Reputations
How they’re made, unmade
IT CAN’T be said with accuracy that Asa Hutchinson is getting a reputation. The man already has one, thank you. He’s earned it after years in public service, at many levels. Who can remember (who can forget?) the standoff with the crazies in 1985 when the young U.S. Attorney in Arkansas pulled a flak jacket over his head and torso and walked into the lion’s den to talk down the white supremacists? The outfit once known as The Covenant, The Sword and The Arm of the Lord turned out to be none of those things. But instead of an earlier version on the Branch Davidians at Waco, Asa Hutchinson simply led the crazies to jail.
Now that he’s governor of this state, he’s also getting a reputation for creating jobs, cutting taxes, and leading all things Republican. Well, almost. He has sufficient respect for the state’s reputation as well, which may be one reason why he opposed the so-called Bathroom Bill in last month’s legislative session. When it comes to hounding the transgender community and scaring businesses away, North Carolina has given Arkansas an example. An example to beware. Even politicians are educable.
If you read the news these days, you’ll see that Arkansas’ reputation is under fire again. From coast to coast, from country to country, folks are talking about the executions set to begin next week.
The state of Arkansas has scheduled to kill seven convicted murderers starting Monday night. That wouldn’t be news, necessarily, this being the part of the United States of America they call The South. But we’re going to start doing it two-at-a-time. Yes, we—as in We The People. The state’s motto is Regnat populus, the people rule, and the people will rule with no more force and finality than when these men are executed in our name.
The reason we are going to do this, according to state officials, is because the drugs used to put them to death will expire this time next month. It’s the opposite of the military’s old hurry-upand-wait routine. The state waited for years for all the courts to rule, and the drugs to be bought, and the i’s dotted. Call it wait-and-hurry-up. In the very least, it’s unseemly. Or maybe a better adjective is Texan. This reasoning by our betters surpasseth all understanding, which may be the only thing it has in common with the peace of God.
We wouldn’t know what to tell the families of those people these men murdered all those years ago. And we wouldn’t dare try. We’re not about to point them to studies or graphics or academic research. Who would attempt such a thing? Doubtless there is little to assuage their grief. Even after all this time has passed.
Today we’re reminded of a debate of some note in 1988 when a candidate for public office, one Michael Dukakis, was asked about his opposition to the death penalty. A journalist named Bernard Shaw asked him how he’d feel about the death penalty if his wife were murdered. Governor Dukakis’ answer should have been: “I’d try to get myself thrown in jail to take care of the man with my bare hands. But that’s not the way we make laws in the United States. We don’t turn over the perp to the victim’s family. We make laws after consideration, debate, thought, dare I say, prayer.”
Instead Michael Dukakis gave a thoroughly forgettable legal answer with all the emotion of a cue card. And might have lost the election that night. Somebody once asked a Republican president named Lincoln why he didn’t sign more execution orders his commanders sent to him. His generals demanded military discipline and wanted to hang cowards or those who fell asleep on night watch. But to execute them? The president wanted to know what good that’d do them.
None of these questions are easy. But they are all a matter of life and death. Which brings us to Jack Jones Jr.
MORE than 20 years ago, Jack Jones Jr. raped and killed a woman and beat her 11-yearold daughter, then left her for dead, too. When execution dates were set earlier this year, he didn’t even appeal to the Board of Parole. He didn’t bother to make the trip to a clemency hearing. Instead, he sent a handwritten letter with his attorney saying he’d decline clemency if offered.
“There’s no way in hell I would spend another day or 20 years in this rat hole,” the man wrote.
Then maybe that’s the best punishment for him. Why allow him to have his way, and leave behind his demons, his legacy, his, yes, reputation? Lock him up and let’s not hear of him again. Let him stew without staining ourselves. After all, we have our souls to think about, too.
The countdown to Monday night is already underway. We the People are scheduled to execute seven men for the worst reason: Because of an expiration date on a bottle. Let’s not do this. Not this way. The governor can save Arkansas’ reputation. Or, if he balks, there’s a U.S. District judge named Kristine Baker who could put a stop to this unusual punishment. Can’t we agree that seven executions in 10 days in this state is unusual?
Mercy is justice, too. As the countdown continues, we hope more people in important posts realize that. Before the deed is done. In the name of We the People.