Years ago, when I was still young, and clinging to my conservative upbringing, I supported the death penalty. I figured, at the time, that some times people just couldn't be fixed, and it was the best way to protect society. If we were wrong, well, God would have to clean up the mess. I changed my tune as I started to actually question, to understand the price in dollars and time, to understand the preciousness of human life, and as I threw away my faith, to believe that there was no one to say sorry for us if we made a mistake. Then, this February, I learned something I'd never taken into consideration, when I was asked if I could put a man to death.
I had expected that the trial that I was called for jury duty would be civil, or perhaps a drug misdemeanor - If the 'Burgh was bigger and newer, my county would be called the exurbs, and we don't get much noise out here. Sure, there'd been some grisly stuff hitting the fan a few years ago, but that was done and gone, I'd thought. I hadn't paid too much attention. Then I got there, and I was asked to take part in the jury in trial of Ricky Smyrnes for the torture and murder of Jennifer Daugherty. The state was seeking the death penalty.
Continued past the Kossack Flower...
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