Waiting on a Verdict

by Katherine Scardino

Last Friday, I found myself sitting in a courtroom in another county—where I had been for the prior two weeks trying a capital murder case.

The prosecutor did not seek the death penalty in this capital case, so if the jury finds my client guilty, he will spend the rest of his life in prison without any hope of parole. Courts have two ways to take a person’s life in Texas. We can execute by lethal injection, or we can send the offender to a Texas prison where he or she will spend the rest of his life sitting in a cell about the size of your closet. In this case, my young male client’s only possible punishment if found guilty is "life without parole."

But I was thinking of something else. I looked at this young man, age 25, a white male, who had graduated high school as a National Merit Scholar. He married his high-school sweetheart, had a set of twins and another baby—three children total—and then signed up for the Marines. He was accepted and was shipped to Iraq where he was in the Military Police. He returned to the United States only a few months before he was arrested for the murder-for-hire of a man in Surfside, Texas.

My question was: How in the world did he find himself sitting in the defendant’s chair at counsel table? . . . What happened to this man? . . . He had an adorable wife, children, supportive family, brains, and most importantly—he had opportunity. But he blew it all. In God’s name, Why???

I think I can answer that question in one word: COCAINE. His now ex-wife explained to me that during high school, he was popular, made good grades, and played sports. It was generally felt that he had a good future. She told me that he did not use drugs then, and only started using drugs after he returned home from Iraq. Did he use drugs in Iraq? Did he get hooked on drugs while serving our country in a place on the other side of the world where no one could see him or help him? She did not know. But she did know that as soon as he returned, he found a group of "friends" who loved cocaine and would do just about anything to get the next hit or snort or injection.

I know that cocaine has been called the "shame of Iraq" and that there have been court martials of soldiers who were caught selling weapons for cocaine. The only logical explanation for my young client is that he started cocaine in Iraq, and continued when he came home to the United States. Obviously, in either location, cocaine is easy to get—all it takes is money.

Hence, my client’s charge of murder in exchange for payment of money, which he used to buy more cocaine.

Going a little further than my client’s situation, I know that drugs in general are a major problem in almost every area of the United States. How can there be so many young people in prison for using drugs, or for committing a crime in order to get more drugs? Do these young people not have any family or friends who can see what is going on and help them stop ruining their lives? Do we, as parents, just sit back and assume "nothing will happen to my child"—thinking that it is just a phase and he or she will grow out of it? Have we become parental zombies who ignore all the signs because we are so busy with ourselves? And, best yet, how do we fix this problem?

I believe that our society has deteriorated to the point that we risk losing our future. I recall in my childhood a time when my family did not have to lock a door, or worry about me when I met my friends at the movies, or even think about crime in our neighborhoods. During that time in the United States, "crime" may have been high-school boys vandalizing a building. The police in these towns did not have much to do on a daily basis. But that was also a time when parents sat down at the dinner table at the end of the day with the entire family. They ate together; they discussed what was going on in everyone’s lives; they talked about their problems; they talked about church, school, and gossiped maybe about their neighbors. But they did it together as a unit, a family. That time is gone. We do not do that anymore. Children play video games about killing cops, committing robberies or other crimes and getting away with it; they watch violent movies on television—all under the same roof as the parents, who do nothing.

Now please—no angry comments about "my kid did all these things and he is now president of his own company" . . . or some such thing. I am not saying that every child who is allowed to grow up like that will turn out to be a mass murderer or a serial killer. I am saying that the habits of our lives today engender an attitude that family doesn’t matter and no one really cares what we do. It is not the best situation for a child.

Back to my client. We are sitting in this courtroom; I see him glance at me and smile. I know he feels that he is going to walk out of the courtroom a free man. I feel differently. I know how juries are and how they will convict someone whom they even remotely feel may be guilty. And, frankly, I gave a great closing argument—(second only to our famous Kelly Siegler’s closings). But even as I sat down, feeling a little smug about what I had done, I knew that it was not enough. I felt it; I sensed it. And I was right. The jury returned a guilty verdict, and my young client was sentenced to spend the rest of his natural life in a prison cell, where the highlight of his day will be feeding time at the zoo.

So sad.

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Quamar and A Killer Boy

by Pat Brown

I just came back from an evening at an Indian film festival where I saw an amazing documentary about a little girl named Quamar who lives in Hyderabad. Just ten-years-old, Quamar spends her day making bangles, affixing little hot stones onto the jewelry in intricate designs. She has calloused thumbs, burns on her legs, and the most delightful smile in the world. She cleans the house, cooks the food, and earns a pittance of money for her family with the bangle work; she gets beatings from her father and mother if she slacks off. Quamar wishes she could go to school but accepts that she cannot. In spite of all her difficulties, she is cheerful and loving. I would adopt this child in a heartbeat if she were an orphan.

Compare this girl with the eight-year-old boy in Arizona who confessed to methodically and coldbloodedly killing his father and a roomer with a rifle.

The boy attended school, enjoyed sports, went hunting with his dad, and played video games incessantly. No doubt he had lots of free time, games, toys, and food and little responsibility to handle. So why does an impoverished, deprived, and overworked little girl become a kind and loving human being while a boy with relative comfort turns into a vicious killer? What is it that makes this boy and the twenty-one other American children between five eight years who committed homicides (from 1994-2004) different from Quamar?

Some experts believe that children kill because of physical or sexual abuse. I can buy that possibility but then why is Quamar still a lovely child? She admits to being abused, both physically and emotionally. But I am pretty sure she is not going to get up tomorrow morning and hack her parents to death.

Four variables come to mind when I am searching for differences in these two children: disaffection, narcissism, responsibility, and violent inputs. The first three can be narrowed down to one: caring about others. Many parents allow children to become very selfish and self-centered, letting them think about no one but themselves. They are catered to and are not given any true responsibility for others; they aren't expected to care for younger brothers and sisters, help their parents with household tasks or earning a money, and they aren't asked to do anything for grandparents or neighbors either. They grow up narcissistic, and, oddly, alone.

It is true that many child killers come from broken homes and dysfunctional families, but I believe the disaffection comes not so much from parental discord or the child's separation from either father or mother, but from the poor parenting that causes the child to disconnect emotionally from everyone else. He ends up living in a secluded world where others really do not matter. "Others" become tools (for what the child wants) or burdens (when they prevent a child from getting what he wants).

Quamar clearly does not view her family as either tools or burdens. She feels she is part of the family and they are part of her. Everyone is in the struggle together, even if some suffer more than others. Quamar knows she is needed and she worries about her parents and her siblings. She works to make sure they eat.

The Arizona boy, on the other hand, probably couldn't care less about anyone else. Perhaps his dad was general okay and useful, but the day that the boy shot him (and the boarder), dad must have gotten in his way - perhaps refusing to let him trick-or-treat (as some have suggested was the motive for the shooting) - and that was unacceptable to the son. Maybe if the boy hadn't played so many violent video games and been taught to shoot prairie dogs for fun, the idea of gunning down irritating adults might not have crossed his mind; but, unfortunately, the child did have the concept of killing implanted in his head and he acted out this violent ideation.

So my advice to parents is this: Don't give your kids weapons and unlimited violent video time if you haven't worked hard to make your child one who feels responsible for the health and welfare of others. Otherwise, they just might put their gun skills to good use . . . on you.

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