A Selfish Act of Forgiveness

“Jim, are you there?” the voice on the other line asked. “I said it’s over… The governor turned us down. He’s set to die Tuesday night at midnight.”

Eyes fixed on a point far beyond the wall of his office, Jim Turner sat silently ignoring the voice on the other end of the line. Finally, he answered “I heard you. It’s over.”

“Jim, we did everything we could. They said there just wasn’t enough…not for a stay.”

Jim quietly put down the receiver without the formality of a goodbye. He leaned back in his desk chair, his fingers laced together behind his head. For more than 20 minutes he sat motionless, staring at the scribble-filled yellow pad in his lap, pondering the conversation he now had to have with Julian Thomas Wilson, age 22, convicted of murder. He did not know if Julian would cry, but he was certain that he would not. He never allowed himself that luxury, at least not in front of the client. Nor on the drive home, or when he made it home to Michelle. He always saved it for when he was alone in the shower, where he tried in vain to wash away his inadequacy and the dirty feelings that always followed him home from death row. The shower he always had to have before he could bear the thought of hugging his two boys.

He gathered his papers and shoved them into his well-traveled leather brief case.As he pulled out of the parking lot and worked toward the freeway, the rain picked up eventually forcing him to turn on the wipers. He turned off the radio; only silence seemed appropriate for the drive he was making.Besides, he had plenty to occupy his mind. “Was it the way we structured the appeal?” he wondered. “Maybe I should have tried to make more of Julian’s young age, or his clean record? Stays aren’t always won on facts alone” he reminded himself. Eventually his thoughts took him to the place he hated even more than death row itself; he knew he had to tell Julian he was going to die on Tuesday, November 5th.

Ever since the initial charges, Julian had sworn his innocence, sworn that he had been elsewhere at the time of the murder, but a long solitary walk on a moonless night didn’t make for much of an alibi. Lord knows Julian definitely had a motive and the defense was not able to provide anything close to an alternative theory of the crime. In the end, the jury was not swayed, returning a guilty verdict in less than two hours. Jim had taken on the appeal more because of his opposition to the death penalty in general than because of any certainty he had about Julian’s innocence. The only thing he was certain of was that the victim’s family would not feel any better after Julian was put to death.

As usual, the drive to the prison seemed to take much less time than the drive home. The droplets of rain clinging to the razor-wire-topped fence of the prison glistened under the security lights as he approached the main entrance. The guards at the gate had long ago stopped asking for Jim’s ID and although they sometimes did look in the backseat or ask him to open the trunk of his car, they did not tonight. Perhaps they were ending a shift or wanting to retreat from the rain to the warmth of the guard shack; whatever their reasons they were in a very expeditious mood tonight and Jim hated them for it. So it was that at 8:43 PM, he was buzzed into death row where he would have what might be his last conversation with Julian. He sat in the small gray room next to Julian’s cell, and waited while Fr. Bergen held his nightly session with Julian; a session intended to make sure that the condemned man had asked for forgiveness for all his transgressions, whether or not they included murder. Fr. Bergen was very thorough that way.

According to the large electric clock on the wall it was 9:03 P.M. when he heard Fr. Bergen call for the guard and utter “Peace be with you, my son”.As the guard opened the door to the waiting room Fr. Bergen’s face fell as soon as he saw Jim. “Good evening Mr. Turner”, he greeted. “I assume this means you have news?”

Knowing better than to try to lie to Fr. Bergen, Jim answered simply “Yes”, but then quickly added “How’s he doing?”

“He’s scared, mostly. Scared by the uncertainty I suspect”. The conversation continued silently as each man nodded, shrugged and otherwise acknowledged awkwardly that he could only imagine what was going through Julian’s mind.

“I’d better get in there then”, Jim said resolutely.

“How are you doing, Jim?” Fr. Bergen asked.

By now, Jim knew that he had failed to keep his news from Fr. Bergen. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been serving these men for over 27 years. I’ve watched 41 of them die. I’ve seen dozens of attorneys come through these doors and deliver the news I think you’re about to give Julian. And I’ve counseled hundreds of inmates, and helped most of them find comfort, maybe even peace in their final hours. And for most, I have been convinced that God cared about them and that they may have gone to a better place. But I always have concern for the attorneys, that’s all. I always want them to have the same chance at peace that I try to give the inmates.”

Jim could only stare at the floor in silence. Eventually he looked up at Fr. Bergen. “Thank you for your concern. I really appreciate that, but this isn’t about… I have to get in to talk to Julian”, he said. I need to tell him…And I need to tell him how sorry I am.”

Putting a hand out to hold Jim’s arm, Fr. Bergen continued “Julian is thinking about forgiveness right now. Are you?”

“Whoa Father, I respect what you do for the inmates, but you’re way out of line if you’re accusing me of letting Julian down; our team did everything we could have for him. We prepared the best possible case for the appeal and for the request for the stay.I have nothing to ask God to forgive!”Brushing Fr. Bergen’s had aside, Jim pushed on past him. “Guard!I need to speak with my client!”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you ask God for forgiveness; but you that you need to forgive yourself” Fr. Bergen replied and then continued down the hall bidding the guard goodnight.

Jim stopped just before leaving the waiting room, paused and said to the guard, “I need to speak with my client.” As the guard unlocked Julian’s door, Jim asked “How are you doing Julian?You’re probably surprised to see me, but let’s sit down; I have heard from the Governor”.

********************

It was past 12:30 A.M. by the time Jim’s car rolled into the driveway of his home.Michelle had waited up for him. Preempting her questions, he told her the news about Julian, that he had already been to death row, and that he had spent two hours with him.

“I’m so sorry Jim,” Michelle offered. “I know how hard you worked for him.”

Michelle hugged Jim tightly and then kissed him goodnight on the cheek. As she climbed the steps to the bedroom she turned back and said “There are fresh towels for you in the bathroom.”

Jim watched her as she disappeared through the bedroom door. After putting his briefcase in the den, he turned out the lights and headed up the stairs. He closed the bathroom door so as not to disturb Michelle or the boys.After looking at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, he brushed his teeth and turned out the light, ignoring the neatly folded pile of towels next to the sink. Each of his sons returned his “I love you” and rolled over to continue their slumber after he kissed them goodnight. Before Michelle could ask, he slid into bed next to her and explained “I’ll shower in the morning”.