A night spent waiting for death to
come
By TARA K.
DIX Michigan City, Ind.
Its 20 degrees outside. One hundred fifty people huddle
together in pools of candlelight. They sing softly. They pray.
Red, blustery faces, stained with exhaustion and tears, look to
one another for comfort and support. They bounce back and forth on their toes
-- left to right and right to left. An aboriginal dance. They dance for warmth.
Frozen toes begin to feel again.
A beep from a watch alarm and they know it is midnight. They
kneel. Some cry out. Some weep in silence. The State of Indiana has just
executed Gary Burris.
Burris was convicted of murder in the first degree for the 1980
killing of Kenneth Chambers, an Indianapolis cab driver. On a night much like
this one, Chambers dead body lay frozen to the concrete, stripped of his
clothing in a pool of his own blood. Now, 17 and a half years later, Burris,
too, has died. An eye for an eye. Life for a life.
Outside the prison, the protesters are still shouting, An
eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind! State murder is still murder!
Execution is not the solution! circling the parking lot with their signs
in a quasi-militaristic march. Three young black women lead the chants from the
center of the circle, their voices hoarse from hours of protest. They have
traveled from Gary, Ind., this night to protest, just as they did July 18 when
Tommie Smith was put to death at this same facility. That night it took the
state one hour and 20 minutes to complete Smiths execution. The crowd
wonders how long it will take tonight.
Prison guards leer from their posts in towers, booths and squad
cars, keeping close watch on the scene, while TV cameras zoom in on individual
faces. Soon the guards will ban the protesters from using the washroom in the
guard shack, forcing them to walk about two blocks to the Dunkin Donuts
store if they have to go. Are you joking? shouts one of the
protesters at this announcement. Another quips, What do they think
were going to do, start an insurrection from the stall?
Indeed, the tension is high this night at the front gates of the
Indiana State Prison in Michigan City. The likelihood of confrontation has been
reduced by the smallness of the pro-execution faction -- only one makes his
presence known. He stands apart holding a sign with Romans 13:1-4 on it:
Therefore, whoever resists authority opposes what God has appointed, and
those who oppose it will bring judgment upon themselves.
Soon he will get into a shouting match with a small group of
protesters who will hurl Bible verses back at him until another group of
protesters intervenes.
Among the protesters
Most of those here tonight are students and faculty from the
University of Notre Dame about one hour east of the prison. The Notre Dame
chapter of Amnesty International, along with the Center for Civil and Human
Rights at the Notre Dame Law School, organized the trip as well as a
candlelight vigil back on the Notre Dame campus.
On the way to Michigan City, the students are nearly giddy with
nervous excitement. In Amnesty International meetings they discuss death
penalty issues all the time, but none has ever done this before. Only their
leader, Sr. Kathleen Beatty, knows what to expect. The students have been
briefed on the possibility of confrontation with pro-death penalty groups.
We will not say anything back to them, Beatty instructs. We
will remain in prayerful silence. Nodding their heads in agreement, they
exchange wide-eyed looks.
They talk about the Burris case between songs of prayer and
comfort. Does everyone know The Prayer of St. Francis?
asks senior Megan Monahan from the front of the van. They begin singing,
Make me a channel of your peace/ Where there is hatred let me sow your
love/ Where there is injury your pardon, Lord ...
Exiting the interstate, the group gets lost on the small streets
of Michigan City. The van stops at Mateys Restaurant and Beer. Club
president Scott Leaman pauses before a giant neon sign with the words
Nautical But Nice, leery of the crowd he will encounter inside.
Maybe we should have stopped somewhere else, says one of the
students still in the van.
It turns out the crowd inside is neither nautical nor nice as they
reply to Leamans inquiry with comments like, Why dont you
just wait until you see all the lights and electricity surge at midnight and
follow it to its source? Finally, the bartender tells Leaman which way to
go, and the group is on its way once again.
Do you think we should trust his directions? asks
Monahan. Fortunately, the directions are accurate, and the prison is soon in
sight.
After 17 years and 27 judicial proceedings, the story of the crime
has been pieced together as follows:
Burris and two companions, Emmett Merriweather and James Thompson,
were out drinking heavily Jan. 29, 1980, a Tuesday night. They decided to call
a cab with a view to robbing the driver. Allegedly, it was Burris
plan.
Kenneth Chambers was the cabbie dispatched to pick them up.
Burris, on parole for a previous crime, sat in the front seat, Merriweather and
Thompson in the back. Only a couple of minutes into the ride, the men pulled
guns on Chambers. They made him call his dispatcher and report that he had
dropped off the clients at their desired location. Shoving Chambers into the
back seat, they forced him to take off all his clothes but his socks. Then they
robbed him of $40.
Fearful of getting caught, Burris decided it would be best to
dispose of Chambers. The three took him to a vacant lot, pulled him out of the
car, tied his hands behind his back with a rag, forced him to his knees and, as
he begged for his life, fired a .38 caliber bullet into his temple at
point-blank range. Merriweather testified that Burris fired the gun.
Burris then dropped off his companions and drove the taxi to a
parking lot near his girlfriends apartment, where he stayed that night.
An employee of the bar the killers had visited gave the police information that
led them to Burris girlfriends place, where they found the .38
caliber pistol hidden inside a stereo speaker. Ballistics testing matched the
bullet to Burris gun.
At separate trials, Thompson was sentenced to 50 years
imprisonment and Merriweathers charges were reduced -- he has now
completed his 15-year prison term. Burris was given the death penalty.
The first time Burris was condemned to death, the sentence was
repealed by an appellate court that deemed Burris legal counsel
incompetent and ineffective during the sentencing phase of the trial. The
lawyer, the court found, failed to introduce mitigating factors and closed his
statements by reminding the jury of the heinousness and brutality of
Burris crime. He also referred to Burris as a snivelly little
bastard. A new sentencing hearing was granted, but not a new trial.
At the second sentencing, the jury could not agree on a proper
fate for Burris, so the judge stepped in and sentenced him to death. Burris was
not sentenced by a jury of his peers.
Because there is little doubt of Burris guilt, and all
jurors in capital trials must pass the death qualification (which means they
are not opposed to the death penalty in all cases), many speculated that
Burris childhood was the factor that prevented the jurors
agreement.
Abandoned in a trash can at birth, Burris was rescued by a pimp
named Jewel Newland, proprietor of the M & J Social Club. Indianapolis
police reports indicate that the club was raided several times a year for
prostitution and gambling, as well as illegal alcohol and drug sales. Until he
was 11, Burris lived above the club with Newland and his girlfriend.
While most children have chores such as cleaning their rooms or
washing the dishes, Burris earned his allowance by knocking on doors to let
clients know that their allotted time with prostitutes was up. As the client
exited the room, Burris would offer him a towel.
School was not part of Burris daily routine. Records show he
was absent 66 days from fifth grade. Also, he was known to be involved in much
of the drug-running and -selling the club was busted for. Somehow, in all the
police raids, no one ever noticed the small boy.
In addition to selling drugs, Burris was assigned the duty of
injecting Newlands girlfriend with the drugs of her choice because of her
aversion to doing it herself. Not surprisingly, Burris became a heavy drug user
himself and was reportedly under the influence of drugs and alcohol when he
killed Kenneth Chambers. He said he retained no memory of the crime.
When Newland was sent to prison for manslaughter, the 11-year-old
Burris was sent to live in a foster home. His foster mother recalls that when
she asked Gary what he wanted for Christmas, the boy replied that he would like
something that could tell him who he was, like a birth certificate.
He never got one. To this day, there is no legal proof of
Burris age, place of birth or even that he was born at all.
At Burris final clemency hearing, all of these mitigating
factors were brought up again and rejected by the board as being outweighed by
the aggravating factors.
One difference between a clemency hearing and other types of
proceedings, such as appeals, is that the family of the victim is allowed to
speak freely about factors not directly related to the crime, such as how it
has affected their lives. For the Chambers family, the pain and suffering of
the murder was deepened by other tragedy. After being laid off from his job in
the steel industry, Kenneth Chambers had begun driving taxicabs to provide for
his eight-year-old son, his nine-year-old daughter and his wife, who had
recently been diagnosed with cancer. Just two months later, he was murdered.
Six years after that, his wifes cancer would take her life as well, and
the children were left in their grandmothers care.
Now 25 and 26, the Chambers children have avoided the spotlight in
the 17-year saga of Burris trial, appeals and execution. Their
grandmother, June Chambers, and uncle, Brian Chambers, have normally been the
ones to speak on behalf of the family to reporters, lawyers and juries.
At Burris final clemency hearing, however, a nephew of
Kenneth Chambers, who happens to be an inmate at the Michigan City facility,
gave testimony. He said that the Chambers family did not seek revenge. He said
they did not want Gary Burris to be executed. These statements spurred a
violent reaction from the rest of the family seated in the gallery, who shouted
that the nephew did not speak for the Chambers family. They shouted that they
wanted Burris dead.
When order was restored and the rest of the statements heard, the
board announced it would recommend denying clemency in a 4-1 decision. Gov.
Frank OBannon accepted the boards recommendation and refused to
interfere with execution proceedings.
Common misconception
It is dramatic events like this clemency hearing that lead to the
common misconception that all victims families demand the execution of
the killer. Movies and television nearly always portray victims families
in front of and inside the courthouse, crying out for vengeance on the death of
their loved one. In reality, the reaction of victims families is
generally mixed. When survivors are angry and enraged, they may cry out for
revenge, and understandably so, but many family members are able to overcome
these natural reactions with a desire for forgiveness, or at least a desire to
end the cycle of violence. Often this stems from a rooted belief in the
sanctity of human life.
There are many victims groups across the country, such as
Murder Victims Families for Reconciliation in Indiana, that act as both a
grief support system and a political mechanism against the death penalty.
One of the most commonly heard arguments in favor of capital
punishment is that the victims families demand and deserve this type of
justice, that society owes it to the families to remove the killer
from the earth. It is assumed that families and loved ones want the murderer to
suffer the same fate their loved one did.
Its simply not true, says Walt Collins of South
Bend, Ind., who lost his daughter and unborn grandchild in a murder 17 years
ago. I never wanted to see [the murderer] dead. Recently,
Collins daughters killer, who received a 60-year prison sentence,
died in prison. Reporters phoned Collins for his reaction to the death and were
surprised when he expressed sorrow instead of relief or joy.
June Chambers, her son Brian, and a granddaughter are in the
prison when Burris is executed, slipped in the back door by prison guards.
No one knew we were there. I didnt want all the cameras in our
faces, says Chambers. The family will sit in a small room down the hall
from the death chamber and wait until death is pronounced. A prison guard
reports Burris last words to them, Hopefully, the Chambers family
will find peace.
I hope hes at peace, too, June Chambers says.
Im glad its over. I feel like justice has been
served.
Prayers for the Chambers family pass the lips of the protesters as
they, too, wish the family peace. The three women who led the march have now
moved close to the prison gates. At the stroke of midnight, hands held tightly,
they raise their arms above their heads and scream out to the night, a cry of
oneness with Burris and his pain, the cry he would surely have given when his
lungs collapsed and his heart ceased to beat had his muscles not been paralyzed
by the first drops of liquid in his veins.
The beep of the watch. No turning back now. The eyes of a young
woman at the outside of the crowd glaze over, frozen in a stare of pain and
terror. She falls to her knees. Staring down at mittens splattered with frozen
tears, she begins a whispered anthem, Jesus, remember me, when you come
into your kingdom. Jesus, remember me, when you come into your
kingdom.
And soon the whole crowd of them is singing, almost sighing the
words, and it soothes them as a mother who wipes a tear away. The young woman
looks up from her song and speaks, Forgive them, Lord, they know not what
they do.
Prison officials insert the IV into Burris arm. There is
difficulty finding a vein. Beam me up, he says and waves goodbye to
his lawyers before his face contorts and a loud moan escapes his lips. A
snoring sound for 30 seconds. He gags, vomits. Fifty minutes later, it is
official. Gary Burris is dead.
Outside the song continues. Jesus, remember me. Gary
Burris is dead.
Tara Dix of St. Charles, Ill., is a senior at the University of
Notre Dame. She will graduate in May with a BA in American studies. She will
spend next year in Fullerton, Calif., as a volunteer for the Boys Hope/
Girls Hope Organization.
Note: You may access two of the organizations mentioned
in the article here.
- Center for Civil and Human Rights at the Notre Dame Law
School: http://www3.nd.edu/~ndlaw/general.html
- The Notre Dame chapter of Amnesty International:
http://www.nd.edu/~peace/
The University of Alaska in Anchorage has compiled a large
number of links pro and contra death penalty. This link is intended for
backround reading and research purposes only, not endorsment; there is no
connection between NCR or the above story and the University of Alaska
Anchorage. http://www.uaa.alaska.edu/just/death/issues.html
National Catholic Reporter, May 1, 1998
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