottas, who was the state senator at that time, from our district. Another was Stan Akers, who was Tim’s running mate for the House, the second seat, and Stanley was a whip of the House. So the three of us met somewhere, probably right here in this office, and we talked about it. I said, well, the only way I’m really interested is if we team up together, because I’m not going out there in a pack of wolves by myself. And they talked it over and said, “Yeah, okay, kid.” I was kid. “We’ll go as a team.” Rottas says, “I don’t have any opposition, so I’m only going to pay 20% of the cost.” And Akers said, “You know, I got seniority, and I’m only paying 30%. That leaves at least 50% of the cost for you to pick up, kid.” “Alright, you got a deal,” shook hands, and we ran together as a team. We were very successful for either four or five elections, I don’t remember. Rottas, Akers, West, we made a lot of commitments to the public here, and I think we lived up to all of them. 

On why Tim Barrow called him to run

I think, to say it humbly, that they gained a lot of respect for me when I ran (a campaign against someone) who none of them liked. He was a real thorn in all their sides, of those who were serving. So I think I gained not only his respect — he didn’t call me out of the blue alone, obviously, he had talked to Akers and Rottas, and they had somebody else that was gonna, that was running, that they really didn’t prefer. And so it kind of got down to, I guess they selected me. It was a five-man primary when we ran in ’72 and I’ll never forget that five-man primary. I came in first and had a little fun with Akers, because I was organizing the freshman to elect him as the speaker of the House.

On being part of the “Wrecking Crew”

Well, it was originally done by (political writer) John Kolbe, who wrote it in a column because we were out to change the budget and reduce spending. And so there were four of us that were in the original Wrecking Crew in Kolbe’s column. And it was meant to be derogatory, and it was, of course…

Well, it was just his way of writing the column. You know, we had to stop the budget process and hold it up. And John, he liked the system. He was a lot more liberal than we were, and maybe some of his programs were going down. So anyway, he wrote the column, and then (Thomas) Goodwin probably used it somewhere on the floor. 

Tom was the Appropriations chair. He was a very unique individual. Served with him for 10 years, eight on Appropriations. And Tom had a propensity to hit Durant’s at night, in fact, in the daytime. And Tom liked his booze, and one time, couldn’t get the votes for the budget, so he sticks it in the trunk of his car and goes to Tucson. We had to get DPS to go down there and stop him and bring it, get the budget back. Tom was just different. He was a professor at the University of Arizona, and his whole ox was to fund the University of Arizona, and they ought to canonize him, because he over funded them until we got there. When we got there, I organized the freshmen. And in those days, we had a caucus rule that you couldn’t get a budget out unless you had 31 votes. Well, there was 38 of us, and there was about nine or 10 of us that agreed that we weren’t voting for that budget unless ASU got parity. So this goes on, we’re tied up for three days. I mean, we’re not moving. And Goodwin was going crazy because he’s got all this money in there for the University of Arizona. Akers calls him in the office and he had a talk, and come back to caucus — they were closed caucuses in those days  — and then came back to caucus. And (Republican Majority Leader Burton) Barr said something to him, and he says, so just, man, let me go down and talk to Dr. (John) Schwada, who was the president of Arizona State University, and let’s see what he’s going to do with another 10 million. So we got parity that year, and we got parity ever since.

Aaron Brian Gunches executed by lethal injection

Kiera Riley, courts and education reporter for the Arizona Capitol Times, watched the execution of Aaron Gunches as his invited witness.

From the front row in the far corner of the witness room at the state’s execution chamber, a dark curtain pulled to the edges of the viewing window reflected the faces of Attorney General Kris Mayes and Maricopa County Attorney Rachel Mitchell.

The two sat stoic, hands clasped or arm crossed, and eyes forward, as the state carried out the first execution since Mayes and Mitchell took office in 2023.

Before this moment, before Aaron Brian Gunches, sentenced to death for the 2002 kidnapping and murder of Ted Price, was strapped to a gurney, before he was set with IV lines, injected with lethal drugs and declared dead by the Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation, and Reentry came a repeated request to be killed, a continued push by Price’s family for finality, a change in leadership, a pause on capital punishment, an ensuing legal battle, a truncated external review of death penalty policies and procedures and, finally, a pivot by the governor and attorney general.

Aaron Brian Gunches (Arizona Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry via AP, File)

One final push came to resume executions, with assurances from the Corrections Department of a proper drug supply and a well-trained medical team with the ability to carry out the state’s gravest punishment.

“The family of Ted Price has been waiting for justice for more than two decades,” Mayes said. “They deserve closure under a system that is more transparent, more accountable and more faithful to our Constitution and the rule of law. Today, Arizona resumed the death penalty.”

At 10 a.m., witnesses made their entrance and sat across bleacher-type leather benches tracing both ends of the room. Mayes and Mitchell entered the room first, followed by the inmate’s witnesses, the media, law enforcement and the victim’s family.

The door shut, cutting off sunlight except for a small corner window covered with a green tarp. The viewing room is a light slate-gray. The walls are stucco with beige baseboards. Stretched across the front of the room is a window, dressed with closed dark curtains and framed by three TV monitors.

The monitor on the far left showed a waist up view of the gurney, and the one on the left showed a full-birds eye view. A small crop of white tile outlined the outstretched wings and shape of the gurney, with the rest of the screen blacked out.

The center screen shows eight syringes, with two sets of two green syringes framed by two black vials. The room was quiet, until the hum of the overhead microphone.

Five Department of Corrections staff members escorted Gunches into the room. He climbed onto the table and lay still. On the overhead monitors, five pairs of black gloved hands started setting his restraints — first tightening two around his ankles, then two around his wrists, and, finally, one just below his waist. They then covered him in a white sheet, folded once, which covered the middle of his chest. His arms were splayed out on the two arm rests.

The curtain opened and four medical staff, donned in white hazmat-type suits, wheeled a cart of needles and bandages past the gurney. It took medical staff three minutes to insert the IV lines. Starting with the right arm, a staff member tightened two blue rubber tourniquets around his bicep, inserted the IV, covered it with a clear bandage and taped the line to his arm.

They did the same to his left arm, while another member applied monitors to his chest.

Gunches eyes stared straight at the ceiling. He blinked, he rolled his fingers, he did not once look into the gallery.

With the IVs inserted, the medical team left the room. Some silent minutes passed before Gunches asked, “What’s the hold up?”

A voice then came over the intercom and read the warrant of execution. Gunches only shook his head when asked for last words.

“The execution will now commence,” said the voice over the speaker.

A surgical-blue gloved hand came over the monitor and started to dispense the first black syringe. Gunches was awake, conscious. As the hand moved to the green syringe and started to push, he winced, blinked. Then, he let out what sounded like a snore. He started to take deeper, more labored breaths. His body convulsed, twice. Then, he went limp.

He laid there, eyes closed, mouth just slightly parted. His chest stopped moving, and he lost color. A medical staff member came and left. At 10:33 a.m., just 33 minutes after witnesses had entered the room, the same voice that commenced the execution pronounced him dead.

The path to lethal injection

Before his execution on March 19, Gunches sat on death row for more than 20 years, an “unconstitutionally long time,” according to the attorney for the victim’s family.

In 2002, Gunches kidnapped, shot and killed Price. Price had just moved from Utah to study radiology and moved in with his ex-girlfriend Katherine Lecher.

Lecher and Price got into an argument, and Lecher struck Price in the head with a telephone, rendering him conscious but disoriented. Gunches, Lecher’s then-boyfriend, came home later in the evening and, he and two roommates, put Price in the car.

According to court documents, one roommate then drove Gunches and Price to the bus station, then later changed course and drove out into the desert past Mesa.

The car stopped, Gunches got out, Price got out. Gunches shot Price three times in the chest and once in the head.

Though the department marked today’s execution as textbook, Gunches’ advisory counsel still had their concerns.

“The State and the courts allowed Mr. Gunches to short-circuit the legal appeals process required in capital cases. This undermined the reliability of his conviction and sentence and introduced arbitrariness into the capital punishment system,” The Arizona Capitol Project, a nonprofit organization providing advisory legal services to Gunches, said in a statement.

“The current administration hand-selected Mr. Gunches as their first target knowing that, as a volunteer, he would not challenge the highly problematic execution process or drug supply. The people of Arizona deserve greater transparency and accountability from their leaders.”

Dale Baich, advisory counsel, who witnessed the execution, said in a written statement, “The witnesses did not see what happened under the jumpsuit and sheet. We know from scientific studies that rapid administration of a high dose of pentobarbital is excruciatingly painful. Pulmonary edema develops in seconds as the lungs fill with water and one is not able to breathe. There is a sensation of drowning from within and not being able to do anything about it. It is like being waterboarded to death.”

“The eight deep breaths and chest heaving, the gurgling sounds, and Mr. Gunches trying to catch his breath are all signs of pulmonary edema. Even though it may have looked peaceful, it was not.”

Gunches had long asked to die. He waived all his legal appeals, and even put it in writing.

Gunches was found competent to stand trial in 2005 and to waive his right to counsel in 2007. He represented himself, pleaded guilty to both counts and waived any presentation of mitigating evidence, raising some concern by the court that Gunches “was not attempting to avoid the death penalty.”

“Against the strong advice of the court and counsel, Gunches nonetheless insisted on representing himself,” former Vice Chief Justice John Pelander wrote in a 2016 decision.

This undated photo provided by Karen Price shows her brother, Ted Price, who was fatally shot in November 2002 near Mesa, Ariz. (Karen Price via AP, File)

The first jury to hear his case returned the death penalty.

After an initial appeal, the Arizona Supreme Court vacated the death sentence, finding a shortfall on evidence to fulfill the requirement of cruel, heinous or depraved aggravating factors. On remand, a jury returned a death sentence for a second time in 2013, and the state high court upheld his sentence in 2016.

Price’s sister, Karen, spoke March 19 and offered memories of her brother, Ted, a son, father, brother and friend.

She recalled their childhood in Utah, Ted’s love of the Phoenix Suns and the Arizona Diamondbacks, his guitar, his motorcycle and muscle cars. She said he had a special affection for cats, and “never met a cat he didn’t like.”

This undated photo provided by Karen Price shows her brother, Ted Price. (Karen Price via AP, File)

Price said, “I searched for synonyms for the word closure — it’s a term everyone throws around that doesn’t truly capture the reality of our situation. Although we’ve taken the final step in the legal process, the pain of losing Ted remains profound and cannot be conveyed in mere words.”

Price thanked Mayes, too. She said when the state first paused executions, Mayes reached out and said the family would be a priority when the state resumes executions.

She continued, “Today marks the final chapter. I genuinely hope that after today, we can finally begin to put this chapter behind us.”

Arizona’s next execution set

The state is set to conduct its first execution in two years next month.

In an order late Tuesday, the Arizona Supreme Court said neither Attorney General Kris Mayes nor Aaron Gunches raised any legal issues to preclude his being put to death on March 19.

The justices acknowledged that it did get legal briefs by outside parties saying that it would be improper for the Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry to go ahead with the execution using its supply of pentobarbitol. Arguments included that the drug causes the inmate’s lungs to fill with fluid, causing a painful death by drowning.

Chief Justice Ann Scott Timmer said, however, the fact that none of that was addressed by either Mayes or Gunches precludes the court from considering it.

But Timmer said it wouldn’t have changed anything if they had.

Gunches, death row, lethal injection, Hobbs
Aaron Gunches

“It would not affect our statutory duty to issue a warrant of execution in this matter,” she wrote. Timmer said that once the state sought a warrant to execute Gunches, the only issue was whether the legal requirements were satisfied. And at that point, she said, the court must issue the warrant.

The last three inmates executed by the state by lethal injection were in 2022.

There were reports that in some cases there was evidence that problems by prison staffers in putting in the intravenous lines resulted in pain and bleeding.

In January, 2023, shortly after taking office, Gov. Katie Hobbs appointed retired federal magistrate David Duncan as a special “death penalty commissioner” to study how the state is handling the practice. The governor said there had been a series of “botched executions” in Arizona, all conducted using lethal injection.

At the same time, Mayes stopped seeking warrants of execution, saying she wanted to wait for the outcome of that inquiry.

There never was a final report.

Hobbs fired Duncan last year after he issued a preliminary report raising questions about whether it was possible to humanely put someone to death in that manner. He said if the state was going to continue with executions the most humane might be use of a firing squad.

The governor simultaneously concluded that she was confident that a review of the execution process conducted by Ryan Thornell, her choice to head the prison system, shows the state is now again ready to resume executions without some of the prior problems.

Gunches pleaded guilty to first degree murder and kidnapping in the 2002 death of Ted Price, his girlfriend’s ex-husband.

He waived his right to post-conviction review and, in November 2022, filed a motion on his own behalf seeking an execution warrant. That was joined the following month by then-Attorney General Mark Brnovich.

But by that time Brnovich was set to leave office.

Meanwhile, the warrant, which has a fixed time limit, expired before the execution was carried out. And by that time Mayes was not seeking new ones while awaiting Duncan’s study.

Gunches is one of 111 inmates on death row. Of that, 25, including Gunches, have either exhausted or waived all appeals.

 

Lawmaker proposes executions by firing squad

Calling the current system inhumane and problematic, a state lawmaker wants to give voters the chance to replace the current method of killing convicted murderers with the firing squad.

The proposal by Rep. Alexander Kolodin follows a preliminary report last year by a special “death penalty commissioner” hired by Gov. Katie Hobbs to look into how the state executes criminals by lethal injection. Retired federal magistrate David Duncan reported there is “no humane way” to do that.

And Duncan said if the state is to continue with executions, the most humane way of doing that is the firing squad.

So now Kolodin, a Scottsdale Republican, wants to put a measure on the 2026 ballot asking voters to approve the change.

Kolodin told Capitol Media Services that he believes in the death penalty. But he said the record shows that the current method of execution, one approved by voters in 1992, is filled with problems.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “But lethal injection just seems to be incredibly complicated where it always leads to these delays and these hiccups and whatever.”

Kolodin said just preparing for an execution itself creates issues.

The state has had trouble in prior years even in obtaining lethal chemicals.

In 2015, for example, Arizona ordered 1,000 vials of sodium thiopental, a muscle relaxant used in the process, from a supplier in India, after a domestic manufacturer refused to sell it for executions.

That came despite a warning from the federal Food and Drug Administration that such importation would be illegal. And it ended up with Customs and Border Protection seizing the drugs at Sky Harbor International Airport.

The state now uses a different drug. But even that has issues: It not only has to be compounded but has a limited shelf life.

Then there’s the process itself.

Hobbs appointed Duncan after what she said were a series of “botched” executions, including reports by witnesses of both pain and bleeding as state employees had trouble inserting the necessary intravenous line.

In the interim, Attorney General Kris Mayes said she would not seek any warrants of execution until the report was done.

Duncan, in his preliminary report, said the state should consider using a firing squad, saying it results in near instantaneous death. He said it “does overcome the impediments to lethal injection from unavailability of material and skilled personnel.”

The governor subsequently fired Duncan, saying that suggestion was beyond the purview of what he was supposed to study. But Kolodin said it’s time to take that report seriously.

“We actually know what’s always humane and always seems to work properly, which is the firing squad,” he said.

“And this has actually been known for a long time,” Kolodin continued. “I’m surprised that Hobbs fired the guy for saying so because people who have at least a reasonable amount of exposure to criminal law already know this.”

He said that using this method could end some of the litigation about the method of execution that can result in death penalty cases dragging out for years, if not decades.

“We would not have all of these freakin’ legal hang-ups in terms of delivering capital punishment,” Kololdin said.

“And it would be far more humane,” he continued. “So why don’t we just do it that way?”

Hobbs has not discussed her own personal feelings about both the death penalty and the method it is administered in Arizona. In fact, what she thinks is legally irrelevant.

First, the method of execution is spelled out in the Arizona Constitution. And that can be changed only with voter approval, a process that bypasses the governor.

Second, the governor plays no role in the process. Instead, that rests with Mayes who has to be the one to ask the Arizona Supreme Court for a warrant to execute someone.

A spokesman for Mayes said she opposes what Kolodin is proposing.

“The attorney general supports the current protocol,” said press aide Richie Taylor of the use of lethal injection.

He also said that Mayes has reviewed a report by Ryan Thornell, director of the Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Release. He said he has reviewed and revamped the execution process.

Based on that, Richie said, his boss is convinced that the agency, going forward, can use lethal injection in a humane fashion to execute inmates.

That first execution could occur on March 18 if the Supreme Court grants Mayes’ request to execute Aaron Gunches. He has been on death row since pleading guilty to the 2022 murder and kidnapping of Ted Price, his girlfriend’s ex-husband.

Arizona initially executed inmates by hanging. That was changed to use of lethal gas in 1934.

But voters approved changing to lethal injection in 1992 after Donald Eugene Harding took more than 10 minutes to die after cyanide pellets were dropped into sulfuric acid in a bowl beneath his chair. Witnesses said that Harding gasped, shuddered and tried to make obscene gestures with both of his hands strapped  down.

There was one execution by gas after that: Walter LaGrand in 1999. Having been sentenced before the 1992 change, he had the option of choosing lethal gas, which he did in a protest against the death penalty.

What Kolodin is proposing is further amending that provision to make the firing squad the only legal method.

Several states authorize firing squads, including  Mississippi, Oklahoma, South Carolina and Utah. Idaho became the latest state added to the list in 2023, though the law says that is authorized only if the state cannot obtain the drugs needed for lethal injection.

Kolodin’s proposal, based on his assessment of what is humane, contains no such condition.

 

 

Supreme Court rejects prisoner’s wish to be executed on Valentine’s Day

Aaron Gunches is not going to get his wish to be executed on Valentine’s Day.

In an order Jan. 8, the Arizona Supreme Court rejected a Gunches pleading to forgo any more legal maneuvering and finally put him to death after he pleaded guilty to the 2002 murder and kidnapping charges of Ted Price, his girlfriend’s ex-husband. Instead, the justices said they want to hear arguments from all sides, including Attorney General Kris Mayes, who wants Gunches executed, but not on his schedule.

The justices also rejected a last-ditch effort by a law professor at the University of Richmond School of Law to intercede in the case.

Gunches, death row, lethal injection, Hobbs
Aaron Gunches

Corinna Barrett Lain argued that whatever improvements the state Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry has made to its lethal injection procedures still do not ensure that Gunches will not suffer severe pain. She said pentobarbital, the drug the state uses for executions, causes inmates to “drown in their own fluids,” something she said is “excruciatingly painful, causing individuals to experience the sensation of being waterboarded.”

But Chief Justice Ann Scott Timmer, writing the order, said questions about the conviction and sentencing should have been addressed at the trial court. The only issue before the Supreme Court, Timmer said, are whether the conditions have been met to issue a warrant of execution.

What all this now means is that Mayes’ office has to file its request for the warrant by the afternoon of Jan. 10. After that, the court will hear any responses, including from Gunches, who while he has advisory counsel, has been representing himself.

Then the state will get until the end of the month to reply to anything else.

At this point, Timmer said the court is looking to meet on Feb. 11. And if the justices are satisfied that the laws are being followed, they then will issue the necessary warrant, one that the state would have to carry out exactly 35 days later. That provides time for the state corrections department to “compound” the pentobarbital.

If the execution goes forward on March 18, it will be the first since Mayes suspended seeking such warrants shortly after taking office in January 2023.

That followed a decision by Gov. Katie Hobbs, also newly elected, to appoint a special “death penalty commissioner” to study how the state is handling the practice. The governor said there had been a series of “botched executions” in Arizona, all conducted using lethal injection.

Retired federal magistrate David Duncan, in a preliminary report last year, raised questions about whether it was possible to humanely put someone to death in that manner. He said if the state was going to continue with executions, the most humane might be to use a firing squad.

Hobbs then fired Duncan. And she simultaneously concluded that she was confident that a review of the process conducted by Ryan Thornell, her choice to head the prison system, shows the state is now again ready to resume executions without some of the prior problems.

Mayes was asking the Supreme Court to start the process of the necessary legal briefings when Gunches, in a hand-written pleading, told the justices they should skip all that. Referring to himself in the third person, he wrote that they should simply issue the warrant for Feb. 14 “where Gunches may have his long-overdue sentence carried out.”

The Jan. 8 order does not specifically explain why the court rejected his plea.

But a separate press release says the court “remains committed to ensuring that justice is carried out in accordance with the law while maintaining fairness and transparency in its proceedings.”

Three inmates were executed in 2022 by lethal injection, with reports saying in some cases there was evidence of problems with prison staffers inserting the intravenous lines, which resulted in pain and bleeding. That is what led Mayes to suspend all requests for execution warrants.

Prior to that, there had been an eight-year pause following the botched procedure where Joseph Wood was given 15 doses of a two-drug combination over two hours.

Gunches is one of 111 inmates on death row. Of that, 25, including Gunches, have either exhausted or waived all appeals.

 

 

Supreme Court upholds death penalty for 1989 murder

A man convicted of the 1989 rape and murder of a woman he said he met at a Tucson convenience store is not going to get to escape the death penalty.

In a unanimous ruling Monday, the Arizona Supreme Court rejected claims by Christopher Spreitz that a trial judge did not properly consider the connection between his longstanding substance abuse and the murder when concluding that he should be sentenced to death. What that means, wrote Justice William Montgomery for the court, is that the sentence stands.

In fact, Montgomery noted, the Supreme Court had previously upheld the death sentence.

The only reason it came back to the justices is that a federal appeals court said the court had not used the correct standard in determining that Spreitz’s drug use should not be considered a “mitigating circumstance” in deciding whether to spare his life.

As a result, the Supreme Court went back over the case, looked at all the factors weighing for or against the death penalty, and concluded Monday that the original sentence of death is justified.

According to police reports, Ivy Mae Atherton, who was also known as Ruby Reid, left a bar about 11:30 p.m. on May 18, 1989 to walk to her nearby apartment. Her beaten and decomposed body was found three days later by a woman riding a horse in the desert near El Camino del Cerro and North Silverbell Road.

As it turned out, police had stopped Spreitz the night of the murder for unrelated reasons and found he had blood on his clothes. He said it was the result of a fight.

It was only after Atherton’s body was discovered that Spreitz became a suspect and was arrested. Police said he told them he met her that night at a convenience store, they went to the desert to party and got into an argument that ended when he raped her and hit her in the head with a rock.

Prosecutors had a different version, saying that Spreitz had abducted Atherton, stuffed her into the trunk of his car, and drove her to the desert where he raped and killed her.

Spreitz’s lawyer at the time asked jurors to convict him of a lesser charge, arguing that his client was drunk at the time and never intended to kill Atherton.

The jury disagreed and found him guilty of first-degree murder. Pima County Superior Court Judge William Sherill said the death sentence was appropriate, saying the killing was “especially cruel.”

That finding is crucial.

In Arizona, simply being convicted of first-degree murder does not automatically result in a sentence of death.

Instead, there needs to be a finding of at least one “aggravating circumstance.” That can be whether the crime was committed for financial gain, whether the victim was a police officer and whether the crime was committed in an “especially heinous, cruel or depraved manner.”

At that point, a court needs to weigh whether there are sufficient “mitigating circumstances” to spare someone’s life. That list includes the age of the assailant, impaired capacity to appreciate the wrongfulness of the conduct, and a history of alcohol and drug abuse.

In the new ruling Monday, the Supreme Court agreed that there was an aggravating circumstance.

“Whether during the drive to the desert, the initial beating, the sexual assault, while she was being dragged to where her body was discovered, or while she was being beaten in the head, with rocks, there was ample time during which (Atherton) was consciously suffering,” Montgomery wrote.

And it was not outweighed by mitigating factors.

“We conclude that the mitigation evidence is insufficient to warrant leniency in light of the significant weight of the especially cruel aggravating circumstance,” Montgomery wrote.

 

 

Condemned prisoner pushes for his execution

Aaron Gunches is telling the Arizona Supreme Court he is ready to die.

In a hand-written legal brief, Gunches, who had pleaded guilty to the 2002 first degree murder and kidnapping of Ted Price, told the justices he wants them this coming Wednesday to issue the legally necessary warrant to execute him.

Gunches said that will give the state Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry sufficient time to prepare the lethal drug and have it tested. Referring to himself in the third person in the filing, he told the justices that will set the stage for execution on Feb. 14, “where Gunches may have his long-overdue sentence carried out.”

Gunches, death row, lethal injection, Hobbs
Aaron Gunches

And he even pointed out that the date is within the 45-day window between the time the drug is compounded and it is no longer considered useful.

Attorney General Kris Mayes already was headed in that direction, having asked the state’s high court to set a briefing schedule to get the warrant of execution. Gunches, who had made an initial request more than two years ago to be executed, before Mayes took office in January 2023, told the justices all that is unnecessary.

“Gunches asks this court why is AG Mayes’ motion necessary?” he wrote. “It is pointless and just more ‘foot dragging’ by the state.”

Mayes, in her own filing, insists that additional time is necessary.

“A briefing schedule is important to ensure ADCRR can meet all execution-related requirements such as disclosures and testing obligations regarding the compounded pentobarbital that will be used,” wrote Jason Lewis, the deputy solicitor general on her behalf. 

“That is not true,” Gunches responded.

“ADCRR Director (Ryan) Thornell is using the exact same compound laboratory and the exact same drugs used by the previous ADCRR director,” he said.

And Gunches said that Thornell has said he has corrected any problems that occurred in the three prior executions where there were issues, including the inability to place the required intravenous line into the inmate, issues that led Gov. Katie Hobbs to hire retired federal magistrate David Duncan as a “death penalty commissioner” to review execution practices and Mayes to suspend all executions.

All that, said Gunches, came to naught.

“Two long years later, Gov. Hobbs fired him stating ADCRR Director Thornell had remedied all the problems and Gunches’ execution can go forth,” he wrote. Any further delay, Gunches told the justices, is unnecessary.

“This sentence is long overdue and should not be delayed any further,” he said. “Let the laws of Arizona finally be followed and justice served.”

He may not get his wish of a Feb. 14 execution.

Mayes, in her own filing, is telling the court she still wants a full-blown briefing schedule to ensure corrections officials are in fact ready to carry out the execution.

Price, Gunches’ victim, was his girlfriend’s ex husband.

His convictions were affirmed but the death sentence initially was thrown out. A new jury, however, reinstated the death penalty.

Gunches waived his right to post-conviction review and in November 2022 filed a motion on his own behalf seeking an execution warrant. That was joined the following month by then-Attorney General Mark Brnovich.

But by that time Brnovich was set to leave office by the end of the month.

That left Mayes in charge who, after Gunches withdrew his request, sought to withdraw the warrant.

The high court refused.

The only thing was, the warrant, which has a fixed time limit, expired before the execution was carried out. And Mayes refused to seek a new one while Duncan’s study was going on.

If and when Gunches is put to death, it would be the state’s first execution since 2022 when three inmates were given lethal injections.

Prior to that there had been an eight-year pause following the botched procedure when Joseph Wood was given 15 doses of a two-drug combination over two hours.

Gunches is one of 111 inmates on death row. Of that, 25, including Gunches, have exhausted or waived all appeals.

 

 

County Attorney Mitchell drops litigation to seek death warrants

Maricopa County Attorney Rachel Mitchell has dropped her bid to have the Supreme Court declare that she has as much right as Attorney General Kris Mayes to seek an execution warrant.

But the decision doesn’t resolve the legal issue. Instead, it simply defers the fight for another day.

“We’re absolutely not conceding,” Mitchell told Capitol Media Services on Tuesday. 

In legal papers filed with the high court, Mitchell pointed out to the justices that she was asking them to set briefings to begin the process of finally getting an order to execute Aaron Gunches.

That request was filed in June, during the time that Mayes was refusing to move ahead even though Gunches had exhausted all of his appeals. Instead, the attorney general said she wanted to wait for a final report from a special commissioner hired by Gov. Katie Hobbs, who was reviewing the process to prevent future “botched” executions.

Hobbs dismissed the commissioner last month, saying instead she is satisfied with a report by the Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry that it can properly conduct the process without the problems that have occurred in the past.

And based on that, Mayes now has filed the paperwork with the Supreme Court to start the process designed to put Gunches to death early next year.

What all that means, Mitchell told the high court, is that Mayes is doing exactly what she wanted in the first place. And that, the county attorney said in dropping the case, makes the issue legally moot.

“We’re simply saying our object has been met,” she said, in that Mayes is finally pursuing a warrant to execute Gunches. “But we’re not saying that Kris has exclusive jurisdiction.”

With Mitchell’s claim withdrawn, the justices won’t have to decide.

Mayes, in her own legal filings earlier this year, insisted that she has the sole right to seek the necessary warrant.

“The attorney general unquestionably maintains the exclusive authority to request a warrant from execution from this court,” she wrote. And at least part of that, Mayes said, was the fact that the Legislature designed the attorney general as the “chief legal officer of the state.”

Mitchell never disputed Mayes’ authority to seek an execution warrant. But she insisted that the law says the Supreme Court must issue a warrant of execution if “the state” files a notice saying there are no more post-conviction or habeas proceedings.

“’The state’ unequivocally includes all prosecuting agencies and prosecutors,” Mitchell argued. And that, she told the justices, means she has as much authority to seek a warrant of execution as Mayes.

Mitchell also said that it is her job to speak for victims, in this case, survivors, and represent their interests under the Victims’ Bill of Rights, a set of constitutional and statutory provisions. And key to that, she said, is ensuring “a prompt and final conclusion of the case after the conviction and sentence.”

In fact, she said Tuesday that’s one reason she’s now dropping her challenge to Mayes.

Mitchell told the justices that pursuing the case actually could delay the execution. And that, she said, would interfere with the rights of the survivors of Ted Price, the victim in the 2022 murder, to get “finality.”

And going forward?

There are 111 people on death row, 25, including Gunches, who have exhausted their appeals. Mitchell said there should not be the need to resurrect this fight with Mayes “if she continues to execute her job duties.”

A spokesman for Mayes agreed the issue is now moot, at least for Gunches. But Richie Taylor said his boss is in no way conceding for future legal fights that Mitchell has concurrent authority to seek a warrant of execution.

Mayes had some allies in her legal fight.

Democratic former Attorney General Terry Goddard joined with two former county attorneys, Republican Rick Romley of Maricopa County and Barbara LaWall of Pima County, who filed their own legal brief urging the Supreme Court to reject Mitchell’s attempt to seek a warrant of execution. They said the history of the death penalty in the state and associated legislation make it clear the Attorney General’s Office is in charge of such actions.

Mitchell said Tuesday their claims are irrelevant.

“The bottom line is that Romley and Barbara (LaWall) never faced that issue because they never had an attorney general who was refusing to do her duty,” Mitchell said. “So this was a unique situation.”

 

 

Dear President Biden: Leave us with an example of compassionate leadership

When you stepped into office, many of us felt renewed optimism. We knew you opposed the death penalty. We heard that you supported life sentences without parole instead of capital punishment. For many, this felt like a hopeful sign that we might see a shift away from retribution and toward a more compassionate approach to justice.

This fall, I started an internship with a nonprofit organization that advocates for changes to our criminal justice system. It’s opened my eyes to just how deeply inequities run within the system, where justice isn’t equal, and the consequences are often devastating. I’ve learned about wrongful conviction cases— about the 200 people exonerated at the state level since the 1970s. Many of them were sentenced to death for crimes they did not commit. Stories like these show just how real and terrifying the risks are when we choose the ultimate punishment.

Sienna Walenciak

Today, 40 people remain on federal death row. Before the Trump administration, federal executions were rare, only three had been carried out since the U.S. Supreme Court reinstated the federal death penalty in 1988. But in the final days of President Trump’s term, this changed drastically, as 13 inmates were executed—even as Covid spread through our prisons. Among them was Brandon Bernard, who was only 18 when he committed his crime. The pause on federal executions, which had lasted over 15 years, was broken, signaling what felt like a step back for our nation—choosing vengeance over mercy and punishment over healing.

As a young person watching the results of the recent presidential election unfold, I’m concerned we’re entering a phase where we’re moving toward leading with an iron fist. What we need from you now, more than ever, is compassionate leadership. Give us examples that remind us that justice can coexist with mercy. My generation needs to see this within our leaders if we are to grow up believing in the ideals of fairness, empathy, and justice for all.

You have the power to set a legacy that embodies those ideals. Commuting the sentences of those on federal death row would send a powerful message: that even in challenging times, America chooses healing over retribution. It would be a legacy of compassion, one that shows us a way forward rooted in mercy, not fear.

We need that kind of leadership heading into these next four years. We need that kind of hope.

Sienna Walenciak is a college student and a volunteer with the Televerde Foundation, an Arizona-based organization dedicated to second chances for justice-involved women. She is also a fall intern with the Responsible Business Initiative for Justice, a nonprofit organization dedicated to mobilizing the business community to advance fair and effective justice policies. 

 

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