Maryland Death Penalty Repeal – Special Issue September 19, 2012

 Hello abolitionists,

It’s been one year since Troy Davis was executed.
Help keep his memory alive.

Leading up to the moment Troy Davis was executed one year ago – Sept. 21 at 11:08pm – Amnesty International USA is asking all of our partners to honor Troy Davis and show support for Reggie Clemons, a man who remains on death row despite shockingly similar flaws in the case against him, as well as support California’s ballot initiative to abolish the death penalty, Proposition 34:

· Tweet a message of support using the #IamTroy or #TooMuchDoubt hashtags throughout the day on Sept. 21 (Amnesty will be tweeting a new fact every hour).

· Tweet a message at the exact moment Troy Davis was executed one year ago – Sept. 21 at 11:08pm – to honor Troy’s memory

· Share these graphics on your Facebook page:



· Email a message (or post on your website) to your fans asking them to take one or both of these actions: OR (live on Sept 20)

· Change your profile picture to any graphic in support of Troy Davis:


Troy: “The struggle for justice doesn’t end with me” #IamTroy

Troy: “This struggle is for all the Troy Davises… who will come after me” #IamTroy

What if #TroyDavis was innocent? California – vote #YESon34

#TroyDavis proved the #deathpenalty must go. CA vote #YESon34

Is Reggie Clemons the next Troy Davis? #IamTroy

On Sept 21 @ 11:08pm, Georgia killed Troy Davis #IamTroy

#IamTroy Witness: “After a couple of hours of the detectives…threatening me, I…told them what they wanted.”

#TooMuchDoubt KM, witness: “Troy never confessed to me…about the shooting. I made up the confession.”

Witness: “the officers…gave me a statement…I signed it. I did not read it because I cannot read.”

Juror: “If I knew then what I know now #TroyDavis would not be on death row…verdict would be not guilty.”

Witness: “I [said] #TroyDavis was the shooter, even though…I didn’t see who shot the officer.”

Witness: “I am not proud for lying at Troy’s trial, but the police had me so messed up.”

Reggie: “It’s like … telling you that I’m going to kill you someday…I just haven’t decided when.”

The cases against Troy Davis and Reggie Clemons are textbook for why the death penalty must end #IamTroy

Did you know that the most reliable predictor of someone being sentenced to death is the race of the victim? #IamTroy


If you have any questions, comments or feedback, feel free to contact our SDPACs, Andrea Hall ( or Kevin Scruggs (

Thanks again for your interest in abolishing the death penalty!

In Solidarity,

Andrea, Kevin, and the Amnesty International USA Death Penalty Abolition Campaign

Follow us on Twitter and Facebookfor more updates!

Opportunities and Upcoming Events:

·       Be sure to sign our online petition to Governor O’Malley:

·       Monday, January 21: Rally and Lobby Night in Annapolis. Save the date!

·       Not from Maryland, but want to help? Contact Andrea or Kevin for more information about how you can support repeal!




In Sentencing Criminals, Is Norway Too Soft? Or Are We Too Harsh?

Liliana Segura on August 28, 2012 – 8:34 AM ET

 It’s not very often the concept of restorative justice gets much play outside scholarly publications or reformist criminal justice circles, so first, some credit for Max Fisher at The Atlantic for giving it an earnest look last week. In seeking to explain Norway’s seemingly measly twenty-one-year sentence for remorseless, mass-murdering white supremacist Anders Breivik—a sentence that is certain to be extended to last the rest of his life—Fisher casts a critical eye on the underlying philosophy that animates that country’s sentencing practices, finding it to be “radically different” from what we’re used to in the United States.

When it comes to criminal sentencing, he notes, the United States favors a retributive model—in which an offender must be duly punished for his crimes—over a restorative model that “emphasizes healing: for the victims, for the society, and, yes, for the criminal him or herself.” “I don’t have an answer for which is better,” he says at the outset, acknowledging that his own sense of outrage over Breivik’s sentence—like that of many Americans—“hints at not just how different the two systems are, but how deeply we may have come to internalize our understanding of justice, which, whatever its merits, doesn’t seem to be as universally applied as we might think.” This is true, and a promising place to start. The United States is uniquely punitive when it comes to sentencing compared to much of the rest of the world, whether the crime is murder or drug possession.

 Putting aside the death penalty, which lands us in dubious international company, in countries with life sentences on the books, prisoners are often eligible for release after a few decades. “Mexico will not extradite defendants who face sentences of life without parole,” the New York Times’s Adam Liptak noted in 2005 (Most of Latin America has no such sentence). “And when Mehmet Ali Agca, the Turkish gunman who tried to kill Pope John Paul II in 1981, was pardoned in 2000, an Italian judge remarked, ‘No one stays 20 years in prison.’ 

” The same article quoted Yale law professor James Q. Whitman, author of a book comparing US sentencing with Europe. “Western Europeans regard 10 or 12 years as an extremely long term, even for offenders sentenced in theory to life,” he said. Today, there are more than 41,000 people serving life without parole in the United States compared to fifty-nine in Australia, forty-one in England and thirty-seven in the Netherlands. That’s according to a study released this spring, which found that we are “in the minority of countries using several sentencing practices, such as life without parole, consecutive sentences, juvenile life without parole, juvenile transfer to adult courts, and successive prosecution of the same defendant by the state and federal government.”

In the United States, prison sentences have gotten longer and longer—a sea change that Americans have come to accept relatively quickly (largely because the targets have been people of color). Just a few decades ago in high-incarceration states like Louisiana, lifers were eligible for release in ten and a half years. Today in Louisiana, there is no longer parole for lifers, and thus virtually no hope of release, ever. And when it comes to crimes prosecuted under the War on Drugs, three-strikes sentencing and mandatory minimums have not only sent people away for life for minor drug offenses—an anomaly compared to the rest of the world—they have led to a current reality in which the vast majority of people arrested on nonviolent drug charges plead guilty—whether they are or not—in order to avoid such draconian prison sentences, a decision that can have lifelong implications.

To be fair, Fisher is not talking about US-style drug sentencing—or sentencing as it exists on the ground here at all. But he should have, because the fact that there are nonviolent drug offenders serving the same amount of time as convicted murderers in the United States is rooted in a Frankenstein version of the very retributive model he is writing about. The War on Drugs was ostensibly designed to harshly punish those responsible for massive harm to our communities (while in practice, ensnaring low-level offenders who harm no one, except possibly themselves).

Mandatory sentencing statutes, supposedly devised to fulfill a retributive ideal, have instead tied the hands of judges when it comes to imposing fair, proportionate sentences, leading to systemic perversions of justice. It is the reason New York has had to roll back its notorious Rockefeller Drug Laws. It is the reason the Supreme Court recently struck down mandatory sentences of life without parole for juvenile offenders.

And it is the reason our prison system is so disproportionately comprised of African-American men, who are perceived to be the most dangerous criminals in our society, and the most deserving of harsh punishments. But in a brief paragraph defining retributive justice in theory without addressing how it works in reality, Fisher doesn’t acknowledge any of this.

“At its foundation,” he writes, “…retributive justice is about enforcing both rule of law and more abstract ideas of fairness and morality. Crimes are measured by their damage to society, and it’s society that, working through the court system, metes out in-turn punishment…. In a retributive system, the punishment fits the crime, and 21 years in a three-room cell doesn’t come close to fitting Breivik’s 77 premeditated murders.” Even if you agree that Breivik’s twenty-one-year-sentence in a “three-room cell” with a TV, etc., is a grossly inadequate way of dealing with his barbaric actions, the notion that a retribution-based system hands out sentences that “fit the crime” is wildly and tragically false if the United States is your guide. In the United States, grandmothers are sentenced to life for first-time drug offenses. Mothers who fire a “warning shot” in self-defense at an abusive husband get twenty years in prison. Teenagers who kill their abusive pimp get sentenced to life without parole. Kids who commit crimes at 14 have been condemned to die in prison—getting raped along the way—with no consideration for their age, mental health or abusive upbringing.

People land on death row for failing to anticipate that an accomplice in a crime might kill someone—and people are executed for killings committed by others who then go free. The American model—which Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia recently summed up by musing, “I thought that modern penology has abandoned that rehabilitation thing”—is a system rife with injustice. But Fisher is less interested in confronting the problems of our criminal justice system than he is in getting to a harder, more abstract truth about Norway’s “gentler system,” which, he acknowledges, manages to “reduce crime, reduce the cost of imprisoning criminals, and reduce recidivism”—three whopping accomplishments we might learn from. But “even if we accept all of the data suggesting that society as a whole is better off under a Norwegian-style restorative model,” he says, “those numbers don’t account for the more abstract, difficult-to-define sense of justice as its own inherent good.” There is, he says, “a basic human need for justice and fairness,” as evidenced by one study on the “moral outrage felt by those who witness transgressions” and another showing that “people who believe they’ve witnessed injustice become less happy.

” With Breivik in mind, he concludes, “Norwegian-style restorative justice subverts those human desires for justice and fairness.” Norwegians, of course, including survivors and their family members, seem to have widely accepted Breivik’s sentence, suggesting that the system has actually fulfilled their desire for justice and fairness (a fact Fisher acknowledges and finds “jarring”). “That’s how it should work,” one survivor of the massacre said of the sentence. “That’s staying true to our principles and the best evidence that he hasn’t changed society.” Like victims’ family members who oppose the death penalty in the face of a system that seeks to convince them that executions are for their own good, these voices should be amplified, not dismissed. There is little within the US system that fulfills this human desire for justice and fairness.

It is a system dramatically out of step with the rest of the world, one that overwhelmingly and disproportionately punishes the most vulnerable for some of the most innocuous crimes.

Theory aside, the American prison system is staggering proof of just how pathetically we have failed at defining—and delivering—“justice” using a retributive model. Fisher does grant that “the retributive approach absolutely has its pitfalls,” citing articles about solitary confinement and the plight of mentally ill prisoners in the United States, but, he maintains, “at least it’s meant to be just.

” Whether you think our system as it stands was ever about good intentions—a notion facing considerable backlash right now—this is bewildering if you care about. “


Something Demonic is Going On in Buffalo’s County Jail

by Chris Stevenson

It seems to be the custom of all NYS lockups to classify their deaths as suicides.”

Early last week Edward Berezowski , 54, was reported as found hanging in his cell by his jail-issued pants. According to the Buffalo News he died on Friday, August 17. He was said to have told deputies he was going to his cell to take a nap. Berezowski was just arrested a day or so beforehand for choking an employee at Best Buy. This follows the incident several weeks ago when there was a reported suicide attempt at Buffalo’s Erie County Holding Center by an inmate named David Green, 45. Green was said to have tried to hang himself from a railing with a bedsheet, until a deputy cut the sheet and pulled him down. Acting jail Superintendent Thomas Diina said Glenn was screened several times over and not considered a suicide risk.
.   .   .   .Berezowski’s death brings my count of the number of so-called suicides to 29. This includes Lester J. Foster (12/23/11), TrevellWalker (10/12/11), RakimScriven (9/4/11), Keith John (7/31/10), JeremyKiekbush (3/3/10), Daniel Nye (2/13/10), AdamMurr (12/19/09), John Reardon (4/30/08), Joanne Jesse (3/31/08), Michael Roberts (1/23/07), Carmelo Torres (5/14/05), Juan Aquino (4/20/05), MichaelScioli (9/22/04), Patrick Chadwick (9/11/04), Eden Baez (8/28/03), JohnMarinaccio (4/29/03), Eric Fedrick (9/14/02), Christian Johns (8/20/98), Virgil Weathington (1/11/97), Scott Maurer (10/15/96), Kenneth Hall (6/23/96), Victor Ortiz (11/4/95), Allen Hagedorn (5/24/95), Jason Winiewski (12/2/92), Robert Huhn (1/1/92), Lamar Patterson (8/15/91), Jeffrey Fromen (8/28/90), and James Lee (2/20/89).