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     One a day. That's all I ask. If California were to execute each prisoner presently incarcerated on death row, there would still be some left over to carry this state into the next calendar year: 427 men, 8 women, last count I read. And if their appeals for clemency are denied, well, no one would find me shedding tears over sentences finally resulting.

     I'm not going to quote any scripture to justify my endorsement of the execution of convicted killers. I'll spare both myself and you: Me from writing it and you from reading redundant recitations. Because? I can barely remember any, except the passage that says we shouldn't kill.

     I think, executing those condemnded and sentenced to die for their criminal conduct is different from taking a life in cold blood for some twisted reason: a car, a heartless thrill, a faddish-style piece of apparel, cash, a vendetta, jealousy, control, or whatever. It doesn't matter to me what may motivate someone to think that it's okay to take another's life for a selfish rationale.

     Executing those found guilty by jurors and sentenced to die also need not result in closure. Where is the closure for those left behind to live with the loss of a loved one; anniversary dates, holidays, birthdays, dates that should denote rites of passage... the days passing on each year's calendar are filled with painful reminders of what could have been a life of numerous transitions. Murdered.

     What execution means to me is finality. It's a guarantee that a death sentence commuted to life in prison doesn't become a walk out the door on a technicality or loophole not thought before until tested and turned effective.

     I watched the Academy Awards broadcast (Spring 1996) with my fingers crossed: Sean Penn could be the world's greatest actor, yet I wanted to see him not get an award for a role played that was based on the composite of four killers' lives. Why? Such an accolade would have glorified and glamorized a performance with its origins in criminal behavior.

     I've not seen the movie Dead Man Walking and I won't. Its director has said, during an interview with Charlie Rose, that he's struck by the fact that society forgets that the condemned have relatives and friends who will be left behind following executions. Yeah, and... what about their victims? All of a sudden murderers think of their families after their crimes have been committed, and bonding with others becomes an all-important obsession. No, it's a ploy to manipulate society's heartstrings. Hell, they've already taken lives and our money to fund their defenses and appeals. And when that doesn't work, they exploit emotion. Their strategies don't work for me.

     As reporters and demonstrators converged on the grounds of San Quentin in February (1996) when William Bonin's last hours of life were pressing against the clock, I watched and heard actor-activist Mike Farrell and plenty of others speak against the death penalty. Some say it's cruel, it's barbaric, it's murder, it's this or that. No, it's not the same fate that Bonin determined awaited the 14 teenage boys he tortured and killed.

     Bonin, who may have requested sedation, fared far better than any of his victims: He said goodbye to his family, he chose his final meal, he watched his favorite trivial pursuit television program one last time, he received new clothing, he went out of this realm of life in a sanitized fashion of execution, thanks to lethal injection. All of that while, quite frankly, I'm still pro-pellet. Whether the condemned convulses, has seizures, writhes, foams at the mouth, is of no consequence to me. I don't care how much agony or pain may afflict someone who brutalized others.

     See, I cared for my friend Barbara Hernandez when she was hospitalized with terminal cancer. That she emphatically asked for no life-sustaining measures to be exercised to prolong her pain-filled existence at that time didn't mean her request was respected. The doctors, against her express wishes, induced chemotherapy just the same. That she was frail and fragile and could hardly hold anyone's hand without pain pulsing through her veins didn't influence medical opinion. That she wailed when her ice-cold fingers came into contact with the bed rail didn't matter. That she screamed with every slight movement or adjustment and still went unheard is the sound that remains in my brain.

     I've stood by helplessly when it was unnecessary because others possessing the license to provide increased doses of morphine, yet didn't, decided instead to cite the risk of addiction and the need to maintain routine. Her "treatment" was a lesson for me in compassion for those who have earned it.

     My heart doesn't go out to inmates who cause pain for others. How they pass out of this life and onto hell won't give me more nightmares. Let them froth and foam, and I don't care.

     I've considered accepting a friend's invitation to visit San Quentin when the next execution is scheduled (Keith Daniel Williams), yet I've seen what may happen when death penalty proponents encounter opponents. Violence. Not by those endorsing the sentence, some who were pushed, shoved, and punched by people protesting the execution of Bonin. They resorted to aggressive behavior to condemn the form of punishment they claim is "violent," while the young men physically assaulted for standing in support of the sentence disengaged by walking away without striking back at their attackers.

     Director Tim Robbins, actor Mike Farrell and pro-prisoners' rights proponents have raised a valid point: Executing inmates may traumatize anonymous prison personnel who administer the sentence: Death. Yes, and they volunteer to be financially compensated as well.

     The ideal prison setting is, no TV, no hot meals, no taking away makeshift weapons, no limiting the number of inmates per cell, no putting guards or prison personnel in their path. They're inclined to kill, well, let them kill each other and end the appeals process by themselves. The irony is, they appear to discover emotions and an appreciation for life when theirs are threatened with the death sentence looming. A strange phenomenon, it may be, but a predictable one.

     California Governor Pete Wilson is seeking to reform the habeas corpus process. There's something else equally important that he can seek to remedy concurrently. The clemency process. Death row inmates know when their cases are going before the courts on appeal and before governors for leniency, which I consider the buying more time phase and which is when I believe they should be in contact with their families and friends to say their goodbyes. Their last weeks of life shouldn't belong to them, but to the People: Survivors of homicide victims who - prior to the 1980s - had not been recognized by having the opportunity for full redress. There are scores of people nationwide who have not been given the chance to confront the condemned with the impact of their crimes in the form of statements.

     Victim impact statements. That's what the final days should entail. Families and friends previously precluded from addressing killers directly should be offered a choice before the sentence is carried out. That's ideal for their last days, not engaging in a trivial pursuit television program.

Stalked & Speaking Out

     Vary rarely does a book compel me to read from the first to the last page without taking a break. Don't Shoot! My life is valuable is a treasure. It more than grabbed my complete attention from cover to cover, I also discovered it impossible to put down as soon as I decided to share Maita Floyd's incredible journey.

     She is a remarkable woman, with a rhythmic, narrative style for telling a powerful, true-life story behind and beyond headline news appearing July 19, 1965 in the "Scottsdale Daily Progress":

     Marguerite's life, at the center of undivided attention, is gripping to experience; the distance between the subject and reader are eerily absent in Don't Shoot! (Eskauldun Publishers, Ltd., 1993, $10.95, plus $2.00 shipping). It's all about feeling, compassion, and growth. It's a breathtaking and emotionally charged account of one woman's triumph over trauma that could have easily shattered just about anyone's spirit. Not Marguerite's - determined and unshakable.

     Soon after the headlines, victims are often forgotten. Not this time and not with this book borne from the life of a former child of Nazi-occupied France who also emerged from attempted homicide by her estranged husband.

     The book, opening with the 1960s in Scottsdale, Arizona, plunges straight into the "blame-the-victim" types of questions and myths and succeeds by the closing pages at setting the record straight for readers needing more education and information about domestic violence and seeking to offer support and services to victims of violent crimes.

     Absolutely every word in Don't Shoot! belongs. Seeing the title the first time and several times since, I cried. The fact that some people even need to be reminded that life is valuable is an upsetting and truthful commentary.

     Both harrowing and inspiring, this book is a must-read for graduate students, law enforcement officers, emergency room personnel, crisis counselors, therapists, crime victims, and survivors. I doubt many readers will set it down without having a much better understanding of the impact of trauma: immediate and long-term physical and psychological effects, including the oens that may be delayed and felt years following the aftermath of violent crime.

     Don't Shoot! seeks no reader's pity provides crucial lessons for rebuilding life in the wake of terror and nightmarish events.

     It is a heart-stopping, and at times tender and humorous, uplifting walk with an incredible woman through her life beginning with her childhood, where we gain clearer insight into how this woman could flourish after having been physically assaulted and shot.

     The cadence and pace of Maita Floyd's writing feel unpretentious to witness. The narrative, told primarily in the third person, ebbs and flows naturally in the same ways that life unfolds before our eyes.

     The author's survival and her gift of releasing her private pain by taking her testimony public are healing tools for all readers to embrace for motivation and guidance.

     I couldn't stop crying each time I contemplated the realities: A human being was victimized by violent crime committed by another living being; she survived; she didn't stop there; she went on to assist others in developing a greater understanding and capacity for broadening compassion to help people who have also outlived and survived similar life-threatening trauma.

     Don't Shoot! my life is valuable is a true story that readers won't forget.

     Maita Floyd lectures nationally and internationally on the topics of her writings. She has authored four books: Don't Shoot!; Stolen Years; Caretakers, the Forgotten People; and, Platitudes, You are not me! Her lecture topics include caregiving, grief, victimization, longer-term aftereffects of violent crimes, domestic violence, and the magic of living.

     She is also very active in community service: Member of the Governor of Arizona Commission on Violence Against Women Task Force (Public Awareness), Maricopa County District Attorney Office Victim/Witness Advocate,and Hospice Volunteer.

     Don't Shoot! My life is valuable (ISBN 0-9620599-2-7) is available for purchase by contacting: Eskauldun Publishers, Ltd., P.O. Box 50266, Phoenix, AZ 85076-0266.

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