Free Dead Man Walking by Helen Prejean Page B

an artist’s sketch of the Williams execution in the Baton Rouge newspaper (no cameras or recording devices are allowed) and noticed that Williams was barefooted.
    “If they take me, I’m going with my shoes on,” he says.
    Millard Farmer has reviewed Pat’s transcripts and is preparing petitions for the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals and the U.S. Supreme Court. Pat receives a letter from Michael Baham, his volunteer attorney, who has represented him thus far in his appeals. Baham tells him, “I think it is indeed fortunate that Mr. Farmer is now involved in your case … While I like to think that I am very dedicated to your case, I also realize that dedication — no matter how deep and sincere — is no proper substitute for experience and the resources needed to satisfactorily handle the important pleadings necessary at this time.”
    Millard Farmer’s associate, Kimellen Tunkle, drives from Atlanta on Christmas day to meet me in Baton Rouge. “Time is short,” she tells me. “We expect that the Supreme Court is not going to give Pat a hearing.” Kimellen is young, has straight long brown hair, speaks quietly. She takes rapid notes as I tell her what I know about Pat Sonnier. She wants to know about his family and people in the community who might be able to speak for his life should he have to appear before the Pardon Board. I know the Pardon Board is the last appeal before execution.
    On January 18 Millard picks me up around 7:30 A.M . and we drive to Angola to see Pat. Millard is a tall, thin man with a long face and grizzled gray hair. All the way to Angola we talk.
    Though my daddy was an attorney, I tend to avoid lawyer talk, with all its jargon and razor-thin distinctions and counterdistinctions. But now I want to know and understand everything about the legal issues in Pat’s case. I feel that we’re in a boat in the rapids and we’re trying to throw out an anchor that will catch solidly on a rock.I am hoping that, even though it’s very late, Millard and his team will find an anchor issue.
    What I learn first about the legal system is that it’s a system of gates that shut like one-way turnstiles, and you can’t go back in once you’ve come out. Millard explains that if the trial attorney does not raise an issue or make an objection, the higher courts say the defendant has waived his/her rights to raise the issue later on.
    In looking through the voir dire — the interviews with prospective jurors at Pat’s trial — Millard has seen that the prosecutor used too many “strikes” — excusing jurors without having to give a reason. He used eight strikes. He was entitled to six. It was up to the defense attorney to notice and to object. “Too late now,” Millard says, and explains that one rule of thumb he uses to determine the quality of defense counsel is how long the jury selection process lasts. If it lasts several weeks or a month, he says, you know you have a strong attorney. The jury selection in Pat’s trial took two days.
    Millard has also discovered that the prosecutor during the sentencing portion of the trial told the jury that Pat was incapable of rehabilitation and would kill again and the only way to protect other prisoners or society at large would be to execute him. 3 That kind of rigid prediction of future dangerousness, which cannot be supported by evidence, is inappropriate, he explains, but again it was up to defense counsel to object, which would have assured a review of the issue on appeal. But it’s too late now. Gate closed.
    Introducing these issues in a federal court now, after all this time, will almost surely evoke “abuse of the writ” from the courts, he says, and explains that the court wants to protect itself from defendants filing issues piecemeal, which would keep cases before the courts indefinitely.
    “But can’t you explain that it’s the attorneys’ fault, not Pat’s, that these issues have not yet been raised?” I ask. “Shouldn’t the