Unless something else happens later this week, Alabama is scheduled to execute Kenneth Eugene Smith. His case, a combination of legal expertise and ethical debate, is emblematic of the complexity and contradictions of the American justice system. Convicted in the 1988 murder-for-hire plot that led to the death of Elizabeth Sennett, Smith faces execution by nitrogen hypoxia, an untried method that leaves serious doubts about its humaneness. is causing concern.
The impending executions highlight an important issue: Alabama's 2017 legislative decision to abolish judicial override in death penalty cases. The practice, which previously allowed judges to impose death sentences against jury recommendations, was deemed inappropriate by the state's Republican-majority Legislature and Gov. Kay Ivey. Not surprisingly, Smith's own death sentence was a product of this very practice. His original conviction was overturned, and at a retrial in 1996, a jury recommended a life sentence. However, the judge overruled the jury and sentenced Smith to death. How can Alabama, recognizing the flaws in judicial nullification, continue to uphold judgments that are now deemed unjust under its own law?
Unfortunately, the 2017 law was not retroactive. The question remains: Is there such urgency in Smith's execution that his fate cannot be halted for reconsideration by Congress? This act of rushing to carry out the condemned act before revisiting it appears not only hypocritical but also cruel.
Attorney General Steve Marshall, a former Democrat and Obama supporter turned conservative, appears to be using the death penalty as a way to rebuild his political identity. But Governor Ivey, often praised for her wisdom, faces no such political dilemma. He has joined more than 100 religious leaders in calling for mercy and a halt to the execution. Their plea resonates with broader humanitarian concerns, and that the death penalty is fundamentally aimed at revenge rather than justice. There is little evidence that life sentences deter crime more effectively than life sentences.
The state's rationale for adopting nitrogen hypoxia therapy, which is said to be quick and painless, has come under intense scrutiny. Smith's lawyers have appealed in federal court, warning of the potential horrors of a botched execution. These concerns are not unfounded. The state's previous attempt to execute Smith failed disastrously.
At the heart of this issue is the principle of retroactivity. When Alabama abolished judicial nullification, it tacitly acknowledged that injustice. By not applying this change retrospectively, states maintain the perplexing position of recognizing future principles while ignoring their effects on the past. This is a selective application of justice and undermines the integrity of the legal system.
Alabama has an opportunity to show not only logic but also compassion. It is not about downplaying the gravity of Smith's crimes, but about ensuring that the state's actions are consistent with current understandings of justice. This case is not just about the fate of one man. It is a litmus test of a nation's commitment to fair and humane legal practices.
The impending execution of Kenneth Eugene Smith raises serious questions about the evolution of justice, morality, and legal standards. Alabama recognizes the error of judicial annulment and now faces a critical choice. Will he stick to his newfound understanding of justice, or will he proceed with an execution that violates his own legal principles? This is not just about Smith and the heinous crimes he committed. It's a story about the kind of justice system Alabama is willing to embrace: one that fails to right the wrongs of the past, or one that learns from the past and builds a fairer, more humane future.
