|
"INTERVIEWING
A KILLER" |
The morning I interviewed Jonathan
Vance for the first time, I showered for forty-five minutes. "He
despises filth," they told me. I couldn't risk irking his pet peeves
on my first encounter - I had to be flawless. I scrubbed the dirt
until my skin was raw and pink. My hands were shaking, and I silently
scolded myself, "Audrey, calm down."
A crisp navy suit - skirt modestly
to knees, blazer over bleached white button-down shirt; gold buttons,
plain flats. Hair combed and tucked behind ear; no jewelry, no makeup.
"He favors the ladies," they had said. "Don't give
him reason to separate you from all the others." A rookie to the
journalism scene, a major assignment such as this demanded all
the advice I could possibly receive.
It was the summer of 1999, and I
was three years out of grad school. By some stroke of luck, I
had been picked up as an up-and-coming young journalist by a prestigious
investigative journal in northern California. Several months of
ritually tackling the mediocre stories which the experienced staffers
could not be bothered with had finally landed me the opportunity which
could make or break my career - a young female was wanted to interview
and report on San Quentin State Prison's most dangerous inmate
- serial killer Jonathan Vance, scheduled to die by lethal injection
August 13, 1999. Today was
August 4.
I
could hear my own breath bouncing off the sparse walls of the penitentiary's
front hallway, and focused my attention on transforming my shallow
gasps into deep, regulated respirations. "My name is Audrey
Burdette," I practiced in my mind. "Hello, Audrey Burdette,
pleased to meet you."
"Hi, um, hello. Is Warden Perkins
in, please," I croaked to the desk receptionist, despite all my
careful planning. She pressed a button on the desk telephone and
informed the warden that he had a guest. A few moments later,
a stocky, red-faced man appeared in the front office, and extended his
hand in a warm greeting.
"So glad to meet you, Ms. Burdette,"
he addressed me before I had even introduced myself. "I hope
you are ready for quite an experience. We have a lot of information
to cover before you meet Mr. Vance."
"I'm looking forward to the
challenge, Warden," I replied, in hopes of sounding professional
and confident.
"I'll begin with our man's
history. Jonathan Vance is one of the most dangerous killers our state
has ever seen, due in majority to the fact that he appears as
a typical, hardworking, decent man. He held down a respectable
job at a local law firm in Garden Springs, and was regarded as an intelligent
man and a good neighbor. No one ever imagined that by April 1998, he
already had 13 victims under his belt."
Thirteen. I grimaced.
"No
one, however, realized exactly HOW intelligent Jonathan Vance truly
is. IQ tests rank him at genius level, and the walls of his house
are lined with volumes upon volumes of books. Chemistry, philosophy,
art, anatomy, literature, he loves it all. Truly an educated man; the
worst possible sort of adversary."
I made nearly illegible notes on
a yellow pad as he spoke, trying to keep up with his quick pace.
. "How exactly was Mr. Vance finally caught?"
"Every offender eventually incriminates
himself. Vance apparently began to think of himself as an artist, of
sorts. He got cocky, and wanted the world to know the man responsible
for his 'work.' The murders, which began nearly eleven years ago with
the drowning of a twelve-year-old girl, became increasingly complex.
Our man became infatuated with torture. He experimented with gallows,
knife wounds, water torture; ancient methods, modern methods, and simply
prolonging life as long as possible after an excruciating wound
had been inflicted. When he was done, he burned the bodies in
a furnace in his basement. Eventually, a sloppy abduction of his final
victim led him to become a suspect. A search of his house revealed
all the evidence we needed to convict him of murder in the first
degree on twelve out of thirteen accounts. The judge then sentenced
him to die."
The Warden was looking at me expectantly
- I assumed it was time I ask him one of my profound journalistic inquisitions.
"Tell
me what happened after the sentencing." Well, maybe not profound,
but it seemed to satisfy him.
"As interesting as this case
has been, its simply a matter of routine at this point. Immediately
after the judge's execution order was cast, Vance was moved out of maximum
security and into an isolated security area reserved especially
for death row, where he is given hourly checks to document behavior
and regulate any unusual activity. If anything fishy goes on in that
room, I am informed immediately." The Warden smirked a bit at his
last comment.
He continued, "Just as any other
death row inmate, Vance is entitled to any and all visitors who pass
my approval. His attorney is allowed to visit at any time, including
weekends and holidays. Twenty days before the execution, July
24, the first of two pre-execution reports was filed, which included
a psychiatric report, the chaplain's report, a summary of all the inmate's
behavior, and a cover letter from myself. The second report is
standardly issued one week before the execution, and covers all
the same material, in addition to any and all events which have occurred
in the final week. Vance's attorney also submitted a sanity review
request, which was denied, as Vance was deemed to be aware at
all times of his actions and their possible consequences."
I was scribbling furiously at this
point, my yellow pad smeared with gray lines of haphazard charcoal,
which I would eventually have to weave into an intelligible article.
I was in the midst of my frenzied note-taking when the warden's seemingly
premature words stopped my hand and my heart all in one moment
- "That's about all I can tell you for now. Come this way, and
we'll go see Jonathan Vance."
I
imagined a serial killer to be massive; tall and muscle bound, with
tattoos and red eyes. My surprise, evidently, was expressed on my face.
From behind two thick sheets of plexiglass and the watchful eye of three
guards, the first words Jonathon Vance spoke to me were, "Not what
you expected, am I?"
He was a lanky man, with receding
gray hair in a neat trim, which may or may not have been the result
of prison security. His teeth were relatively straight, his skin clear
(and unmarked), fingernails neatly filed. He gazed at me with inquisitive
blue eyes, and his thin lips were turned into a friendly smile. All
in all, I could more easily picture him in a business suit or peacefully
mowing his lawn on a Sunday afternoon, than sitting in a maximum
security California prison, calmly awaiting his death in nine
days. With the comfort of three more guards on my own side of the
glass, and a telephone receiver separating his words from my ear, I
managed to squeak, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Vance."
I received only a nod. I stuttered
something unintelligible about asking him some questions, and fluttered
through my notes. Killed a twelve year old, became over-confident, interested
in torture…his fascination with torture was obviously the angle
which would separate this particular case from all the other crazed
killers in the world. But how could I approach such a topic in a more
subtle way?
"Do you consider yourself a
religious man, Mr. Vance?" Pure genius, Audrey.
After a short pause, Vance replied,
"Religion is a funny thing, Ms. Burdette. I assume you are circuitously
trying to ask whether I feel guilty about my actions. In which case,
no, I do not believe myself to be a religious man, for I feel no guilt
in regards to what I have done in the past. On the other hand,
however, I do believe in a universal life force. Everyone enters this
world, and must again eventually leave. The method and time of
their departure, however, is entirely dependant on happenstance and
environment. For example, if I am a part of an individual's environment,
I can choose to influence their worldly exit. Considering the
fact that every man and woman inevitably dies eventually, my act
of facilitating the inevitable cannot truly be considered murder. The
only true murderer, criminal if you will, by such logic,
is the same life force of which I have already spoken. If such
a theology can be considered a religion, then I am in fact quite a religious
man. It truly all is dependant on one's personal beliefs, don't
you agree?"
My lips were rendered immobile by
the words my brain was still attempting to register. In a matter of
one minute, this man had completely contorted my former image of religion
and morals, and left me speechless. Obviously, a new plan of interrogation
would be necessary - a traditional interview simply would not be acceptable
for a man of this caliber.
"Mr. Vance," I began slowly,
carefully choosing my words. "You apparently feel that killing
is justified. Could you possibly explain its necessity to me?"
"Necessity may not be the correct
word because, as I explained, death will invariably come of its
own accord. I simply have found a great beauty in being the driving
force which can change the fate of an entire life. I do not take
death lightly. As I have progressed in my habits, I have come to appreciate
its symbolism. For example, a beautiful young woman starves herself
in order to appease society's insatiable appetite for physical
perfection. I am merely aiding her in her task as I lock her in
a closed room, with only enough sustenance available to keep her from
the throes of death. This is essentially what she has been doing
to herself all along. You, in turn, speak of religion. If, perhaps,
a man wanted to be closer to his 'God,' I could aid him as well. Crucifixion,
a fascinating process, would bring a man closer to this God than
any other earthly means, and I would gladly help."
I commended myself on having delved
into the workings of this man's mind so quickly. I urged him to
continue.
"The Romans were brilliant
people," Vance informed me. "The practice of crucifixion is
credited to the ancient Persians originally, who passed the art to the
people of Egypt and Carthage. The Romans, who learned the process from
the Carthaginians, were then able to perfect it into the ultimate
criminal punishment. The word 'crucifixion', in fact, comes from the
Latin word crucirare - to torment and torture. In crucifixion,
public humiliation was second only to the excruciating pain, which
endured for hours on end, before the breaking of the victim's legs finally
ended life. The Roman people understood the effect such a powerful
deterrent to crime would have on the quality of their lives."
"Tell me, then," I interjected,
"is today's capital punishment as effective? It is certainly more
humane than the ancient methods."
Vance offered a gleeful giggle.
"Well, it certainly didn't deter me, now did it?"
More banter, though none as interesting
as that which I just related, followed our initial conversation before
Warden Perkins interrupted. "Enough for today, Ms. Burdette,"
he informed me. "Too much talk and Vance will try to get his claws
into you." I reluctantly agreed, and I made plans to return
again in three days.
August
seventh - six days until execution. The second pre-execution report
had been completed, and Vance continued to receive occasional visitors,
consisting mainly of long lost acquaintances who came out of the woodwork
to witness the final days of their former peer. Vance had no immediate
family, and apparently, no close friends. Yet he received all his visitors
warmly, and under the watchful eye of prison security.
I had spent the former three days analyzing
and reflecting on Vance's words. How could a man's crucifixion bring
him closer to God? Had Vance committed such an act? I planned on wasting
no time steering our next conversation back in this direction.
The Warden again greeted me warmly. With
confidence far exceeding that shaky nervousness I had experienced
a few days before, I was able to firmly return his handshake. Again,
we trod the cold green tiles which led us to Jonathan Vance's
isolated cell.
"Audrey," his green eyes turned
my direction with a crinkled smile, and he performed a small bow - quite
debonair for a cold-blooded killer, I thought.
I slid myself into the interviewer's
chair, and greeted him through the protective glass and bars.
"Mr. Vance, I found one comment
you made in our last conversation very intriguing. I was hoping that
we could finish our talk today, since I am told that we will be given
more time to go into details."
He nodded expectantly. "You wish
to hear more of my fascination with the ancient art of crucifixion.
I was hoping you would address the subject."
Though a bit disturbed that I was
so easy to read, I chose to continue the interview without pause.
"What
about the process do you find so enthralling?"
"As I said before," he began,
"the Romans perfected crucifixion as a method of human torture
as well as a public humiliation designed to frighten others away
from their criminal ways. In fact, the act was so excruciating
that it was deemed inappropriate for any Roman citizen, no matter what
degree of atrociousness their crime may have reached. Many people are
not at all aware of the pain inflicted on a crucified man long
before he even reached the cross."
Again, I scratched my pen furiously
across the pages of my notebook - every word from this man's mouth would
be priceless for my article.
"At the appointed time, a convicted
man was taken to a public square, stripped naked, his wrists shackled
to the lower end of a strong wooden column, so that his body was in
a bent, kneeling position. To his side was a soldier holding a flagellum,
a whip with several leather tails, each weighted at the end with razor-like
shards of metal or bone. This instrument was designed to tear
into skin not only when making contact with the soft flesh of the back,
but also as it was torn away. The soldier frequently changed position
to affect the greatest surface area of the victim's body, including
his chest and sides, as the weight of the tails often carried them to
the front of the torso.
"When this ritual, called scourging,
was complete, the criminal was left exhausted, mangled, bleeding, craving
water, and in a state of shock. In fact, the process was so potentially
lethal that Mosaic Law prohibited any more than forty lashes given at
one time, to keep the victim from dying before even reaching the
cross. Often, thirty-nine lashes were given, to keep in accordance with
the law, but inflict maximum agony.
"Barely able to move, the criminal
was then forced to his feet, to carry the crossbeams, called patibulum,
of the very cross on which he would die. Most often, the stipes,
or vertical beam of the cross, was permanently affixed just outside
city walls. The ideal situation was a large hill in full view of
the citizens. For example, Roman crucifixions were conducted at the
Esquiline Camp, outside the Serrian walls."
I interrupted for a moment. "So
what you are saying, if I understand correctly, is that a person who
was crucified was tortured nearly to his breaking point before even
being put on the cross."
A wry smile crossed the lips of the killer;
he was obviously quite pleased to have his message so clearly
understood.
"Indeed. The Romans not only punished
their criminals, but made examples of them by conducting every step
of the process before the public eye. Today, in the vein of political
correctness, and some would even say in the name of humanity itself,
we have lost this understanding. Executions are painless and private
- the criminal is served his justice, if you call it that, but the public
knows nothing more than the fact that a man has died. They do not witness
his pain and suffering, as in the old days. The fate of the executed,
therefore, does not have the same effect on deterring future crime
in today's society as crucifixion had on ancient citizens."
Vance obviously could tell that
I was puzzled, because he went on to explain himself further. "I
am by definition a criminal, because I have broken the laws -
I never said that the laws were good or just. And of course,
I do not want to die a painful or humiliating death. I find it very
ironic that the feeble attempts of our society to 'humanize'
execution is benefiting me, the very man whom they are trying
to punish."
I made a mental note to be specifically
aware of San Quentin's pre-execution procedure, when the time
came. I wondered if it was truly as humane as Vance made it out to be.
When
the day's interview was finished, I again sat down with Warden Perkins
to discuss the preceding events. In an attempt to make better sense
of Vance's rationale towards the so-called humanity of today's execution
method, lethal injection, compared to the torturous effectiveness of
Roman crucifixion, I inquired about the pre-execution methods practiced
in San Quentin.
"Well, Ms. Burdette,"
Perkins began, "we make every attempt to make the inmate as comfortable
as possible in his final twenty-four hours." Already, Vance's cynical
report echoed in my mind, forcing me to recognize the same irony
of which he had already spoken. Trying to make the offended criminal
as comfortable as possible? Yet I continued to listen.
"Next to the execution chamber
is a special deathwatch cell, where the convicted is moved the night
before the execution, usually around six o'clock PM. He will be under
constant scrutiny by a rotating three-member deathwatch unit,
until it is time to proceed to the execution chamber. At this time,
the inmate will be served his final meal, specified by his or her own
requests.
"After the final meal is served,
the inmate may receive visits from the state chaplain or myself. He
may request further food, coffee, or soft drinks, and can entertain
himself by reading, watching television, or listening to the radio."
I recorded the Warden's words, and
thanked him for again allowing me into his penitentiary. My next visit
was to occur on August 12, the day before the execution. Proud of the
information I had managed to gather from the two men, I confidently
exited the complex.
Over
the next several days, I began to organize my notes and form a mental
outline of the course of my article. The obvious angle would be Vance's
informed consciousness of the mercy involved in his impending execution,
compared to the ancient methods.
I was aware that such an article would
be extremely controversial and risqué, for I was essentially
preparing to challenge the logic behind modern day execution. Is capital
punishment a barbaric process? Are we attempting to rationalize our
actions by "showing compassion" to the very people we
are killing? And if so, does this act thereby render their death in
vain? What is the definition of "in vain"? The
criminal is indisputably punished by being put to death, but is this
punishment enough, or does he deserve to die the most painful
death possible for the atrocious acts he must have committed in
order to obtain such a severe sentence? Does capital punishment truly
influence the general public to live a more righteous and law-abiding
lifestyle, if they are not given the opportunity to watch
an offender die, or even if they are made aware of the comforts given
to a person on death row? My head swam with questions yet unanswered
from my interviews. I had merely one day left to extract
the answers from the perplexing words of Jonathan Vance.
The day
before the execution, I noticed a slight change in Vance. He was rather
withdrawn, and often seemed to float into the imaginary world of his
own mind for a span of several seconds at a time during the course of
our interview.
"Mr. Vance-" I called during
such an incident. "Mr. Vance, I'm sorry, you seem to have drifted
off for a minute."
"Oh yes, I apologize. You see, I
am a bit distracted as of late, as I am sure you will find understandable,
given the circumstances. Remind me again of your question?"
"I was hoping you could give me further
insight into the actual process of crucifixion."
"Of course. Once the offender had
carried the patibulum to the site of death, the soldiers grabbed him
by his waist and forced him to his feet. The actual process of raising
a victim to the cross is debatable. One theory is that the condemned
man was nailed to the crossbeams, and then raised to the stipes
using a strong forked stick. The crossbeams were fit into a notch in
the upright piece of wood, and the two halves of the cross were
then nailed together. Others believe the victim was lifted up
by soldiers and made to straddle a removable piece of wood, until his
arms and legs could be securely nailed. Others believe that a
simple ladder was used.
"Iron nails, approximately
six inches long, were driven through the wrist bones, between the radius
and the ulna. These two bones are strong enough to support the weight
of the body, whereas had the nail been driven through the palm of the
hand, gravity would pull the body down with such a force as to strip
the nails out between the bones of the fingers, thus dropping the victim
to the ground.
"The method used to nail the
feet to the cross is also ambiguous. Some believe that the two feet
were crossed together, and one nail was driven through both in order
to secure the body to the stipes. Others argue that the feet were
placed side by side, and two separate nails were used. Regardless,
it is generally agreed that the feet were placed flat against the cross,
the knees slightly bent, with the nail driven through the top
of the foot over the arch. With this act, the man was now crucified,
and often hung for several hours, or even days, before death."
When Vance stopped speaking, I found
myself pausing, speechless, hoping for more of his words to satisfy
the nearly insatiable curiosity which his dissertation had aroused in
my mind. He, however, appeared to have concluded his speech. "If
you feel up to it, Mr. Vance," I prodded, "please tell me
what happened once a man was crucified."
He paused a moment, as if reentering the
conversation was an emotional struggle. I was about to negate
my request when he continued to speak.
"For further humiliation, the Roman
soldiers often posted a small sign, called a titulus, on top
of the cross, stating the victim's crime for all to see. In several
occasions, this sign even preceded the condemned man during his march
to the stipes. As the public watched, the man then fell victim to a
slow and excruciating death.
"Due to the position of the body
on the cross, the only possible way to breathe would be for the man
to push up using his feet and arms, obviously causing the extreme pain
to intensify exponentially. When the man was finally too exhausted to
raise and lower himself any further, the air he inhaled would become
trapped in his lungs. Unable to exhale, the man would eventually suffocate.
Often times, complete asphyxiation and resulting death took from six
to ten minutes to be achieved.
"Roman soldiers
often rushed the asphyxiation process by shattering the leg bones of
the victims, thus rendering them unable to lift themselves to attain
breath, and they died much more quickly. This may have been the
lone act of compassion exhibited on the crucified men, or it may simply
have been a means of ensuring a death early enough to have the
body removed from the cross by nightfall."
With nearly an entire legal pad full of
notes from Jonathan Vance, I felt I had gained all the information I
needed from him. It occurred to me that I had not asked him about his
personal life, his motivations, or his relationship with his victims.
However, I felt that the angle he had provided me, and the intelligence
I had discovered within this abominable man, would provide a much more
intriguing and atypical article than any traditional questions
I could ask him. I felt almost bittersweet emotion as I left him
for the final time, torn between hatred for a man who could commit such
a number of inhuman acts with intense glee, and a sort of compassion
for an obviously intelligent soul who could have contributed incalculably
to the world if he had only used his mind for the proper purposes.
I kept my goodbye short and formal.
"Thank you for all your help and
time, Mr. Vance. May God be with you tomorrow."
The
guards left me outside Warden Perkins' office, and I paused a moment
for a deep breath before knocking on his door. My head swam with emotions
and thoughts, but I knew I had much more information to gather
before I could write. I hoped to be done with the interview process
that day - I did not want to return to San Quentin after Vance
had been executed.
Perkins graciously let me in, and asked
what he could do for me today. I began hesitantly, trying to phrase
my question in an acceptable manner. "Vance seems to be under the
impression," I began, "that he is to be killed in an
exceedingly compassionate manner. Do you feel that lethal injection
is compassionate?"
With folded hands and back straight, the
warden answered my question without hesitation. "As you know,
lethal injection is the widely accepted form of capital punishment in
America today. It is used here in California, and thirty-three
other states, as well. The victim is injected with lethal doses
of three different poisons, therefore causing him to drift into sleep
before the heart is stopped. In most cases, the death is a smooth
and painless process."
I raised an eyebrow. "Most cases?"
"Well of course," Perkins replied,
"there have been exceptions. Occasionally a catheter cannot be
inserted properly, due to small vein size or extensive past drug usage.
There are a small number of documented cases in which a vein has
collapsed, a needle has popped out from the flesh, a victim has
had to help insert the catheter into his own arm, or death has been
prolonged past the expected time period. However, these cases
are few and far between, and the vast majority of the more than
six hundred lethal injections which have been performed since 1972 have
been flawless."
"Tell me how exactly a lethal injection
is performed," I requested.
"Thirty minutes before the execution
begins, the inmate is dressed in denim trousers and a blue work
shirt. He is escorted into the execution chamber, and strapped onto
a gurney with padded wrist and ankle restraints. He is then attached
to a stethoscope and cardiac monitor, which is connected to a
printer outside the chamber. Two intravenous lines are inserted into
usable veins, and a steady flow of saline is sent through one
line. The other IV is held in reserve, in case of blockage or
malfunction in the first. The inmate is then covered with a sheet.
"The three solutions are all prepared
in advance, to ensure a quick procession. Five grams of sodium pentothal
are administered to the inmate, causing unconsciousness. The veins are
flushed with more saline, and then respiration is halted with an injection
of 50 cc of pancuronium bromide, an intense muscle relaxer. Finally,
50 cc of potassium chloride stops the heart. In accordance with the
California Penal Code, a physician is present to officially declare
death. The body is then claimed by the family or the state, and
removed with dignity and care."
As I continued to scribble furiously,
Warden Perkins inquired, "Would you like me to show you the
execution chamber?" I finished my notes, and nodded affirmatively.
The
first room we entered was the witness area. It was a relatively large
room with a door exiting outside, and five windows to the chamber. "How
many witnesses are allowed?" I questioned.
"Myself, two physicians, and up to fifty
witness are permissible," the warden informed me. "The attorney
general, twelve reputable citizens, five friends and family members
and two spiritual advisors, if requested by the inmate. Seventeen
news and media representatives, nine
state - selected witnesses, and four staff escorts are also
allowed. You are more than welcome to be one of the media representatives
if you so wish, Ms. Burdette."
"I appreciate the offer," I
replied, "but I don't believe an execution is something I ever
wish to witness. Especially after becoming acquainted with the victim."
Perkins nodded his understanding,
and led me into the execution chamber itself. It was an octagonal room,
quite small - I estimated between seven and eight feet in diameter.
We exited through a large oval door at the rear of the room and entered
what the warden told me was the anteroom.
Three phones hung on one wall. "The
first telephone is reserved for calls from the Governor," Perkins
informed me. "The second is for calls from the State Supreme Court
and Attorney General, and the third is connected to my office."
Next we entered the chemical room, which
held storage cabinets, a workbench, and several mixing pots, pipes,
and valves. Two holding cells were next, each with only a toilet, and
enough floor space for a mattress - this was where Vance would spend
the last twenty-four hours of his life, greet his final visitors, and
eat his last meal. Finally, we saw the kitchen, which doubled as an
officer's area. It consisted of two couches, a small table, a sink,
cabinet, and counter area. "The Romans would never have a resting
area by the stipes," I found myself thinking.
I thanked Perkins, and left San Quentin
State Prison for the final time. I had a notebook full of illuminating
information for my article, but felt that I had gained more knowledge
than I could possibly ever relate in two and a half pages.
I was unsure about my faith in today's
capital punishment system - are we sympathetic, or barbaric? Are we
serving justice to our criminals? Are we deterring future crime by setting
an example, or wasting the example by not publicizing the process? The
Romans would certainly find our country's sympathy towards death-row
criminals ludicrous. We as modern-day Americans find their ancient
process of crucifixion to be inhuman and vicious. While both countries
committed executions to punish criminals and frighten others away
from lawbreaking, it amazed me that they could vary so greatly
in the methods they used to accomplish the common goal.
As I drove home, I contemplatively hummed
along with the radio, and pondered the opening line for what I was certain
would be an amazing article. I wasn't sure what final opinion I would
reach on the issue, and I didn't know how others would respond to the
controversial questions I was about to propose in my writing, but I
was absolutely sure that when the eleven o'clock news the following
night came on to announce the successful execution of serial killer
Jonathan Vance, I would be nowhere near my television set.