What does the word �Texas� inspire in you?  Images of the flag, the sun, the farms, the people, the �King of the Hill� cartoon?  Or, if you�re like me, images of electric chairs?  Fat, white men occupying all of the governmental positions?  Statistics?
       The death statistics.  Horrifying � thus memorable.  Texas has been responsible for 21 of the 42 deaths in the U.S.
this year alone.  That�s more than any other state.  Disgusting?  Yes.  Shocking?  Shouldn�t be.  It has become a sort of general knowledge that Texas is the state that (as far as developing a liberal government) is farthest behind the times.  Racism, religious fanaticism, a ridiculously Republican government, and the unignorable rates of court-allowed murders have been plagues to our nation�s �outsider� state.
       But why Texas?  They have a history of it, yes.  But the people of the state remain surprisingly liberal and anti-death penalty.  These dedicated and numerous groups of individuals are forced to work overtime to try to make a difference in their insular state.  But are their rallies, protests, and campaigns going completely unnoticed?
       Try purposely ignored.
       Let me regale you with a tale from my past � two months past, to be exact.  It was a warm, Tuesday morning.  I was preparing to participate, ever so enthusiastically, in my yearly finals, the first of which being Earth Science.  Goody.  After arriving begrudgingly at my feared destination, I was curiously confronted with a letter, apparently from the judicial board of appeals of the state of Maryland.  As an active member of Amnesty International (AI), I am not unaccustomed to receiving responses from states within the U.S. to letters I had previously written concerning a specific human rights violation case� though the occurrences of these replies is all too rare.
       Perplexed, I opened the letter immediately.  It was disclosed within that as a result of the immense numbers of letters opposing a certain individual�s death sentence, the governor of Maryland decided to stay the sentence, until investigations, conducted by the University of Maryland, on the possibility of racist motivations in assigning death penalties to perpetrators of the state was completed and fully analyzed.
       The letter was gracious, comforting, and fully exhilarating to me, an AI member for one year, to know that my action had helped stay an execution.  For the rest of the morning, I went around telling people that I had saved a man�s life.  I was so proud and so overjoyed � doing poorly on a high school exam that I thoroughly loathed anyway didn�t seem like such a big deal after all.
       Later that same day, I arrived (again, uncontrollably thrilled) at my Algebra II final exam.  Midway through the treacherous thing, I was handed a second letter � this one from the state of Texas!  My heart skipped a beat.  If there�s one thing I�ve noticed as a member of Amnesty International, it�s the disproportionate numbers of appeals that we end up sending to our infamous state of Texas, in response to their continuing habit of assigning the death penalty to minorities.  Assuming I had received a reply, not unlike the one I�d received from Maryland, made me near ecstatic!
        I was only setting myself up for the ultimate disappointment.  Upon opening the envelope, I discovered in it� my own letter.  Whathefuck?  It was a letter I�d written to the Texas Board of Appeals the week prior, addressed back to myself, with one minor alteration: the name of the subject on death row highlighted, and a crude sticker stuck to the top, reading, in all capital letters, �PLEASE PROVIDE FULL NAME AND TDCJ NUMBER FOR THIS INMATE.�
        Wow, Texas.  Big score on my charts for you.  Now I�ve totally lost all faith in any rumored remorse in your swollen, icy heart.  And I bet that possibly innocent fellow is dead now.  Nice.
       Okay, so one more life lost due to technicalities.  (In most situations, that would be) understandable.  However, this is not an isolated incident of Texas putting to death a man of a Hispanic or African-American background, even when the question of the man�s innocence or remorse over his past deed had become evident.
       I present to you the case of Napoleon Beazley.
       Now, I don�t watch much news.  I have my reasons.  But late one evening, one May 23, 2002 evening, I happened upon the story of death row-inmate Napoleon Beazley, a black man who committed the murder of a revered white mayoral-type man � at the age of sixteen.  Since the murder in 1989, Beazley, then 27, had shown severe remorse over his na�ve and irrevocable action.  He has always been cooperative with the authorities, even turning himself in for his homicide crime.  He was well-behaved in jail and constantly involved with his community.  But I guess that just wasn�t good enough to compensate for the color of his skin.
        Beazley was assigned the death penalty.
        The news piece, some special edition by CNN, focused on the hectic fight for a commuted sentence for Napoleon, by his relentless attorneys and loving family, as Napoleon�s initial death sentence date drew near.  After sleepless nights and fearless fighting, the court decided to stay Beazley�s murder.  The attorneys rejoiced, his family rejoiced, I rejoiced.  That is, until I found out when Napoleon�s death was re-set for.  May 25, 2002.  Wait� what?!  That�s in two days!
         I frantically hopped online and tried to get more information about the case and see if, using any means necessary, I could send a last minute appeal.  As I surfed Texas anti-death penalty websites, it became clear that the CNN broadcast had come a little too late.  There was nothing I, hundreds of miles and miles of influence apart, could do at that time.  I could only hope � that all the other appeals; all the rallies; protests outside the courthouse by the vigilant people of Texas � would have enough of an impact to spare Napoleon Beazley�s life.
       On May 25, 2002, Napoleon Beazley was executed at approximately 6 P.M.
       � It�s okay, you can scream.  I know I wanted to.
       I shed tears for the heart-wrenching story of the injustice of Napoleon Beazley�s circumstances.  The death penalty is legal murder, a sentence which is both irreversible and inhuman.  Moratoriums have been imposed in many other states since 1970, but it seems that Texas isn�t even close to joining the rest of us.  They�re just too self-important, too right-winged, and too trigger-happy.
       And the state�s slogan?  �Texas: It�s Like A Whole Other Country.�  How true.  I hope they secede.
submitted by. kenneth koch
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