Bryan Stevenson is unwavering in that vision and in lifting his voice of great moral clarity at the forefront of the struggle. Every new hard-earned and overdue victory should remind us all that we must keep moving towards greater justice for all.
A 2016 execution date for a murder that happened in 1979. I mean, what's the point? None of the reasons we punish hold true here.
The record number of exonerations of innocent prisoners last year shows that something is very wrong with our judicial system. If the saying "the proof is in the numbers" is true, then why is this system moving at a snail's pace to combat the causes of wrongful convictions?
If there is a chance that Richard Glossip is innocent, then why not give his attorneys a little more time to prove it? What possible societal benefit could ever occur from the state execution of an innocent man?
As we struggle to delineate the upper limits of the United States justice system, ideas of human rights and financial concerns render the situation much more complex than ancient forms of punishment and torture. The trial and conviction of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev brings this conflict to the forefront.
The rifleman mustering for a firing squad is honest - an icon of retribution without pretense. If we can own his violent act on our behalf, capital punishment suits us. But clinical killing is euphemism - a cowardly way for us to deceive ourselves.
I may not be a Muslim, but I know that calls for murder of civilians are not Islamic. For more than 10 years I lived and worked as a reporter in a dozen Islamic countries... Almost everywhere I found a kind and generous welcome.
Since 2000, Green has painted 600 plates depicting the last meals of death row inmates, "The Last Supper." In cobalt-blue mineral paint, she notes on each plate the state and date of the execution alongside the meal request -- but no name, no crime.
Every tweet, interview, Facebook post and letter speaks to Kelly's willingness to not only pursue peace but to minister to other inmates, sharing hope and light from a place of internal resilience.
In late January of last year, the U.S. Department of Justice announced that it would be seeking the Death Penalty in the case against Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. Many were outraged.
In his last few hours in the Capitol Building, Governor Kitzhaber has the opportunity to undertake perhaps the most courageous act of his career, one that would create his most enduring legacy -- the Governor can commute the death sentences of the 34 men and one woman on Oregon's death row.
While a majority of states have abandoned the death penalty altogether, either in law or in practice, the handful of states that continue to execute prisoners do so despite a number of troubling issues relating to its implementation.
The Ferguson grand jury decision not to criminally prosecute a police officer in the shooting of an unarmed young black man has reached the Geneva HQ of the UN Office of Human Rights Chief Prince Zeid, but the consequences will be felt globally and probably with indefinite impact.
As long as we have the death penalty, we run the risk that the State will take the life of the wrong person. Little offends democracy more than the State killing -- or even almost killing -- an innocent person.
Our adversarial legal process encourages an unenlightened and dispiriting dueling of expert witnesses. In addition, the death penalty has become an anomaly and an embarrassment.
Apart from media coverage about wrongful convictions -- and the multi-million dollar settlements some have won -- little is known about how exonerated prisoners struggle to reenter society and rebuild the lives they lost.