Commute Robert Wideman’s life sentence
Pennsylvania was founded by Quakers, members of a peaceful, mostly nonviolent, nonjudgmental religious sect that took the integration of religious and civic life seriously.
The Quakers also established the first penitentiaries in America. They weren’t oblivious to the fallenness of man, so they built Walnut Street Jail in Philadelphia in 1790 as a place of both punishment and rehabilitation.
The difference between a Quaker prison in Pennsylvania and a king’s dungeon in Europe was that the Quakers saw exile from society as a time of penitence, moral reflection and selfimprovement. The criminal in his isolated cell was supposed to ruminate on his (or her) sins.
Of course, there was no expectation that convict would consider imprisonment as an opportunity to work toward a spiritual awakening. But neither was there the expectation that criminals would be allowed to rot for decades in dark cells at the whim of prosecutors, judges and wardens.
Once upon a time in Pennsylvania, there was a communitywide belief in the inherent dignity of all human beings, even those convicted of murder and other high crimes against society.
While there were many barbaric things about the Quaker model (they were really big on the use of extended solitary confinement, for instance), they believed that most crimes that resulted in a person’s removal from society could eventually be atoned for on Earth. Only God had the dreary duty and obligation of torturing a
sinner for eternity.
These days, Gov. Tom Wolf has an opportunity to model a more reformist paradigm of criminal justice in a state with a wellearned reputation for brutal, retributive justice.
The governor must decide whether to commute the sentence of Robert Wideman, now serving a life sentence for the 1975 killing of Nicola “Nicky” Morena at the victim’s used-car lot on Saw Mill Run Boulevard.
Robbie Wideman didn’t pull the trigger, but he masterminded the plot to rob Nicky Morena and his two cousins of cash they were expected to be carrying that night to buy stolen property.
When Wideman, Michael Dukes and Cecil Rice pulled up on the lot with a truck that was supposed to be full of stolen goods, it did not contain the TVs the victim had expected. It was empty.
That double-cross escalated when Morena attempted to flee and Dukes shot him in the back. Meanwhile, Wideman scampered to grab the cash Morena threw to the ground before it was blown away by the November wind.
Dukes and Wideman were convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to life without parole while Rice was convicted of third degree murder and served a 10-to-20 year sentence. Wideman, now 68, has been in prison for seven years shy of half a century. He was 24 when he destroyed his life.
During his time in prison, Wideman got clean, earned a technical engineering degree, taught algebra and trigonometry, became a model prisoner and mentored generations of inmates.
He was always penitent in his appearances before the State Board of Pardons and accepted responsibility for his actions. Also while in prison, Wideman heard that his mother had died and that his son had been murdered.
Despite lobbying by his brother, the acclaimed novelist John Edgar Wideman, and the tireless work of Philly-based attorney Mark D. Schwartz, who successfully argued that evidence withheld from the defense about the botched operation that contributed to Morena’s death was grounds for a new trial, Pennsylvania remained implacable in its determination to hold on to Robbie Wideman until he draws his last breath.
In 1998, Mr. Schwartz convinced Allegheny County Pleas Judge James R. McGregor to order a new trial and release Wideman on bail, but at the last possible minute, Allegheny County District Attorney Stephen A. Zappala managed to get an injunction against his release on bond.
Mr. Zappala continues to be the prime spoiler in Robbie Wideman’s case by opposing the unanimous recommendation of the five-member State Board of Pardons — including Attorney General Josh Shapiro — to free him after 43 long years. He doesn’t want Mr. Wolf to commute Wideman’s sentence and cause the Morena family even a second of grief while Nicky Morena remains dead and buried.
For Mr. Zappala, the chief law enforcement officer of Allegheny County, prison should be about perpetual retribution, even if it means becoming the closest thing to hell on Earth the criminal justice system can approximate. Mr. Zappala belongs to a school of thought that rejects the idea of restorative justice.
There shouldn’t be any room, as far as he’s concerned, for dispassionate judges or justice when it comes to murder cases. As long as a family member of a murder victim is alive, that person should have an automatic veto over the wishes of the state’s pardon board.
Of course, such a view is deeply at odds with current trends in criminal justice reform. It is out of step with what’s going on in Philadelphia and other cities in this state that have elected reformist mayors and district attorneys. As a philosophy of law, it is deeply retrograde, cynical and immoral. Even by Old Testament standards, Robbie Wideman, repentant and reformed, has suffered long enough in the belly of the beast, but Mr. Zappala thinks otherwise.
Wideman’s fate now is in the hands of Mr. Wolf, a reasonable and compassionate man who actually believes in the concept of redemption. We hope he can ignore the dark mutterings of Allegheny County’s district attorney and set Robbie Wideman free.