beyond the verdict

In recent weeks, there has been increased debate about the death penalty as an accepted legal punishment. Two incidents prompted the attention.

First is the situation of Christa Pike. Twenty-one years ago, the then-18-year-old Pike, along with two others, tortured and murdered her 19-year-old Job Corps classmate Colleen Slemmer in Knoxville, Tennessee. The crime was undeniably heinous—especially if one reads the details of the nearly hour-long torture—with Pike ultimately killing Slemmer by crushing her skull with a chunk of asphalt. Pike kept a piece of Slemmer’s skull as a souvenir.

Pike was subsequently sentenced to death for premeditated first-degree murder and conspiracy. With legal challenges typically exhausted within 15 to 30 years in Tennessee, Pike’s appeals ran out at the end of this past September. She was scheduled to be executed September 30. The problem was that the execution didn’t work.

Pike was given a two-dose pentobarbital lethal injection. The drugs failed to enter her bloodstream properly, likely pooling in arm tissue because of vein issues and her blood condition. The result was severe burning, blistering, and swelling. Pike remained conscious and breathing through both rounds. She was rushed to the hospital in critical condition and placed on life support, later regaining consciousness. Ten days later, she was discharged and returned to the women’s prison.

The second situation involves Nidal Malik Hasan, a former U.S. Army major and psychiatrist. Seventeen years ago, the then-39-year-old Hasan murdered 13 military personnel, including a pregnant soldier, and wounded 32 others at Fort Hood, Texas. The crime was also undeniably awful. Hasan shouted “Allahu Akbar” and opened fire on unarmed soldiers receiving medical checkups before deploying overseas.

Hasan was subsequently sentenced to death for 13 counts of premeditated murder and 32 counts of attempted premeditated murder. With legal appeals running out last year—and having been tried under the military legal system rather than in a civilian court—Hasan has been ordered to be executed by firing squad, which would mark the first U.S. military execution since 1961.

With the execution scheduled for this coming December, controversy swelled when it was recently announced that the execution would be livestreamed on the internet. Within days, the decision was reversed. (Let me insert a huge “Thanks, God” here.)

These situations got me thinking. Follow me here for a moment. But let me first be especially clear: this post is in no way an attempt to influence anyone on the legitimacy—or lack thereof—of the death penalty.

In Pike’s case, there’s no question that her abhorrent crime merited tremendous consequence. But attempting to execute her twice and failing—and then potentially attempting to execute her once more—would seem to fall within the very definition of cruel and unusual punishment.

And for a clearly radicalized Hasan, who justified killing masses in hopes of killing more, the consequence also makes sense to be significant. But televising the execution would primarily serve to theatricalize something unspeakably serious and solemn. There is scarce sagacity in that.

The death penalty, no less, is one of those issues on which people have pretty ingrained opinions. They think it’s right; they think it’s wrong. And many have held those opinions strongly for years.

But the bigger question isn’t about the death penalty per se. It’s about the balance between consequence and mercy.

Should an individual face the full, unbending repercussions dictated by their actions? Or should an authority grant leniency and compassion, regardless of what they’ve done?

I wish I had one great, easy answer to that question. I do not.

The reality is that there are consequences for what we do. Some consequences are notably harsher than others and can thus serve as effective deterrents. And while some consequences seem inhumane to some, the truth is that consequences always follow an individual’s actions; the individual went first.

The truth, too, is that mercy triumphs over judgment. Mercy is good. It has a profound, God-honoring impact on people.

That tells me that mercy and consequence must somehow coexist. Maybe that’s not a great, easy answer. But maybe it’s the most honest and true.

Respectfully…

AR