Troy Davis died today.
He was 42 years old.
He was survived by his mother, sister, other extended family, and the millions of petitioners, who in some way showed support to the Georgia prisoner who was sentenced to death for allegedly killing an off-duty police officer in 1989. A crime which he consistently denied having committed until the day he died.
He was 42 years old.
He was survived by his mother, sister, other extended family, and the millions of petitioners, who in some way showed support to the Georgia prisoner who was sentenced to death for allegedly killing an off-duty police officer in 1989. A crime which he consistently denied having committed until the day he died.
Since he was sentenced to death almost two decades ago, thousands of people, in conjunction with several civil and human rights groups, have advocated for Davis’ clemency.
Stays on execution were granted.
Appeals were heard.
But eventually, the appeals were exhausted. And a decision was made. Troy Davis would die in the State of Georgia on September 21, 2011.
Since that final decision was made—only two days ago—millions of people (including notable celebrities) have extended their support through facebook, twitter, and by making telephone calls and sending emails to state and federal officials. Adding further doubt as to Mr. Davis’ guilt—this morning, on the day of his pending execution—he offered to submit to a lie detector test. His offer was rejected.
Thus, both Davis’ and the public’s last ditched appeals were denied; and Troy Davis was killed by means of Lethal Injection—a motionless, conscious, and painful death. A death which was administered to a prisoner whose verdict was issued after a jury heard the testimony of at least seven witnesses who have since recanted or contradicted the original testimony which implicated Davis.
But legal standards and operation of the law prohibited Davis from having the opportunity to have the case retried. And although enough evidence had arisen to give at least, minimally, the “slightest” indication of Davis’ innocence (as observed by the Supreme Court of the United States), he was still executed under the pretense of fair and just operation of the law.
So at what point do we ask ourselves: When a judicial system is predicated upon notions of “just” and “fair”—and not “right,” how can it justify the death penalty as a criminal punishment? Particularly when it is undeniable that so-called “fair and just” standards (if we want to play that game) don’t necessitate “right” results.
Now, I don’t want for you to confuse this as a personal opportunity for me to opine on whether Troy Davis was innocent or not. You can go back, study the history/facts of the case, and formulate that opinion for yourself.
Or not.
But what I am saying is that, in a judicial system where there is room for error—and there is practical (albeit legally inadmissible) evidence of such error, there is no justification for the taking of a human life. Particularly when it seems that Black men are oft the victims of such taking.
So this is a sad day for many reasons. Sad because a man died. Sad because the millions of people who (thankfully) took action in the final hours of Troy Davis’ life didn’t know his story before this week. And—most of all—sad because a man was killed—when there was reasonable doubt as to whether he committed the crime for which he was sentenced.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is not a miscarriage of justice. It is a blatant failure.
