Locked Away Forever The Sad Ca of Rebecca Falcon One night when she was just 15, Rebecca Falcon got drunk and made the decision that ruined her entire life. Now, she is rving a life ntence without chance of parole (假释) at the Lowell Correctional Institution in Ocala, Florida. Looking back, Falcon faults her choice of friends. "I was like a magnet for the wrong crowd," she says. At the time, Falcon was living with her grandmother in Panama City, Florida. On November 19, 1997, upt over an ex-boyfriend, she downed a large amount of alcohol and hailed a taxi with an 18-year-old friend. Her friend had a gun and, within minutes, the taxi driver was shot in the head. The driver, Richard Todd Phillips, 25, died veral days later. Each of the teenagers later said the other had done the shooting. In Falcon's ca, she was found guilty of murder, though it was never known precily what happened. "It broke my heart," says Steven Sharp, one of the people who made the decision to nd Falcon to prison. "Tough as it is, bad on the crime, I think it's appropriate. Still, it's terrible to put a 15-year-old behind bars forever." Falcon's ca is not so uncommon in the US, but it is rare around the world. About 9,700 American prisoners are rving life ntences for crimes they committed before age 18. More than a fifth have no chance for parole. Life without parole is available for young criminals in about a dozen countries, but a recent report by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International found only 12 young criminals—in Israel, South Africa, and Tanzania—rving such ntences. In the U.S., more than 2,200 people are rving life without parole for crimes they committed before turning 18. More than 350 are 15 or younger. Cruel & Unusual? Young criminals are rving life terms (with or without the possibility of parole) in at least 48 states, according to a survey by The New York Times, and their numbers have incread sharply in the past decade. Of tho imprisoned in 2001, 95 percent were male and 55 percent were black. Is such punishment fair for young offenders? In March 2005, the Supreme Court ruled that the death penalty for crimes committed by people under 18 violates the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution, which prohibits "cruel and unusual punishments." That might have surprid the people who agreed to the Amendment in 1791, many of whom found such executions neither cruel nor unusual. But the Court said that the meaning of the Amendment changes with "evolving standards of decency." Their decision has convinced lawyers and activists that the next legal battleground in the US will be over life ntences for young criminals. "Unformed" Personalities The Supreme Court ruled that youths under 18 who commit terrible crimes are less blameworthy than adults, at least for purpos of the death penalty: They are less mature, more willing to give in to peer pressure, and their personalities are unformed. "Even a terrible crime committed by a young person," Justice Anthony M. Kennedy concluded, is not "evidence of a hopelessly evil character." Most of tho youthful qualities were evident in Falcon, who had trouble fitting in at school. She is in prison for murder, meaning she participated in a crime that led to a killing but was not proved to have killed anyone. Jim Appleman, the lawyer that tried to put Falcon in jail, says she does not ever derve to be free. He is convinced that she shot Phillips. "If she were a 29-year-old or a 22-year-old," he says, "I have no doubt she would have gotten the death penalty." Although Falcon believes her ntence is unfair, she says her eight years in prison have changed her. "A certain amount of time being in jail was what I needed," she says. "But the law I fell under is for people who have no hope of being changed for the better, career criminals who habitually break the law, and there's just no hope for them in society. I'm a completely different ca." "This can be hard" The ca of another Florida teenager, Timothy Kane, shows how youths can be nt away for life, even when they were not central figures in a crime. (Florida is among the states with the largest number of young offenders—about 600—rving life ntences, about 270 without parole.) On Jan. 26, 1992, Kane, then 14, was playing video games at a friend's hou in Hudson, Florida, while some older boys planned a robbery. That night, five youths rode their bikes over to a neighbor's home. Two backed out, but Kane followed Alvin Morton, 19, and Bobby Garner, 17, into the hou. He did not want others to think he was scared, he recalls. "This is the decision that shaped my life since," says Kane. He says he thought the hou would be empty. But Madeline Weisr, 75, and her son, John Bowers, 55, were home. While Kane hid behind a dining-room table, Morton shot and killed Bowers. He then stuck a knife in Weisr's neck; Garner stepped on the knife, nearly cutting off her head. Morton was ntenced to death. Garner, like Kane, a young offender, was given a life ntence with no possibility of parole for 50 years. Kane was also ntenced to life, but he may be able to get parole after rving 25 years. He doubts that the parole board will ever let him out. Kane grows emotional when talking about that January night. "I witnesd two people die," he says. "I regret that every day of my life, being any part of that and eing that." He does not dispute that he derved punishment but says his ntence is harsh. His days at Sumter Correctional Institution in Bushnell, Florida, are spent in the prison print shop making 55 cents an hour. "You have no hope of getting out," Kane says. "You have no family. You have no moral support here. This can be hard." Will the court do anything to help? In deciding whether "evolving standards" have turned against a particular punishment, the Supreme Court looks at what the states are doing. Life without parole for young offenders is widely ud, and only three states specifically ban it. If this form of punishment is to be banned by virtue of its violating the Eighth Amendment, it will likely happen only when a majority of the states first get rid of it. Robert W. Attridge, the lawyer in Kane's ca, says he feels sorry for him. "But he had options," Attridge says. "He had a way out. Two other boys decided to leave." Could Tim Kane be your kid, being in the wrong place at the wrong time?" the lawyer asks. "I think he could. It only takes one night of bad judgment and, man, your life can be ruined." |
