John Battaglia: Death Penalty
From flood of mail on
Battaglia column, a moving message hits home
05/07/2002 By JACQUIELYNN FLOYD
The Dallas Morning News
My electronic mailbox was stuffed-to-bursting with messages by the time I got
to work Monday. I had supposed that maybe, after a weekend passed, strong
feelings about the jury's decision last week to sentence John Battaglia to
death for the murders of his daughters and my decision to write about it
would have tempered a little.
But judging from my mail, this case hits a lot of different buttons. I heard
from death-penalty opponents, faithful readers, trial watchers, mental-health
advocates, jurors, veterans of ugly divorces, the defendant's sister,
supporters of capital punishment, the defense lawyer's sister, a scattering
of wackos and a couple of constant detractors who pretty much bawl me out
regardless what I write.
Most writers supported the jury's decision that Mr. Battaglia should be
executed for shooting the two little girls last year while their mother, his
ex-wife, could hear the screams and shots over the telephone.
A few, however, quarreled with my conclusion that, just as the jury
maintained, Mr. Battaglia deserves the worst punishment the law allows, while
Andrea Yates, just as the jury in her case maintained, does not.
"Two cases of child killing: One by a woman and one by a man," said one
correspondent, who accurately highlighted other similarities between the
cases of Mr. Battaglia and of Mrs. Yates, the Houston woman who was sentenced
to life in prison for drowning her five children. "The cases are treated
differently because of the differences in sex."
I honestly didn't, and still don't, think that's the case. Isn't Darlie
Routier on death row? I genuinely believe attorneys demonstrated that Mrs.
Yates' long, sad history of severe mental illness contributed to her crime
and, based on the testimony, that Mr. Battaglia just wasn't mentally
disturbed to the extent that Mrs. Yates was.
But one letter in that vein caught me up short. A lawyer and former Dallas
prosecutor brought up a case so forgotten that I had to forage in our library
to recall the details.
Lisa Marie Smith, a second-grade teacher, strangled her two little boys a few
days before Christmas 1999. Like Mr. Battaglia, she was relentlessly angry at
an ex-spouse. Like Mr. Battaglia, she professed to love her children. Like
Mr. Battaglia, she later claimed that mental illness drove her to the
murders.
In fact, Ms. Smith's case has a great deal more in common with Mr.
Battaglia's case than did Mrs. Yates'. My correspondent challenged me to find
out what happened in Ms. Smith's case, and I thought it odd that I couldn't
seem to recall the outcome of such a sad and terrible story.
The outcome was that there was no trial, that Ms. Smith entered a guilty plea
to capital murder and accepted a life sentence in exchange for escaping the
death penalty. Her former husband, the two boys' father, agreed to the plea
bargain to avoid an agonizing trial, even though he told Dallas Morning News
reporter Mark Wrolstad that "he felt strongly she should die."
I can't predict what a jury would have done in Ms. Smith's case, whether a
panel might have gone easier on her solely because she was a woman. Different
juries might have acted differently.
But I still believe strongly that most juries, especially weighing so grave a
crime, take their legal and ethical responsibilities seriously.
"It was the hardest thing I have ever done," said one writer, who reported
being a juror in Mr. Battaglia's case but who did not give a name. "It's easy
to discuss the case. It's much harder to be one of the 12 people actually
making the decision."
I don't doubt it. I took issue, though, with several angry writers who
believe I, like the jury, unfairly dismissed Mr. Battaglia's defense that his
bipolar disorder was the catalyst for the killings.
"You show your utter ignorance in your ... harsh and judgmental writing about
Mr. Battaglia," said one message. "The justice system failed."
There were a lot like that, some angry and insulting, some just painful to
read.
And then there was a gentleman who signed his name, but that I'll omit to
respect his privacy.
"I have bipolar affective disorder," he wrote. For 20 years, he said, he has
been counseled and medicated, has fought to maintain his emotional balance.
He has been hospitalized repeatedly while doctors try to find new drug
combinations to control his illness.
Yet he runs a successful business with his family and has an enduring
marriage with two children. His life, because of his health problem, is
harder than mine, harder than most people's. He has to work a lot harder just
to cope.
"Murderers ... too often wind up in the spotlight crying B.A.D.," he wrote,
abbreviating his illness to its acronymic initials. "For those of us truly
affected by this disease, this makes a mockery of our efforts.
"Anyway," he closed, "your thoughts on mental illness vs. evil were well
appreciated by me."
I'm grateful, almost to tears, to the man who took the time to write this
message.
I don't know him. I wouldn't recognize him if we met.
But I don't ever expect to see him in court.
Click here to see the column.
