Bill is a retired steelworker from Bethlehem Steel, in NW Indiana. Bill became
an abolitionist after a fifteen year old girl by the name of Paula Cooper was
sentenced to death by the State of Indiana for the murder of his
grandmother. Bill was involved in an international effort to have Paula's
death sentenced overturned.
Bill Pelke is the President and Cofounder of the Journey of Hope...From
Violence to Healing, an organization that is led by murder victims families who
oppose the death penalty.
Bill has traveled around the world for the last thirteen years speaking out for
the abolition of the death penalty. He is also a member of the Board of the
National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty, Vice President of Alaskans
Against the Death Penalty, a founding board member of Murder Victims Families
for Reconciliation and on the advisory board for Citizens United for
Alternatives to the Death Penalty.
Bill travels around the country with members of the Journey in a 1965 GMC Diesel
Coach named Abolition Movin'. They spread their message of from Violence to
Healing and that the answer is Love and Compassion for all of humanity.
Members tell how the death penalty has nothing to do with the healing that
murder victims' family member need when a loved one has been killed. For
more information visit <http://www.journeyofhope.org>.
On May 14th, 1985 four ninth grade students from Lew Wallace High School
in Gary, Indiana decided to skip school during their lunch hour. They drank some
wine and smoked a joint. They began to think about what they would do for the
rest of the day. They wanted to play video games at the local arcade but they
didn't have any money. April Beverly came up with an idea. "There is an old
lady who lives cater corner across the alley from me. She teaches Bible lessons
and she lives alone. I think she has money. If you three go knock on her door
and say you would like to take her Bible lessons, she will probably let you into
her home. Then you can rob her. Since she would recognize me I'll stay outside
as a lookout.
The three other girls, Denise THomas, Karen Korders and Paula Cooper knock on
Ruth Pelke's door. She answered it. Bible lessons. She invited them into her
home. Ruth Pelke was 78 years old and for all of her life had been faithful not
only to the many services that her church offered, but she also taught
neighborhood children Bible lessons. I remember her telling those stories when I
was a child 35 -40 years ago. She did this through a program called Child
Evangelism. She used a flannel graph board and used cut out pictures to
represent Bible Characters. This helped the children visualize as she would tell
the stories. I remember especially the stories of Joseph; his coat of many
colors and how his jealous brothers had sold him into slavery. I remember the
stories of David; the shepherd boy who slew the giant Goliath and how he later
became the King of Israel. I remember the stories about Jesus and His disciples.
Ruth Pelke was my grandmother, to our family she was known as Nana.
At the age of 78, Nana did not have many opportunities to tell children about
Jesus anymore, so she welcomed the opportunity to witness to these young girls.
As Nana turned her back to get information for them, one of the girls grabbed a
vase off of an end table and hit her over the head. As Nana fell to the floor,
Paula produced a 12" butcher knife and began to stab her. April and
Karen began to ransack the house looking for money. They weren't finding much.
Paula began to look for money while Karen took over with the knife. Karen held
the knife in Nana. April left her lookout post and joined in the search for
money. The girls ended up with about ten dollars and Nana's ten year old car.
Several of the girls drove the car back to Lew Wallace High School and took
other classmates joy riding. Nana died. Two days later, the girls were arrested
for their role in the crime.
July 11, 1986 was the sentencing hearing for Paula Cooper. The other three
girls had already been sentenced for their roles in the robbery/murder. April
Beverly, the neighbor girl who had set Nana up received a 25 year sentence.
Denise Thomas was sentenced to 35 years. Denise was accused of being the one who
hit Nana in the head with the vase. She was only 14 years old when the crime was
committed. Karen Lorders was sentenced to sixty years. Karen was accused of
turning and twisting the knife in Nana for 15 to 20 minutes.
The prosecution had sought the death penalty for Karen, but the judge deemed
that Karen was under the influence of a dominating person, Paula Cooper, and
elected not to sentence her to death. There was no jury, it was the judges
call. Paula Cooper's sentencing hearing lasted about 4 hours. IT is
a day I will never forget. Things that happened that day will forever be etched
in my mind. I had not been to the trials of the first three girls but for some
reason, I felt like I needed to take off work and be there for Paula's. If Paula
was to be sentenced to death she would be the youngest female on death row in
America. Because Paula was only 15, I didn't think the judge would sentence her
to death. The prosecution argued strongly for the death penalty. They insisted
the judge to sentence Paula to death for her part in the heinous crime. Paula
was accused of stabbing Nana 33 times. Paula's attorney, a public defender,
argued for her life to be spared. Paula had pled guilty and there had been no
plea bargain for a lesser sentence.
I watched as my father testified, for the prosecution. He spoke of the
circumstances of finding Nana's body. I watched as he reviewed pictures of the
crime scene. What my father saw the say he discovered Nana's body is something
no man should ever have to bear. For him to live that same scene over and over
again in his mind was continued torture. My dad was able to bear that heavy load
with God's help through five different trials and hearings. I watched and I
listened to many things that happened that day. Most I will never forget. The
bottom line for the sentencing hearing and the newspaper headlines the next day
was what stood out most, COOPER SENTENCED TO DEATH.
November 2, 1986. Life goes on. The murder and trials were put on a back burner.
My personal life was about to explode. My girlfriend Judy and I had broken up
about six weeks earlier by mutual agreement. Although we had dated for quite
some time we were both agreeable to move on in different direction. Shortly
after the breakup, I began to realize that was not what I really wanted. I began
to see that I loved her a whole lot more than I had ever realized, and I missed
the relationship that we once had, and I wanted it back. Judy did not see
it that way. She loved me a lot and had enjoyed the relationship, but she did
not feel it was going anywhere. She was beginning to enjoy the freedom of being
unattached and did not want to get involved in another steady relationship with
me. That broke my heart. When I drove to work in 1986, I was broken hearted. For
the three weeks leading up to this day, I had been doing something I hadn't done
very often for the past ten years. I had been doing a lot of praying. It was the
only way to find any peace. I had to pray to keep my sanity. I was stumbling in
deep depression. God was the only one I could talk to ,cry to and share my
burdens with. I asked GOD why had my life been so hard. Why this broken heart. I
began thinking about my grandmothers death. It all came off of the back burner.
I asked God why had he permitted one of his most special angels to die such a
horrendous death. Why did our family, a good family, have to suffer the pain
that we all had endured? WHY? WHY? WHY?
I had been in tears since I had first started praying about my saturation with
Judy, and as I though to Nana, the tears were flowing down my cheeks, and I
could only ask God why. While wallowing in my own self piety, I suddenly
pictured somebody with a whole lot more problems than what I had. I pictured
Paula Cooper. I pictured a young girl, slunk in the corner of death row cell,
with tears in her eyes and looking up to no where in particular and moaning what
have I done, what have I done? My mind flashed back to the day Paula was
sentenced to death. Her parents were not even there for this most important day
in her life. I recalled Paula's grandfather at the trail. As the judge was in
the middle of delivering his sentence, the old man began to cry and wail,
they're going to kill my baby, they're going to kill my baby. The judge ordered
the bailiff to remove him from the court room, as it was disrupting his court. I
saw the tears running down his cheeks as he was led from the courtroom. I
recalled that as the trial ended, Paula was led away to death row. There were
tears running down her cheeks and on to her light blue prison dress causing dark
blotches all over the front of her dress.
There is a very beautiful picture that was taken a year and a half before my
grandmother was killed. When ever the media did a story about the Nana's murder,
the subsequent trials and Paula's death sentence they used that particular
picture. As I sat in the crane I envisioned an image of Nana, in the likeness of
that photograph but with one distinct difference. I pictured Nana with tears
streaming out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. I had been in tears for
about fifteen minutes as I had been crying and praying, but when I pictured
Nana's tears it deepened my pain ten fold. I knew those tears of Nana's were
tears of love and compassion for Paula and her family. I know that Nana would
not have wanted the grandfather to go through the death row scene. Paula's uncle
and sister were at the trial and also pleaded for the judge to spare Paula's
life. I knew Nana would not want them suffering Paula execution. And I knew Nana
would not have wanted Paula to be put to death even though Paula had killed her.
I began to think about Nana and her faith in Jesus. I began to think about what
Jesus had to say about forgiveness. I was raised in a home and church that
taught the Bible and I immediately thought of three incidence that Jesus taught
about forgiveness. I thought about the Sermon on the Mount. He taught we must
forgive. I also recalled about Jesus talking to his disciples about forgiveness
and we should forgive seventy time seven. I knew that meant don't quit forgiving
after 490 times. I recalled Jesus when he was crucified. The nails in His hands
and feet and I pictured the crown of thorns in His brow and pictured His looking
up to Heaven and saying Father forgive them, for they know not what they are
doing. I felt that Paula did not know what she was doing. Anyone in their right
mind does not stab someone with a 12" butcher knife 33 times.
I had to admit to myself at that point that forgiveness was the right thing to
do and I would try and do that for Nana's sake. Because of her tears, tears of
love and compassion. I felt that she wanted someone in our family to have that
same love and compassion. I felt like it fell on my shoulders. It seemed too
heavy a burden to bear. My tears continued to flow. Even though I knew
forgiveness was the right thing, as far as love and compassion, I had none.
After all, my grandmother had been brutally murdered. The chief of police in
Gary Indiana, Virgil Motely said it was the most heinous crime he had ever seen
in his 35 years on the force. For two years in a row, Gary, Indiana, had been
the murder capital of the USA. He had seen his share.
Nana's tears dictated to me that I try to generate some sort of love and
compassion and so, with no where else to turn, I started praying again. In tears
I begged God to please give me love and compassion for Paula and her family. I
begged on behalf of Nana. My next thoughts were that I could write to Paula and
tell her about Nana and her faith in Jesus. I thought I could also write about
God's love for her, and His forgiveness for her. I even thought I could tell
Paula that through Jesus I had love for her.
It was at this point that I realized my prayer for love and compassion for Paula
Cooper and her family had been answered. Two things were immediately clear to
me. First, I realized what is the most important lesson I have ever learned in
my life. When God granted my request of love and compassion, the forgiveness was
automatic. It wasn't something I had to do, God did the work. The second was I
no longer wanted Paula to die. When Paula was sentenced to death, I had no
problem with it. I knew people were being sentenced to death and being executed
around our country. I felt if they didn't give the death sentence in Paula's
case, then they were telling me and my family that Nana was not an important
enough a person to merit the death penalty and I felt my grandmother was a very
important person.
I began to think about what others would think, after all I had just made a 360
degree turn. What would my family think? MY father had testified in court that
it would be a travesty of justice if Paula did not receive the death penalty.
What would my friends think? What would my co workers think? Many of the people
I worked with would say as a means of condolence of Nana's death 'I hope the
bitch burns.' I knew some were not going to understand how I now felt. I knew it
would be the same with friends outside the mill. But I also knew the beauty of
God's love and compassion and the forgiveness it brought. I knew I had done the
right thing and I would just try to get the others to understand it. I was sure
I was right. From the day of Nana's death until this moment in the crane the
thought of Nana tore my soul. When I thought of her I pictured her laying
butchered on the dining room floor. For fifteen to twenty minutes Karen had
twisted and turned the knife in Nana, and in fact the carpet beneath her body
was shredded and the hardwood floor was splintered. The thought of Nana
butchered tore me up. Suddenly, after learning the lesson of forgiveness, I
began to picture Nana in a beautiful way. The way she lived and what she stood
for and who she was. IT was such a relief to see her that way and I knew I would
no longer picture her butchered on the dining room floor again. I saw many
possibilities arising as to the reasons why God had allowed me this experience.
I began praying again and I made God two promises that I have kept to this day.
First, of all, I knew that I could not take any credit for forgiving Paula. I
knew that it was only because God touched my heart. I began a letter
writing exchange with Paula. I let her know that God cared for her and loved her
and that I did too. We exchanged letters about every ten days and we established
that we would like to visit and meet each other. I shared Nana's faith with her.
It was difficult to write many of the letters at first, although many tears of
joy would often hit the pages. Tears of joy knowing that I could truly love
someone who had caused our family such pain. I always prayed to God before I
wrote Paula and asked Him to guide me and help me say the right things, the
things that needed to be said.
I had the opportunity to meet Paula's grandfather shortly before Christmas. I
took a basket of fruit to his house and spent several wonderful hours talking
and looking through the old family albums. There were pictures of Paula s she
was growing up. She had been a very cute little girl. I had also informed my
parents that I was corresponding with Paula. They did not understand why, but my
dad did say "Well, do what you have to do." I thanked him for that.
Anna Guaita called me and explained that she was an Italian Journalist and that
her and a colleague, Giampalo Palli, were coming to Indiana to do a story on
Paula Cooper. There had been unusual reaction in Italy to Paula's case. IT was
headlines in the Italian newspaper when Paula was sentenced to death. The
Italians, who do not have the death penalty could not understand why the state
of Indian would want to execute a young woman who was only 15 years old. They
could not understand executing a woman at all, and why it was a black girl to
get this punishment. The Italian people were fascinated with this story
and Anna and her friend were coming to Indiana to do interviews. Their stories
would run in the three largest Italian newspapers. Anna had called the Gary Post
Tribune and asked for leads in who they should interview for their story. She
was advised about Paula's attorney, her grandfather, several others and about
the grandson of the victim, who had written a letter to the VOICE OF THE PEOPLE
and talked about forgiving people so she wanted to interview me.
Anna turned out to be a great person and we had a wonderful interview. We talked
for hours. Their stories about Paula case, including interviews with Paula,
myself and others were spread over two days in the Italian papers. It was about
four months after my night in the crane that Judy and my best friend Wayne were
at her house and we were talking about my involvement with Paula. Wayne and Judy
had both stood by my side when Nana was murdered. I needed a strength and God
gave me Wayne and Judy. Wayne and I had worked together for 20 years and have
often throughout the years talked about things relating to the Bible. We talked
often about my night in he crane. We both firmly agreed that there is no
argument according to the Bible. Forgiveness is encouraged, taught and if you
will commanded in God's Word.
An Italian TV station wanted me to come and do a segment on Paula's case. Of
course I jumped at that. One of the reasons I wanted to go was that when Anna
had finished the interview with me, she mentioned that over 40,000 people had
signed petitions to have Paula taken off death row. I wanted to go and thank
each one of them. When the American press found out I was going to Italy, it
became a media event. When I found I was going to Italy I began to pray and
fast. I fasted about 11 days before I went to Italy. The segment on Paula went
very well. They had a poet who had written about Paula. There was also an
elderly Catholic priest, Father Gerganti, who was spearheading a drive by the
organization, (Carcere comunita) "Don't Kill" to gather signatures on
petitions to have Paula taken off of death row. When I arrived home from Italy,
Wayne and Judy met me at the airport. They didn't always agree with what I was
doing but they were both personal supports and that is what was important to me.
Judy and I had kind of got back together at this point and we were both very
glad to see each other. Magazines I have never read were now printing my story
of forgiveness.
Every several months it seemed like there would be press conference in
Indianapolis for either Paula, her appeal, or for death penalty opponents. I was
always invited to attend and speak. It was at one of these meetings I met
Magdaleno Rose-Avila. He was the death penalty abolition coordinator for Amnesty
International USA.
He asked if we would like to go to Atlanta the following weekend and lead the
death penalty march that Amnesty International would be having during their
annual General Meeting. He said Amnesty would pay our expenses. Father Vito and
I took him up on it.
About two months after the meeting in Atlanta, I arrived home from a trip to
Albany, New York. After driving all night with my cousin Judy, I got home about
6. I played the answering machine for messages. IF you will, picture a tear
coming to my eyes as the machine responded, This is the Oprah Winfrey program
and we would like for you to be our guest on the segment, Forgiving the
Unforgivable. Yes, picture if you will a tear, or maybe even two. I called Wayne
and played the message for him. Yes, hallelujah, Praise the Lord, it was a
miracle.
Judy and I were not talking too much right then, with Mike being in the way and
all, so I didn't tell her I was going to be on Oprah. I was hoping she would be
working at the hospital and walk in a patient's room and hear me on the show
talking about forgiveness. I hoped she would remember her statement about yes,
it would be the sign of a miracle if Oprah ever called. Judy didn't see it, but
her sister called her and told her that it had been on. ON the show I had been
able to talk about Nana, her life and her faith and about Jesus. It was live,
nothing was cut as had been done on most other interviews. I have found out the
media doesn't want to quote people when they are talking about Jesus. It was
great to be on an uncut program. It was on Oprah that I met SueZann Bosler who
has become a wonderful friend. Lo and behold another miracle.
Judy and I were married on October 1, 1988 and we went to Italy for our
honeymoon. Judy's mother was happy to accept our invitation for her to join us.
Judy's mother had thought I was crazy for forgiving Paula also, so inviting her
along made me look a little better as her new son in law. It was a dream
vacation for her. Judy and I had a wonderful honeymoon. I met many of the
friends from my first visit to Rome and we all just had a great time.
This was my third time to Italy, only the first at my expense. I had also flown
to Milano for a television program there in the fall of 87. While on the
honeymoon, quite a few press events too place because of the increasing interest
the Italian people had for Paula Cooper. Her case was a very well known story in
Italy, so there was interest in my being there. Judy was very understanding of
how I had to go through the open doors. Some days required an amount of time and
also distance to travel. On those days Judy would go shopping with her mother,
while Father Vito would drive me somewhere for an interview or some other sort
of activity. IN the evening we would usually gather for dinner and Father Vito
would always treat us. Anna Rita Petrita had us to her home for dinner. Franco
and Italo took us for Pizza and Phillipo took us all out to a very unique
restaurant. The honeymoon was great.
Another special day, a very special day happened when I was at work. It was
about nine months after we were married. No, Judy did not have a baby. I was
talking to Judy on the telephone and she told me there was a beep on her end of
the line. She put me on hold for a moment and then came back and said that
someone from the Associated Press was on the other line and they wanted to talk
to me. I had Judy give them my work number. The Associated Press had done
a very nice story about my involvement with Paula. One of their reporters had
met me at a local restaurant a few months after my first trip to Italy. It was a
very nice and warm interview that he conducted. It was a good story complete
with picture and it had run in newspapers through out the country. The phone
rang at work. The reporter from the AP informed me that the Indiana Supreme
Court had just overturned Paula's death sentence. She would now serve a sixty
year sentence. The AP wanted a comment from me. The first thing I said was
Praise the Lord. What a period of rejoicing I went through for a number of days.
I was extremely happy that Paula was now off of death row, at least technically.
I learned it might be at least another two months before all the paper work
would be completed to move her into general population. The pressures of being
on death row could now ease up for Paula, although she had learned to handle
things very well. About five or six people took Paula under their wing while she
was on death row and showed love and compassion to her. They all helped Paula
plant the seed of hope within herself. She was responding to that love with
love.
What about me?
What about missions and messages and such. What about the opportunities to speak
of love and compassion, forgiveness, Nana and Jesus. I always have had a special
love for Jesus ever since I was very little. I am not sure where it came from.
My family; mom dad and my older sister Dottie all loved Him, where I went to
church everybody loved Him and I knew Nana loved him. Somewhere it all rubbed
off on me. I went to Bible College because I loved Jesus.
To be able to speak with authority on love and compassion and know that I had
the Bible to back it up was a wonderful and powerful experience. Were those
opportunities now gone since Paula was off of death row and her case would cease
to be a media sensation? Was my mission over. I surely hoped not. What
next? The Pilgrimage.
The pilgrimage was the inspiration of Sister Helen Prejean. I did
not know who she was when I first heard about it. The Pilgrimage was a march
from the death row at Starke, Florida, to the burial site of the late Dr Martin
King Jr. in Atlanta, Ga. May 4-19, 1990 would be two weeks of walking and
speaking out against the death penalty. The message behind the event was
spiritual, and much effort was spent trying to reach the religious community
with this torch of conscience action.
Two weeks of action against the death penalty for spiritual reasons. I felt I
had needed to be there. After all, it was spiritual reasons that had gotten me
involved in he first place. Judy had to work and it was fine with her for me to
go on the Pilgrimage by myself, but she preferred that I would only go for one
week instead of two. We spent two days getting me ready to go and saying
good bye to each other. Then I filled up my van with gas and began a journey for
a destination 1000 miles away, Gainesville, Florida. I knew I would miss Judy
but I was excited about the prospects of being able to once again be able to
deliver a message or two about love and compassion, forgiveness, Nana and Jesus.
I didn't know what to expect but I was excited. There was an execution the day I
got there. Jesse Tafero had been electrocuted. It was a botched execution. That
first evening there was a service to begin the Pilgrimage. One of the people I
met there was Kay Tafero, the mother of Jesse. She was there with Mike Radelet,
someone I had met several times before. He introduced her to me as Kay. We
hugged and it was as she hugged me I realized that this must be the mother of
the boy just executed. She spoke to us all that night and urged us to go on in
our Pilgrimage and that she knew that Jesse wanted her to be there that night
with us for him. It was one of those moments you don't forget.
The Pilgrimage was great. SO great that I really wished Judy could have been
there to see what was going on. When I arrived for start of the Pilgrimage, I
featured my role in this event as that of a servant. I would do what ever I saw
that needed doing. I had a vehicle and saw a lot of things in t hat area alone
where I could be of help. In fact since my van had a hitch, when ever we
caravanned across Florida and Georgia I got to haul the portable pottie.
My van had a CB as well as five of the vehicles that had been rented for the
Pilgrimage. With my little house in tow I always brought up the rear. No pun
intended. My handle on the CB channel was Port-a Pottie Bill. The media was
curious as we went from town to town. They wanted to know why a bunch of people
would be doing what we were doing. Everybody had good reason. Sister Helen would
always mention to the press that among the marchers were several people who had
a family member murdered and yet were here marching and speaking out against the
death penalty.
She would alternate between sending the press to either Sam Sheppard or myself.
Sam's mother had been murdered when Sam was seven years old. During the two
weeks there were many opportunities to speak out. There was press, radio,
television, rallies and church services.
My best talk was at a black Missionary Baptist Church. It was a Wednesday night
prayer meeting service. A van load of Pilgrims joined the regulars for the
service. Every time I mentioned whet the Bible had to say about Love and
Compassion, forgiveness and some of the various teachings of Jesus, the crowd
would say amen. I almost got to preaching, I really enjoyed it.
The Pilgrimage grew in numbers as we got closer to Big A. There were about 32 of
us who were core marchers, with the group at all times. By the time we got to
the Atlanta City limits abolitionists from around the country were joining us
for the last week end events. I thing we ended up with a march in Atlanta with
about 350 people.
During the Pilgrimage, I talked to Judy into flying to Atlanta and spending the
last four days of the event. I was very happy that Judy was able to come and
meet the wonderful people I had been meeting for the last two weeks. Judy
enjoyed meeting them all and developed close friendships with many. She also
marched down the streets with us singing and shouting abolition chants. Was I
ever happy to see that. Overjoyed would probably be the better word.
The last night in Atlanta was a major event. There were about 20-25 speakers to
speak at the grand finals, which was held at the Eboneezer Baptist Church. This
was the church of the Late Dr Martin Luther King, Jr. What a great honor it was
for me that night to be about the four of fifth speaker to stand behind the
pulpit that Dr King had spoke from. Holding a special Bible in my hand that I
will some day give to Paula, I spoke of love and compassion, forgiveness, Nana
and Jesus. What a great honor. Dr King taught many of us that it was
okay to dream and that dreams can come true. The Pilgrimage. I am glad I did not
miss a minute of it. I am glad that Judy was able to attend and be a part of it.
If she had not been there it would have been hard to have explained how and why
my life had been jolted and once again given new meaning and direction. The
Pilgrimage changed my life and it changed the lives of many others who were
there. At the conclusion of the Pilgrimage, Rick Halprin, from Texas announced
that
the following year there would be a march in Texas against the death penalty.
There was no doubt where I wanted to be for April 4-11, 1991. Texas was the
place I wanted to be. Judy had to work and wasn't going to go this time. I was
going to fly. I bought my ticket and got a good price. Wayne decided to come
with me, so we took the van and headed out. I was hoping the TASK march would do
something for Wayne. It did. Within several days Wayne became so convinced that
the death penalty was wrong. So convinced in fact that within several days of
the conclusion of the TASK march Wayne looked at me and said, "We should do
something like this in Indiana. BINGO INDIANA, THE PLACE TO BE IN 93, was the
slogan we tried to leave on the lips of everyone as the TASK march concluded and
everyone went back to their home states. Rick Halperin, the heart and soul of
the TASK march was the first to commit to Indiana in 93 saying he would not miss
it for anything. Two years to plan a major abolition event....
George White
"Charlene White loved life...that should be her legacy. What began with a
horrible act of violence should not memorialized by an act of vengeance. Hate is
a continuation, not an ending. Tom, Christie and I say "Not in our names -
our hearts have bled enough."
GEORGE W. WHITE
ARKANSAS CITY, KANSAS
On February 27, 1985, the White family experienced first-hand the insanity and
horror of murder. George and his wife Charlene were shot repeatedly by an armed
robber at his place of business in Enterprise, Alabama. George held Charlene in
his arms as her life slipped away. Their children, Tom and Christie, were only
12 and 5 at the time. The nightmare had just begun. Sixteen months later,
George was charged with murdering his wife. Following a capital murder trial
that was later described as "a mockery and a sham", George was
convicted and sentenced to life in prison. His conviction was overturned in 1989
and he was released from prison, but George remained in legal limbo until 1992,
when proof of his innocence was finally brought forward. Following a brief
hearing the trial court ordered the charge against him forevermore dismissed.
The nightmare had lasted more than seven years...had the State of Alabama had
its way, George White would be a dead man today.
Understanding fully how easy it is to become advocates for revenge, the White
family, however, rejects the death penalty as a solution and as way of healing
the wounds of their loss. George is a co-founder of the Journey of
Hope...from violence to healingT and is a member and past board member of Murder
Victims Families for Reconciliation (MVFR) A full time speaker and lecturer, he
now lives in Arkansas City, Kansas.
"You're just a bleeding heart liberal. You'd feel differently if it
happened to someone you loved." challenged the young, sandy haired,
criminal justice student. I saw many students nodding their heads in agreement
around the room where I had just been introduced by the instructor as a
Mitigation Investigator for the Alabama Prison Project. I had begun my remarks
by telling the class that I worked with court appointed defense attorneys in
capital cases and that I opposed the death penalty.
I struggled to contain the righteous indignation that surged through me. I
responded that supporters of the death penalty often hold up victims as the
reason for the death penalty is needed; that families of victims somehow feel
better if killers are executed. More forcefully than I intended, I said,
"That's a damnable lie, I do not presume to speak to you. How dare you
presume to speak for me? I am not JUST a bleeding heart. It did happen to
someone I loved, my WIFE was murdered.
The class looked stunned. Regaining my composure, I asked their forbearance and
for them to set aside their preconceptions for a moment as I told them my story.
My personal journey began on February 27, 1985, in the small town of Enterprise,
Alabama, when my wife Char was brutally murdered by a masked robber at my place
of business.
I too was shot three times and left for dead. I saw my wife lying face down in a
pool of blood. I held her in the last moments of her life, I saw her face. I
instantly withdraw from the next image that is forevermore seared into my
memory. In indescribable agony, I cursed God. For our children, Tom, 12, and
Christie, 5, and for myself the nightmare had just begun. Unbelievably, 16
months later, I was charged with the capital murder of my wife. Following a
trial that was later characterized as a mockery and a sham. I was convicted of
murder of my wife and sentenced to life in prison. Incarcerated for a total of
two years, one hundred and three days, I was freed on bond when the conviction
was overturned in 1989. I remained in legal limbo for nearly three more years
until April, 1992, when the charges against me were dropped after compelling
proof of my innocence was uncovered. The nightmare had lasted for more than
seven years.
I was broke, unemployed, and probably emotionally bankrupt. Having seen
firsthand the insanity and horror of my wife's murder, I was filled with hate
for the man that had so brutally taken her life. I could not and cannot conceive
of any act so despicable as murder. When people within the justice system failed
me, it only served to add to my anger, outrage and bitterness. I wanted him
dead. I was caught in a vindictive mindset. Slowly but surely I came to realize
the hate was killing me and had no effect on him. I had to find a way to let go
of the hatred and start healing. Raised a Christian and deeply troubled by the
dark side of my inner struggle, I went to the Bible to find validation for my
need for vengeance. After all, didn't it call for an eye for an eye. But I say
to you, do not resist anyone who is evil. You have heard it was said, "you
shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you. Love your
enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your
father who is in heaven; for he makes the sun rise on the evil and on the good,
and sends rain on the just and the unjust."
What I found was a message of redemption and forgiveness. Vengeance and judgment
belonged to the same God to whom I had cried out for justice, the same God that
in my anger and despair, I had cursed. Was a killing done in the name of justice
what I wanted, what I needed? Could I weigh the man who killed my wife and say
what he deserved? Was there any man who weigh me and say what I deserved? If
there is such a thing as justice could it not be administered only by one who
knows the innermost thoughts of the person who is being judged? One who could do
that would be wise and with wise and with wisdom comes mercy and forgiveness.
There in lies the hope for humanity and the hope for healing.
Justice must take into account an infinite set of circumstances that I as a man
cannot begin to understand. I pray to my God, whom I have offended, and beg
forgiveness. I cannot be honest with my own life or with myself without
realizing that I cannot tell what justice is for someone else, or for me.
The more I try, the more responsibility I have to assume; and the more I know
that I must cling to mercy as the one thing I am sure must control my own
judgment of men; even the man who killed my wife.
I strongly believe that society's laws moot offer relief for a victim's anger
and loss and we must be afforded protection from those who have harmed us. Life
is sacred and precious, all life. The State, however, does not give life,
neither should it take it away. One cannot stop the shedding of blood by causing
more blood to be shed. No amount of killing would restore Char to us or take
away our loss. What sustained me throughout those years of despair was not
hatred; it was love; the love of my children, my family, my friends and the love
of GOD.
The path to healing, the journey of hope, transverses many hills and valleys.
The way is often torturous. For years I could not get past the last image I had
of my wife, that of a murder victim. Today I can look into the faces of our
children and smile as I see her reflection. I can choose to remember her as she
was, a loving caring person. I know in my heart that her life should be
celebrated rather than mourned. What began as a horrible act of violence should
not be memorialized by an act of vengeance. Hate is a continuation not an
ending. Char loved life. Tom, Christie, and I believe that her love of life
should be her legacy. We say to you in a simple, resounding note that not in our
name will you kill. Our hearts have bled enough.
