49 pages • 1 hour read
Upon meeting Millard Farmer, Prejean learns a great deal about the unjust application of death sentences in the United States. White victims prompt a clear majority of death sentences, despite being a small percentage of overall homicides. The legal process is complicated to the point of absurdity, with one death-row inmate receiving a stay of execution that was reversed an hour later. Poor defendants often do not secure effective counsel, and after the Supreme Court decision of Gregg v. Georgia (1976) largely delegated the administration of executions to the states, federal courts have been loath to review any but the most egregious violations of defendants’ rights. Although many defendants have access to a lengthy appeals process, they tend not to make a difference if the defendant cannot hire defense attorneys, expert witnesses, and other expensive assets. Instead, most end up with attorneys who may not even have any experience in any kind of criminal law, much less a capital murder case. Millard assures Prejean that “you’re never going to find a rich person on death row” (49). The application of the death penalty was so chronically unjust that the Supreme Court issued a nationwide moratorium in 1972, but many of the same states that had only recently desegregated clamored for capital punishment as an exception from federal oversight, and then won it in Gregg.
Prejean arranges for Millard to meet Sonnier, reviewing legal avenues for sparing him the electric chair (his overall guilt is not in question, thus life in prison would be the alternative outcome). They could show that there was no intent to kill, and thereby eliminate the precise legal cause for execution, but appeals courts require high standards to overturn convictions and sentences. Millard can also appeal to the governor, Edwin Edwards, who can personally commute a death sentence on his own authority. Upon securing an audience with the governor, Millard discusses the iniquities of Sonnier’s case and Prejean discusses how Sonnier has been a model prisoner capable of contributing to society from behind bars. While Edwards seems sympathetic, he ultimately argues that “he is a public official. His job is to carry out the law. He subordinates his conscience to the ‘will of the people’” (57), and therefore Sonnier’s execution has nothing to do with him, regardless of the pardoning power. Disappointed, Millard and his team go back to the transcripts of the Sonnier case, trying to find a discrepancy that will gain the attention of the Parole Board, which Edwards had recently established.
With less than a week before Sonnier’s execution date, Prejean and Millard meet Howard Marsellus, the head of the Pardon Board, who appears to receive them favorably, ensuring a full and fair hearing from himself and other board members. Later, Marsellus will go to prison for accepting rigged decisions so as to protect the governor from political flak, and will ask forgiveness from Prejean herself. Unaware of this at the time, Prejean makes an impassioned case for sparing Sonnier’s life, arguing “that he deserves punishment but not death” (62). Millard recaps the many problems with Sonnier’s trials. In response, officials from the state highlight the egregiousness of the crime and the many appeals Sonnier has already had, drawing on the victims’ families for supportive testimony. The father of one of the victims excoriates Prejean for only helping Sonnier rather than trying to help them as well. After a long hour’s wait, the Board returns and denies clemency, with only one vote dissenting (not Marsellus). Prejean calls the victims’ father again that night to assure him that she cares about his pain as well. She then calls a fellow Sister to start making arrangements for Sonnier’s funeral.
After a brief trip home to her mother to recover, Prejean returns to Angola and meets Eddie, who provides her with a letter professing his own guilt in the murders. Prejean wants the warden to see it but is forbidden from carrying correspondence from prisoners. She gives it to a guard, hoping he will pass it along. The warden, Ross Maggio, has a fierce reputation, having personally killed an escaped convict who had kidnapped his mother in the escape attempt, but he had also been fair, allowing the Sonnier brothers to see one another shortly before Pat’s scheduled execution. Word comes through, and Prejean can keep the letter. On the way to the ‘death house’ where Sonnier awaits execution, Prejean thinks about the guards, many of whom she has spoken with, and how they deal with overwhelming boredom punctuated occasionally by acute danger. They are trained to view inmates with suspicion, and cannot treat them as fully human, even if they might like to, without violating protocol. Upon meeting Sonnier, Prejean tells him about his brother’s letter, but he is upset that Millard did not invite him to participate in the Pardon Board meeting, giving the victims’ families an advantage. When visiting hours expire, Prejean promises to come back, and Sonnier tells her “you’re all I’ve got” (74). Meeting with Millard, Prejean decides to bring both letters to the governor’s office. Returning to Angola, she finds Sonnier outwardly confident, insistent that “they’re not going to break me” (76). They plan a prayer service for the following day, and on that day, Prejean first meets with Maggio, who promises to follow up but for now can only go through with standard procedures, including confirming her status as a witness to the execution. As they are about to begin the prayer service, Prejean passes out from stress, exhaustion, and an empty stomach. She returns after a brief trip to the prison hospital, assuring Sonnier that she is fine, and the prayer service proceeds. Sonnier takes communion (which in Catholic theology requires a person to be in a ‘state of grace,’ at peace with God and genuinely penitent for their sins). She is struck how “here he is, fully alive, and it is hard to picture him fully dead” in a matter of hours (82).
The next day, Prejean finds Sonnier in good spirits: The local newspaper picked up his brother’s letter professing his own guilt. Still, Sonnier is furious with his brother for being the source of his trouble. He is also angry with the victims’ parents for attending his execution and vows to call them out at the moments before his death, until Prejean insists that he not let his final words be ones of hate. Waiting minute by minute for the last stroke of luck to spare him from death, they learn that the federal court struck down the last appeal and that the Supreme Court will not grant clemency. Sonnier maintains his bravado, clearing the massive plate of food he received for his last meal. At last, they find out that the governor will not grant clemency, and his Sonnier’s bravado quickly vanishes, telling Prejean, “Sister Helen, I’m going to die” (88). He notes the time of his own death in a Bible, and Millard returns, discouraged from his failed bid with the governor, to serve as witness.
As they escort Sonnier to the electric chair, the warden allows Prejean to hold his arm—the first time they have made physical contact. With his last words, Sonnier addresses one of the victim’s fathers, “Mr. LeBlanc, I don’t want to leave this world with any hatred in my heart. I want to ask your forgiveness for what me and Eddie done, but Eddie done it” (93). The guards strap a metal cap on his bald head and turn the switches. Sonnier’s execution proceeds in silence, with no noise or sign of discomfort evident to the audience, and so it requires a doctor’s investigation to pull off the mask and confirm his death. Afterward, Prejean exchanges a look with Mr. LeBlanc, who looks “shaken” (94), and Millard notes how secretive the process was and wonders what people might think if they had to witness it. As Prejean leaves the prison with her sister, she pulls over to vomit on the road.
In this pair of chapters, Prejean has a much more comprehensive reckoning with The Injustice of the Death Penalty. She discovers that its application is heavily tilted against Black Americans, especially those convicted of killing white victims. Since death penalty cases represent such a small percentage of murder cases (not just violent crime or crime more generally), the relatively small sample size provides a glaring contrast with the broader numbers, especially for the amount of resources and attention they claim. Proponents of the death penalty reason that the practice is in fact reserved for “the most heinous, premeditated, cold-blooded murders” (50), and many advocates uphold death as the only proper punishment for the crimes that most grossly violate cherished standards of public morality. If that is true, Prejean concludes, then there is nothing that outrages the public more than the death of white people at the hands of Black men. Of course, Sonnier is white (as is Willie, discussed later), and so they do not factor into the racial aspects of the death penalty, but their poverty contributes enormously to their susceptibility to the death penalty. While it is generally agreed upon that the Constitution guarantees a right to counsel, the precise definition of ‘effective’ counsel is undetermined. Therefore, even if someone’s attorney is utterly incompetent or unable to check the malpractice of the prosecutor, an appeals court would need absolute proof of misconduct in order to revisit a sentence, much less overturn a potentially shaky conviction. Without the resources for the enormous expense required to discover such proof and bring it to court, the many rounds of appeals essentially function as a rubber stamp, raising up someone’s hopes only to dash them repeatedly. These details collectively bring Prejean to the conclusion that the death penalty is irreparably discriminatory and unjust.
The harrowing experience of Sonnier’s last-minute appeals and execution work to reframe the idea of Accepting Personal Responsibility. Regardless of whether or not he deserves execution, Sonnier owes the families of his victims an apology, and his final words do seem sincere, if somewhat exculpatory, and it is curious that he addresses one father and not the other. His death, however, raises the broader question of responsibility for those who have now also contributed to taking a human life. They are legitimately constituted agents of the state and can assure themselves that this is the end of a long process worked through the legal system, but there is no getting away from the fact that the guards, warden, Pardon Board, and the governor have for all intents and purposes conspired to kill a man. Prejean believes that efforts to mitigate the suffering, or at least conceal it from public view, to limit the number of witnesses, to create an elaborate routine, to offer slight touches of dignity like a last meal or final words, are either a rationalization or an outright distraction. Not only is Sonnier dead, but also he died with legitimate questions about whether his guilt amounted to a capital offense. Prejean will later learn that the Pardon Board’s dismissal of his case was part of a pattern of corruption, but the entire system is designed to pass responsibility onto others, who in turn argue that responsibility lay with those who passed it on. Prejean’s arguments in the text paint a picture that this is a system meant to clear consciences rather than advance justice. Having befriended a man and then watched him die, Prejean commits herself to the broader task of compelling that system to reckon with the truth of what it does and for the public to see what is done in their name.
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