Man vs dog
By Brandon Astor Jones
In Butts County, just 50 miles south of Atlanta, sits the Georgia Diagnostic and Classification Centre. Today the sun is gently pressing its way through a dense cloud bank high above a hint of morning fog. It is December 7, 1993. The time is 7:01 a.m.
I am writing this amid an eerie silence that pervades G-Unit's G-2 cell block. Breakfast has been served. I do not know what it consisted of, as I never eat on the day an execution is scheduled. In 12 hours they plan to kill Christopher Burger in the state's electric chair.
He has been taken from G-Unit to H-Unit, to a cell situated closer to the electric chair, where he has been placed under the so-called "death watch", in which a select group of corrections officers (COs) will literally watch his every move prior to taking him out and killing him.
Christopher Burger was only 17 when the crime for which he was convicted occurred; he has been on death row for 17 years. The state of Georgia has not executed someone for a crime they committed as a minor, in 36 years.
His attorney, Andrea Young, the daughter of one of Atlanta's past mayors, notes that in most countries executing minors is banned. Alas, that fact is her best clemency plea strategy to present to Georgia's Pardons and Parole Board. If that state-orchestrated legal gesture was not so pathetic, it would be laughable. "The board" is an appointed political body; and carrying out a death sentence is politically very popular these days. I will not be surprised when later today "the board" roundly rejects that plea, as it is not in the habit of sparing lives.
At this writing, the now infamous "death row dog" in the state of New Jersey is getting pleas from all over the world asking the governor of that state to spare his life. Moreover, no less than $100,000 has been raised to aid the dog's attorney in the defence of the dog's life. The animal's plight has generated international attention. He has been before New Jersey's Supreme Court six times!
Conversely, attorney Young is fighting a multibillion-dollar legal apparatus deployed against her client by an entire state on a shameful pittance that is less than a fourth of the dog's defence fund.
I wonder how many of those people who sent money to help save that dog's life have bothered to send money to help save the life of Christopher Burger? My guess is not very many, if any.
Time, 8:39 a.m. In typical harassing fashion, Captain Clark, the supervisor of G-Unit (death row), has just sent into G-2 cell block three COs for the purpose of searching our cells — to see if we have too many magazines, pillow cases etc and/or any contraband — as if such searches could not wait until the fate of our fellow prisoner has been determined.
Time, 8;56 a.m. A television news reporter has stated that "the Pardons and Parole Board has rejected Christopher Burger's plea for clemency". Barring a miracle, he will die tonight. Of course, he may not die on schedule, to the prison staff's satisfaction — they hate delays. The United States Supreme Court in Washington may see fit to covertly torture him by granting a last minute stay of execution for three or four hours, thereby robbing him of the privilege of knowing when he will die.
Time, 6:22 p.m. The Supreme Court has granted him a two-hour stay of execution to review the merits of his plea.
Time, 9:59 p.m. Christopher Burger was just pronounced dead; his last words were, "Please forgive me".
The dog in New Jersey is still alive and well. The state of Georgia has terminated its 17 years of dehumanising revenge against the life of a man.
[The writer is a prisoner on death row in the United States. He is happy to receive letters commenting on his columns. He can be written to at: Brandon Astor Jones, EF-122216, G2-51, GD&CC, PO Box 3877, Jackson, GA 30233, USA.]