~ Personal Testimony
August 4th, 1997: 1 was chained and seated at a long table in the windowless
conference room at San Quentin Prison's main visiting facility. Seated before me were four women: my spiritual adviser, my love, my niece, and my sister. Four guards were posted to restrict our movement in the room, which was close and hot, with no ventilation. It was time to say good-bye. We were all exhausted from the overwhelming stress. Twenty-four hours earlier the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals had held that serious constitutional errors had occurred at my 1983 trial, raising serious doubts about my guilt. Yet, through an unprecedented string of clerical errors and miscommunication, my case had fallen through the cracks. Now, to prevent this manifest injustice, the court corrected its oversight, vacating the special circumstance and death sentence and questioning the validity of the murder conviction. We had been granted a miracle. However, the attorney general appealed, and now we awaited the decision of the U. S. Supreme Court whether I would die at 12.01 a.m., a little over six hours away. It was surreal: San Quentin ignored the reversal, and the execution process continued inexorably like a runaway train, with me strapped to the tracks. No one applied the brakes to slow its momentum. This was no longer about truth or justice, right or wrong, or even about law. This was about evil, in the guise of politics. The beast was hungry, and.our leaders needed to kill somebody to deliver on their political promises of vengeance. For sixteen long years I have maintained my innocence, my faith, and petitioned our Lord in prayer. I have never believed that God would allow me to be executed for crimes I never committed. Over the years I have grown in my faith, learned to pray and remember God's promises of Love, Compassion, Mercy, Forgiveness through our Lord, fuiding the Joy, Deliverance, and God's plan for my life. There have been many tests, but for the past week I had been living out the toughest test of all. Prison officials and some guards had made every effort to dehumanize me. Psychologically and politically, they needed me to be a monster. To this end, I am certain those who head an execution detail are carefully selected. For example, one officer proclaimed himself an atheist. On the other hand, God's presence was made known to me through a few officers who had let me know that they were praying for me. These acts of kindness and faith seemed to bother the atheist guard, as did my own expressions of faith. It had been a trying and difficult week. I had been told that at 6:00 p.m. all my visitors must leave. My spiritual advisor, the Reverend Peggy Harrell, would be taken away and subjected to a strip search. This humiliation to her was hard for me to deal with, but that she was willing to endure it was a measure of her devotion and commitment. The prison wanted to eject her also at 6:00, and in California a prisoner has no right to the spiritual advisor of his or her choice without a court order. But Peggy, with the help of counsel, had fought for and won in court the right to stay with me longer. After the search she would be allowed to return and stay with me until approximately II: 15 p.m. Then she would also be forced to leave, and I would be left alone with the execution team. Now it was 5:30 p.m. I gazed into the faces of my loved ones and told them how very proud I was of each of them for keeping the faith. "Believe me, it's going to be all right," I said. Peggy suggested a final prayer together. We wanted to join hands, but the manacles and waist chain did not permit me to extend my arms across the table. For five |
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These drawings are part of a set by Tom's niece
Makayla, presented to Rita at Tom's memorial service |