Maybe Tucker's Death Will Prompt Our Shame
David Theis
I just came back from a long year in Saudi Arabia. Time passed
slowly for us Westerners in the relative emptiness of life
there. I and my colleagues whiled away the hours the only way
we could -- gossiping about each other and, even more
fervently, running down our host country. I joined in both
activities, shaking my head at the sight of the women veiled
in black, riding in the back seats of the cars they weren't
allowed to drive. And then there were the highly amplified
3:45 a.m. calls to prayer, which nearly drove me to despair.
But about the most spectacular Saudi peculiarity -- their
method of capital punishment -- I had little to say. I am from
Texas, after all, where in 1997 we celebrated The Year of the
Needle.
Not long after I arrived in Al Khobar, there was a public
beheading which one of my fellow workers happened to witness.
He was called upon to describe the scene many times, sometimes
by me. So after a while, I felt I'd seen it with my own eyes:
the hooded man (a Saudi) being led out onto the stage in the
central area of the city, the removal of the hood to reveal
his dull, no doubt drugged eyes, the nearly casual flash of
the executioner's sword and the severing of head from body.
Mercifully, there was no gusher of blood -- the drugs must
have done their job in slowing his heart -- but still a dozen
or so people in the crowd of maybe 200 fainted.
Perhaps they were relatives of the little boy the dead man had
apparently sexually abused and murdered. (At least he wasn't
being executed for the crime of practicing "black magic," as
two people were last year.)
I didn't hear of any other beheadings, or "toppings," in
Khobar/Dhahran the rest of the year, but they were much in the
air. A pair of British nurses was charged with the murder of
an Australian colleague, and in the expatriate community there
was speculation about whether the Englishwomen would be
executed. The smart money said no, that the Saudis hadn't
executed any Westerner in years.
And there was no way that the Saudis would present the world
with the spectacle of Western women being led to the chopping
block. That just wasn't going to happen. And the smart money
was right. Negotiating with the dead woman's brother, and
obtaining his agreement to forgo the death penalty, the Saudis
spared themselves the condemnation of the West.
Meanwhile, here in the wild wild West, we Texans are about to
boldly go where the Saudis wouldn't. The wheels of death -- I
won't call them justice -- are turning for Karla Faye Tucker,
and I suppose they'll crush her right on schedule.
Tucker's execution is going to make us look bad. Tucker is an
attractive, apparently rehabilitated, apparently well-loved
woman. It's hard to say how exactly she poses an ongoing
threat to society. Killing her in cold blood just looks like
murder. The Europeans we want so badly to trade with, and
whose cultural approval we so crave, will be shaking their
heads in dismay once again, just as when I was vacationing in
Spain and read in the papers there about our barbarous
incarceration of the tragic Jose Aldape Guerra.
At least we didn't kill Aldape Guerra, who was almost
certainly innocent of the charges against him. We will kill
Tucker, who is guilty, of course, of murder.
But maybe some good will come of Tucker's death. Maybe killing
a woman, especially this woman, will make us feel the shame
the rest of the civilized world feels for us when we execute.
Maybe we'll think again about the killing machine that we've
built and whose workings our lawmakers and justices have
recently greased.
The Saudi system looks barbaric even to us Texans, but they at
least hold out the possibility of mercy. The senior man in a
family who has lost a member to murder can stay the
executioner's hand. I read about a near-execution in the
United Arab Emirates that ended only when the executioner
raised his sword. Only at that moment did the father who had
lost his son call out, "Allahu ahkbar" (God is great), and the
killer was spared.
I'm no fan of the Saudi justice system, but at least inside it
you can detect the workings and will of a human being. Not so
with our assembly line of cold-blooded death, which carries a
whiff of the Nazi in its highly mechanical,
we-have-to-let-the-system-work nature. (And in the way the
deaths are now so tidy and quiet. According to a recent
National Public Radio essay, you can walk past the
near-downtown Huntsville death chamber at the moment of
execution -- 6 p.m. -- and not even know someone is being
killed a stone's throw away).
Even pro-death-penalty conservatives such as Pat Robertson now
wonder what we are about here.
I hope that Karla Faye Tucker will somehow be spared. That by
some miracle, our needle will not be able to penetrate her
flesh. Failing that, I hope her utterly pointless death
troubles our sleep (as it did mine tonight); that it moves us
to hand our death needle in the museum beside Old Sparky,
Texas' old electric chair.
Except in the rarest of cases, such as that of Timothy
McVeigh, whom I see as having committed an act of war against
our country, I don't want the state killing in my name. I
personally want out of the death business as practiced here in
Texas -- and especially in Harris County. It brings nationwide
and worldwide shame upon us.