Mixed feelings on Okafor death penalty.
Orange County Circuit Judge John Kest spent many weeks deciding — and two hours in court explaining why — Bessman Okafor will die for the murder of Alex Zaldivar.
Alex and two friends, Brienna Campos and Remington Campos, were shot because they were witnesses in a pending robbery case against Okafor and others. Okafor’s intent was to eliminate them as witnesses, but Brienna and Remington survived.
I have wrestled with how to reconcile this murder case and death penalty with my long-held beliefs: I am opposed to the death penalty — for a number of reasons.
Primarily, I just don’t think it works. The idea that the death penalty is a deterrent to crime has always been questionable, as there is little support for the contention that someone would decide not to commit a death-penalty-eligible offense because of the threat of the penalty. It simply defies logic when taken in context.
Only a very few first-degree murder cases (the only cases that are death-penalty eligible in Florida) are actual premeditated murder cases. That is where you decide to commit a murder and then carry it out. All of the other death-penalty-eligible cases are prosecuted under the “felony murder” theory. That allows for a conviction for first-degree murder if you are committing a certain felony, such as burglary or robbery, and a death occurs. The intent to kill is irrelevant.
So for the overwhelming majority of death-penalty-eligible cases, the intent to commit a death is not only unnecessary, but normally the death is incidental. If somebody is not affirmatively intending to cause a death, then having the death penalty to deter causing a death simply doesn’t make sense.
The death penalty is also extraordinarily expensive. While statistics are all over the board — and can be reinterpreted to prove almost anything — we know in Florida that the death-penalty process costs about $51 million a year. When we account for the reality that only 44 executions have occurred in Florida since 1976, that puts it at about $24 million per execution. A large part of that is required because of the extraordinary appellate remedies that must be in place in order to protect the process and afford the death-sentenced inmate every appellate remedy. Realizing the number of exonerations both statewide (Florida has exonerated 26 people, the highest in the nation) and nationwide (156 since 1973), those appellate remedies cannot be short-cut.
We cannot forget, as part of this analysis, that in Florida, there is no chance for parole: If you get a life sentence, you die in prison.
Another reason for my opposition is that I simply don’t want to be part of a society that voluntarily kills another. We are often judged by how we treat the worst of those among us, and we should never voluntarily kill, unless we are protecting our nation in time of war.
With that as a backdrop, we look at the Bessman Okafor matter. Okafor was to stand trial for a robbery case and decided to eliminate witnesses who would have testified against him in that case. He was tried before a jury on that premeditated murder charge and convicted. The jury recommended 11 to 1 that he be sentenced to death, and he was most recently sentenced to death by Judge John Marshall Kest.
My entire professional life has been focused on maintaining the sanctity of the criminal justice system and affording those who are subject to its authority all of the rights guaranteed by the system, as outlined in our Constitution and the Bill of Rights. But with all the safeguards, all of its history and all of its strength, it carries with it certain frailties. If someone is willing to bastardize the process by lying under oath or abusing the process, then the system can fail, even with the best safeguards.
Unfortunately, I have seen witnesses testify that I know are lying. Such an infection in our system can bring it to its knees. In the Okafor case, when we have someone who is willing to destroy one of the basic tenets of the system by eliminating witnesses, it can cause the system to fall in upon itself.
Particularly in these days of self-reflection mandated by the recent publicity of negative interactions between police and minorities, that act could not only defeat justice in the individual case, but can destroy faith in a system that demands the trust and respect of its citizenry to survive.
In his sentencing order, Kest stated, “There can be no greater disruption or hindrance of the lawful exercise of a governmental function [trials by jury] than the intimidation of and/or the attempt to eliminate a witness’ ability to testify.” I can offer no argument to that sentiment.
It was Kest’s first death penalty. Strangely, and as opposed to my core beliefs, had I been in his position, I think it also would have been mine.