In college, I participated in my University’s chapter of Amnesty International, an international
non-governmental organization focused on human rights. While I was there, the chapter
prioritized opposition to the death penalty. The case of Troy Anthony Davis was a common
topic, and his story is important. Briefly, Troy Davis was a black man convicted of and sentenced to die for the 1989 murder of a police officer. Events during and after the trial led many to believe that this was a miscarriage of justice. Witnesses recanted statements, evidence and testimony were excluded, and physical evidence linking Davis to the crime was limited. People of note, including Jimmy Carter, petitioned the State for clemency. It was not granted, and Troy Davis was executed in 2011.
Questions swirled in my head and heart. Was Davis innocent? Did it matter? Why would we as
a society sanction the death of someone without absolute certainty that they committed the
offense? Why would we sanction death at all? I learned that Black men are disproportionately
represented in criminal convictions, on death row, and also in exonerations from death
sentences. I learned about structural and institutional injustice. I believed the death sentence
made sense in situations of heinous acts and absolute certainty. Then I believed that death
sentences were wrong because the only way to be absolutely certain innocent people are not
executed is not to execute anyone. Eventually, I concluded, as I now believe, that we cannot
condone killing.
I wanted to do something about it. I looked into groups like the Georgia Resource Center and
The Innocence Project, but I am not an attorney. My frustration with and opposition to the Prison Industrial Complex simmered for years until, after finding Unitarian Universalism and UUCG, I began to explore my values and search for ways to put them into practice. I saw a post on social media about the Church of the Larger Fellowship’s Worthy Now Prison Ministry and pen pal program. Here was a chance to put my values into practice, to recognize the humanity in the dehumanized, to make a big difference for a few people. Recognizing humanity is critical to compassion, but it does not mean approval or forgiveness. Many incarcerated individuals are victims of oppressive power structures. Others, bluntly, earned their removal from society.
The challenge in this work is to listen, to companion, and to care despite the other’s actions.
When you get started as a pen pal, it’s suggested that you don’t look into your person’s history.
Knowing the nature of their past actions can make connecting harder. I told myself I wouldn’t
look. One of them told me anyway. Their spirit of honesty and openness challenged me to work
to recognize their humanity and value the connection. I grappled with the difficulty made real by this reveal. I ended up being honest about this difficulty in return. I told my pen pal that I struggle with what was shared, but I promised to continue corresponding. I’m not here to judge or moralize. My role is to provide human connection and to listen. This is my spiritual work.
~Ian Van Sice
